#CAN WE MAKE SOME NOISE FOR HOW THEY LOOK. FAINTS TO THE FLOOR | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yueebby · 7 months

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Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously.

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer.

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial.

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly.

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards.

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?” satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress.

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.”

satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you.

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!”

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.”

“o-okay.”

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.”

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!”

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #this is me coping bc of the leaks

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crvptidgf · 23 days

Text

7 Minutes

Hazel Callahan x Reader

summary: hazel gets paired up with you to play 7 minutes in heaven

warnings: making out, suggestive but no smut

requested?: yes! tysm

- hiii i was wondering if i could request a hazel x reader fic where isabel hosts a party and the fight club all play seven minutes in heaven and reader gets paired with hazel and things get a lil hot n heavy

word count: 1.2k

————————

IT WAS STUPID, really.

You had been convinced to play 7 minutes in heaven at your fight club sleepover. Isabel had a free house, and she insisted on everybody coming over for a movie night and snacks. One thing led to another and PJ ended up suggesting the game - one which, admittedly, you had never played before.

It felt childish - yet your legs shook with anxiety as you sat down onto the floor. A bottle lay in the middle of the circle of girls. PJ seemed to be rubbing her hands excitedly, smiling at the group.

“Okay, let’s start the scissor-fest!” she yelled, earning a groan from Josie and Hazel.

Purely by chance, Josie and Isabel were chosen first (which was lucky considering they were together). In all honesty you think they would’ve denied it if it had landed on anybody else.

For you, there was one person you both really wanted it to land on, but simultaneously were dreading if it did land on her.

Hazel Callahan.

You would consider yourself friends, but (not so) recently you had developed a huge crush on her. A crush which was reciprocated, yet you both made no move to confirm it. Typical. There was some mutual flirting, hand brushing, and extremely borderline erotic talk between you two any time you had to fight each other at the club.

Basically, everybody knew you two had the hots for each other. And everybody had tried to get you guys together, but to no avail.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to - if anything, you wanted it more than you could put into words. Yet any time you made an attempt, something got in the way. Or more specifically you got too nervous and chickened out.

She was just so intimidating to you. She was beautiful, hot, smart, funny. A perfect recipe to make you a stumbling mess under her gaze.

You were so deep in thought that you had barely noticed a giggling Josie and Isabel exit the closet. Their hair was askew on their heads, their t-shirts were wrinkled and half unbuttoned. They were so in love that it pained you sometimes. When was it your turn to be as in love as them?

“Alright. Hazel,” said PJ, her eyebrows wiggling.

Sylvie made a half-hearted crude gesture, her eyes flickering towards you before looking back at Hazel.

She merely rolled her eyes, glad that you hadn’t noticed this. Your attention was brought back to the floor, everybody waiting with baited breath as the glass bottle spun.

It felt like an eternity before it finally made up it’s mind. Landing between you and Annie, you both looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Uh-“ you started.

“I think that’s definitely you,” said Annie, her hand coming to push the tip of the bottle more in your direction.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “We could spin again?” you said.

PJ immediately shot up. “Nope! Rules of the game. Let’s go,” she said, making a shooing motion at you. She pushed Hazel up out of her seating position, ushering her to go.

You walked ahead of Hazel, your heart quite literally dropping to your ass. To say you were nervous was an understatement. You were terrified.

What if you were a bad kisser? What if your breath smelled weird? Would she be totally turned off if you had no idea what to do with your hands?

PJ’s exaggerated moans were muffled now as Hazel closed the closet door behind her.

There was still the faint noise of the girls giggling, their crude noises invading the space of the living room they were in.

Hazel looked at you, noticing how you were picking at your nails.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” she said shyly, her hand coming to scratch at the back of her neck. “We can just sit and talk-“

“No! No, it’s not that,” you blurted out, afraid of making her think that you didn’t want her. This was all you had wanted for months but the fact that the time has come already had you freaking out. In your mind, there were a million things that could go wrong.

Hazel cocked her head to the side. “So you do wanna kiss?” she asked, her confidence rising upon seeing how nervous you seemed.

“I- yes. Jesus, that’s all I’ve wanted to do for-“ your frustration grew with each syllable that you spoke, “God, Hazel just kiss me!”

Surprised at the sudden outburst, she made little progress in leaning in to make the move, so you took it upon yourself to grab her by the collar and finally connect your lips. And oh was that the best idea you have had in forever.

Her lips felt like velvet, the plump feel of them against your lips driving you crazy. Of course you had imagined what it would be like to kiss her but nothing could compare to the real deal.

Your hands grabbed at her waist, desperate to feel her closer to you.

Hazel pulled away momentarily to catch her breath, her fingertips brushing across your thigh as you both panted. The look in her eyes made your stomach flutter. She looked like the most perfect girl in the world.

It was less than a few seconds before her lips were back on yours. “I cant,” she said in between pecks, “get enough,” another few kisses, “of you.”

“Me too” you admitted, still gripping her waist as she began to walk you backwards. Back hitting against the wall, you took the opportunity to flip yourself around, pressing Hazel up instead. You began to trail kisses down her jaw, enjoying her mewls of pleasure at the contact.

“You’re killing me,” she groaned at the light nip you left on her neck.

Soothing the bite you left with your tongue, you spoke up. “Could’ve had this a long time ago if you made a move.”

Letting out a chuckle, Hazel wrapped her arm around your back to turn you to your first position, your back returning onto the wall.

“Same goes to you.”

You rolling your eyes at her comment. You were quickly taken out of your attitude as you felt Hazel pushing her hips against you, her belt giving you a slight bit of friction. Gasping, you reflexively grabbed onto her hair, earning another throaty groan from the girl.

“If you keep doing that we’ll be here longer than 7 minutes,” she said, her head dropping down to your exposed shoulder.

Thank god you wore an off the shoulder top.

Hazel was in the middle of leaving a bruising mark onto your skin when the room was intruded by a bright light, the door to the closet swinging open.

“We were right! They are scissoring!” yelled PJ, her voice interrupting the sensual vibe you and Hazel had going on.

Dropping her head onto you shoulder, Hazel let out a small ‘oh my god, PJ’. You could only laugh in response, your fingers carding through her hair to ease her from her embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, Haze. We can finish this later,” you whispered to her, to which her head whipped up almost immediately.

Now she really regretted not asking you out earlier.

#hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan bottoms #hazel callahan fic #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #hazel callahan smut #bottoms hazel #hazel bottoms #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #bottoms film #bottoms fanfic

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hotchfiles · 2 months

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↪ day six. perfectionism — #marchhotchness

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ wool to brave the season ❞ ─ a choiceless hope blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summary: but as you sat down on the floor of the crappy hotel, sharing bad coffee and feeling his warmth by your side, you knew that you wouldn’t have him any other way. even if you don’t really have him. content warnings: set before the first part. you can read it without reading the rest tho. just a bit of angst and idiots in love and partnership and criminal minds canon descriptions of crimes. word count: 800+

you woke up to the faint sound of shuffling of paper, the room was mostly dark and chilly, the clock on your bedside strikes two in the morning. you didn’t have to look to know, but still, you checked the other bed finding it empty, a source of light coming from steps ahead on the small hotel room showed you the prettiest scene.

your partner in his pajamas, coffee pot and cup next to the lamp on the desk, his eyes were glued to the files and the thick book under them, which you imagined to be the crime classification manual.

the team had been briefed on the way there, but arriving in seattle after dinner time made the plan of getting to the scenes as fast as possible change, and you were both told to rest for the night.

hotch promised you he would go to bed in a bit, three hours ago.

you scoffed, getting up and taking the blanket you were just cozied up on with you, dropping it on his shoulders swiftly, he jolted in the chair in surprise, smiling when he noticed it was just you. “did i wake you? tried not to make any noise.”

his voice is raspy from how tired he is and from not speaking for a while and weirdly it brings you comfort, hearing him speak so quietly in the almost full darkness of that room, no outside noise coming in, as if only the two of you existed, as if he was yours.

“it’s cold, aaron. go to bed.” you don’t answer his question, instead you sit on the edge of the bed you were just sleeping on, waiting to hear him justify the ungodly hour of his work.

“i’m not cold anymore.” his attempt to not make it obvious the way he took a deep breath while tightening the blanket around him fails, and he knows you know he was trying to smell you through the fabric.

“alright, i’ll bite. what you doing?”

“building a profile.” he says matter of factly, shrugs as he does so but makes sure to hold the blanket so it doesn’t fall, he feels cozy in it, basking in the smell of your body wash and by how soft the fabric was. it was your blanket after all, you took it on every trip.

“we didn’t even–” you start, trying to argument that you hadn’t gone to the crime scenes yet, but he had recently become one of the lead profilers, promoted before you which made you just about 5% jealous and 95% proud because you knew how hard he worked, and how this case had to come out perfectly. the result had to be perfect.

aaron was like that, he was a perfectionist, a controlling freak perfectionist, and his first case as lead profiler had left him empty handed, not enough to build the profile before the bau was sent away. since then he had become more and more obsessive, you had to deal with it during work and imagined his fiancée had to deal with it at home.

although you reckon she might have better outcomes on making him relax.

you, on the other hand, don’t have as much freedom to do something about it, so you do what you can as his partner and friend. you get up, turn the lights on, get your glasses and sit on the floor across from him, opening your hand and waiting for him to give you some of the files.

“what?”

“pass me some of those, let’s bounce some ideas back and forth, you know profiles can’t be built solo, you might be biased.” you sighed at his reluctance, the guilt from waking you up clear on his eyes. “i’m already up, just do it, stop being so annoying.”

you were bossy when you wanted, too bad he actually liked that, so he just smirked and threw half the files on your lap. the first you open are filled with photos from the autopsies, you whine, something about the cold lab atmosphere and the dead almost blue bodies always creeped you out, and hotch knew it too, “oh fuck me–” trying my best not to, he lets the intrusive thought come and go quickly, ignoring it, “autopsies, really?”

he shrugs, “i’m looking at the crime scene ones, the whole scene is organized, clean, but the bodies are torn apart, disorganized, personal, there’s too much disconnection.” hotch slips down from the chair, sitting on the floor by your side and putting the pictures in front of you both to analyze.

the coffee is starting to get cold, so he grabs his cup from the table, sharing it with you as you worked on writing the discrepancies you both found between the scenes and the bodies.

aaron is a perfectionist. he needs his plans to go exactly as he schemed them, he doesn’t like change and he likes to be prepared for what the next day will bring.

but as you sat down on the floor of the crappy hotel, sharing bad coffee and feeling his warmth by your side, you knew that you wouldn’t have him any other way.

even if you don’t really have him.

#lari writes sometimes #marchhotchness #lari march hotchness #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

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erisenyo · 9 months

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“Please come get me.” For Zukka

Please make this as angsty and emotional as possible I was it to hurt thank you

(Maybe self-inflicted damage? Not necessarily SH but just by being willfully reckless?)

For this prompt game!

“You don’t think this is concerning?”

“No, Sokka,” Katara says again, patient, a familiar blend of exasperation and fondness in her chest as she glances over to where he’s fiddling with his wrist wraps, frowning down at Zuko’s latest letter. “I think it’s fine.”

“You’re sure?” he presses, anxious in a way he so rarely lets himself be this openly, at least in front of the people he’s anxious about. And because she knows how much he does worry no matter how much he tries to hide it, she leans over, gently taking the letter out of his hand and indulging him in scanning it over once again.

“He says it’s not as cold as he expected,” she says, skimming over the lines as Sokka pulls a little face, “That Arnook was nice, that he misses you—” she peaks through her lashes at that bit, looking for any twitch on his face as he just continues to nod along. “—that he’s looking forward to seeing you again, that the food’s good, that tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

She lets her hand drop to look at him, expectant, sighing when he just continues to nod, face anxious.

“Sokka,” she says gently, “He says he’s fine. And I know you miss him,” she adds when he continues to look unconvinced.

“That’s not it,” he protests immediately.

“But he’s only going to be gone for a few weeks.”

“Katara, that’s not—”

“And you’ll see him soon, okay?” she finishes, reaching out to grab his hand, giving it a little squeeze until he sighs and leans back.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay,” he repeats, grabbing back the letter and putting on a bright smile like she doesn’t know exactly how to see through that, like she can’t see the way his thumb continues to worry at the edge of it. “So what was it you needed help with again?”

“Penguin sledding,” she says, abruptly changing the plan for the day and grinning at him when he blinks, nonplussed. “We need to pick out the best hills for the new season, for the little ones,” she says. “Make some maps, maybe, plan some routes, do some schedules.” All of his favorite things she can think of, to keep his mind off his worry.

“I don’t know,” Aang says apologetically as he and Sokka jump across a gap where the temple floor’s fallen away. Probably no one should stay in this hallway until they fix that… “I don’t think I’m hearing it.”

“No?” Sokka says, the syllable cracking with uncertainty.

“Tell me again, though,” Aang says quickly. “What did it say?”

Sokka huffs, a faint furrow between his brows as he digs out two pieces of paper, peeling the latest letter off the top. “He greets me,” he rattles off, eyes flicking over the page, Aang keeping half an eye on the placement of his feet since Sokka isn’t anymore, “He talks a bit about the canals, he mentions Yugoda, bending, bending, bending—”

“Oh?” Aang says, perking up. “Did he—”

“Stay focused,” Sokka orders, waving a hiding hand.

Aang sighs but obediently puts on his most attentive face.

“And then he says—” Sokka clears his throat, drawing himself up, so Aang makes sure he’s actually paying attention. “—that he had an interesting afternoon of discussions, that Sei Zun is missing his office, and that everything is going fine.”

Aang nods, projecting attentive with everything he has and freezing a little when Sokka just hits him with an expectant look.

“I mean,” Aang says slowly, scratching the back of his head. “It sounds like everything is going fine?”

“Fucking—” Sokka cuts off with an aggravated noise, throwing his hands up.

“I can write him myself for the bending stuff,” Aang blurts, scrambling for something to get the worried tightness off of Sokka’s face and wincing when Sokka just lets out another garbled noise because…yeah. That…probably wasn’t it.

“Run it back at me again, Loverboy,” Toph orders, flicking a little bit of stone toward the sound of Sokka’s feet when he makes a questioning little noise. “I can hear you worrying over there,” she says, giving an exasperated look in his general direction. “Get it out.”

He pauses, heartbeat a little too quick like it’s been all day, then, cautiously, “You already said it was nothing.”

“Maybe I was wrong,” she shrugs. Sokka is excitable and far more anxious than he tries to let on, but that excitableness has gotten them out of more than one bind.

“…Um,” he says after a moment, hair rustling as he scratches under his wolftail.

“I mean, I don’t think I am,” she allows, grinning when he snorts and making a kicking up her feet. “But maybe you explained it to my shitty.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, a good sound over the rustle of papers as he tugs out those letters again. “Okay,” he says, getting serious, her words as much on his heartbeat as his words as she tries to pick up on what exactly is worrying him about this, “So it starts with saying things are fine—” ba-DUMP. “—talks about training a bit with some of the staff fighters—” ba-dump. “—talks about a canal ride—” BA-dump, interesting. “—he had a formal dinner, the food was nice, sea prune stew reminded me of him.” Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, filling up his expectant silence as she plays back the words and weighs them and tries to pick them apart and…

“Yeah, Sokka,” she finally says, apologetic and wincing a little when he audibly slumps, heart dropping in a way she usually can’t literally sense. “I’m not hearing it.”

“You don’t—he doesn’t seem off to you?” Sokka presses, sounding like he isn’t sure whether to let the anxiety out or whether he wants to be assured.

“I mean, based on how you read it…” Toph shrugs. She always assumes Sokka puts the most dramatic read on anything that he’s able to, given the opportunity. He’s second only to Zuko, there.

“I just, I feel like I should go up there,” he says, weight shifting back and forth and back and forth.

“Do you think,” she says carefully, “That that might muddy the waters for him?” She flicks a pebble back and forth across the ground when he stays conspicuously silent. “He’s trying to build his own relationships, Sokka. Right?”

“Yeah,” he acknowledges, reluctant, beads rattling softly as he shakes his head. “I just—I just don’t think he’s okay.”

“He said he’s fine, like, multiple times in each letter.”

“Yeah,” he says again after a beat, sounding doubtful, and Toph nods, slow and serious and silently tossing aside every loose plan they had for the day. They don’t need to be talking to officials and discussing infrastructure projects when he’s in a mood like this, she decides. They need to be riding Omashu’s mail carts.

“And none of these are horny?” Mai checks again as she takes the offered stack of letters.

“No,” Sokka says again, openly fretting, not even exasperated, so Mai shrugs and quickly skims through the stack. She keeps her face still, her movements measured as she sips her sweet waterorange juice, her eyes skipping over bland descriptions, over details of Zuko’s day that are all about what Zuko did—

“Oh,” Mai says.

“Yeah?” Sokka pauses in his pacing, something half hopeful and half nervous on his face.

—over talk of other people and none of himself—

“Oh yeah,” Mai repeats, setting down her juice.

“Right?”

—and fine, fine, fine repeated over and over again.

“Yeah, this is not good,” Mai agrees.

“Thank you.”

“Wow,” she says, going back over that last letter again and lingering over the careful curve of Zuko’s characters. “He’s about to lose his shit.”

“Okay, yes.”

She flicks him a flat stare, incredulous. “Why are you still here?”

“He’s supposed to be building relationships with the Northern Water Tribe on his own,” Sokka says, shoving both hands through his hair and looking like he has to physically stop himself from tearing I out. “And everyone is saying I’m going to get in the way, and I don’t want to mess it up for him but I also don’t want it to be harder than it has to be, and he’s not okay I don’t care what everyone—bird."

Mai instinctively ducks beneath the table, watching from safety as a messenger hawk dives down to smack Sokka square in the back, the pair of them screaming and squawking and flailing in a mess of limbs and wings until the hawk finally manages to dump its scroll case and take off, disgruntled, leaving Sokka mussed and breathing heavily in its wake.

Mai cautiously slides back into her chair, Sokka’s eyes wide and flicking around the sky as she waits as long as she can before huffing pointed.

“Well,” she demands, flicking the scroll an expectant look. “What does it say?” Because she knows one of Azula’s overdramatic, overly trained birds when she sees one, which only two people in the entire Fire Nation use, and that one clearly wasn’t for her.

Sokka scrambles into motion, fumbling the scroll case opening, hands hasty and quick and—“Fuck.”

Mai straightens, snatching the scrap of paper out of the air when Sokka suddenly tosses it at her and takes off, staring after him a moment before carefully flattening it out along with the others he left her, knowing he’ll want them all back, and raising her eyebrows when she sees one firmly scrawled line in Zuko’s distinctly overly formal hand:

Please come get me

“Well,” Mai purses her lips, wondering how exactly Sokka’s going to get himself there. “Fuck.”

Sokka leaps out of the newly streamlined transit balloon he’s been designing as soon as its close enough to the ground for him to not fuck up his knee with the landing, shouting a thanks over his shoulder and dashing over the freshly constructed landing pads, calling hellos in response to the startled exclamations he gets and scanning across the promenade for—

“Zuko!” he cries as he catches sight of that breadth of shoulders he’d recognize anywhere, that politely attentive angle of his head, the deep maroon of his robes standing out against the snow and in the cluster of periwinkle blue around him.

Zuko pivots toward him, face momentarily open, surprised and startled and relieved. “Sokka!” he calls back, immediately ignoring the others, hurrying forward, not exactly funning but intent, focused, determined, sweeping Sokka into his arms the second he’s close enough, leaning into him as Sokka leans back, sighing in relief to be surrounded by his warmth, to feel him solid and heavy against him and so, so beloved.

“Hey, love,” Sokka whispers, ignoring the uncertain crowd around them and mouthing a silent thank you when Poak catches his eye before waving everyone else back to give them space.

“Hey,” Zuko says into his shoulder, shaky, laughing a little and clutching Sokka even tighter.

“I missed you,” Sokka says, clearing his throat and feeling his eyes stinging as he presses his smile against Zuko’s hair.

“Mhm.” Zuko pushes harder into Sokka’s chest.

“I decided I couldn’t wait to see you again,” Sokka murmurs, running a hand up Zuko’s back, something in him unwinding as he feels the familiar lines of Zuko's back moving as Zuko laughs again, wet. “So I figured hey, why not take a little trip.”

“Is that your new experimental design?” Zuko asks, shifting just enough to glance over Sokka’s shoulder. “It didn’t drop you out of the air.”

“Nope,” Sokka grins, sinking his fingers into Zuko’s hair. “It did not.”

Zuko hums, turning into his neck. “I missed you,” he whispers, heartfelt.

“Yeah,” Sokka says, the words coming out thick as he pulls Zuko more firmly against him. “Me too, buddy.”

Zuko sighs, relaxing into him inch by inch, the two of them just breathing together, even and slowly falling into sync.

“I am going,” Zuko finally says, tone nearly abstract, distant, “To punch him in the fucking face.”

Sokka blinks a little. Wha—

“If I have to see one more smug look—”

“Ah,” Sokka says, realizing.

“—or listen to one more fucking sour, pretend offhand comment—”

“Right,” Sokka says, smoothing a hand down Zuko’s back and glancing around, making sure Pakku isn’t actually in Zuko’s line of sight right now.

“You would not believe—”

“Oh, I would,” Sokka says, with feeling. The meetings he's been in with that man...

“That man,” Zuko hisses, literally steaming with the force of his anger.

“Yup,” Sokka agrees, giving him a solid pat. Sokka knows exactly how he feels.

“If Katara gets to lay him out—”

“Katara isn’t the Fire Lord,” Sokka quickly points out. And Pakku is, for better or worse, enough of an ass not to want anyone to know he got decked by a girl.

“I’ll fucking give it up for the chance to—”

“Okay, okay,” Sokka says, giving Zuko another firm pat and glancing around for some redirection. Lighting things on fire should probably be out, Sokka didn’t bring his sword—“Want to go find a big stick?”

Zuko is still a moment, then pulls back just enough to peak at him, gold eye half-narrowed and suspicious.

“I can throw some snowballs,” Sokka offers, inviting. “You can smack them.” Zuko hesitates, openly considering, so Sokka adds, "They explode."

“Okay let’s go,” Zuko says almost before he gets the words out, grabbing his hand and interlacing their fingers together as he hauls Sokka off and away from the confused clump of Northerners, Sokka tossing a wave over his shoulder and an apologetic shrug, happy to let himself be pulled along—at least until Zuko pauses at the first intersection, uncertain, and Sokka can take over.

#asks and answers #ask games #Anon you do not know how hard it was for me to not make this about Zuko crashing his razer scooter #Which did not seem to quite fit the requested tone lol #Sokka #Zuko #Zukka #fic writing #my writing #The Gaang

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jangofettjamz · 6 months

Text

Turn It Off!

Gentle!Wednesday x Autistic!Male!Reader

Summary: Wednesday comforts you after Enid almost sends you into sensory overload.

Words: 1076

Wednesday POV

Normally I would resent anyone who would even dare to think of asking me out, but that all changed when a particular psychic boy asked me to be his friend, and soon to be boyfriend.

Y/N L/N, a real gem among idiots.

I instantly took a liking to him, he's different from everything else and I soon came to find out why.

Y/N has autism spectrum disorder, which would be a valid explanation for some of his behaviour since coming to nevermore.

He's extremely shy, when he asked me to be his friend he almost broke at the seams. He's really nervous during any kind of social interaction with those he doesn't know.

Loud noises are especially irritable for him. Wolves howling in the quad would be torture for him, making him put his headphones on the second he sees them about to howl.

Meltdowns. Some imbecile thought it was funny to blast an air horn into his ears during lunch break, the result was Y/N having a meltdown with no one able to help him.

When we started talking I knew he felt a connection to me, he was a bit scared of me but also intrigued.

He's vastly intelligent, easily an IQ of 160. He's truly gifted with intelligence and that's coming from me. I'm not one to be humble.

When we started dating I took him to the weathervane, I didn't want to scare him like I did with everyone else. He's a fragile boy and didn't deserve that.

I wanted to protect him, to care for him and help where everyone elsen had failed him.

I love everything about him. I love the he'd hide his hands in his sleeves when he's shy. I love the way he talks about his favourite things in great detail. I love the way he could come to me when he's upset.

I love him, so very very much.

Me, Enid and Y/N are currently studying for our botany test next week. Enid, as usual, is procrastinating while me and Y/N have been studying since the test was announced.

We both go to reach for the eraser on the desk next to us, only for our hands to touch. I kissed the top of his hand making him blush madly, he really is cute; I hate myself for using that word.

Enid is dancing around her room being the foolish lycan that she is, she never ceases to amaze me how foolish she can be, its actually quite remarkable.

Suddenly, she decided it was a good idea to start blasting her incessant music out of her speakers, causing Y/N to cover his ears and whimper out of discomfort.

"Enid, turn it off" I said with a warning tone, though she only chose to ignore me and do her embarrassing dance moves in front of my face. Y/N began to whimper louder, making my anger with Enid rise to new heights.

"Enid turn it off!" I said louder; no effect was made.

"Why? It's getting boring in here, let's have some fun!" She said loudly, only adding to Y/N's discomfort. I was furious.

"ENID!" I shout, startling the both of them. "Can't you see that Y/N is getting upset because of your music blasting his ear drums apart, he's sensitive to noise you imbecile!" She looked over to Y/N to see him curled up in a ball with his hands over his ears, a guilty expression painting her face.

I point my finger to the door. "Get out" is all I say. She obeys and walks out with her head hung low. She knows about his noise sensitivity and yet she still does this, the audacity of some people.

Though my anger was strong and prevalent, I still heard faint whimpers from my side of the room. Y/N was still feeling uncomfortable after all that noise and was curled up in a ball on the floor by my desk. Thing was trying his best to comfort him, but nothing seemed to work.

I walk over to him and sit down opposite him with a gentle smile on my face. I patted my knees indicating for him to sit in my lap, he nodded and crawled into my lap and I hugged him tight, he preferred pressure over feather light touches.

He sniffled quietly, hoping I wouldn't notice. He looked away from so that I wouldn't see the tears streaming down his face like a river, as if I'd resent him for it. I pulled his face by his chin to look at me and offered a reassuring smile. I only ever smile for him.

"It's okay to cry in front of me, I won't be mad. Please don't be afraid to cry in front of me, I don't want you to be scared of me, darling." And with that he broke, he hid his face in my shoulder as I stroked his back, my blazer becoming wet with tears but I didn't care.

"I'm sorry Wednesday, I know you hate emotions." He said through his sobs. I felt my heart break a little, he thought I'd hate him for it.

"No it's okay, sweetheart, it's you so I don't mind at all. I would never be disappointed in you for being upset. Enid is the one I'm disappointed in, she should've been more mindful of your needs."

I pulled back from him. "Can I kiss you?" He nodded and I planted a gentle kiss to his lips. "Wanna cuddle for a bit?" He nodded again and I guided him to my bed.

We sat on the bed and I held him with a vice grip from behind. I wanted to reassure him that he's okay to be emotional around me. I had not realised he feared me so much.

"I won't leave you for being emotional Y/N, you know that right?" I whispered behind him. "I'm always here to listen you, I know it can be hard to operate somedays and it can be overwhelming for you, I'm hoping you'll let me in and help you and comfort you in any way I can." He turned around, he looked taken aback by what I said, I meant everything.

"You would do that? For me?" I smiled and nodded

"I'd do anything for you, mi amor." He leaned forward and kissed me gently, smiling against my lips which I happily returned.

Maybe I'm not unlike my mother and father after all...

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #male reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday #autism #comfort #jenna ortega x y/n

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gaycragula · 12 days

Note

Hello there

Please could i request a child male reader (around 9-12, maybe younger idk you can choose) x 141. Platonic obv. Reader is being held hostage for reasons and they have to go on a rescue mission. When reader is saved he’s scared of them all except ghost who he just clings onto LMAO

cheers mate 🙏

Lost and Found

Pairing: 141 x Child Male Reader (Platonic!!!!) Warning(s): Heavy implication of parent death, politician family, child reader, locked in a basement, he gets fed i promise, i have no idea how the military works, angst? Word Count: 2069 Masterlist

The walls were an ugly, cracks running along them, and you’re sure there was mold growing in one of the corners. The only light in the room was a small lightbulb in the center of the room that was rarely left on. The only door leading out of the room was locked from the outside. You’re not sure you exactly wanted to leave the room. Not with the heavy thumps of feet that stomped through the first floor of the home.

It was a nice summer day when it happened. You’d just finished a nice dinner with your parents when the sirens began to blare. The sound cut your ears and you covered your ears, trying to block out the noise. You were whisked out of your chair by your dad before you could get up yourself.

Hushed words were shared between your parents as they rushed through the home to the basement. Your father’s grip was tight on you as he toted you down the stairs, your mother right on his heels.

Dad set you down in a corner, trying to keep you out of direct sight of the stairs. He pressed a loving kiss to your forehead, your mother doing the same.

“Be good and stay here,” your mom whispers, giving you a pained smile. Her lip quivered as she pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Mom and Dad love you. We always will.”

. Then, they left you, footsteps receding back up the stairs into the home. You heard the door shut and a silent darkness covered you. The silence only lasted for a moment.

Something crashed upstairs and loud bangs made you cover your ears again. You curled further into the corner, trying to make yourself as small as possible. More crashing and something heavy hitting the ground sounded before it fell silent again. It was over… right?

The basement door slammed open and you gave a full body flinch. A flurry of steps rocketed down the stairs. Way too many to be just your parents.

Five or six men came into your sightline. Each of them looked like they were armed to the teeth and it sent a jolt of fear through you. These men just ran through your house. Where your parents were. Where were your parents?

They scoured the basement, flashlights leading their guns as they searched. For what? You weren’t quite sure but you hoped they would just look over you. The fear surging through your body was almost unbearable. It was hard to breathe, each breath fighting to force its way out silently. You tried to stay hidden for as long as possible but their flashlights soon exposed you.

They said something you couldn’t understand before moving on and returning upstairs when they finished. You heard the faint click of the lock to the basement and you were left in the basement by yourself again. You tried to fight the tears that began falling down your cheeks as you curled in on yourself. It wasn’t a very long fight and your face soon became wet with your tears. It hit you then that you’d probably never see your parents again.

It had been a week since it had happened. The men would leave food for you at the top of the stairs. You spent the majority of your days sitting under the light in the room, playing whatever you could find. Trying to distract your mind. You were suddenly happy your parents kept a chunk of toys down in the basement for storage.

Totes of toy cars that you pretended to race with, some toy dinosaurs you’d gotten years ago, left forgotten in the basement until now. There were planks of wood you’d dragged over that you drew on with some chalk your parents kept down there. The chalk worked well on the walls as well.

Drawings littered the small walls of the basement. Cars and dinosaurs littered the floor. Your house.. Your home, your family. Where did it all go?

You’ve tried to talk to the men on multiple occasions but they only either looked at you with disdain or spoke in a language you couldn’t understand.

On the eighth day of the occupation, you heard those loud bangs and the shouts of men again. You started crying again, you didn’t even have a chance to try to stop it as you scrambled back into a corner in the room again, hopefully out of sight. Out of mind.

It felt like ages before the house fell silent again. You heard the doorknob wiggle, muffled voices coming from the otherside. Light filtered into the basement as the door creaked open. “After you, Sergeant,” a gruff voice huffs, a hint of teasing to the tone.

A short laugh followed the words before steps were coming down the stairs again, flashlights dancing over the walls as they descended. “Ohhhh hell, look at this, LT,” a second voice whispers, a light lingering on the drawings on the wall. Silence fell again as the sound of more boots started down the stairs, flashlights whipping around the room before one fell on your form.

—-----------------------

Clearing the home was easy. The bastards inside weren’t expecting an attack for a while. A home far outside any city line would surely work as a temporary base, right?

They thought so at least. So when the Scotsman barged through the door followed by six others, the occupants weren’t prepared. The firefight was short. The men inside scrambling to get to their weapons as fast as possible.

It was Roach who’d noticed the door to the basement, calling over the rest of the team. “What d’ya thinks down there?” Soap chuckles as Ghost takes a hand at picking the lock. “More guys? Prisoners they been keepin’?”

“If I had to take a guess, probably prisoners. Family who lived here was big in the political field here. Probably kept them as hostages for ransom,” Price says, gesturing for two of the guys to stand guard at the front and back doors.

The door clicked open and slowly swung open with a nasty creak. “After you, Sergeant,” Ghost huffs, nudging the Scotsman forward. Soap let out a short laugh before starting into the dimly lit basement. Ghost close behind him. Soap’s flashlight scanned the floors and walls. He noticed dinosaurs and cars littering the floor around the bottom of the stairs. He initially thought nothing of it. They knew a young kid lived here.

He was almost to the bottom as his light scanned over a big drawing of a home and a family of three drawn in chalk.

He felt his heart drop at the image. Soap was no master in chalk or anything, but the drawing looked pretty new. “Ohhh hell, look at this LT,” he says, nudging the other. Ghost went rigid for a second before gesturing back up the stairs for the other three to come down quickly.

Flashlights scoured the basement, Soap wandering towards the darkest part of the basement. His light danced over the stone floor before the body of a little boy was illuminated.

“Over here,” Soap calls out, almost missing the way the kid jerked in response to his words. Soap handed Price his gun before crouching down next to the boy. Your eyes were locked onto him, tear stains evident on your cheeks and fear clouding your eyes. “We’re here to help ya,” Soap says, trying to offer his hand to you.

“Back off the kid, Soap,” Ghost mutters. “He’s scared shitless.”

Soap let out a quiet, barely audible sigh as he stood back up and stepped back to join the rest of his team.

Your eyes shot from man to man. Your breath was heavy in your chest and you could hear yourself wheezing because of it. “Where are my parents?” You almost sobbed. Your voice was hoarse, throat tight as you waited for an answer.

The men felt their hearts drop at the pure pain in your voice. This kid, no older than 11 or 12 had his life turned upside down in a matter of fifteen minutes just a week ago.

It was Ghost who made the first, well technically second, advance towards you, much to the surprise of the rest of the team. Just as surprising was the way you sat up to be face to face with him as he crouched down.

He pulled a small picture out of pocket and handed it to you. It was a picture of your parents and yourself that you’d never seen before. “I don’t know where your parents are, but I do know that if you remain here, you’ll never find them,” Ghost spoke lowly. Just loud enough for you to hear.

You nodded in understanding, shoving the picture in your pocket as Ghost stood up. He went to turn back to the team but paused when your hand grabbed his. You avoided his gaze when he looked back at you but didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he picked you up and maneuvered you onto his back.

“Thank you,” you mumble, laying your head down on his back.

Ghost turned towards his team who were all gawking at the scene before them. “Get goin’ and quit starin’ at me like that,” he huffs, nodding towards the stairs before turning to speak to Roach, Gaz, and Soap. “Get the kid some clothes and we’re gettin’ out of here.”

“Aye, L.T,” Soap almost stutters, pushing Roach and Gaz towards the stairs. Price chuckled to himself before heading up the stairs after the three, rounding up the other two that he’d stationed up there.

“What’s your name?” Ghost hears you ask quietly.

“They call me Ghost,” the man answers as he heads up the stairs. He felt you nod against his back and you fell silent for a moment. “What’s your name?”

You tell him your name, which he already knew but he wasn’t going to tell you that. That started a short and quiet conversation between the two of you. You asked how long he’d been in the military, where he was from, what his family was like and Ghost answered you and asked you the same questions in return.

It was a stark contrast to what the 141 was used to. Ghost was generally quiet on these kinds of missions. “It’s gotta be the kid,” Gaz whispers to Soap who nods in agreement.

“Yeah but what about this kid is different from others we’ve found?” Soap whispers back, rubbing his jaw as he watched you and Ghost interact. Gaz shrugged in response before Roach chimed in.

“Maybe he reminds him of a family member? Younger brother or nephew?” Roach suggests and it was like a lightbulb went off in the other two’s heads.

“That’s gotta be it,” Soap nods. “Does anyone know anythin’ ‘bout his family?”

Gaz and Roach shake their heads and Soap sighs. He opened his mouth to say something else, stopping when he saw Ghost shoot a look over his shoulder at him.

“Quit chattin’. Be on guard. We’re still in hostile territory,” Price mutters, ignoring the noise of complaint the three made before begrudgingly doing what they were told.

It was your first time on an aircraft. You were glued to Ghost’s side, eyes locked on the floor in front of you. Soap had tried to get your attention a couple times to no avail. If you did make eye contact with him, you were quick to look away as quick as possible.

The others didn’t have much luck either. Roach had tried to speak to you while Ghost was carrying you and all you’d done was bury your face into the fabric of Ghost’s shirt.

Price had been the most outward about it, asking to actually carry you so give Ghost a break. That was the only time you’d spoken to anyone besides Ghost. “No,” was all that came from your mouth as you shook your head. Ghost had chuckled and told Price he was good to carry you the whole way.

Ghost had given you his hand to basically ‘play’ with. You braided his fingers, bending them and whatever else you could do to keep your mind calm. The rest of the team couldn’t keep the smiles off their faces at the sight.

Who would’ve guessed. The big bad Ghost had actually a big softie.

#kid reader #kid male reader #male reader #reader #call of duty #soap cod #ghost cod #roach cod #captain john price #gaz cod #extra unnamed characters #parent death #heavily implied #hostage situation #fluff #angst question mark #angst #yippee im working on requests that are like a year old

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harlowcomehome · 5 months

Text

You’re home to me:

Requested by @vanwritesfan-fiction.

The exhaustion of the day practically followed the two of you to bed, Jack was exhausted, his voice hoarse and grainy.

You had spent the day helping set production, making sure everything had looked exactly how the two of you envisioned. Your upper thighs ached from balancing boxes, and your biceps too.

You were barely going to turn the lights off when Jack had a suggestion.

“Do you want to take a warm bath together?” Jack almost whispered, his voice nearly gone as he realized the two of you could use it.

“Honestly? Yes, that would help” You nodded, nearly bent over the bed as your body ached with every step you took.

Jack knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise, he could tell that you were really in pain by your audible groans.

“Did you drink some tea for your throat?”

He shook his head, feeling your disappointment immediately radiate off of you.

“Start the bath and I’ll make your tea” you forced a smile, painfully shuffling to the kitchen in your slippers.

Jack went to the bathroom, starting the warm water, and adding Epsom salt and peppermint oil.

While the water filled the tub you slowly got undressed, placing his tea on the counter. His eyes watching your every move silently as he did the same.

He got in first, letting the water continue to run.

You handed him the mug, he wasted no time setting it behind him on the edge of the tub.

He held his arms out for you.

“Slowly baby, slow” his voice was comforting although faint.

You grabbed onto his hands, slowly starting to sit against the warm water.

“I got you, I got you” he reassured you as you let yourself splash water against him.

“This feels so good, thank you baby” You threw your head back against his damp chest.

He chuckled, his stomach making waves in the water. He turned the faucet off, using his foot.

“You’re so extra” you giggled, poking at his foot as it splashed back down into the water.

“You know I’m ticklish! Don’t!” He playfully growled as his voice was getting worse by the second.

“Drink your tea baby” You looked up at him, eyes full of worry.

He grabbed the mug, making sure not to spill anything on you as he drank it over your head.

“That feels so good” he swallowed hard making audible dramatic noises.

“Can I be corny with you for a second?” You played with his free hand under the water, intertwining your fingers.

“Course” he rasped, before taking another big drink.

“Today some of the guys were talking when we were checking out the set designs and they were talking about how long they had been married and everything and of course they know I’m your wife so they don’t really press me much” You shrugged, looking up to make sure he was still listening.

Jack nodded for you to continue, still very much wide awake and alert.

“Well they started talking about when they knew their person was the one, and I know when I felt that way but-“

“When did I?” He finished your sentence, placing the mug down.

You shifted around the water, facing him as he adjusted for you to sit that way.

“I knew you were the person for me when I no longer wanted to go home. I had been touring for what felt like forever and near the end of every tour I just always wanted to go home but when I was with you, I just wanted to be where you were, it didn’t matter where in the world I was. You felt like home to me.”

Your eyes started to water, and you feared you’d ruin the moment if you cried.

“Did you say felt?” You joked about the past tense usage.

“You feel, you feel like home to me” he leaned in to kiss you, wrapping his arms around your naked body as he pulled you in closer, making copious amounts of bath water cover the floor.

“You’re cleaning that up” you mumbled between kisses.

“Deal” he smiled, pressing his forehead against yours.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow imagines #Jack Harlow fan fic #vanwritesfanfiction #fic requests

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tojisbbg · 1 year

Text

❈ 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗺𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 ❈

❝one day i will stop falling in love with you, some day, someone will like me like i like you.❞

♡ manjiro sano ♡

a/n: current mood - wanting to breaking people’s hearts 😈 (sorry mikey stans)

content: mikey x reader (y/n), very heavy angst, right person wrong time, you’re mikey’s childhood friend, he’s getting married (lolz), not grammatically checked/edited

...

you finished adding the final touches to your makeup, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you checked in the mirror if your concealer hid your puffy eyes well. some would say that whatever you were going through was tragic, a scenario that you would read about in romance novels where the main character is destined to a miserable fate.

and perhaps that was right.

you’ve been feeling miserable, sad and pathetic for the last month and a half since you’ve received the invitation. a piece of paper that felt like a sharp knife slicing your heart in half.

what was worse was that you couldn’t even find it in your heart to throw away the card. it was beautifully decorated with happy pastel colors and confetti, printed on expensive card stock, pop-up designs and a photo of him with the girl that was supposed to be you.

it was your childhood friend’s wedding, except for the catch that you’ve been holding in a burdening crush on him for the last twenty years. he was your person and you were his, being there for each other through thick and thin.

you both created a world where it was just the two of you while everyone else became a blur, a bunch of white noise. he was the invincible mikey and you were his key.

you couldn’t help but wonder, when did things change so fast? how did the perfect world you both created become nothing but dust?

---

(17 years ago)

“how is she, doc?” the young boy with a dragon tatted on his skull asked curiously as he stared at his friend, well practically family, in concern.

“it was just an upset stomach, little man. we gave your sister some antibiotics to fight off those nasty little germs that’s been bothering her. she’ll be good in a few days. you sure you don’t have a parent or older family member we can contact?” the doctor asked, cocking an eyebrow as he held the pen in his hand eagerly, hoping the blonde boy would say something to him.

“we’re orphans and she’s not my real sister. we have someone that’s been taking care of us for all these years and he’ll come by shortly.” he murmured, shame painting his face as his gaze went down to the floor.

the doctor looked at him with sorrow, patting his head.

“hang tight, buddy. keep her company, but don’t make her laugh too much or else it might make her cry.” he tried to create humor and it successfully made the frowning by crack a crooked smile.

“yes, sir!” the little boy playfully saluted as he watched the man in the white coat walk away with a chuckle.

“ken?” his ears rang up when hearing your faint call of his name, a small whimper following after.

“y/n! are you hurting anywhere? should i call the doctor back? uncle’s gonna be here soon with remi. i told them to bring your favorite chocolate pudding.” draken gave you a cheeky grin, his hand now holding yours tightly.

“you know me so well, sometimes i forget that i’m an orphan.” you laughed quietly, trying to not put strain on your stomach.

“you’re not an orphan, y/n. you got me, uncle, remi and the other girls too. we’re one big happy family.” he persisted, eyebrows furrowing as he tried his best to convince you to believe his point.

“you told the doctor that i’m not your sister, ken.” you whispered, your throat becoming dry as the words left your mouth. draken fell silent for a few seconds before sighing, laying his head besides your hand.

“i told him that you’re not my real sister, y/n. there’s a difference. i don’t care what the law says because my heart says otherwise. you’ll always be the sister that i’ve always dreamed of having.” his eyes twinkled, a hand coming up to ruffle your hair.

“so i heard one of my little girls was sick? maybe some chocolate pudding will make those little bad guys in your stomach go away.” your uncle’s voice boomed in your ward, a small smile plastered on his face as he shook the white plastic bag.

your eyes glimmered in content before you were pulled into a bear hug by remi. the girl sobbed on your shoulder, wetting it with tears and snot as she roared by your ears.

“y/nnnn!!!! i thought you were gonna die when kenny told uncle! i love you, y/n, don’t leave ever me. ever.” she hiccuped between every word as your uncle and draken tried to console her and calm her down.

“it was a stomach bug, remi. i’ll be better in a few days.” you tried to cheer her up. she raised her head, looking at you in doubt.

“promise?” remi sniffled.

“promise, you know i’d never lie to you.” you wiped away her tears before hugging her once more.

your uncle handed the three of you the small containers of chocolate pudding.

“why don’t you three take a walk outside, i’ll have this really nice nurse walk you guys. it’s good to get some fresh air.” the doctor said, patting your back and you all agreed, soon leaving the room.

you happily skipped through the hallway, one pudding container in your pocket, while the other one was tightly secured in your hand as you ate it.

“let’s play hide and seek, you’re the seeker ken!” you quickly blurted out, not giving either of them a choice before running off to the other direction. you faintly heard draken groan in annoyance, being tired of always being the seeker but he’d always do it for you.

you saw a pretty quiet hallway and decided to turn to that corner, only to find a small quiet room. you figured that it wouldn’t be too much of a trouble to hide in here for a few minutes

you opened the door, nearly having a heart attack from the sudden appearance of another person. it was a boy with short blonde hair, he was huddled up into a ball, quietly whimpering and crying.

“hey, kid.” you called out to him, only to not receive a response. a heavy sigh left your lips as you walked over to him, sitting on the floor besides him. the boy looked up at you, eyes all puffy and his nose red.

he’s pretty cute.

“look, i’m really bad at comforting people. but, when i’m super sad, i eat chocolate pudding to make me happy again.” you said with a grin, digging in your pocket to get your other container out.

you grabbed his hand and opened his palm before placing the treat in it. he stared at it in momentary silence.

“who are you?” he finally spoke, looking at you with slight confusion.

“just a stranger who’s hiding from her siblings in an intense game of hide and seek. what about you?” you chuckled, scooping another bite into your mouth.

“i’m.. i don’t know.” he said with a shaky breath, shaking his head.

“that’s fine, we don’t always know the answer to everything. ken is really mean sometimes, he’s a year older than me and asked me what 345 times 82 is. i could bet you my whole stash of chocolate pudding that he doesn’t know himself. tch, smart my ass.” you scoffed, earning a small giggle from your side. you side eyed him, seeing him detach the small spoon from the plastic lid before opening it.

“what’s your name?” he asked you, eyes anticipating for an answer.

“y/n. you?” you continued to inhale your treat as you waited for him to respond.

“mikey.” the blonde boy scooped in a hefty amount into his mouth as he consumed the sweet dessert.

“why were you crying, mikey?” you asked, not realizing how insensitive you were being.

“it’s personal.” mikey shortly dismissed, but you were a little slow to understand and continued to persist until he caved in.

“it’s just me and you in here. think of it as a bubble with just us, nothing comes in or goes out of this bubble.” you assured him, patting his back.

for some strange reason, mikey felt like he could tell you anything from how comfortable you made him feel. considering the fact that he didn’t want to show any kind of reaction or emotion towards his family, he decided to seek that comfort and release in you.

“my mother just died, about an hour ago.” he bluntly dropped the bomb, placing a very awkward and tense atmosphere between you both.

“you’ll get over it, mikey.” you calmly answered, making his brows furrow with annoyance and slight anger.

“how could you say that to me? my mother just died.” mikey said in disbelief, his tone heightening a little.

“i’m telling you the truth. i’m sorry that this happened to you, especially at such a young age, but it’ll all pass and soon, today will just be one of your many bad memories. you’ll find peace and love one day and heal, mikey. that’s life.” you defended your previous statement, looking into his eyes with a gentle look.

“and how do you know that? you’re just some ten-year-old weirdo that walked in on me.” he mumbled under his breath, making you giggle.

“i’m an orphan, mikey. i don’t even know what my parents look like or if i even have any to begin with. not even any knowledge on if i have sibling or not. ken and remi aren’t my real siblings, just people i grew up with.” you shrugged, making the blonde boy thin his lips.

“i’m sorry.” he apologized, his gaze lowering to meet his shoes.

“it’s not your fault. there’s too much love in this world to be consumed by regret or grief. i’m not saying that you shouldn’t grieve, but you have to pick yourself up and continue with the rest of your life eventually. it’s what your mom would’ve wanted, mikey.” you ruffled his hair as his eyes shimmered with hope.

“thanks, i’ll try. also, promise me that you won’t tell anyone about me crying.” mikey gave you a embarrassed look, holding up his pinky.

“i promise.” you intertwined yours with his.

suddenly, the door flew open, which startled the both of you.

“found you!”

---

“i’m really sorry, sir.” the doctor heavily sighed, trying to pat your uncle’s back as the man sobbed in his palms.

“how bad is it? please, tell me she has time! she’s only ten, i want to be able to walk her down the aisle one day.” your uncle begged, choking between every word and cry.

“the tumor in right in the middle of her brain, wrapping around each and every blood vessel. it’s to aggressive for us to remove it, i’m sorry once again, but it’s inoperable. she’ll bleed out before we can even remove a centimeter of it. with proper treatment and medications, we’re looking at maybe ten more years.” the doctor replied, making your uncle rub his temples in worry.

“uncle!! meet my new friend, mikey! they live on the next block from our house.” you vibrant voice broke the depressing atmosphere. your uncle quickly wiped away his tears, giving you all a smile.

“hey, i remember you! you were in s.s motors with shinichiro.” your uncle patted mikey’s head.

“he’s my big brother.” mikey answered.

“i see, why don’t you come and have lunch with us. we’re going out for burgers, i’ll text your brother that you’re with us.” your uncle suggested, making the small blonde boy nod his head.

and just like that, the both of you became inseparable.

---

high school came around and you were the only thing that was piecing manjiro sano, or rather the invincible mikey, together. he formed a gang and that included your brother in it as well. you all were a pretty tight group to say the least, yet no one could truly understand him better than you could.

not even his right-hand men such as draken or sanzu.

“i think i’m gonna disband toman and move away for some time, you now escape life for a little.” he sighed, opening the lid of the chocolate pudding before handing it to you.

“where’s yours?” you asked, confused as to why he only got one.

“didn’t want one.” he shrugged, digging in his pocket before pulling out a box of cigarettes. he plucked one of the cancer sticks out, planting it in between his lips before lighting it.

you watched him in disappointment, as he inhaled the smoke before coughing it out, eyes becoming watery as you scoffed.

“dumbass, give me that.” you grabbed the stick before throwing it on the ground, stepping on it.

“and that.” you grabbed the pack out of his hands before tossing it into the trash.

“y/n.” mikey called out.

“no, i’m really mad at you. i can’t believe you, mikey. pull that type of shit again and i’ll bury you, i swear. no girl would ever want to kiss you with a mouth like that.” you scoffed, flicking his forehead as he winced in pain.

“not even you?” he teased.

“i’d rather kiss a roach.” you playfully punched his bicep, earning a small laugh from him.

“they only had one pudding left, so i didn’t get one for myself.” he explained himself.

“we could always share, idiot. say ah.” you ordered, scooping a hefty amount of pudding before placing the spoon near his lips. he opened his mouth, eating it with content.

“see, much better than cigarettes. but i was being serious, mikey, i don’t wanna see those near your lips or reach ever again. swear on my life?” you glared at him, making him choke.

“hey! why are you giving me such a harsh swear??” he cleared his throat.

“so you’re saying you’ll lie and do it behind my back?!” you yelled, making him quickly shake his head.

“no, no, no! that’s not what i meant. i’m just saying that isn’t it such a big swear for something so stupid?” mikey tried to reason.

“your health is not stupid, mikey. don’t push my buttons and swear already.” you rolled your eyes, making him sigh.

“fine, i swear.” he said in defeat, stealing the reamining of your pudding to eat.

“hm, good. oh, going back to what you were saying earlier, why so suddenly?” you questioned, backtracking to the previous conversation before you both got out of topic.

“i don’t know, i feel like i’m bringing in my toxic energy in and engulfing everyone. maybe i should just let it all go and step back, you know? even you need a break from me to be honest.” he bitterly laughed. you kissed your teeth before grabbing a hold of his face, turning it to face you as you stared sternly at him.

“mikey, i’m not going anywhere. what i promised you seven years will never break, even after we die. our souls are one, and i can’t leave my other half. so, let me run away with you. wherever you want, i’ll follow right behind you.” you gave him a soft smile, caressing his cheeks lovingly. his expression grew softer, tears welling in his eyes as he buried his face in your chest. you wrapped your arms around him, kissing the top of his head.

it’s been rough on him, especially after losing shinichiro too in an accident. mikey’s been in a really dark place for a few months, shit, even scary if you were honest. he was snappy, rude, all dark and twisty. yet, you never gave up on him.

because you knew that at the end of the day, he was still the same small boy you found in that closet crying to himself.

“y/n, promise me something.” mikey sniffled, pulling away as he looked up at you, eyes holding so much vulnerability.

“i promised my entire life to you, what more should i promise?”you joked, wiping away his tears with the pads of your thumb.

“if we don’t find someone by the age of thirty, let’s get married. i’d rather spend the rest of my life with you than all alone.” he offered, a boyish smile dancing on his lips as your heart fluttered.

you could’ve sworn that it skipped a few beats, making it suddenly harder to breathe as your cheeks grew warm.

“stop fucking around with me, sano. it’s not funny.” you warned him, but his expression remained the same.

“you’re being deadass?” your eyes grew wide and he hummed in response.

“so, are you in or not?” the blonde boy cocked an eyebrow as he held out his pinkie, making you chuckle.

“jeez, it seems like you’re making a life or death contract with me. yes, i’m in.” you answered, intertwining your pinkie with his.

and to think that what you’ve been dreaming of for years were to come true would become only a nightmare.

it’s not until emma’s death where mikey completely disappeared, not answering anyones calls or even yours. you spent days trying to look for him all over the city and even begging koko to somehow track his number or something.

but every effort went in vain.

you cried for months, refusing to eat and giving up on the sweet treat that only reminded you of him. you had nightmares every night, and the only thought that circled your mind was that he was dead.

he was really gone.

until after nearly nine years, he came back. not alone, but accompanied with another person.

a girl, his girl, to be precise.

mikey went to the philippines for those years, returning with a completely new get up that would make it hard for anyone to guess that it was him. his beautiful blonde locks were now cut short with an undercut, dyed black.

you remembered the first day where he showed up at your doorsteps, your knees turned into jelly as you almost collapsed to the group if he didn’t catch you in time. you cried in his arms for so long, cursing and punching him from pain and anger as he whispered thousands of apologies to you.

you were happy, so fucking happy to see that he was alive. it put your mind and heart to peace, until you saw her walk out of the car.

“this is my girlfriend, y/n. we met a few years back and she’s just amazing, you know. i wanted you to meet the most important person of my life first since you’re my best friend.” he mischievously giggled, snaking an arm around her waist.

your throat became dry, heart shattering into a billion pieces as each word leaving his lips was like knives jabbing at your heart. it bled, threatening to leak out of your eyes. yet, you held back, trying your hardest to fake a realistic smile to keep your cool.

“nice to meet you.” you shook her hand.

“the pleasure’s all mine, mikey’s told me a lot about you.” she said, making you awkwardly laugh.

“oh, i see.” you dryly replied, clearing your throat.

“these are for you by the way, it’s a recipe that’s really sacred to my family. i hope you enjoy.” she smiled, handing you a box of what seemed like cookies.

fuck, i can’t even bring myself to hate her.

“thank you, that’s really sweet of you. uh, you both should stay over for lunch.” you offered, secretly praying that they refuse.

“sorry, y/n, i gotta get my bike inspected by ken-chin. next time, yeah?” he ruffled your hair, as you managed to let out a small hum. you waved them goodbye before entering your house, locking the door behind you.

you fell on your knees, letting out all the tears that you’ve been holding in. your cry was ugly, gut-wrenching and painful as it stole all the oxygen from your lungs and made you gag and choke.

it felt like someone died, well, it was sort of like that.

mikey was no longer yours, he was somebody’s else’s. you were all alone now.

you’re the other woman.

you probably shed a gallon of tears by now, trying your best to turn off the water tap glued on your eyes. but, the image of him snaking his arm around her waist never left your mind.

you glanced at the box of cookies on the floor, opening the lid to grab one and take a bite.

“fuck, they taste delicious too.” you cried, throwing it back in the box as you decided that it’ll be best to call out of work sick for tomorrow.

---

the day has finally come, where you have to let him go. he was no longer yours, those days will never come back, now only a happy memory that you can confide to for comfort.

“y/n, you don’t have to do this.” draken sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder but you shook your head, determined to attend that damn wedding.

“i have to, ken. he’s my best friend, i can do at least this much for him.” you answered, fixing up the green dress that you wore before putting on your earrings.

“be selfish for once, y/n! i know that you love him, alright? i’ve been living with you since diapers, i know you like the back of my hand. you can lie to anyone but me, i know that you’re not okay. which is why i’m telling you that you don’t have to do this. i’ll tell him that you’re sick or something.” draken’s eyes softened, his expresison growing sad as he looked at your pained expression. you were smiling at him, yet he knew the thousands of thoughts and words that littered your mind.

“ken, i know. the only way i could give myself closure is by seeing it happen, in front of my eyes. i want my last memory of him to be happy and clear, so that when i think of him, i don’t feel pain or misery. if he’s happy then i’m happy because we are each others halves and no one can take that spot. besides, his fiance is so nice, i can’t even bring myself to hate her. he’ll be fine, i know he will.” you explained, grabbing drakens hands as you gave it a tight squeeze, looking up at the tall man that stood before you.

he bit his lips to contain himself from arguing back, caressing your cheeks before letting out a sigh. he nodded his head, deciding to butt-out of your business.

“okay, whatever makes you happy.” he said and you hummed in response before getting up to slip on your heels.

“let’s go, we have a wedding to go to.” you smiled at him, slipped your arm in his as you guys walked out of your house.

the drive to the church was short as it was the same one where hina and takemichi got married. you entered the ladies room where all the bridesmaids were getting dressed up as they all waited for you since you were the maid of honor.

“y/n, you’re here! god, you look gorgeous, maybe i should ditch mikey and marry you instead.” she joked, pulling you into a hug as you chuckled, patting her back.

“you look even prettier. damn, mikey caught a good one i gotta say.” you answered looking at her with eyes full of nothing but adoration.

she was sweet and understanding, a perfect wife for mikey. he deserved this, after being through hell and back, he deserved happiness and peace.

and you were willing to do anything to give him that, even if it meant to go to the ends of the earth and come back.

“it’s almost time! come on ladies, get in position.” one of the bridesmaids announced.

“i’ll see you at the aisle.” you rubbed her shoulder as she hummed, then taking your leave as you entered the wedding hall. you walked up where the priest stood, mikey standing right across you.

his eyes widened when he saw you, walking up to you without hesitation. he pulled you into a tight hug before pulling away with a smile.

“you look absolutely beautiful, y/n, as always. i’m so happy that you’re here, i was honestly so nervous, but after seeing you, i got my courage back.” he honestly said, making it hard for you to form words to respond to him.

“better not chicken out sano, i raised you better than that.” you playfully scolded him.

“yes ma’am!” he jokingly saluted, making you both laugh.

“mr. sano, please stand in position, the bride will enter in a few minutes.” the priest interrupted.

“sorry. i’ll talk to you after the ceremony, okay?” he held your hands, giving it a tight squeeze and you swore that if he was just a hair more closer, you would’ve broken down into tears.

“yeah, yeah, of course. go get married, sano.” you teased, making him blush as he walked back to his original position. you stood with one ring while draken stood with the other, the taller glancing at you frequently to check if you’re okay and you’d discreetly try to nod and give him the signal that you’re fine.

the music began to play and the doors opened, revealing mikey’s soon to be wife, now walking in with her father. a huge smile or her face as you looked over at mikey, only to catch him staring at you before averting his gaze to his wife.

she walked up the steps, now standing besides you as she turned to look at her soon to be husband. the priest began to read the wedding vows and it was soon time to exchange rings. the beautiful diamond ring glimmered under your eyes and you couldn’t help but wished it was for you.

it fit perfectly, like it was made for you and you knew that because you accompanied mikey when he went ring shopping. it was unfortunate to know that his fiance’s ring size was the same as you, so you helped him pick and size it. you remember not being able to take your eyes off of it as soon as he slipped it onto your finger. you felt chills as his skin touched yours, but now, it was reality; only not yours but hers.

“do you, _____, take manjiro sano as your wedded husband, to cherish in love and in friendship, in sickness and in health, in success and in disappointment, to love him faithfully, today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you shall live?” the priest asked, and without hesitation⸻

“i do.” she said with the brightest smile, giving him the most lovesick eyes known to mankind.

“do you, manjiro sano, take _____ as your wedded wife, to cherish in love and in friendship, in sickness and in health, in success and in disappointment, to love him faithfully, today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you shall live?” he now asked the groom, and to your surpise, mikey’s eyes were only focused on you.

please, say no, mikey. say no! you’re mine and i’m yours, it always been like that. please, say no.

your mind screamed and your heart bled, hoping for some miracle to change the events to bring it in your favors. but to your disappointment, none of that happened. he gave you a small smile before glancing at his bride.

“i do.” mikey said and the priest suddenly glanced at everyone in the room.

“any objections?” he loudly asked, as a moment of silence fell in the whole room.

me! i object. this wedding shouldn’t be happening, not even in a million years. that should be me in that dress and ring, not her. i don’t want to be the other woman.

“that’s a no then. i now pronounce you husband and wife. you may kiss the bride.” and with that being said, you averted your gaze to the bouquet of flowers as the crowd roared with cheers while they both kissed.

a few tears slipped from your eyes but you managed to quickly wipe them away, praying that nobody saw them. to which nobody did, except for draken as the man look at you with nothing but an aching heart to see you this heartbroken.

the after party was great, from the table of stories and lunch too. the cake was amazing as well, coming from the bakery that you and mikey often went to for study dates during your teen years.

“y/n! there you are, i’ve been looking for you everywhere. i just wanted to come here and thank you again for helping out with everything. you’re amazing and i’m so happy to know someone like you.” mikey’s wife came to you and pulled you into a hug, as you pat her back.

“of course, i wish you both the best of luck and a lot of happiness. treat him good, okay? he’s been through so much and he really deserves this. he’s a little childish and stubborn at times but he’s so sweet. he’s great and it breaks my heart to give him away but he’ll be okay. i know he will, he’s mikey after all.” you laughed, making her break into one as well.

“mhm, you got it!” she smiled at you once more before being whisked away by another relative for pictures.

“looks like you’re busy.” you heard a familiar voice behind you, turning around to see mikey grinning at you.

“yup, busy practicing how to spend the rest of my life alone without my other half.” you teased, making him chuckle.

“i suppose if you’re not too busy then you can spare some time to have a dance with me?” mikey wiggled his eyebrows, making your lips curl as you took his hand, being pulled away to the dance floor.

you wrap your arms around his neck as his arms snake around your waist. you both sway to the song and it felt like once again everyone else was just a blur and you both were now back in your own world, just the two of you.

“thank you, y/n. for everything, from beginning to end. i’ll never be able to repay you for everything that you’ve done for me. without you, i don’t think i’d even be standing here. you’re my one and only, forever and always; my other half.” he genuinely spoke, eyes glimmering with love and adoration, turning your brain into a bunch of mush and heart becoming all fuzzy.

“you just got married, mikey, don’t make your wife turn against me by saying those kind of things.” you chuckled, making him crack a smile.

“i mean it, you’re very special to me, y/n.” mikey said, tucking in a piece of hair behind your ear. you felt suffocated, feeling your airways and chest tightening. you couldn’t tell if it was from all that food you stress-ate or the feelings that threatened to pour out right this moment.

“can we go somewhere private, i gotta tell you something.” you urgently ushered him, as he quickly nodded his head before being dragged away to the groom’s room.

you quickly closed the door behind you, locking it before turning to face him. mikey grew concerned at your behavior and silence as he constantly asked if you were okay.

“if someone were to ask me what would be the best and worst day of my life, i would tell them that it was the day that i met you.” you breathed out, making mikey tilt his head to the side in confusion.

“huh?” he managed to say.

“it was the day where i found someone that understood me as a person deep from within, knew my every thought and feeling before i even had to say it or act on it. i found my other half, the person that made me, well, me. the person whom i’ve grown to not be able to live without as well. which also brings it to why it’s my worst day as well.” you grew silent, words feeling too heavy to spew out as tears gathered in your eyes.

“the person that i can’t live without, mikey.” you choked out, tears now streaming down your face as mikey’s eyes widened.

“y/n, i don’t under-”

“i love you, okay! not as a friend, but as someone more. i wanted to be the person that you spend the rest of your life with.” you cried, making him gulp harshly.

“i wanted to be your bride.” you sadly laughed, looking up at him with a tear-stained face as your mascara and eyeliner was now smudged.

“oh my god, y/n.” he whispered, trying to pull you into a hug but you quickly stopped him.

“don’t! if you hug me right now, i’ll break and won’t be able to stop myself. please, just hear me out. when we went ring shopping, i never wanted to take it off of my finger and it felt so nice when you put it on me. that night, i went home and couldn’t stop envisioning a future where it was us instead. i’ve loved you ever since we were kids, mikey.” you confessed, making him break into tears as he pulled you into a hug, unable to contain himself.

“then why the hell didn’t you say anything before? you even had the chance to object when the priest said the vows. why didn’t you say anything!” he sobbed, his embrace tightening as if he never wanted to let you go.

“because she’s good, mikey. you need a wife who’s sweet, tender, gentle and understanding. she’s perfect for you, mikey. you’ll be okay, i know you will.” you gave him a sad smile, holding his face as you looked deep into his eyes.

“but you’re also-”

“no, mikey. you need someone who can cherish you and spend many more happy years to come. i can’t give you that.” you sniffled, making him furrow his eyebrows.

“i don’t understand, what’s going on?” mikey panicked.

“i’m dying, mikey. that day that i met you, i was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor and it seems that i barely have a full month left to live. i was supposed to be long gone by last month but i guess i was lucky enough to see you get married.” you cried with a smile.

“no, no, you’re lying to me. this can’t be! y/n, this isn’t time for jokes, please, i can’t lose you too. i’ll marry you, i’ll manage something, i promise. please, just don’t leave me.” he begged, holding onto you like you would disappear from his reach if he were to let go.

“mikey, don’t make all of this go into vain. i worked so hard to come to terms with my feelings and get closure. which is why i waited until after the wedding to tell you because even if i do leave you, you’ll have her to be there with you. you need to live for me, and enjoy your life in happiness. okay?” you sobbed, trying to convince him but he kept shaking his head in denial.

“no! please, y/n! i-i-”

“here, make sure to share with her, alright? don’t get too greedy.” you tried to joke to lighten the mood, as you opened his palm to give him the container of chocolate pudding.

“y/n, please.” he cried, but you were stern with your decision. you felt yourself becoming light-headed and the familiar feeling of nausea. it almost felt like you were dying, ironically.

“bye, mikey.” you gave him a soft kiss on his cheek before running out of the room. mikey yelled your name behind like a madman as he ran after you, but you were too ahead. the fresh air hit your skin, sending goosebumps everywhere and it felt like you could breathe again.

you walked over to draken’s car and opened the door, sitting down as you were about to close the door.

“i love you too, y/n! i always have and always will.” was the last thing you heard before slamming the door shut, breaking into tears.

“start the car, ken.” you said in between your sobs, driving away from the church.

“so, you gonna hide from him forever or what? you know, y/n, i never told you how much i love you. well, not like that. but, i’m grateful for having someone like you in my life. i’d do anything to make you smile, you’re the most selfless and kind person i’ve ever met. an angel is what you are.” draken rambled, making you softly chuckle.

“thanks ken, i love you too.” you tiredly slurred your words, draken glancing at you as he stopped at a light, a smile etching on his face.

“seems like you’re tired, let’s get takeout tonight and go to the movies with remi. you know, just like the old days. what do you say?” draken asked, only to be met with silence. he chuckled to himself as he decided to not bother you and let you sleep till you both got home.

draken finished parking the car, calling your name a few times to try and wake you up, but you wouldn’t budge.

“jeez, gonna make me carry your ass up those damn stairs.” he groaned while getting out of the car and opening the door to yours.

“y/n-” he grew quiet, seeing your pale face made his blood run could. draken quickly bent down and put his ear on your heart, two fingers on your wrist.

no beat, no pulse.

“no, no⸻y/n, wake up! please, i need you to wake up!” draken cried, wrapping his arms around your cold and lifeless body to give you some of his warmth.

but it was no use, you were already gone.

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scary-grace · 26 days

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Skin Hunger - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

There's no such thing as a good night at work when you work in the world's most infamous brothel for monsters, but your night takes a turn for the worse when you find yourself serving drinks to visiting half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura. You don't mean to catch his interest, and you don't mean to start a conversation. You definitely don't mean to get him drunk. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 1

The ringing of one of the dozens of bells on the wall in your boss’s office startles you out of the reverie you’ve fallen into. It isn’t much of a reverie – you were daydreaming about getting out of here, like always – but at the sound of the bell, you snap to attention. You know what a ringing bell means, even before your boss looks up at you from behind his desk and gives the order. “Suite Twelve needs a mop-up. Get to it.”

You check the floor plan out of habit, and your heart sinks. “Suite Twelve is still in use.”

“And? Clearly they aren’t ready to let the party end, and they’re paying by the hour.” Overhaul shrugs. “It’s not your concern. All you need to be concerned with is not interrupting, and we both know you’re capable of that.”

You bow your head. “Yes, sir.” The warlock looks away, back down to the grimoire he’s studying, and you risk another question. “Who was in there tonight?”

“That’s Chrono’s concern, not mine,” Overhaul says. “Why don’t you go find out?”

You know a dismissal when you hear it. “Yes, sir,” you say again, and you step out of Overhaul’s office, your glamour already settling over you.

A glamour is small magic, and as the lesser variety of half-fey, it’s all you’re capable of – but it’s enough to make your job easier, and to make you Overhaul’s go-to for dealing with disasters in progress. Other maids are obtrusive, no matter how hard they try not to be, and going into a room with a session in progress means risking their lives in addition to the worker’s. But your faint glamour allows you to slip in and out of the rooms unnoticed, clearing away the messes and the injuries. And the evidence. There’s always a lot of evidence. The patrons of the inhuman world’s most infamous brothel find themselves here for a reason, and it’s not because they’re careful.

You learned one side of the story in school in the human world, when you could pass as human, but Overhaul insisted that you learn the rest. You could recite it by heart by now. Humans have always outnumbered inhumans, but for thousands of years, the power held by inhumans – magic, physical strength, other natural gifts – was enough to allow them to act as they wished, without fear of retaliation. When human society advanced, that changed. The inhumans who could do so retreated to their own realms, but some inhumans are too intertwined with humanity to withdraw completely. Something had to be done to prevent their extinction.

The way Overhaul tells it, it was all his idea, two hundred years ago – creating a place for inhumans to satisfy their urges, contained away from humanity and outside of humanity’s control. You’re not sure if it was really his idea, but either way, it stuck. There are places like this one all across the world, in netherworlds and pocket dimensions, places where inhumans come to play or fight or fuck or feed. For some inhumans, in some cases, it’s all four.

Suite Twelve is on the fifth floor, and tonight it contains one of at least nine packs of werewolves. When you stop outside the door, you can hear them even through the soundproofing – human-sounding laughter and inhuman howls and the kind of noises that emanate from the rooms and suites every night of the year. It sounds like nothing you want anything to do with, but it’s the job. You raise your wrist, tapping your master rune against the locking rune on the door. It disables instantly, and you slip through the door without a sound.

You see instantly why one of the guests rang the bell for a clean-up. There’s a body on the floor – the body of one of the workers, a man you recognize only vaguely. He must be new. Then again, most of the workers aren’t here long enough for you to get to know them. You slip around the edges of the room, trusting your glamour, until you’re alongside the body. Legs askew, torso flayed open to the air, eyes wide and staring – sometimes the workers who die on the job have the luxury of an unexpected death, but this man saw it coming from kilometers away. Did he try to stop it? You lift one of his hands idly, checking for defensive wounds, and get one hell of a scare when his hand twitches in yours.

He’s alive. The worker is still alive, and your priorities shift in a heartbeat. This isn’t a corpse you can tip down the disposal trapdoor before you mop up the blood. Overhaul can heal any injury, even injuries as bad as this, which means you need to get the worker out of here and down to Overhaul’s study as soon as possible. But your glamour only covers you, and if the werewolves who mauled this guy half to death realize they didn’t finish the job, you’ll be in trouble, too. And there isn’t much time to solve the problem. If you wait too much longer, the worker will die right before your eyes.

If you had real magic, you’d apply your glamour to your voice and lull the werewolves into calmness, rendering them insensate to any noise the dying man might make as you drag him to the door, but you don’t have real magic. Charming seven werewolves is outside your abilities. Charming one dying man into staying still and quiet is within them. You whisper the instruction in his ear – stay quiet, stay still – and hook your hands under his armpits, dragging him across the floor and leaving a smear of blood in his wake.

There’s no way a party this large only had one worker with them. You force yourself to take a good look at the occupants of Suite Twelve, and in amongst the hulking, heavily-furred bodies of the werewolves, you spot human limbs, human skin. Strands of human hair woven through a wolf’s claws as it cups the back of the worker’s head. Human hands gripping one wolf’s shoulders, human legs hooked gingerly around its waist. At least three additional workers, and none of them are bleeding excessively. The part of you that’s human doesn’t like it, but the rest of you leaves without another look.

In the hallway, you call for help. Each floor of Asylum has a bouncer, hired specifically by Overhaul to deal with that floor’s usual patrons. “Rappa,” you call out. “Over here!”

Rappa’s footsteps are heavy as he comes down the hall towards you. “A fight?”

“Sorry,” you say. Even behind Rappa’s mask, you can tell he’s frowning. You’ve heard that when Overhaul hired him, he promised him a lot of fights to break up, but most of Asylum’s patrons are too frightened of the prospect of getting banned to fight much. “I’m supposed to mop up and the guy’s still alive. Can you take him to Overhaul?”

Rappa tilts his head, confused. “The boss can fix this?”

“If he gets to him in time.” You try to hold Rappa’s attention. It’s not easy. “I can’t get him there fast enough. You’re the only one who can save him.”

“He’s human. Why do you care?”

Your jaw clenches involuntarily, and you feel your glamour ripple. “I’m half-human,” you say. “So are you.”

Overhaul and his right-hand man are both pure human, extending their lives and augmenting their bodies with magic, but almost everyone else in Asylum’s management structure is a half-breed of some kind. Rappa is half-giant, and unlike you, he’s unambiguously proud of his inhuman heritage. Appealing to what he considers as the weak side of himself was a stupid move, but you’re getting desperate, and you try again. “If you help him, I’ll make sure you get the next fight, even if somebody else is in charge of the floor.”

You should have started with that. Rappa’s eyes light up. “Deal,” he says, and hoists the injured worker up, ignoring your requests to be careful. “Make sure it’s a good fight.”

You’ll get Rappa a fight to break up if you have to start one yourself, but you probably won’t have to. “It’s a full moon. All the fights are good.”

Rappa laughs and thunders off down the hall, leaving you to your actual job. You still have a mop-up in Suite Twelve, and possibly a worse one than you left, depending on what’s happened between your exit and right now. You call up your glamour again, confirming that it’s still intact, and tap the locking rune on the door to deactivate it once again. You might have saved somebody’s life, maybe, but that’s not your job here. Your real job is cleaning blood and bodily fluids off of every surface in Suite Twelve before they have time to set in. As the proprietor of the world’s oldest and most infamous inhuman oasis, your boss can tolerate a lot of things – but a mess isn’t one of them.

Most of the people who serve guests or work menial jobs in the oases are here as a last resort, and you’re no different. If you had somewhere else to be, you’d be there. You suppose you could have looked for work in another oasis, but when it comes down to it, you prefer the devil you know to the devil you don’t. You were born inside Asylum’s walls, the daughter of a worker and a faery guest, and although your mother scraped together the money to send you to boarding school in the human world, you’ve never had anywhere but Asylum to come back to. You coming back was a foregone conclusion. You could pass for human in childhood and adolescence, but in the last year or so, the truth’s begun to crawl its way out from beneath your skin. Asylum is your home. You can’t leave. And if you’re here, you might as well work.

No night in Asylum is easy, but full-moon nights are the worst, and the mop-up you’re called to do in Suite Twelve isn’t even close to the last task you’re called in to take care of. A patrilineal half-fey like you has next to no magical ability, but in Overhaul’s employ, you make use of all of it – glamour on your body to conceal you as you sneak in and out of the rooms and suites and hot springs, glamour on your voice to soothe tense guests until a bouncer or a member of Management can arrive to make amends more officially, spilling a drop or two of your own blood to distract an overwrought lich long enough to pry the worker it’s draining out of its grip. You get Rappa the fight he’s after – a brawl between two rival werewolf packs over a worker they both took a shine to – and as you’re helping clean up the mess, he gives you some news.

“Overhaul patched up the human you rescued,” he says, and for a brief moment, you feel better. “He’s already back to work.”

Feeling good doesn’t last. Good things don’t last in Asylum. You take a brief moment to wash your hands in the water of a hot-spring, then wander off to Room 309 on the demon floor. There’s been an orgy going on since the full moon broke the horizon in the farthest-eastern human time zone, and demon cum stains something awful.

You’ve heard from guests who’ve visited other oases that those oases have off-hours, but Asylum doesn’t. Asylum serves creatures of the night, so as long as it’s daylight somewhere on earth, Asylum will be open to receive them. When you asked Overhaul why, he pointed you towards the dictionary definition of the word ‘asylum’ – a place of refuge, a safe harbor. Then another book levitated off the shelf and dropped at your feet, shedding dust. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

You remember looking at it, confused. “Sir?”

“The other definition of the word,” Overhaul said. “They’re all mad here.”

It was a misquote, and you think the original is more accurate. We’re all mad here – Overhaul for building this place, the guests for coming to it, and you, for staying here instead of going somewhere, anywhere else.

The demon mop-up takes forever. By the time it’s done, you smell like smoke and sulfur, and there are still six hours left in the night. Chrono sends you to change into a clean uniform, then corrals you as you’re coming out of the servants’ quarters with wet hair. “Change of plans. You’re needed in the lounge.”

“What?” You know how to tend bar, sure – but not on a full moon night. “Why?”

Chrono doesn’t answer you, and you should know better than to ask questions. “Man the bar for the rest of the shift. You’ll receive instructions from Overhaul or myself if you’re needed elsewhere.”

You nod and set off, but Chrono grabs your arm again. “Change out of that uniform first. You’re front of house for now. Dress like it.”

The front of house uniform isn’t all that different than the uniform you wear on a nightly basis – just tighter and more modern, and with a mask of some kind over it. The higher-up somebody is in Overhaul’s organization, the more elaborate their mask is, but front-of-house wears simple half-masks, enough to match the aesthetic but not enough to obscure the face. You grab a simple black one on your way out of the servants’ quarters, tying it behind your head with a ribbon as you step into the lounge.

It’s empty, as usual. You’re not even sure why Overhaul keeps it open – most of Asylum’s guests don’t come here to drink, and the ones who do can order it brought to their rooms directly – but it’s been here as long as Asylum’s been standing, and just like the rest of Asylum, it’s never closed. Whoever was in charge before Chrono called you in left sort of a mess. Eight or nine dirty tankards, a sticky spill on one corner of the bar counter, and a solitary pickle balanced on top of an empty bottle of vodka. Given what you’ve been cleaning up all night, it could be a lot worse.

The cleaning goes quickly, and then you move on, filling out the restock sheet Chrono’s left for you underneath the ledger where you’d write guests’ orders, if there were any orders. An hour in, Room 512 calls for drinks – one Corpse Reviver, one Zombie, and three El Diablos – and you’re still working on them when the server arrives to bring them up. “Hey, make it snappy, huh? They’re not in a mood to wait.”

“I’m working on it.” You set down the El Diablos and start pouring shots of rum for the Zombie. “Is whoever’s in 512 actually undead, or do they just have a weird sense of humor?”

“Door number two. It’s one of those laughing demons.” Setsuno’s been working here at least as long as you have, but he looks unsettled behind his mask. “You know, the kind who want a performance.”

“I’m guessing the workers ordered the drinks, then?” You wait for Setsuno to confirm it. “Do you know which is the guest’s?”

“The Corpse Reviver,” Setsuno says. You strain the Zombie one-handed and go fishing for the components for the last drink. “Why?” “Are the workers holding up okay?” you ask. Setsuno looks blankly at you. “Did they seem scared or panicked at all?”

“Oh. Yeah. The youngest one looked pretty spooked.” Setsuno holds out his hand and the first four drinks fly from your end of the bar to settle onto his tray. “Are you going to be done with that last one any time this century?”

“Almost.” You’re trying to decide which of the components of the drink will be easiest to hide a glamour on. The gin? The Cointreau? The Lillet blanc? They’re all strong flavors, but demons aren’t easy to trick. It needs to look like a mistake, so that if you’re caught, it’ll reflect on you and not the workers. “Just a second –”

“Hey,” Setsuno protests, as you pluck a maraschino cherry out of a jar by the stem and wrap a glamour around it. “Does the boss know you’re putting spells on the guests?”

“They’re not spells.” Overhaul knows. In fact, he encourages it – your weak glamours, applied here and there, put the brakes on problems that would otherwise require management’s intervention before they can begin. You drop the cherry in the glass and hold it out to Setsuno. “Here. Let me know if they need anything else.”

“Will do.” Setsuno glances around the lounge and sighs. “Man, I wish I had this gig. It’s a nice spot for a break.”

“You’re telling me. I used to nap here when I was little.”

Setsuno stares at you. “What?”

You shouldn’t have said that. You cringe, and Setsuno takes a step closer – but then another order unfolds itself on the bar counter, and you turn away, thankful for the distraction. When you look up again, there’s a different server waiting, and you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s not that you’re ashamed of growing up here. You just don’t want to spread it around.

Overhaul has strict rules about birth control amongst Asylum’s female workers, but with so much magic in play, things happen sometimes. Usually it results in an abortion – the workers, most of whom are human, want nothing to do with a half-human child – but every so often, a worker decides to keep the baby. The consequences of that depend on the inhuman parent. Werewolves, for instance, treat children they’ve sired with a worker the same as they’d treat children they sire with their mate, and no parent wants their child growing up in Asylum. Workers who get knocked up by werewolves usually leave, becoming part of the pack’s orbit as they raise their children. Workers who get knocked up by demons, on the other hand, typically go into hiding. Demons like their children. A little too much.

Faeries aren’t common guests at Asylum, which means your mother knew who your father was, even though she never told you. Overhaul knows, too, but you’ve never asked him. It doesn’t matter. Faeries as a rule look down on half-fey, and if you ever tried to visit a faery realm, you’d be thrown out at best and enslaved at worst. Only some inhumans are capable of siring or bearing children, and of those species, faeries are among the most disinterested. The only inhumans who take less interest in their half-human offspring are the inhumans least likely to come to Asylum.

You’ve just sent off yet another order of drinks, this time to a siren in Room 129 who really wants his worker to loosen up, and you’re in the middle of adding an instruction to the restock sheet when someone barks a question at you from the other side of the counter. “Does this place have WiFi?”

Guests have been asking you questions since you were old enough to talk, but in the twenty-three years you’ve lived in Asylum, you’ve never heard anybody ask that. You look up from the restock sheet and find the guest in question staring back at you. “What?”

“WiFi. Do you have it?” The guest brandishes a smartphone at you. A really nice smartphone, in a pale hand with dry skin and ragged nails. “Do you even know what WiFi is?”

“I know what it is. We don’t have it,” you say, and the guest swears. “If I were you, I wouldn’t try to use your phone in here at all. The flux field will fry your battery if you don’t turn it off.”

The guest’s eyes narrow slightly. The skin around them is dry and itchy-looking, and his irises themselves are red. He powers off his phone and glances around the lounge, eyes lingering on the light fixtures, on the faucet, on the scrying mirrors that act as a security system and the locking runes on the doors. “Nothing in here is electric,” he says. “It can’t be, if the flux field’s strong enough to fuck up my phone.”

You nod. “You should tell people that when they come in,” the guest says. He looks at his powered-off phone, grimacing. “This was new.”

“If you haven’t been in here long and you haven’t been using it, it should be fine,” you say. The guest doesn’t answer, just tucks his phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, and the silence goes from neutral to awkward in roughly seven seconds.

It’s the kind of situation you’d bail out of instantly anywhere else – you spend enough time being uncomfortable at your job that you’ve got no patience for discomfort in other situations. But you are at your job, which means you have a built-in conversation topic. “Can I get you a drink?”

“What?”

“A drink.” You gesture at the bar, and the guest’s eyes track your hand. “We have everything.”

“You don’t,” the guest says, and then orders champagne. You’re pretty sure every bar on the planet has champagne. “How do you know I can pay for it?”

“They opened up a tab on you when you came through the door.” You find a bottle of champagne and the correct glass – Chrono saw you pour it into a wine glass once and gave you hell – and pour. “And they gave you a passkey. Show it to me?”

He has it looped around his wrist. You copy the symbol into the ledger and write down the order and the price. The guest is leaning across the bar to watch you, getting much closer than you’d like, and he makes a surprised sound when the order you’ve written melts from the page. “Magic,” he says, and you nod. You’re not sure why he’s so surprised. Then: “You’re charging that much for a glass of champagne? This had better be the best champagne in the world.”

“You tell me.” You slide the glass across the bar and watch as he raises it to his lips.

He’s got to be some kind of inhuman, or part-inhuman – no human makes it through the door as a guest, unless they’re packing some heavy magic. You’d say he was a magic-user of some kind, a warlock or an occultist, except he was too surprised by the flux field and resultant lack of WiFi to be someone who works with magic regularly. Half-demon, maybe. He has blue-grey hair to go with his red eyes, worn long enough to brush his shoulders and slightly too tousled to have done it purposely. His clothes are formal – white shirt, black vest, black pants, black tie. The look should come with a suit jacket, but it doesn’t. Guests don’t exactly show up to Asylum in their pajamas, but it’s rare to see one come in dressed to the nines.

The guest finishes half the glass of champagne and sets it down on the bar. He glances at you and you raise your eyebrows. “Well?”

“Pretty good,” the guest says. “Still not worth what you’re charging.”

“It’s an import,” you say. Technically, everything’s an import when it’s coming to a pocket dimension. “And it was good enough for you to drink half of it.”

“Not much else to do.” The guest takes out his phone, scowls when he realizes it’s powered off, then sits down at a barstool. “What’s with the mask?”

“It’s part of the uniform,” you say. Your usual uniform is a hideous old-time maid outfit, but the front-of-house uniform is sleeker, and the mask is just the icing on the cake. You like how you look in this much more than you do in the other uniform, but that lasts only as long as it takes you to remember that guests like you in it, too. “Everybody has one.”

“Why? It’s not like it hides your face.”

“I don’t know. The aesthetic, maybe?” You have your own pet theory – something about Overhaul being older than you think, and picking up his germophobia during the Black Death – but you don’t know for sure. “It’s the boss’s thing.”

“Yeah, no kidding. He looks like a fucking toucan.”

You almost choke on thin air, and while you’re struggling not to laugh, the guest keeps talking. “I was supposed to stay with my master – to learn – but he kicked me out. What am I supposed to do around here?”

“Find a room and watch,” you say. It’s the guest’s turn to choke. Unfortunately for him, he just took a sip of champagne. “You can tell which ones are okay with it. Look for a green rune above the door.”

That’s all some guests come here to do – you can’t count the number of times you’ve seen a demon drop the entry fee without blinking and spend the entire time indulging their voyeuristic dreams. “I didn’t come here to watch strangers fuck,” the guest says, coughing. He picks up the champagne and downs the rest of it, then shoves the glass back towards you. “I came here to learn.”

You pour another glass one-handed and mark it in the ledger with the other. “Learn about what?”

The guest doesn’t answer, and when you slide the glass across the bar to him, he seizes your wrist. You jerk back, and his grip tightens, but he doesn’t pull you forward – just holds you in place, the fingers of his other hand pressing down over your pulse. “Not a lich,” he says. You plant your feet and yank your hand back again. This time you pull free. “Too strong to be a human. If you were a wolf you’d be howling at the moon right now. What are you?”

“What are you?” you retort. “You first.”

“Guess.”

You don’t have time to guess. Two more orders alight on the edge of the bar, and you get to work, mixing two Mai Tais for one and pouring eight blowjob shots for the other. “I’ll guess for you,” the guest says. “Half-demon.”

“Nope.” You glance at him while you shake the can of whipped cream. “Half-demon.”

“Try again,” the guest says. He takes a sip of his second champagne. “Mer?”

“Do I look like a mermaid to you?” You’re not even going to guess that for him. Half-demon was your best guess. Half-giant is out – he’s not tall enough, and no giant, half or otherwise, would ever call someone else ‘master’. You fall back on a guess you ruled out earlier. He could be a magic-user who’s just really bad at it. “Warlock?”

“Not a chance,” the guest says. “Shapeshifter?”

“If I was, I wouldn’t tell you,” you say, and he snorts. “You’re not a shapeshifter, are you?”

“I wouldn’t tell you, either.” The guest takes another sip of his champagne and props his chin in his hand to study you as you set the blowjob shots down at the end of the bar for the server to pick up. “I’ll give you one more guess. If you don’t get it by then –”

“You’ll what?” You see a smirk cross the guest’s face, his lips pulling back from his teeth, and then you see it. The word flies from your mouth before you can stop it and turns you into one enormous, cringeworthy cliché. “Vampire.”

“Half-vampire,” the guest corrects. His smirk grows. “I can’t believe you didn’t guess. That one was easy.”

You don’t meet a lot of vampires, and there’s a good reason for that. Vampires are bad for a business like Overhaul’s. You’ve heard there are oases that cater specifically to vampires, and you’ve heard that some vampires still like to hunt in the wild, and regardless of what you’ve heard or haven’t heard, you know you’ve seen exactly two vampires in your entire life. Both came uninvited. Both left quickly. And neither of them were turned loose to wander Asylum unsupervised.

Overhaul and Chrono must know there are vampires here. If you needed to know they’d have warned you, and if it comes to a fight between you and a skinny half-vampire who’s had two glasses of champagne, they must like your chances. Still – “A half-vampire,” you repeat, loud enough that the server who’s come to retrieve the Mai Tais can’t fail to hear. “What brings you and your master here?”

“Same thing that brings everybody else who comes here.” The half-vampire finishes his champagne, and before he can ask, you fill it again. “You know. Needs.”

If this half-vampire and his master are here to get their needs met, why is he down here with you while his master talks to Overhaul? Did Overhaul know they were coming? The half-vampire is watching you over the rim of his glass. “You meet weirder needs here. Don’t make that face.”

“I’m just wondering – why here?” you ask. “I know there are vampire-specific oases –”

“Those? They’re just blood banks.” The half-vampire shakes his head. “My master has better taste than that.”

You don’t like the word ‘taste’ in the context of drinking other people’s blood, and your mask isn’t anywhere near enough to conceal your grimace. The half-vampire isn’t paying attention. He’s drinking champagne, talking between swallows. “This place isn’t our first choice,” he says. “Our old arrangement fell through last month.”

“What happened?”

“Why do you care?”

“I want to know,” you say. You do. You don’t meet many vampires, let alone half-vampires who like champagne and are in a chatty mood. “What happened to make us the better offer?”

“The guy who runs the old place grew a conscience.” The half-vampire rolls his eyes. “Apparently it’s more honorable to hunt down screaming humans in the wild than it is to buy one who signed up for it.”

You wish you could say you were horrified to hear that people sell themselves to vampires, but the workers at Asylum sell themselves to all kinds of inhumans. The only difference is that the outcome of an encounter with a vampire can only be death. “So he stopped selling to your master?”

“Yeah. Something about upsetting the natural way of things.” The half-vampire finishes his third glass. You don’t refill it until he nudges it towards you, at which point you fill it to the brim. “My master can’t hunt like he used to. Not for the kind of humans he wants, but he can pay whatever it takes to get them. How much of a conscience would you say your boss has?”

You don’t even have to think about it. “Absolutely none.”

“Then I guess we’ll be seeing each other again,” the half-vampire says. “My master has an appetite. Shigaraki Tomura.”

“What?”

“Shigaraki Tomura. That’s my name.” The half-vampire – Shigaraki Tomura – takes another sip of champagne. “What’s yours?”

“You still haven’t guessed what I am yet.”

“I gave you a big hint. You owe me a hint, too.” Shigaraki looks interested. He’s leaning forward on his elbows, studying you. You wonder if he can tell that he’s making you uncomfortable, and if he can tell, if he cares – or if it’s something he wants to do. “A hint, or your name. Your choice.”

If you were anything other than the type of half-human you are, it would be easy. For most people, inhuman or otherwise, names mean nothing, and neither do lies. The rules for half-fey are blurry. You don’t want to find out what they are while dealing with a vampire. Because of that, you fall back into proper customer service. “Our names don’t matter at Asylum, Shigaraki-san. To us, it’s all about the guest.”

“If it’s all about the guest and I’m a guest, you should answer my question,” Shigaraki says. He’s smirking again. “Since you tried to sneak out of it, I get to pick what you tell me. And I want your name.”

“Why?” You can see that the question throws him, so you let it stand, and top off his glass of champagne in the bargain. “It makes sense for me to know your name, Shigaraki-san, but you’d have no use for mine.”

“Says who? I decide what I have a use for.”

“Why?”

Shigaraki takes another sip of champagne. “Why what?”

“Why would you have a use for it?” You sound like you’re bantering, but you want to know. Need to know, more accurately. “Most guests don’t concern themselves with the existence of servants.”

“If that’s true, then you shouldn’t wear these.” Shigaraki taps his own cheek, drawing attention to a scar over his right eye. It takes you a second to realize that he’s referring to your mask. “It makes it look like you’re hiding something. Like what you are. Or your name.”

“I’ll tell you my name,” you say, and you give Shigaraki a few seconds of triumph before you add the condition, “after you tell me why you want it.”

He opens his mouth. “And don’t lie,” you add. “I’ll know if you lie.”

“Witch.”

“No,” you say. You’re surprised he didn’t guess that sooner, but he’s still wrong. “What? You don’t want to know my name anymore?”

“I want it,” Shigaraki says. He picks up his champagne and drains the glass in one swallow. You refill it partway before he stops you. “I don’t see why I should have to tell you. I’m the guest. If it’s about what I want –”

“I’m giving you what you want,” you say. “You just have to give me something in return.”

Shigaraki watches you over the rim of the glass, and you look back. You’ve heard that full vampires can exert control over others through prolonged eye contact, but the same is supposed to be true of fey, and you’re not feeling inclined to do what Shigaraki wants you to do. He glances away from you first, takes another sip of champagne. You don’t look away, and when he looks back and makes eye contact again, you see his face flush.

That’s – weird. The words leave your mouth before you can think better of it. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t look at me,” Shigaraki snaps. He stares down into his glass, and you busy yourself putting away the almost-empty bottle of champagne.

You hear the whistle of something moving at high speed through the air and barely whip your head sideways in time to avoid the wing of Overhaul’s messenger slicing into your cheek. You don’t like spilling blood on the job, especially not when there’s a vampire nearby. The messenger flies past you, then comes back around, and this time, you catch it in midair. Shigaraki’s noticed it, too. “Origami?” he repeats. “Is that part of the aesthetic?”

You shrug. Almost everything travels on paper in Asylum – orders, bills, memos, contracts, and messages. Each type of communication comes folded into a different bird, but the only person who uses paper cranes folded from purple paper with gilded edges is your boss. The crane unfolds in your hand and you read the message in Overhaul’s cramped handwriting. Find the half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura and return him to my study. His master is ready to depart.

You’re about to look like the world’s most efficient employee. You tuck the paper into your uniform and turn to Shigaraki. “Your master’s ready to leave. If you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you back to him.”

“Great.” Shigaraki drains his glass of champagne, gets to his feet, and nearly tips over. He has to grab the bar to steady himself, and even then, it barely works. “What the hell?”

You make your way around the bar, waiting to see if he’ll straighten up on his own. You wonder if he’s faking it, but given how skinny he is, how much champagne he drank, and how quickly he drank it, it’s not a stretch at all that he’s pretty drunk. It’s clear when he straightens up that he’s still dizzy, and you duck in to support him. “Here. Lean on me. If your master’s anything like my boss, he won’t like being kept waiting.”

“What did you do to me?” Shigaraki mumbles as he slings one arm over your shoulders. When you wrap your arm around his back, you can feel his ribs through two layers of clothing. “You said you weren’t a witch. You lied.”

You have to laugh at that. “This isn’t magic. You’re just drunk.”

“Vampires don’t get drunk.”

“Humans do,” you say. “One of the downsides of being half-something else.”

Shigaraki makes a noise, but you can’t tell if he’s responding to what you said or to being drunk in general. You hustle him through the hallways as quickly as you can manage. Overhaul hates having to give the same order twice, and you can feel the unfolded message fluttering in your pocket, trying to fold itself again and tattle on you that the task isn’t complete. The faster you move, however, the more it seems like Shigaraki’s trying deliberately to obstruct you. More and more of his weight falls against you with every step.

You’re strong enough to carry him, but it starts to bother you. “If that champagne made your legs stop working, I really need to know about it so I don’t poison any more guests.”

“I’m conserving energy.” Shigaraki hiccups, then groans. “My master can’t find out. He’ll be pissed.”

There’s no way Shigaraki’s master isn’t going to find out. If you let go of him he’s going to go face-first into the floorboards. “How pissed is he going to be?”

Shigaraki doesn’t answer, but the way his shoulders tense tells you everything you need to know. You’re almost to Overhaul’s study. The door’s open, and you can see the weird light leaking through, the kind that means someone’s using magic. Inspiration hits. You shift Shigaraki so he’s leaning against the wall, shove him until he stands up mostly straight, and call up every ounce of glamour you have.

It’s not much, and it won’t hold long, but as long as Shigaraki manages not to say or do anything too weird, it’ll keep his master from noticing how absolutely plastered he is. Shigaraki stares at you as the glamour settles over him, clearly confused. “What –”

“It’ll hold until you’re by yourself as long as you keep your shit together,” you say. You pull him upright again, shifting position so it seems more like you’re escorting him than like you’re dragging him along. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

“Why?”

You could ask for clarification. Instead you ignore him. So far tonight he’s asked you multiple questions you don’t want to answer, and even though this is the one that’s least likely to get you in trouble, it’s the one you’re most likely to lie about. Shigaraki’s head, which he was holding up under his own power until two seconds ago, tips sideways until his cheek is resting against the top of your head. “You don’t smell like a witch.”

“That’s because I’m not a witch. Stand up straight.” You’d also like him to quit sniffing you, but you’re not going to win that one. You reach out with one hand and knock on the open door. “Sir, I’ve brought the half-vampire, as you requested.”

“That was fast.”

The voice that responds isn’t Overhaul’s. Shigaraki jerks out of your grip and stands upright, your glamour clinging to him, while you tense every muscle in your body, trying to hide the shiver that runs through you. Most inhumans leave some sort of calling card of their presence – a scent in the air, a shift in the temperature of a room, a momentary change in the light or shadows. You’re used to that. But the aura emanating from the vampire who must be Shigaraki’s master is intense enough to crawl under your skin, and it’s ice-cold. Barring two things you don’t think about, it’s the worst feeling you’ve ever experienced in your life.

Overhaul is responding to the master vampire. “The staff at Asylum are well-trained,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura, welcome back. I trust you enjoyed your self-guided tour of our offerings.”

You linger outside the door, unsure of what you should do, but then Chrono sticks his head out into the hallway, spots you, and gestures sharply for you to leave. You don’t need to be told twice. You hurry back down the hall, down a set of stairs, and through a staff-only shortcut until you’re back at the lounge, with five drink orders folded into the shape of swans bobbing up and down at the end of the bar for your attention. You’ve finished all five and two more besides before the chill begins to seep out of you.

There’s nothing about what happened tonight that you’re comfortable with. Wire to wire, it’s been one of the worst full moons you can remember, and it doesn’t improve when Overhaul and Chrono step into the lounge at the end of your shift. Overhaul sits; Chrono stands. “Explain yourself.”

You could ask for clarification. You could do that if you wanted to spend the next decade paying for it. “The half-vampire came to the lounge. I thought it would be best to keep him there instead of letting him wander around.”

“How did you keep him there?”

You hesitate, and Overhaul steps in. “He was covered in your glamour when he came in. I want to know if we undercharged his master.”

Your face goes up in flames. “I didn’t – no,” you say. “I got him drunk.”

Overhaul coughs. Chrono’s shoulders shake briefly, the way they do when he’s trying not to laugh. You reach behind the bar and produce the mostly-empty bottle of champagne, followed by the ledger. Overhaul peruses the ledger while Chrono continues the interrogation. “If all you did was pour champagne, why was he wearing your glamour?”

You could get away with not answering Shigaraki’s question. Not answering your bosses isn’t an option. “He said he was going to get in trouble. I didn’t mean to get him in trouble, so I thought –” You can’t see Chrono’s eyes, but you can see Overhaul’s, and Overhaul’s looking at you like you’re out of your mind. “I thought if I put a glamour over him, his master might not notice.”

Overhaul doesn’t say anything. Neither does Chrono. An echo of the shiver from the master vampire’s aura runs through you. “Did his master notice?”

“His senses are too dull to hunt for himself. They’re certainly too dull to capture a glamour as weak as yours,” Chrono says. “Shigaraki Tomura escaped detection, at least while on the premises. And it seems he now owes you a favor.”

“No,” you say without thinking. “It was my fault.”

Chrono scoffs, then returns his attention to the bottle. Overhaul focuses on you. “Does he know what you are?”

You shake your head. “Good,” Overhaul says. “Next time, save your glamour for yourself. He and his master will return at the next full moon.”

Your stomach lurches. “They’ll be back?”

“The offer the master vampire made was quite lucrative. It would have been unwise to refuse,” Chrono says. “Serving vampires en masse is bad business, but on a limited basis – very profitable.”

You don’t even want to know – but you’ll find out. You’re dead certain of it. You grew up here, and you know where to listen to hear every secret told within Asylum’s walls. And even if you didn’t, even if you put your hands up over your ears and walked away from anyone who spoke of it, you know exactly who you’ll hear it from – the half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura, the next time he steps into the lounge with a bad attitude, a useless smartphone, and a list of questions you’re already dreading being asked.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #shigaraki tomura #skin hunger #a bisquared production

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rottenblur · 8 months

Text

My modern Romeo|J.MILLER

part three

Summary: When Joel ghosts you after a drunk makeout you had enough. Risking your life, breaking into his house was worth it to get the last word in. Only if you knew alot more than a conversation was gonna happen.

Warnings: thigh riding, joel teaching you how to touch dick??? Smut. Messy fucking situation. SMUT IN A BED!!! Kissing, makeout. Hickeys.

“You’ve been told listening to your heart rather than your brain gets you nowhere in this world, yet your feet still bring you to the walls of jackson.”

It had been three weeks since you last seen Joel, kissed him.

You were worried, had he got caught? Would you ever seen him again, did he want to see you again?

It was late, 2am on a Friday and you weren’t with him. It was eating you up alive, did he forget about me? Was all he wanted from me was to get it dick hard?

You throw the book you were reading, one that you could barely focus on due to lack of Joel. Three weeks of being bossed around by your family, your group was ruining your will from the outside in.

I gotta do something about this, if he doesn’t wanna see me, i wanna hear him say it to my face you think to yourself.

Its the least he could do, after making you like him so so long, crave him.

He can’t get kiss you then never see you again, can he?

Three weeks of walking to the so very prized field, waiting for hours just for him to not show.

You get off your bed, throw on a sweater not bothering to dress up for him. Fuck it.

You start on the route to jackson, a route you were warned about by group members. Yet Joel had told you a million times exactly how he sneaks out, to meet you, you knew where you we going, or you hoped.

It was a far walk, a reason Tommy used a horse and not his own damned legs. It’s hard to not get into your thoughts when your aching legs aren’t adding positivity to your thoughts.

What if everything you thought was true? Would you ever see him again? You loved him, did you? Did you even know what love is? Fuck it, doesn’t matter.

You reach the hill before jackson, the enchanting view of it. All the houses, the life that thrives from there made you overwhelmed. How could you be mad at him for not wanting to leave here, a overwhelming amount of guilt washes over you.

A guilt you should listen to but you don’t. You couldn’t, you’d rather die trying to see him then never see him again.

You’ve been told listening to your heart rather than your brain gets you nowhere in this world, yet your feet still bring you to the walls of jackson.

Joel had told you about a place where the wall needs to be repaired, how he sneaks out when he doesn’t have a reason to leave. Thank god for him.

You squeeze yourself through the broken wall, barely fitting through, how the fuck does he fit.

You make sure you’re out of sight from the patrol towers and make your way through a line of houses.

The faint sounds of barn animals is the only sound in the dead of night in jackson.

On the front of every house a last name is engraved in each mailbox, do they get mail? You only heard pre apocalypse stories about how people would send letters to each other worldwide, it fascinated you, maybe you would ask him about it.

Twenty minutes of scurrying through six rows of houses, till you come across a large house with worn down white paints on the steps. A black mailbox with “J.MILLER” engraved into it near some white fencing. Bingo.

You look around, checking to see if anyone was around before stepping onto the worn down steps, squeaking beneath your feet.

You take a deep breath before reaching for the door knob, twisting it. Fuck. It’s locked. Of course it’s locked, why wouldn’t it be?

Stepping over towards the window near the entrance you pull it up, slowly and carefully trying not to make any noise.

You throw yourself inside of it and close it behind you. You glance around the room, it smells like old coffee and pine. Him.

Walking around on the old wood floor, you walk towards the steps slowly stepping on each one trying to make it squeak as little as possible.

God what the absolute fuck were you thinking. You were so upset at him, and yourself for him leaving you alone for so long, you didn’t plan what you would actually do when you got here.

Reaching the top step, you try to make out the dark hallway. A few rooms covering the top floor, you walk up to a door and hope it’s his bedroom.

Never would you think in this world people would be living so comfortably, in such big houses, filled with furniture.

Shit, you had furniture if a bed on the floor and a bookshelf counted. A half empty bookshelf from giving away most of your life to this man. Whatever, maybe it could be worth it.

You turn the door knob easing it open slowly, not to wake him. Lucky guess, there he was. An arm tucked underneath his head, laid onto a pillow. You step closer, his room was exactly how you imagined it. Not exactly, but very close you didn’t think it would be this domestic.

It looked like he was alive. A real fucking human, alive not just living surviving however they could, at what major cost.

The wolves were living not fucking alive, they were gruesome with at the lengths they would go to, for survival. You were taught how to survive, not nurture nor love. That comes back to you when you realize what you were doing, breaking into his community just to get the last word what the fuck.

Brushing those thoughts out of your head and approaching the bed, his other arm laid onto his waist, his bare waist. You gulp down your shame and reach out a arm, covering his mouth.

His eyes bolt open with a worried look, he furrows his brows and searches your face in the darkness in recognition. He mumbles into your hand.

You remove your hand, his brows still tightly clenched together.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

You tilt your head.

“Oh hello to you to? Jesus don’t gotta curse at me.”

“You could have gotten shot? Did you think of that?”

He sits up.

You sit down on the bed next to him.

“Obviously i did, where have you been asshole?”

He pitches his nose bridge and slumps over.

“Shit happened since i saw you last.”

He looks at you, the glimmer of moon light shines on dark bruises and open cuts covering his soft face.

“Oh fuck, who did that are you okay??” You touch his face, he winces and pulls your hand away.

“I’m okay. It’s nothin’ darlin’- fuck.” He shakes his head and says your name.

You stand up, turning on the christmas lights that litter his ceiling. Getting a better look at his face, it was bad, beat to plup bad.

“Jesus Joel that’s not okay. You were gone and i had to come all this way and you’re fucking beat up?”

He stands up, picks up a shirt off the floor and throws it on shaking his head.

“Okay, you make out with me then just disappear? I risk my life for you and you won’t talk to me?”

You walk up to him trying to size him up, knowing he’s double your size. Fuck that.

“I can explain, uh i just-“

He studders, and places his hands on your arms.

God he looks like he wants to cry.

“You just got your dick wet and decided you didn’t want me anymore?” You snap back.

He looks down.

“I just can’t control myself around you anymore, it’s for the better.”

You take his hands off you.

“For the better my ass. Wasn’t you that said that thing about lying? You should listen to yourself.”

He looks at you, you can see his pride slipping away from his soft brown eyes.

“I got into a fight cause i was so fucking mad at myself for missing you so much.”

You start to understand, maybe you felt a little bad.

“I feel bad that your first real—I don’t know what you would call us, romance? Is so forbidden. You should be able to see someone everyday, not just weekly.”

He shakes his head and takes a step away, you stop him.

You grab his arm and pull him towards you, he looks at you, down to your lips and back up to your eyes.

“I needed you so fucking bad Joel.”

You step onto your tippy toes and kiss him, pulling away to see his reaction, he looks at you with those fucking puppy eyes.

He pulls you back into the kiss, deepening it and pulling you closer. He steps back, his legs hitting the bed frame, then pulling you on top of him onto the bed.

Your first real kiss with him, on a fucking bed. Is this real?

He holds your face with one hand, the other placed carefully on your waist. You regret your outfit choice now.

You pull away, he looks confused then you take your gun holster off your hip and place it onto the bedside table.

You straddle him, avoiding his lips and going down to his neck. You didn’t know what you were doing, or if it even felt good fuck man he was the first person you ever made out with.

Yet the way his hips rutted up against you and whimpers left his mouth told you everything. You kiss and suck up and down his neck, grunts of “fuck” and “oh thats so fuckin’ good” left his mouth till you pulled away to look at him. His fucked out face, bruised patches on his neck matched the same hue of his face.

“Oh fuck did i hurt you?”

“Huh?” He looks confused.

“Your neck, its bruised? I didn’t know I could do that.”

He just laughs and shakes his head.

“Shit, you gave me hickeys? You don’t know what a hickey is darlin’?” He squints his eyes at you.

You shake your head.

“I mean you’re the first guy I’ve made out with.”

He looks shocked, and kinda guilty.

“Fuck, really?”

You nod and trace your fingers along his bruised neck, down to his shirt collar.

“You want it off?” He looks at you with a grin.

“That okay?” You ask him nervously.

He reached to the bottom hem of his shirt and pulls up and off. Fuck. He looked even better with the lights on, his happy trail littering his stomach leading down to a patch of curly hair peaking out of his boxers.

He watches your eyes scan his body, pulling you into a kiss, his hand moving from your waist down to your hips.

His fingers burned into your skin with pleasure, god you wished he could touch you forever.

The kiss picks up in pace, so does his hips. Rutting into you, holding your hips tight to the hardness in his boxers. It was embarrassing how fucking wet you were.

A whimper slips out and into his mouth, he feels the vibrations on his lips, on his tongue.

He pulls away, slowly rutting against you with a groan.

“You like that? Make you feel good?” He asks you in a hungry voice.

You nod and hold back a whimper almost escaping your mouth.

“You wanna try something else? Make me feel good?”

Of course you wanted to make him feel good. You liked him, if you knew what love was maybe you loved him.

You nod, he scoots your hips back a little bit, resting on the top of his thighs. He pulls the waistband of his boxers back, his length snaps back hitting his belly button. It was fucking huge.

It was leaking and the tip was tan to match the length, thick veins littered his girth.

Your eyes open wide and the fire in your panties grew.

“You wanna touch it?”

You nod and squeeze your fist onto his dark blue blanket.

“Spit on your hand.”

His words are demanding but his eyes are dazed and glossy.

You spit on your hand, he grabs it and wraps it around him.

“You’re hands barely wrap ‘round it darlin’”

He grins, move your hand up to his tip brushing your thumb on it, collecting the precum. He brings the precum down, moving your hand up and down at a slow pace.

“Am i doing okay?” You almost whispered out.

He picks up the pace and removes his hand, leaving your hand to do all the work. It was making you needy. You wanted him, you wanted all of him.

“Mh just like that, fuck that’s good.”

You look away from your hand and up to him, his gaze is lost and his head is thrown back onto the bed.

A string of grunts and mumbles leaves his throat, encouraging you to move your hand faster, grip him tighter.

You start slowing rutting your hips onto his thigh, the rough denim of your jeans against his thick bare leg.

“You like this darlin’? Getting yourself off on my thigh, so fuckin’-“ a whimper leaves his throat and he continues “-so fucking cute baby.”

His tip is leaking profusely onto the top of your hand, aiding to the wetness seeping out of your jeans. The more you hips more, the faster, the rougher. The harder you grip him, jerking him faster.

Between the two of you there’s almost a single thought, almost. Both Chasing a high, a desperate one, no one has ever made you feel this way before.

He starts rutting into your hand, rougher groans leaking from his throat, just as you reach your high, he does. Leaking white strings all over your hand, and onto his hips. A fucking mess, the two of you are.

He pulls his head off the bed and looks at you, fucked out glossy eyes, so fucking fulfilled. If it wasn’t for his face littered with bruises, you’d think he was the happiest man alive.

“Ah fuck, there’s shit in the bathroom if you wanna clean yourself up.” He leans in and kisses your lips.

A gentle, soft plush kiss.

You get off him with achy knees recollecting your thoughts, your brain as a whole.

“Fuck, you made a mess all over my thigh.” You watch him reach down, collecting some on his fingers and sucking on them.

A stupid fucking grin rushes to his face, a adorable grin.

You walk over to the bathroom, wet a face cloth with warm water and wipe off your hands, looking at your watch smeared with cum. Fuck. It’s already four in the god damn morning.

You bring out another face cloth, throwing the other into a laundry basket thrown into his bathroom.

He accepts it with a smile, cleaning himself up, disregarding his boxers for new ones.

“Cute ass.” You say smiling and sitting onto the bed, watching him clothe himself.

He laughs back at you, a forced one. So fucking sassy.

“You know, i’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout that since i met you.”

You shake your head as he walks up to you.

He places a kiss onto your neck, not one. Kissing up and down your neck with gentle kisses.

“It’s fucking late. I should really go, don’t want your boys on me, do I?”

He shakes his head, that god damn sad look in his eye made you want to stay forever, it was intoxicating.

“Friday? I mean it. I don’t know what i was thinking, i really fucking missed you.” He places a kiss onto your forehead, hugging you. A genuine comforting hug, a drug. You drink in his scent before getting up to leave.

Maybe it was love. Maybe you did love him.

My masterlist

Taglist: @paleidiot @slvbl @princessanglophile

AN!!!! God damn this took a while, my writing schedule has been so fucked up recently. Send request or questions to my inbox! I hope yall liked this

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funnyjb · 3 days

Text

About Last Night

Warnings: language

———————————

(After Bengals game)

It was around 8:30 when you and Joe got home from the game. The Bengals lost. It was their third loss this season in a row. It sucks but you know they are desperate to get a winning streak going and working hard to win a championship.

You threw my boots of and hung my coat in the closet near our entry way. Joe already was downstairs just before you could even take your shoes off. The loss was hitting him hard especially because he knew he could have done better. He quickly got to work on film. You were upstairs alone in the kitchen heating some food up for the both of you.The kitchen lights were the only lights on along with the lamp in the living room. The only noise you heard were the creeks on the floor boards when you walked and the microwave heating up some vegetables and rice. You could hear faint noises from joes film downstairs to. After a couple minutes the food was done and you took it out to put on a plate for Joe and bring it down. You walked down the wooden stairs into the basement and made a right to joes home office. Then knocked on the door that was wide open to let him know you were there.

“Hey, I made some food for you.”- you

Joe just looked at me

I walked over to the coffee table in front of him. He was sitting on the small leather couch you got him a few months ago to make it more comfortable in his office for film watching.

“I’m not hungry.”- joe

You looked at him

“You got to be hungry Joe. You just played a three hour game. You got to put something in your system.”- you said sweetly

“I said I’m not hungry, y/n!”- joe raised his voice

He never raised his voice at you EVER.

You were taken back. You honestly were a little scared. He has never raised his voice. You didn’t know what to do.

“Fine, I will just take it back.”- you said picking up the plate

“Y/n! God, can you move. I can’t see the screen!”- joe raised his voice again

“Excuse me,Joe what is wrong with you. You have never raised your voice at me ever! And it’s rude. I get your frustration about the game but don’t take it out on me. Here take your food back, eat it cold.”- you scoffed

You left the room. As you turned to the stairs tears started rolling down your face. You covered your mouth in shock about what juts happened and trying not to let Joe hear you sob. Walking up the steps and into your kitchen you started sobbing even more. The tiredness started to hit you and you couldn’t believe the interaction you just had with Joe. You put your elbows on the kitchen counter and covered your face with your hands. Trying to control your sobs you breathed in and out.

After about 5 minutes you heard footsteps. Your eyes were red and one last tear streamed down your face. you wiped the tear with your fingers before joe could see you. You decided to act like you were doing something so you got the cloth that was on the counter and started wiping away some stains and crumbs. As you were wiping,Joe walked in. He looked up at you quickly. You didn’t even want to talk to him let alone look at him right now.

“Y/n.”- joe

“Don’t Joe, I’m not in the mood.”- you

“Can we please talk? I’m so so sorry y/n I-” -Joe

“I don’t want to hear it right now Joe!”- you

You looked up at him

His eyes were also a little red. He started crying after you left. He felt horrible for what he just said to you and how it made you feel. He finally composed himself enough to come up and talk with you.

“Just go upstairs and I will meet you there. I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.”- you

“No, I want to talk this out with you. You are my wife and the love of my life. I hate that I made you cry, so we are going to talk.”- joe

“Fine Joe, here it goes. I get it, You’re tired and angry about the way the game turned out. But that is never a reason to take it out on me or anyone you love. Especially when that person is trying to help you. It is so hard Joe seeing you down like this, so hard. I work hard to make sure when you get home you have food on your plate waiting for you, I make sure that your clothes are washed and clean for the next day, and when you are injured I make sure you have everything that you need to stay healthy and not in pain. I love you Joey,so much and I love this life I have with you, but its can be hard at times and I know you know that. It’s annoying when I get home from a tiring day and just want to curl up in bed but I don’t. I want to make sure that you are ok and that you eat after a long day. So I make you food and bring it down to you. But all I get is you raising your voice at me which you never do and you saying “I’m not hungry” and “Y/n! God, can you move. I can’t see the screen.” You know how that fucking sucks after today. I was just trying to taken care of you and I know you know that now but you can’t just raise your voice at someone who loves you and is trying to help you,Ok?”- you

You just stared at Joe waiting for a response.

“I’m sorry y/n. Truly from the bottom of my heart. I know it’s hard for you. I get that it’s tiring and tuff taking care of someone like me. But I should man up and I don’t and I’m sorry. I should have never raised my voice and I seriously have no idea why I did. I would never raise my voice at you and now I did. I saw it made you scared and taken back. I wanted to come up to you right away but I know when you are sad or angry you like to have some time alone. Im so pissed at myself that I made you cry. I love you y/n so much it hurts and I’m so grateful that you take care of me the way you do. I promise to never raise my voice ever!”- joe

He walked over to you and gave you a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around his torso and gave him a tight squeeze. You looked up at him and gave him a kiss on the lips.

“It’s ok Joe, I know you didn’t mean for it to happen.”- you

“No, it’s not ok. I hate that I did it to you. It wasn’t right.”- joe

“Joey, seriously it’s ok! I promise you. I love you Joe with all my heart.”- you

“I love you to,y/n. I will love you for forever and ever.”- joe

He grabbed your cheeks and kissed you.

“Want to go to bed?”- joe

“Yes, please!”- you laughed

Joe laughed along with you as you two walked up the steps to your bedroom.

———————————

#joe burrow

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kydrogendragon · 3 months

Note

6 with Dreamling for Valentines

We had two for this one, but decides to flip it around so this time it's Dream saying "Should I Write You A Poem Instead?" Thanks for the request, nonny! Hope you enjoy!~

Pairing: Dreamling Words: 569 Warnings: Some sexual tension bits Ao3 Link Here

Midterms, Hob has decided, aren’t nearly as terrible as finals, but that doesn’t stop them from still being awful. It’s never-ending questions and office hours and while he does love his students and his coworkers, he’s just one more question that could have been answered by his email last week or in the syllabus away from snapping. So when Dream knocks on the door to his office, Hob nearly weeps.

He stands, ushering his lover in, makes his apologizes to Diana from the Art History department as she steps out (thankfully) with a smile. Closing the door behind her, he all but collapses into a puddle on the floor beside it. He doesn’t, but the temptation is there. Instead, he just leans against the sturdy wooden door and stares at Dream with a doe-eyed smile.

“Thank you,” he says, taking a deep breath in and out. “Pretty sure if you’d been just ten minutes later, you’d have walked in on a massacre.”

“Oh?” Dream says, raising a brow. “And would it have been you or Diana that performed the act?”

Hob shakes his head. Pushing himself off the door, he falls into his lover’s arms and nuzzles his face into the crook of Dream’s neck. He’s warm, but not overly so. Given the warming spring weather, it’s the perfect temperature, though Dream almost always is. And he smells like home, which is the more important part. Hob can still detect a faint trace of his own body wash on the Dreamlord’s skin from last night’s shower escapades.

“So what do I owe this lovely visit?” Hob says, not bothering to lift his head.

He hears a faint shimmering noise, one he’s come to know means Dream’s used some of that dream magic of his. Hob lifts his head slightly to see a large bouquet of flowers in Dream’s hand. They’re of all sorts of fantastic colors and shapes. Some, he’s pretty sure, he’s seen on their walks through the Dreaming.

“These are for you.”

Hob reaches out and takes the bouquet from his hands, lifting the flowers to his nose. They smell as things do in dreams: like ideas rather than scents. There’s love, most predominantly there, affection and adoration. Devotion, patience, and care. It’s like knowing the language of flowers with a sniff.

“Flowers?” He mumbles, still listing into Dream’s side as he strokes a petal. It’s soft, impossibly so. He expected nothing else.

“Should I have written you a poem instead?” Dream asks, a smirk on is lips. “Waxed lyrical upon your features which haunt my mind and inspire newly created dreams?”

Hob chuckles, tucking his face into the wool of Dream’s overcoat. “Would that have been a better gift, my love? Or perhaps you would rather me show my affections physically instead.” Dream’s voice is dangerously low, a phantom hand trails along Hob’s spine, making him shudder.

“Or, perhaps, knowing how greedy my lover is, you would wish for all three. Gifts, words, and touch, yes?”

“Dream,” he moans as something, some part of Dream that’s not contained to his normal human form, presses against his front, stroking the shape of him into hardness. “Dream, please...”

“Please what, my dear?”

Hob looks up, two twin stars blaze bright as they stare down into his own eyes. Dream look positively ravenous and Hob would very much like to be devoured. “Fuck me, please.”

Dream smirks. “With pleasure.”

#ky writes #the sandman #dream of the endless #dreamling #hob gadling #valentine's day prompts

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a3risbaby · 1 year

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patience is a virtue [m]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 seventeen : lee seokmin x afab!reader (fem!pronouns)

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Seokmin considers himself a patient person, but lately, your busy work schedule has him wondering how long he can hold out. The answer, it seems, is not that long.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 smut (minors dni), fluff, established relationship, a brief moment of embarrassment, pillow humping/male masturbation, video mention, no plot (sorry), leaving everyone involved on a cliffhanger/abrupt ending, cross-posted on ao3 | 1.4k words

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 the way this idea has been weighing on my mind lately...something about seokmin's surprised reactions makes me want to tease him, and y/n got caught in the crossfire

The apartment is empty. That's the first thing you notice as you kick your shoes off at the door. Seokmin is still home, though—his shoes are all accounted for, and his keys still rest in the bowl by the door. You toss your keys in beside his, the metal loud against ceramic.

You trod inside. The living room TV is paused on some Netflix show, probably the one he was talking about yesterday, and in the center of the room, a pile of unfolded laundry sits next to an upturned basket. You pick up a fallen throw pillow and toss it back onto the couch before calling out Seokmin's name hesitantly. He's not in the kitchen either. Your home feels strangely frozen in time.

You rummage around the pantry for a snack, noting that everything's been restocked and put away nicely, and you should really thank Seokmin for taking care of your home while you've been busy. You've done your share of the chores, of course: taking out the trash, sweeping every other day, doing the dishes after he cooks. But with you going all-in on your latest team project, you can confidently say that your boyfriend is the only reason your home still feels like a home and not somewhere you rest your eyes for a few hours a day. Case in point, you open the fridge to find a wrapped sandwich with your name and a heart on a note.

Cute, you smile to yourself and put the sandwich on the kitchen counter for later. Comfortable pajamas come first. In fact, it's all you've been thinking about since you started driving home—comfy clothes, warm food, and a funny show to wrap up your afternoon. Hopefully snuggled into Seokmin's side all the while.

You perk up when you notice the cracked bedroom door.

"Hey, Seok, did you want to watch—"

You can't help the gasp that escapes you, hand flying from the handle to cover your mouth. Seokmin's head whips around to look at you over his shoulder, expression a mix of surprise, embarrassment, and horror.

"What are you doing home right now?" he screeches, scrambling to cover himself with the blanket. Your eyes fly around the room, taking in the pants on the floor, the boxers pooled around his exposed ankles, and the stack of pillows on the bed. You're still reeling from the after-image of him humping them, lip caught between his teeth. "I thought you were working until dinnertime!"

"I got off work early! I texted you," you say, gesturing to the nightstand where his phone sits charging, "but I guess you were, um, busy?"

You stare at him, and he stares back. The silence is mortifying, but now that the blood rushing in your ears has subsided, you finally hear the faint noise coming from his phone.

"Is that...me?" you ask, gaping at the whimpering gasps that sound familiar. It's the video you recorded for him to use on a business trip last month. While you thought the file was a sexy gift when you sent it, hearing you chase your orgasm in the middle of the afternoon has you wanting to sink into the ground.

"Yeah, it is. I mean, I'm allowed to use it, right?" he squeaks, face still flushed. "I thought I could. I've been using it since I got it. M'sorry if I wasn't supposed to?"

"No, no, you're definitely allowed to. I'm just..." You bark a laugh, fanning yourself with a hand. "Sorry! I don't know why I'm like this right now. We do this sort of thing all the time. It just caught me off guard. Did you want me to leave so you can finish?" you ask, choking on the last word.

"You can, if you want, but if you're free, um," he hesitates, fingers picking at the blanket over his bulge, "it'd be nice if you could stay?"

Right then, the video approaches its end, and you hear yourself cum with a loud, breathy moan that has your ears burning. If you weren't watching Seokmin with rapt attention, you would've missed the shiver that he tries to tamper down.

You swallow, and he traces that action down the column of your throat, gaze flicking down the rest of your body with appreciation. You could drown in his wide-blown pupils.

You find yourself saying, "I'll stay."

Seokmin considers himself very lucky to have such an attractive partner, even if you get shy and swat his arm whenever he reminds himself of it aloud, but these days, with your busy work schedule, it feels like a curse in disguise. He's been patient for a long time now, knowing that you come home exhausted every evening and that you spend all your free time trying to get ahead with work. Just a little more, you murmur to your reflection as you get ready in the morning, and he wishes that he could do something to take the load off your shoulders.

So in addition to taking up more of the housework, he tries not to bother you with his needs, making do with cold showers and his hand and that blessed video...until today.

He spent all morning working himself up, thinking that he'd have the whole afternoon to get himself off, but the universe must be tired of giving him lucky breaks because the day he caves and decides to try something new is the same day you come home early.

Or maybe this is a favorable turn of events?

He cards a hand through his hair. Now that the jump scare is over and his heart is beating properly again, he remembers the predicament he's in, dick still hard. You walk closer and perch on the edge of the bed, keeping your eyes firmly on his face.

"Can you show me what you were doing earlier?" you ask lowly, unbuttoning the top of your dress shirt.

Oh, when you ask like that, he'll do anything you want. As you reach over to silence his phone—no need for the video when the real thing is right here—he settle back over the pillows. Bracing himself on his forearms, he lightly drags his tip across the wet stain he left earlier, hissing at the friction of a few shallow thrusts.

"Look at the mess you're making," you murmur, gaze heavy. His cock is throbbing. "Baby, is that enough for you?"

"No," he whimpers. He folds the pillow over, tightening it with one hand as he thrusts deeper. He draws his lip between his teeth. "S'not tight enough. A-ah, want it to be you."

Seokmin keeps going, eyes focused on the way the pillow swallows him whole, heart stuttering as he thinks of burying himself in you. You're always so receptive to his pace, always so sensitive to his touch. He loves the way your legs would curl around his waist as he pushes into you, your insides fluttering as you adjusted to his size. The pillow is plush, but it's not you.

His thoughts splinter when you sigh, and when he looks up, he can't help the guttural Fuck that tumbles from his mouth. Your shirt is completely unbuttoned, your pencil skirt is bunched around your hips, and your panties—the baby blue lace set, he feels like he's won the lottery—barely conceal anything. He can't believe you wore those in public.

His hands come up to grab your thighs, but you tsk, pushing your toes into his shoulders, and he freezes in place.

"You asked me to stay," you remind him. "You didn't ask to touch."

This is pure torture. Your hold on him is feather light, but he's straining against the ropes of self control.

"Please. Just a taste, baby, I'll make you feel good," he says, words coming out in a rush. He's on the verge of whining, but he doesn't care. He can see your arousal, can smell it heavy in the air, and his cock twitches in anticipation despite the shake of your head. "I promise, I promise it'll feel so good. Let me use my tongue on you."

He tilts his head and rests a cheek on your ankle, trying to implore you with warm eyes. You pretend to consider it, drawing out your thoughtful hum until seconds feel like hours. Then you shimmy out of your underwear, and that's all the confirmation he needs.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #lee seokmin smut #seokmin smut #svt seokmin smut #lee dokyeom smut #dokyeom smut #dk smut #svt dokyeom smut #a3risbaby.kpop

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lovelynim · 11 months

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No more secrets

Genshin Impact - Tighnari & Kaveh

A/N: Soo... this is a concept that has been going around my mind for a while and, now that I'm done with the milestone event, I decided to write it out! :D this picture will make sense, i promise

Summary: Kaveh finds out Tighnari is hiding something, but he doesn't plan to let it sit like that for long...

Word count: 1693 words

Kaveh walked through the hallway at a fast pace, trying to not let any of the paper sheets in his hand fall across the place while using his other hand to carry Mehrak. He needed to get back to his dorm as soon as possible to finish this project, otherwise he was sure the professor would eat him alive!

He shook his head, trying to not let those bad thoughts take over him. ‘Focus, Kaveh, focus. You can do it’, he told himself inside his head, letting out a sigh as he kept walking. That’s right, there was nothing he couldn’t do, nothing that could make him stray from his road to victory and success, nothing that-

“Do you really need to go?”

Huh?

The blonde stopped in front of a door as a familiar voice reached his ears. Tighnari’s voice, to be more precise. For some reason, he sounded a little melancholic, as if he was in some kind of pain.

What troubled him even more was the fact that this particular door didn’t lead to any room, just one of the balconies in the Akademiya’s main building. Kaveh leaned his head a little closer to the door, trying to pick more from Tighnari’s conversation. Not that he was the kind that would gossip about it, pfft, never, he just wanted to know how he could help a dear friend, after all.

“...”

“When… when will we see each other again?”

Kaveh couldn’t quite catch what the other person was saying, but it seemed rather… romantic. Truth to be told, he found it quite cringe to see Tighnari acting like that.

Wait, romantic?

Tighnari was dating?!

He leaned back in, now trying to peek at who was there with his friend, but the door wasn’t open wide enough for him to see it.

“...”

“Huhuh… I love you too, my big lummox,” Tighnari muttered, letting out a dreamy sigh before standing on the tip of his toes and kissing the unknown figure.

Kaveh’s jaw dropped, getting even more frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t figure out who Tighnari’s lover was. His friend - Tighnari, the prodigy botanist, forest watcher wannabe, Amurta’s student - dating?! And not telling him?!!

“...”

“Alright, get back safe,” the fennec fox said, watching as his lover jumped over the balcony’s edge, sneaking back inside the Akademiya through another balcony, on a lower floor.

Tighnari leaned over the edge, resting his head on his hand as his tail waggled slowly. He let out another sigh, feeling his heartbeat content. So this is what being in love feels like? As he was lost in his romantic thoughts, Kaveh walked in, letting the door close behind him with a loud sound.

The fennec fox turned around, scared, with widened eyes, but breathed relaxed when he saw who it was. “O-oh, it 's you. Hi, Kaveh.”

“Hello, Tighnari,” The blonde said, placing the paper sheets in a nearby table and resting Mehrak’s over it, holding his index finger up in front of his lips as he signed to his suitcase to not make a noise. It simply blinked, a little confused. “You must’ve been pretty distracted to not notice me coming with that sharp hearing of yours.”

“Y-yes, I guess so… and it’s pretty, ahm, noisy today, don't you think?” He continued, trying to look away as he didn’t want Kaveh to spot the faint redness on his cheeks.

“Hmm,” Kaveh didn’t take long to catch as the other student seemed a little wary about his presence. Yes, he was definitely hiding something. “So, are you not going to tell me?”

“W-what?” Tighnari gasped, his ears perking up as he turned back to look at his friend, “t-tell you what?”

“Who was it?”

“W-who? Hahah, I’m sorry, K-Kaveh, I’m not quite… catching what you mean, heheh…” He giggled sheepishly, his tail curling around his leg as he was getting obviously nervous.

“Oh, you don’t?” Kaveh hummed, narrowing his eyes in a way that made Tighnari flinch, “should I opt for a more direct approach?”

As the other answered with nothing but the silence, Kaveh decided to continue, grinning as he spoke, “well, I happened to be passing by and… I caught some of your conversation-”

“Y-you heard us?!”

“So there was someone else here,” Kaveh interrupted, making Tighnari’s eyes widen and a faint blush spread across his face while he slapped a hand over his mouth. “As I was saying, I could catch some of your conversation with this someone…”

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop on other people…” Tighnari tried to scold his friend, sighing as he watched Kaveh walk around in his monologue.

“And neither should you keep secrets from your friends, Tighnari,” the blonde snapped back with a cocky grin on his lips as he kept the fox cornered, “so, who is it?”

“W-what?!”

“Oh, come on, we both know you are not that dense,” Kaveh groaned impatiently, crossing his arms as the sly smirk returned to his face, “what’s the name of the person that stole your heart, Tighnari? ~”

“K-Kaveh, I… ahm, I’m not sure if I-”

“You are not going to keep something like this from me, are you? We’ve been friends for ages and you won’t even tell me about your crushes?” The blonde added dramatically, not giving the other any room to talk.

“It’s not like that,” Tighnari giggled, still looking uneasy about the subject, “I don’t think it’s tim- …huh?”

Before he could finish, the student felt something around his wrists. As he looked down, he spotted golden rings made of energy. As he looked back to Kaveh, the man was pointing at his hands, as if commanding that and, behind him, sitting on a bench, Mehrak, glowing with the same kind of light.

Uh-oh.

“Kaveh, w-wahahait!! Ahaha, n-nohoh, cohohome on!” He whined through his laughter while his hands being kept together in front of his chest, leaving his sides and stomach totally unprotected and - much to his demise - at Kaveh’s mercy.

“You can keep your secrets from those dumb classmates of yours, but not from me!” Kaveh scolded him, tweaking his fingers against Tighnari’s sides, making more giggles burst from his lips.

While Tighnari thrashed his head left and right, trying to pull his hands down as hard as he could, Kaveh continued to tickle him restlessly, scolding him about “how could he not tell this kind of thing to him” and other complaints along these lines.

“KahAHAhaveh, p-plehehease!” Tighnari gasped, letting out a shy squeal when the blonde pinched his hips, “I c-cahahant!”

“Of course you can,” Kaveh mused, using his thumbs to rub circles right over Tighnari’s hip bones, making the botanist try to twist his body away, only to be pulled back in place by Mehrak’s restraints. “Just one name, Tighnari, I always tell you about my dates!”

“I-it’s diffeheherent!!” He cried out, clenching his hands into fists as he felt Kaveh’s hands scribbling over his ribs, unable to press down his arms. “AhahAHAh, I swehehar!”

“Different? What do you mean?” Kaveh raised an eyebrow, looking at the other student, but didn’t stop moving his hands, moving one of them up to poke Tighnari under his arm while the other prodded at the space between his ribs. “Like, are you actually dating? It’s not a hookup?”

At that point, all Tighnari could do is nod in the middle of his laughter, feeling small tears form at the corner of his eyes. “K-KindahAHAh, c-can you stoHOHop nohohow?!”

“Hmmm,” Kaveh muttered, clicking his tongue as he answered, “no.” The blonde grinned, moving both his hands under Tighnari’s arms, making the fennec fox let out an embarrassing screech of mirth as he nearly melted under the tickling. “You haven’t told me their name.”

“K-KAHAHAVEH!! AHAHA, N-NOT THEHERE!” Tighnari howled, stomping his feet as the unbearable ticklish feeling spreaded across his body. He could barely think, but he was sure his cackles could be heard at least across half of the building.

“Come ooon, I don’t have all day!” Kaveh continued to press his fried, not giving them a break from the ticklish torture as he waited for his answer.

Tighnari knew he wouldn’t last long under Kaveh’s interrogation. He squirmed like a fish out of water and his cheeks already felt sore from the laughter, but he and Cyno promised to keep it as a secret - at least, for a while.

“Tell me or I’m gonna tickle your ears,” Kaveh threatened, moving one of his hands away and reaching out for one of Tighnari’s ears.

“O-OKAHAY! Okay!” The student spoke in a hurry, making the blonde stop halfway. “A-ahah… I-I’ll talk…”

Kaveh snapped his fingers, ordering Mehrak to release his friend. “So?” He said, excited to finally hear it.

“B-but promise you won’t tell anyone, alright? We want to keep this down…” Tighnari said, taking Kaveh’s hands into his, “please?”

“You know I won’t tell anyone, I’m your friend!”

“Sigh, fine,” Tighnari took a few seconds to catch his breath, looking at Kaveh’s eyes, “it’s… Cyno.”

“What?! Since when? How did y-”

“Kaveh!” Tighnari hushed him, placing one hand over his lips, “Shhh, be quiet!”

The blonde nodded. As Tighnari moved his hand away, he revealed a huge smile on his friend’s face, probably even more excited than himself about his relationship. “You need to tell me EVERYTHING about this.”

“I will, I will,” Tighnari chuckled, now leaning back into the balcony’s edge, sighing, “we… will make it public, eventually, he just doesn’t want to do it now… but I will tell you when I’m done with a project.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I also have some proj-”

And, finally, realization struck him. Kaveh looked back to where he left Mehrak, seeing the pile of paper sheets waiting for him.

“Shit,” he spoke him a hurry, rushing over his things and picking them up as fast as he could, “I-I’ll talk to you later, I need to finish some stuff or I am dead meat,” he said, turning to Tighnari one last time, “but you better tell me!”

The botanist laughed, shaking his head, “let’s catch up later then,” he muttered, waving his hand as he saw his friend leave.

#genshin impact #genshin impact tickling #tighnari #kaveh #lee!tighnari #ticklish!tighnari #ler!kaveh #tickle fic #there are a few metions of #cyno #and #cynonari #but it's not the focus here aight

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thesugarclubs-blog · 1 month

Text

A Shot to the Heart - Bucky Barnes x OC

warnings: mr & mrs smith vibes, injuries, hurt x comfort, hospital stay

word count: 6.9k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1431325298-a-shot-to-the-heart-florence

vibe: "How are you feeling?" he asked, "You had me so worried, baby girl."

"Like I was hit by Mjolnir," she tried to smile weakly. She tried to lift her head but stopped, wincing and groaning.

Masterlist

It was quiet. Too quiet.

His target’s villa was supposed to be littered with bodyguards, even as Bucky made his way silently through the hallway leading to the man selling the latest deadly drug on the market, something felt off about the silence.

He’d encountered almost no resistance.

His heartbeat was thrumming steadily in his ears as he neared the main bedroom, the door beckoning him like a bullseye. His steps were quiet as he closed one fist around the handle while the other tightened on his trusty blade.

The door didn’t make a sound as he opened it and slipped through it, closing it swiftly as his ears caught the faint sound of music. Bucky’s brows furrowed as he inched closer to the noise leaking through the spacious wing. His intel was solid, he’d been monitoring the French-Algerian mercenary for a month now.

Batroc had a set routine; hide in plain sight while making connections with the local higher ups of the island he was currently hiding in, stay in his villa to host parties on the weekends, and he was always alone on weekdays. He even went to bed early.

Which is why Bucky was confused as to why he was awake– apparently with a companion from the sounds of seductive music filtering in through the walls, when he was supposed to be sleeping. The job was supposedly an easy in-and-out.

Pulling his gun with the silencer attached, he held the two weapons and decided to spring into action with quick steps only for his feet to stop at the sight of a very familiar body swaying seductively in front of a dazed looking French asshole. The woman’s back was to Bucky while she slowly stripped off a trench coat and dropped it to the floor. The blood rushing through his veins was boiling hot but not because of the black corset that was painted on her every delicious curve. No, it was because that body with a distinctive constellation of birthmarks on the back belonged to his wife.

Betrayal. Anger. White hot rage burned everywhere.

“Florence? What the fuck?!”

"Bucky," a tiny whisper left her lips, whether it was annoyance or surprise, Bucky wasn't quite sure.

His eyes flickered between Florence and Batroc, a dangerous man now with the upper hand as his realization clicked into place that he was in danger.

"Guards!" He bellowed, scrambling up from his seated position and tumbling over the side. Within seconds four sets of boots were rushing down the hall at them.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She whipped around on her stilettos. Clicking across the floor toward Batroc as she swiped her jacket from the floor, but it wasn't the jacket that came up in her hands, it was a slim, black pistol. Poised to kill.

"What am I doing here?" Bucky growled, slamming the thin doors closed behind him. They wouldn't keep the guards out but it would buy them some time. "You're a kindergarten teacher!" The shock was settling in, grasping a hold of any rational thoughts he might have had coming into this mission. "What are you doing here?" He kicked his boot against the couch and sent it flying up against the doors, barricading them inside.

“Listen, clearly we need to talk but this really isn’t the time, Bucky.”

Bucky stared at her bewildered, struggling to wrap his head around what his sweet, civilian wife was doing in the home of a French mercenary.

“No shit, sweetheart,” he hissed, head snapping at the sound of quickening footsteps and growing shouts. “Can you run in those?” He asked, pointing to her shoes.

“You know I can. I take it this is a normal Tuesday for you so what’s the plan?”

“Normal Tuesday,” He scoffed “I’ll talk to you about a normal Tuesday you just w-”

“James!” Bucky’s mumbles were cut off by Florence’s exasperated voice piercing through his ears, “not now.”

He shook his jumbled thoughts from his head as he found her eyes and nodded sharply, turning towards the door and pushing her just slightly behind him as he braced himself for the incursion.

“What are you doing?” She hissed.

“Florence just,”

Both their heads turned to the sounds of Batroc clambering to open a window on the far left side of the room. He watched her in complete awe, mouth agape as she raised her gun and pulled the trigger, the bullet piercing straight through his hand.

“You were saying?”

“Just, do exactly that I guess,” He turned back towards the sounds closing in on them and back to her, not a sliver of trepidation in her beautiful chestnut eyes. “And don’t get hurt, please.” His brows knit in worry before he took a steadying breath and turned away once more.

Florence scoffed as she stalked over to where Batroc lay on the ground, clutching his wrist and moaning painfully. She bent over, displaying her ass and the length of her legs, which had Bucky moaning almost as loud as his target but for an entirely different reason. His distraction was soon over as his wife scooped up her jacket and slipped it on before turning to Batroc once more.

“Where are the files, you piece of shit,” she hissed, pressing one stilettoed foot against his throat.

“Wait a second,” Bucky interrupted. “Files? What files?”

He saw his wife release a sigh of annoyance as she pressed the heeled foot into Batroc's chest now, making him wince in pain when her heel dug deep.

"I would say it's classified but..." she gave Bucky a wickedly brilliant smile over her shoulder that almost had him forgetting he was angry.

"...I'm guessing you're here for the same reason, my love. I want the files on the new drug he has circling around."

"I was sent to take him out," Bucky narrowed his eyes.

Florence rolled her shoulders and dug her heel deep into his chest as he tried to squirm away, mumbling something about internal communication under her breath.

"You were never supposed to find out this way." She looked up at him. Regret painted across her beautiful face.

Bucky opened his mouth to respond when the door behind him flew open and three men crashed into the room with their weapons drawn. He was quick on the first, grabbing his gun hand and slamming it against the door frame painfully and with enough force to snap the man's arm in half before kicking him backward out into the hallway.

"This conversation isn't over!" He grunted, taking a gunshot to his vibranium arm. It shuddered in response, curling up and rebounding the bullet away. "You guys never learn." He hauled back his arm, the plates shifting and clicking before making contact. The man yelped and stumbled backward, dropping his gun and clutching his crushed face as Bucky stalked him.

A gunshot rang out in the room, Bucky turning only to catch the third man crumbling to the floor, a leaking hole through his temple.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Florence quipped with a shrug of her slender shoulders.

"Ren!" Bucky barked as a second shot echoed. Batroc's bloody hand curled around the handle aimed at Florence. Bucky slammed his boot against the throat of the second guard, rendering him unconscious as Florence exhaled a shaky breath and her fingers found the blood that poured from her shoulder.

"You shot me!" She groaned loudly, turning on Batroc and laying a swift, hard kick across his face. Clipping his arm in the motion, his gun went sliding across the room as more footsteps pounded down the hallway toward them. "We need to..." her words faltered and so did her step as the color drained from her face.

Bucky's eyes widened and he rushed forward, adrenaline pumping furiously through his veins as he reached for Florence. She glanced down at the blood pooling from the bullet hole and swayed, stumbling for the wall as Bucky swiftly caught her. He pressed his fingers to her shoulder, trying to staunch the wound.

"Fuck! Florence, sweetheart, you gotta stay with me long enough for us to get out of here. Think you can do that for me?" He murmured as he tried to tamper down the rising panic. Never mind that she'd lied to him, if anything happened to her he'd lose it.

"Huh?" Florence hummed, glassy eyes meeting his.

"We gotta get out of here, Ren. I gotta get you out of here."

"Batroc..." she mumbled but Bucky couldn't dart his eyes away from her while he tried to hold her upright.

"I don't give a fuck about Batroc. All I care about is you right now, pretty girl." Her weight was getting heavier in his arms and he forced himself to look around for any other danger. He wouldn't risk her getting hurt again only because he let his emotions take over for a short moment.

Instead of using the advantage, Batroc was glued to the floor in front of them, the gun still in his bloody hand. Bucky's eyes narrowed and he shot the French a death glare that normally was reserved for Red Wing.

"You!" he started, adjusting his grip around Florence's middle while his vibranium hand reached into the holster that was securing multiple knives to his thigh.

"Merde," Batroc hissed, spinning around and trying to open the window behind him with his good hand. Bucky flicked the knife and it pierced effortlessly through Batroc's hand, making him grunt in pain.

“No-one. Touches. My. Wife.” Bucky growled through gritted teeth, shoving down the urge to make the mercenary’s last meal a mouth full of vibranium.

A gentle touch to his cheek brought him back to himself and he looked down at his precious burden, who stared at him with a look of utter adoration.

“That was really hot,” she slurred but then her eyes rolled backward and her lids fluttered closed, her hand falling from his face as she slipped into unconsciousness.

“Ren, REN! Shit!” Bucky hissed as he held her tighter, running out of the room as carefully as he could.

“Medic, we need…agent down…shot. I need her…just…help…” he babbled into his comm, his voice cracking as he tried to relay the information.

The response confirming they heard him and help is on the way was muted by the chaos around them both.

"Fuck! Just– just hang on baby, I'll get you out of here."

He told Florence, trying to keep her concious enough to get them out of there safely. Her body was getting heavier in Bucky's arms as he carried her and maneuvered around the room with shots coming from every direction and headed to the only exit available; the window.

Peering out once he was close enough, Bucky tightened his grip on Florence. All he could see was a thin ledge running along the outside of the villa, the one Batroc must have clung to before climbing in through the window. There was no way he would be able to balance on that with his wife in his arms, or use it to leverage himself down further.

The drop wasn't huge, but he still didn't like the idea of jumping, not with Florence fading in and out, her blood seeping into his own tac jacket, hot and sticky, as he held her closer. She groaned softly, skin pale and dewy with sweat.

"It's alright, pretty girl. I got you," he gritted out just as a shot whistled past him, shattering the plaster of the wall in front of them. "Fuck. Okay, we gotta go. Hold on tight, Ren. S'gonna be okay."

Bucky heaved himself up onto the window ledge, glancing once behind him. Pressing his lips into Florence's hair, he put his focus on his landing point and counted down quietly before jumping.

“Just… fo- for the record… I’m as ba- badass as you,” she mumbled, a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips.

“Shhh. Save your energy, baby. You can show me all your badass-ness later.” He couldn’t stop his heart from going haywire.

Boot steps were echoing through the room he just climbed out of and while tightening his one arm around Florence, he held his gun through the window with the other, shooting completely blind. To his own surprise he heard the thud of a body right after the ringing of the shot vanished in his ears.

With quick head movements he scanned their surroundings.

Pressing them up against the wall of the villa, he took a glance back down at Florence and his heart sank even further when he saw she’d slipped back into unconsciousness.

Quickly sliding along the wall and back around to his entry point he blinked away the tears that threatened to cloud his vision as he rasped against the lump that had formed in his throat.

“I know you’d have made that jump, pretty girl, even in heels. God, I’m so proud of you, I mean, I was before too, wrangling toddlers needs nerves of steel but…I’m rambling, sweetness, I know, I’m sorry. I just want you to wake up.”

He sniffled loudly and carefully adjusted the long leather jacket around his wife’s lingerie-clad form, making sure she wouldn’t get too chilled.

He took a glance to the left and right before dashing across the villa’s courtyard and towards the side gate where he’d entered not ten minutes before.

Reaching his car, Bucky laid Florence delicately in the passenger seat, as if she were made of glass, before climbing behind the wheel and setting off in the direction of his rendezvous point, hoping beyond hope that the med-evac would get there in time.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as Bucky drove. Voices over his comm directed him where he needed to go but it all seemed to fade in the background as images of their life together flashed before him. The night they met, their wedding...Bucky felt a pang of hurt in his chest when his mind raised the question of if any of it was real.

Saddened blue eyes flickered to his wife, her chest barely rising and falling with her shallow breaths. Waking her up would mean having to face the fact that their relationship he thought was built on honesty and truth was tainted with a secret so big it got her hurt.

After a few sharp turns and questionable roads he spotted the med-evac waiting for them just beyond the brush. Bucky quickly threw the car into park and slid his wife from the vehicle, her soft groans and whimpers only shattered off pieces of his heart the more he jostled her around. "You're gonna get through this." He whispered into her hair. "Don't you die on me Ren."

"Sergeant Barnes! Sergeant!"

The shouts made the woman in his arms flinch for a moment as he turned to see a handful of people coming towards him, carrying all kinds of medical aid.

"Sergeant Barnes! What happened?" One of them questioned while he rushed to get her on the stretcher they laid for her. His wife's whimpers of pain pierced through his heart as they started to undress her from the top to see the wound.

"Be careful with her," Bucky whispered. Not really paying attention to anything else but the love of his life as he cradled her pale face in his palms.

"Sergeant? May I ask who this is?" An agent accompanying the medical team asked in a careful tone, "we were not informed there would be anyone else but you, sir."

He didn't answer. He didn't know how to even begin to explain the situation when his head was swarmed with questions of his own.

Another pained whimper left Ren's mouth, this one louder and breaking through his thoughts.

"I said be fucking careful!" Bucky seethed at the medic.

The woman's eyes flicked to him but her expression remained passive as she examined the bullet wound, unaffected by his anger. He supposed they had to be.

"It was a through and through, but she's lost a lot of blood," Bucky explained, "just-- fuck, you gotta save her."

"We'll do our best, Sergeant. Are you travelling back with us?"

It took a second for the medic's words to catch up and he glowered, stepping closer with his vibranium hand balled into a fist.

"I'm sorry? You'll do your best? You fucking save her and that's an order."

"Sergeant, stand down," a voice piped up amongst the fray just as the medic murmured out a weak, "yes, Sarge."

The medic started to put ECG electrodes all over Florence‘s upper body and Bucky‘s eyes darted over to the monitor to see how his wife was doing.

Her heart was beating regularly, but slower than usual. The sound of her normal, steady heartbeat while he had his head resting on her chest was burned into his brain.

He struggled more and more to keep the concern at bay, but when they placed the cuff around her good arm and he saw how low her blood pressure was, his heart ached and he was sure someone was tightening a rope around his chest.

“Do something,” he whispered, his eyes wandering to Ren‘s unconscious face. She looked almost peaceful, like she was sleeping. And she was so fucking beautiful even with her paled skin and sweat all over her face. He’d been the luckiest man on earth that she chose him all those years ago. At least he thought he was, until today when his world was turned upside down.

“You listen to me, Florence Barnes,” he gritted, shouldering a poor medic out of the way as he leaned towards his wife’s ear. “I know we said in sickness and in health but this is taking things a bit too far now, don’t you think?”

The medics eyed each other in shock and surprise, one mouthing his wife?! at the others before they doubled-down their efforts to stabilise the fallen agent.

“Baby, you just gotta…fight…you know? I know I’m an absolute train wreck, ha, but I need you, Ren, I need you so much.”

A harsh beep from the equipment had the medics moving even more frantically as one of them turned to Bucky and grabbed his elbow.

“With all due respect, Sergeant, move, now!”

Bucky glared down at the medic, wrenching his arm out of their grasp. "Save Her.”

The medic gave him a solemn nod before Bucky stepped back and let them get to work. He watched from the edge of the bay, pacing every few moments before stopping whenever they'd start barking orders at each other. He knew enough medical terminology to patch a bullet wound, but anything deeper than that he was foggy. It felt like his heart wanted to explode out of his chest until a familiar voice came over his comms.

"Florence! Buck you brought Florence on a mission with you what the hell man!" Sam's angry voice echoed through his ear.

"I didn't bring her." Bucky muttered as he stared at his wife.

"What did you just say?"

"She was already there."

“The fuck? Man what the hell is goin’ on?!”

“Fuck if I know, Sam,” Bucky replied.

He hated this, the helpless feeling he never thought he’d experience with Florence. The worst case scenario played out in his head as he watched on — he would have to tell her family, her kids, fuck, who wants to tell a bunch of kindergarteners their teacher died? He let himself wonder briefly what song she would want played and that’s when he broke. A sob worked its way up his throat, his bottom lip quivering.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice came again, softer this time. “She’s still here, Buck. She’s gonna fight and you gotta be strong for her.”

Bucky nodded, sure Sam could probably see him somehow, and wiped his eyes just as a medic approached him tentatively.

“Sergeant, we have her stabilised but we need to leave now, are you coming with us?”

“Yeah, yeah” He whispered, clearing his throat. “Sammy,”

“I’ll see you two in a few Buck, we’re not losing her. That’s a promise.”

Sam’s voice faded into static as he disconnected on his end and with that Bucky took out his earpiece with a disheartened huff as he made his way to the med-evac.

When they reached the van’s double doors he paused, taking a deep breath before the agent next to him spoke.

“Sir, we’re not too far from base and we’ve got her covered until we get there. Would you like to ride alone with her in the back?” The blonde smiled sympathetically as he raised his eyes from the road to meet hers.

“Is that safe? I don’t- I need her to be okay,”

“I can jump back if needed but she’s stable for right now. She does need to go into surgery as soon as we get to base, so you know,”

“As long as you save her, anything.” He whispered before adding. “I apologize for my outburst, agent.”

“Understandable. I hope you don’t mind my saying but, I think we can all agree you’ve lost enough in your life already, Sergeant. We’ll do everything we can.”

Bucky nodded, holding back tears as his heart clenched tightly in his chest before stepping inside the cabin, settling gently in the bench beside the stretcher where his entire soul lay still.

He could make out a thick bandage secured with tape over Florence‘s shoulder, her arm bent and held by a makeshift sling.

“You can grab her hand if you want to. Show her that you’re here by her side,” the medic suggested but Bucky hesitated.

“I don’t… I don’t want to hurt her,“ he mumbled, struggling more and more to hold back the tears that made his vision blurry. He needed her to be safe in an OR at the base before he would let himself fall apart.

“You won’t. She’s a fighter, that's for sure.” the blond smiled again. Bucky reached out a shaking hand and grabbed Ren‘s small one in his. He’d done that thousand times before but today everything was different. His thumb brushed over the top of her hand before he pulled it close and placed a tender kiss on each of her knuckles.

And despite his best efforts, in this moment Bucky let the emotions break him. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he breathed “I love you” and “Please don’t leave me” shakily on her skin over and over again.

By the time they’d arrived at the base and whisked Florence into surgery Sam had landed. He stalked over to Bucky, his wings still in the process of folding, and wrapped the super soldier in his arms.

Bucky shattered.

He didn’t think he’d cried that much or that hard since the night that Ayo had taken him into the Wakandan bush. His friend murmured platitudes in his ear and stroked his back, holding him as tight as he needed to feel grounded again. It was only when Bucky’s sobs finally subsided that Sam let him go, leading him over to some hard plastic chairs that were bolted to the floor.

Bucky slumped into one, his elbows on his knees as he rested his head in his hands, clutching at his hair in desperation.

“Why was she even there, Sam?” He asked weakly.

“I did some digging on the way over, called some people. Ren’s one of us, man. She’s an agent,” Sam said gently, leaning forwards to try and catch Bucky’s eye.

“I figured,” Bucky mumbled, his words almost slurring together, “but…but…how?!”

“Sleeper agent,” Sam tried to clarify. “Trained with SHIELD, and then reintegrated into society when it fell. Her job is legitimate, she is actually a qualified kindergarten teacher, but her backstory is…crafted and she’s called on when she’s needed for a job. Obviously this was one of those times,” Sam shrugged, looking almost as confused as Bucky.

"How the hell did I not know? For years?" Bucky muttered.

"She's still Ren, Buck." Sam said. "What you guys had was still real. You know how this works."

"She lied Sam." He glanced over at him, "she knew about me. Hell, she knows everything."

Sam let out a sigh as he leaned back into the chair, "and you know how SHIELD is."

"I just don't get why she couldn't tell me. What difference would it have made?"

Sam chuckled lowly and somehow Bucky knew exactly what he was going to say.

"You can't honestly tell me that if you knew she was an agent, you wouldn't have pulled some over-protective bullshit every time she was called up on a mission?"

"She's my wife, Sam. I made a promise to keep her safe. After everything, the least I can do is keep the love of my life safe. She had no back up in there, I would have seen them if she did."

"Head over heart, man," Sam murmured, "it's the core rule of this job."

Bucky huffed, eyes on the double doors that led to Florence. The waiting was unbearable, the longer he had to think, the worse his thoughts became.

"That's a fuckin' stupid rule," he muttered, pushing to his feet when the need to move, to do anything but sit still, took over.

Bucky stalked to the double doors leading to the ORs before turning back to Sam. "Why send us separately to the same target with separate missions though? It's hard enough to accept Ren's an agent but," his voice wavered. Shaking his head, he stalked past Sam and towards the external doors.

"Hey man, where are you going?" Sam called after him, "Bucky, stop, Ren needs you here." He chased after Bucky and, placing his hand on his shoulder, his friend stilled. "You need to be here, Bucky. Ren needs you."

"I need answers Sam, I could have gotten her killed by bursting in when I did. Someone's fucked up big time and I've got to find out who!"

Any further argument was lost as the doors opened before them and a doctor appeared. Both men eyed him warily and there was a moment of silence so profound that they could hear the subtle whir of the plates in Bucky’s arm as his fingers twisted nervously together.

“Doc?” He croaked, needing to know but not wanting to hear.

“Sergeant Barnes, your wife’s out of surgery. We cleaned up the wound and stopped the bleeding. We’re giving her medication for the pain and some additional blood but taken her off sedation. She should wake up soon.” He paused, seeing the incomprehension on Bucky’s face. “Your wife’s going to be ok, Sergeant.”

Bucky barely grunted his thanks before pushing through the doors behind the doctor in search of his wife.

His hand trembled against the door of her room, everyone seemed to disappear around him as he came to a halt. He could hear them talking to him, at him but none of it mattered. Ren was on the other side of that door and he wasn't sure he would ever be ready to face what condition she was in.

As the adrenaline settled and his thoughts started to slow down the guilt and grief seemed to flood in.

"Do you want me to go first?" Sam asked from his side, the only voice that cut through the static.

"No," Bucky shook his head and inhaled deeply before pushing the door open and wandering inside. The faint beeping of machines and the smell of cleaning solution clouded his senses. Florence lay in the middle of the tubes and machines, so still it made his heart constrict in his chest. He hated it. "Oh baby," He sunk down on the side of the bed and rested his head against her hand, taking a moment to forget about his anger and frustration and to just worry about her.

Sam slowly made his way around the bed and rubbed Bucky's back. "I'm sorry, man," he murmured softly. "But she'll make it. Florence is one heck of a tough girl."

Bucky raised his head and looked at her, she looked so small in that bed, and her face was so pale. Despite all the tubes and wires, the beeping of the monitors was kind of reassuring. "She has to put up with me," he responded, "but when she left the house this morning..." He gulped and shook his head again. "How did I miss this, Sam? Some fucking super soldier I am."

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Buck," Sam replied quietly as he gave Bucky's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You good here? Or do you want me to stay for a while?"

Bucky heaved a sigh, eyes never straying from Florence as the thought about his answer. He reached across the bed to brush a stray hair from her face, fingertips lingering. She had more colour in her face now, cheeks warm and pink, but Bucky still found himself begging for movement -- a flicker of her eyelids, twitch of her mouth.

"I'm alright," he breathed after a moment. "Can you stick around the base though, as soon as she's fit for transport I wanna get her back to the compound and I want you travelling with us."

"Course, man. Give me a shout if you need me."

Bucky listened as the doors swung closed and the room fell into an eerie quiet save for the beeping of machines and Florence's steady breaths.

Reaching up carefully, he wrapped his hand around hers, tangling their fingers together. "What the hell were you doing there?" He whispered to her, knowing she wouldn't answer. At least not right now. Confusion and anger wrapped around his insides the longer he watched her sleep. A thousand unanswered questions plagued his mind and only caused more tiny little fractures in his heart.

It confused to no end why she didn't tell him, why she wasn't honest with him about this part of her life. His wife almost never lied to him— intentionally or not.

Didn't she trust him? Did she think this kind of a secret could be kept forever? What if—

The twitch of her hand in his cut off his destructive train of thought. Ren's eyes were flickering open and closed causing Bucky's heart to still as he willed her chocolate eyes to open and reassure him that she was okay. Her hand tightened only slightly around his fingers and her head turned slowly in his direction, the softest smile graced her lips as she settled again, eyes closed but her posture more peaceful.

"Just be okay," he whispered. Leaning in to pepper kisses on the hand cradled in his while tears stung his eyes.

"We'll figure out the rest."

Bucky sat in that room for hours, going back and forth on what he would say to her the moment she woke. The doctors came and went and his impatience grew with every passing second and annoying beep or question.

He wanted answers, he wanted his wife.

He didn't know what he wanted but he knew if Steve had been there he'd have the answer and that only made him more angry. He had moved on, he had worked so hard to find a person that could understand him the way Steve had and it felt like a lie. He knew better than to believe that, he trusted Florence with everything so short of her being assigned to him and their entire marriage being a ruse. Nothing she would say could convince him she didn't love him too. He had felt her love every single time she was near him. So patient and delicate as he worked through so much unforeseen trauma.

"Come back to me baby," he whispered from trembling, exhausted lips.

Time dragged and the monotonous beep became the background noise to his cheek pressed to Florence’s arm, resting his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been dozing when he heard it, the soft croak of a voice he’d been dreaming of somewhere above him.

“Bu- Buck?”

Bucky snapped his head up.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured as Florence tried to speak again, her eyes fluttering open. “Shh. Shh, hang on, baby. Lemme get you some water.”

He propped her bed up a little before guiding the straw to her dry lips.

“I was shot,” she whispered once she was done. “Fuck.”

Bucky chuckled, cradling her cheek delicately and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, "You had me so worried, baby girl."

"Like I was hit by Mjolnir," she tried to smile weakly. She tried to lift her head but stopped, wincing and groaning.

"Stay still," Bucky admonished, "you almost died today." Florence closed her eyes and took a breath before looking at Bucky's hand on hers, she twisted her fingers to take his wedding ring and begin turning it.

"You weren't meant to find out this way, Buck. I never meant for this to happen."

He sucked into a breath and shook his head, his hand tightening in hers for a moment, "why didn't you tell me?"

Her eyes found his and his heart dropped seeing the hesitation in her features. Ren's lips parted to say something before all that came out was a breath.

"Please tell me."

He begged in a hushed tone, trying to have the patience to manage her fragile state while pushing away doubts and fears of his own.

"This was the first mission I've been put on since we got married, Buck. I thought.." her voice trailed off and she bit her lip nervously.

"I thought I was done with that part of my life. I told my superior that I was off the day we met, I didn't want to do that anymore." Ren continued, the words rushing out with the rising frustration clear in her eyes.

He didn't understand. Bucky's eyes were searching her own but there was nothing but sincerity and anguish as Florence delivered the final punch to the gut.

"We met while I was on an assignment, and I just.. quit. Or so I thought." She mumbled the last part as her fingers dug into his palm as if willing him to believe her.

"So why this case? Why lie?" Bucky searched for answers to help make sense of her explanation.

"It wasn't my choice," She moved uncomfortably, just trying to close the gaps between them. "I couldn't tell you and when they call," she stopped.

"You go." Bucky knew that well, there was always another war to fight, another bad guy to bring down. It never ended and someone always came looking for help. It's not that he didn't want to, but he was tired and looking at Florence he had thought he found his haven from that. Someone who would never need him in that way but now... "I'm not mad you," he said. "I know it seems like I am but," he rolled his fingers over her cheek. "Tell me and don't lie to me. Was I ever a mission?"

"No," she answered without hesitation. "Never. Not once, they never even tried to take that route. It's why I quit in the first place."

"It was never going to be easy for me, was it?" Bucky murmured sadly and Florence made a little wounded sound as she brought his hand to her lips. "Makes sense that I'd fall in love with someone whose seen just as much bloodshed as me."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Florence countered. Bucky let out a shaky breath. "C'mere." Bucky scooted closer as she pressed soft kisses to his knuckles before turning his hand and kissing his palm. With her eyes closed, her long eyelashes fanned out over her cheeks and she looked every bit the angel she is.

"I never wanted you to see that side of me, of my job, Ren. Not first hand, not like this."

"I don't care, Bucky. I've always known who you are and what you do and I married you anyway. And besides, it was my job too. I knew I could have handled anything you decided to show me."

"You may not care, but I care!" His voice raised and almost broke. He pulled his hand away as he stood, the chair flew back abruptly and came to rest against the wall. Ren winced at his raised voice but knew with confidence that he'd never hurt her.

Bucky had begun to pace the room. "You're my angel, it's my job to protect you, to keep you safe...." His hands fisted his hair, "My whole world relies on the normality and routine of our lives...." He looked at her for the first time since he stood up. "This blows everything I believed we had out of the water."

"I'm still me!" She yelled, "I'm still the woman you fell in love with and I'm still the woman who is in love with you James Barnes."

His face crumpled for a moment as he stared at her.

"Now I am not throwing years of marriage away because of this. *I am not going anywhere*." Her brows furrowed as those big brown eyes looked up at him. Those eyes he tripped in the first time he saw her. Stumbling over his words, his heart racing with every moment she spared him and that smile. God that smile lit up every dark corner of his mind the first time he saw it. "Are you?" Her voice cracked softly as they watched each other. Both expecting to make a decision.

Bucky let out a long drawn out breath and shook his head. "No."

A weak, teary laugh escaped her and Bucky's heart broke over the sound.

"Good. Because you're stuck with me," she announced. "One injured shoulder won't keep me away from you." She told him, trying to smile through the tension and tears pooling in her eyes.

He couldn't stay away from her any longer when she buried her face in her hands and started crying, the soft sniffling and hiccups coming from her had Bucky closer in a heartbeat, his arms enveloping the love of his life gently. Protectively.

"I'm telling them I'm out for good," Florence mumbled into his chest, her voice thick.

"Are you sure? I know you said--"

"Yes. Fuck, Bucky. I don't want to do this anymore. I wanted normal too, you know. I wanted to *be* your normal, your safe space. I want to keep coming home to you and telling you stupid stories about my kids, I want to keep having lazy weekends with you and late night grocery store runs."

Bucky laughed wetly, pressing a kiss into her hair, careful of her shoulder as he held her tighter.

"I want that too," he whispered, "just, no more secrets, sweetheart, I don't think my old heart could take it."

They sat quietly, as if counting their blessings, murmuring their wishes and promises for their lives moving forward, everything now out in the open.

They were interrupted by a rapping at the door and both of them turned as it opened. Sam poked his head through. "I was just checking in, Bucky..." he began. "Oh thank god you're awake, Ren, Bucky was out of his mind..."

"Is there any wonder?" Bucky retorted, turning back to Ren. "I thought I'd lost you for sure."

"I've told you, I'm not going anywhere, Buck. We're going to grow old together," Florence smiled, moving to sit up. "Ooh that fucking smarts."

"I'm sure you're due some more pain relief by now," Sam responded. "Let me go find the doc to sort you out, and start arranging for the airlift home."

Bucky watched Sam leave before turning back to Ren. A soft grin spread across her face as her fingers traced along the edges of his scruffy face. "You know, seeing you in action was pretty hot." She said lowly.

He laughed and shook his head. "Me? What was that outfit you were wearing and why the hell have I not seen you in it?"

"That old thing?" She whispered, "was cheap and not my style."

Bucky leaned down, bringing her hand to his lips kissing the inside of her wrist, "Could it?"

Florence raised a brow at him with a smirk.

"I mean when you're healed." He clarified, "You aren't doing anything for the next few weeks except bed rest."

"It's a shoulder wound." Florence laughed at him.

"And you are my wife." Bucky countered, "Which means I get to dote on you until you're better."

Her hand curled around the back of his neck, tangling in the short hairs there, "I could get used to that."

"Good." He said as he leaned into her, whispering against her lips before kissing her for the first time since he left home that morning, letting the monotonous beeping and horror of the day disappear until all that was left was them.

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