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drysaladandketchup · 3 months

Note

5 mattdrai for the writing meme please

I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to handle this prompt, but I hope it's still to your liking, anon :)

5. things you didn’t say at all

"Hey."

Matthew really isn't in the mood for this right now. He was having a good time being back home in St. Louis for his first All-Stars, talking to some of the best players in the league, watching the skills competition, going out with the guys, and now the game is in a couple hours--

"Tkachuk."

Yeah, no, he's real. That's Draisaitl yelling at him. Well, he isn't yelling, but since he apparently is so hard pressed to even be around Matthew, it'll probably escalate to that soon.

I'd probably get off the ice.

Even if it was a joke--and maybe Matthew is willing to entertain the idea that it had been, coming from mister 'taken out of context'--it makes sharing the locker room awkward.

The thing is, he kind of likes Draisaitl. Admires his game, anyways, even if he is playing for fucking Edmonton. If Matthew had actually been drafted by the Oilers back then, like he thought, they probably could have been friends.

If he's being honest with himself, he kind of likes Draisaitl beyond hockey, too. Because he'd watched Leon's interviews, checked out his Instagram a little--he was curious, sue him--and because McDavid talks a lot when they're training at Gary's. Also, come on, Matthew's not blind. He hates the concept of him in Edmonton, but it's not fair to say Matthew genuinely hates the guy.

Right now though, this may be the first time he's heard Draisaitl ever actually say his name, and he wishes it was anyone else.

"Hey. Hang on." Draisaitl is in front of him now, stony and unreadable, and only then does Matthew realise like a fool that he has actually stopped. They're face-to-face, alone in one of the maintenance halls, the hustle and bustle of the arena a distant hum.

Matthew stares at him, not unkindly, because his mom taught him some damn manners, but not openly friendly, either. Not until he can get a gauge on what Draisaitl wants. Leon. It's Leon. That feels like the only thing Matthew really knows about the guy, sometimes.

"Did you want something?" Matthews asks coolly, leaning against the bricks with his hands shoved deep in the pocket of his sweater.

Leon glances down the hall, up to the buzzing florescent lights, running fingers through his hair. It's hard not to follow his tongue when it pokes out to wet his lips. Damn it, he has no business looking this good.

"I wanted to talk to you," he finally says, and even after all this time Matthew is still caught off guard by how soft he sounds.

"Talk to me?" Matthew narrows his eyes. "I didn't think you'd even want to be seen with me."

Which is a shame, because they'd look pretty damn good together. In his opinion, anyways.

Leon doesn't take the bait. "I saw that interview you did."

"Buddy, you're going to have to be more specific. I've done a few lately. It's the All-Stars."

"Before the break. I don't remember with who. NBC, I think? They asked you about me. What I said."

He doesn't need to elaborate. Matthew raises a brow, scratches the sudden itch at his neck. The air in the hallway is stuffy and warm.

"What about it? I said you were a great player."

"After that, though."

Leon doesn't need to elaborate on that, either. The intensity of his stare does the job well enough.

What did Matthew say again? I probably can't answer that or he'll get mad at me.

Yeah, because the only thing running through his head when he heard what Leon said was, Well damn that sucks because I wanted to find out if he fucks better than he fights. He remembers biting his lip because his brain unhelpfully supplied him with some tempting ideas that were not exactly family friendly. He's twenty-two, he's got hormones, what's he going to do?

But he was pretty sure declaring he wants to fuck a rival player wasn't going to win him any favours with anyone, let alone Leon. And maybe that comment irked him a little in the moment, but no one's opinion matters to Matthew more than his own. Accidentally outing himself during an interview was not high on his list of career moves, so he'd played it safe, locked it all down, and assumed that'd be the end of it.

"I didn't say anything," Matthew says.

This feels strange. Leon doesn't look pissed, he looks curious. Piqued, like he's waiting to hear something specific.

"I know."

"So what's your problem?"

"What were you going to say?"

Matthew cocks his head. "What, you thought I was going to burst into tears because the German Gretzky doesn't like me?"

Except he knows Leon's not an asshole. Not all the time, anyways. Not off the ice. Which makes it fucking hard to just blow him off.

"You were all over us that game," Leon says. "Kass was pissed. You're a fucking pest, what the hell did you expect me to say?"

"Is this you trying to apologise? Because if it is, you're doing a hell of a job."

"You never hold back on anything."

"Why the hell does it matter?" Christ, it's like Leon is trying to pick a fight.

"You looked like you had something to say." There's a hint of suspicion--of implication--in Leon's voice that makes Matthew tense.

"You think I'm an asshole, so I don't know why you care."

Maybe this is a prank. Maybe he figured it all out and he's waiting for Matthew to break down and declare, I think I could fall in love with you if you let me.

Leon shuts his eyes briefly, shoulders rising and falling as he takes one long, deep breath through his nose.

"I didn't mean it how it sounded."

"Yeah, I heard." Matthew's stomach rolls in ways it shouldn't. "I don't know what other context you want me to take it in, though. It's not even a big deal, anyways. I mean, yeah, it kind of sucks finding out a guy you like thinks you're a piece of shit, but it's whatever, right?"

"I didn't call you--I don't think you're--"

Groaning, Leon thumps his head against the wall and dragging a hand down his face. He takes a minute to compose himself, staring up at the ceiling, then down between his feet, face screwed up in thought. Finally, he looks back to Matthew.

"You like me, eh?"

It's been a long weekend; Matthew's too tired to backpedal and try to make up some excuse. Part of him just wants to drop it out in the open and be done with it. Just come out and say, Yeah, the 'I want to take you home' kind of like. The 'I want you to make me scream' kind of like.

Just to see what Leon would do. At the very least, he probably wouldn't punch Matthew. He's not a glove-dropper, after all, and he's not so scary without a stick in his hand.

He tries to imagine Leon's wide eyed, slack-jawed expression. Maybe the little 'Oh' that would slip through his lips. Because yeah, 'Oh' would be about right. It would be the most embarrassing conversation of Matthew's life; more embarrassing than when he came out to his family and Brady asked him to rank his favourite players by 'fuckability'.

"It doesn't matter." Matthew shakes his head, clears his throat, looking anywhere but at Leon. "Look, man, let's just go back to beating each other up on the ice and pretend this never happened, okay?"

"No, hey, don't"--Leon grabs Matthew's arm as he pushes off the wall, fully ready to disappear and never talk about this again--"It does matter. Tell me."

Matthew would rather go dunk his head under the sink and rub the embarrassing flush from his cheeks. He's hot all over, from the beating in his chest to the blood in his veins. Where Leon's touching tingles with an intimacy they've never had. It may be the first time they've touched without the aggression of a game to justify it.

And damn, Leon's looking at him like he can read Matthew's mind, or trying to get Matthew to read a little of his own. It's all heat and intensity and a look that says, I don't think you hate me, and I don't want you to think I hate you.

"What do you want from me?" Matthew says. "Why's this so important to you?"

It's possible he imagines the way Leon's eyes flit down and back. They're pressed almost right against each other now. That must be why Matthew's overheating, struggling to catch a full breath.

"i just want to know..." Leon swallows the rest of his words as he takes half a step closer; a little too close to be innocent. That brick wall of a chest is pressed up against Matthew's arm, nearly crowding him against the wall.

"Know what?" Matthew barely gets the words out.

It's scary to wonder. Ideas are forming in his head--excited, hopeful ones. Matthew won't pretend he's never wondered about Leon; what he could do with him. To him. How his mouth tastes, how his hands feel, what it'd be like having him over and under and around and inside.

And Leon is looking at Matthew like he genuinely cares how he feels. Like maybe, just maybe, he's thinking, too. Wanting.

Wouldn't that just be the biggest fucking drama of Matthew's life?

There's still too much they're not saying.

Neither of them gets the chance.

Something clatters down the hall, followed by the echo of voices.

Leon lets go abruptly, hand dropping to his side. "Shit, sorry. I should, um... Never mind. Just... forget it."

He spins and walks away, just like that, shoulders hunched and hands shoved in his pockets. For a guy who never backs down from a challenge, it looks a little too much like running away.

But it's not like Matthew can call him a coward when he can't even get his own voice to work. Breathless, he slumps against the wall and tries to piece together what just happened, how they managed to say everything and nothing. It feels like he's been through a tornado.

Fuck, he can't deal with whatever this is right now. He cannot be thinking with his dick come game time, let alone worry about whatever the hell his heart is doing.

He stands alone in the hall for a good five minutes, waiting for his nerves to settle, until he finally has the courage to head back, falling into the bustle of players and staff and media.

He avoids Leon in the locker room as best he can. On the ice, too. They don't talk and they keep enough bodies between them on the bench.

Once this is over, they can crack open that can of worms again, figure out what's going on. But there's more important things right now.

They play the All-Star game like they're bitter rivals.

Matthew feeds him a slick pass that turns into a goal.

He skates off without a celly, and Leon gives him a "fuck you" with a smirk and a tongue between his teeth.

But it's fun. Really fun. And despite it all, they're both smiling at the end. Leon's smiling at him.

And Matthew wants to believe that means something.

#hockey #mattdrai #matthew tkachuk #leon draisaitl #my writing #asks #this fic gave me a hard time for some reason #I didn't want to to do the obvious 'the thing you didn't say was that you love me' but I guess it kind of became that anyways lol #really my first thought was just 'matthew never said what he thought about leon's get off the ice comment and it haunts me' I NEED to know

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rosileeduckie · 1 year

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Tickled to Death

Pact of punishment level: maxed. Time face the scariest enemy you didn’t know lived in hell: your own boyfriend.

Zagreus “helps” Thanatos get out from between a rock and a hard place. For @vqler, who GOD I’m so sorry I’m late but I hope you like me petrifying and obliterating Thanatos for you in the name of Christmas ❤ Much love to you, much love and thanks to @hypahticklish for hosting this year’s @squealing-santa. Kudos and love to everyone who posted for the event this year, happy holidays, and happy new year!

SFW. Potential warnings: just “returning to writing” writing lol. Hades: Zagreus/Thanatos tickle fic.

Word count: 3,075

~*~

Zagreus had attempted enough escapes from the underworld to know, upon even entering a chamber, when something was immediately off. He daresay he was experienced by this point; there were things he’d come to expect. Hordes of enemies, unleashed with love from his father? Certainly. The unavoidable spiting of and smiting from god-cousins for the favor of other ones? Often. Blood, death, and darkness? Absolutely. What he found waiting for him upon crossing from his most recent ferry to the nearest Asphodelian dock was, in a total understatement, wildly unexpected.

Save for the familiar sound of bubbling, hissing lava and distant magma falls, the chamber was quiet. Zagreus entered as he always did, light on his burning feet and weapon unsheathed, ready to dodge or strike at a moment’s notice. He needn’t have, though, as he soon realized the chamber was befuddlingly empty. Sure, he’d encountered chambers with no enemies in them, either at first glance because they had just yet to spawn or at all because their presence was dissuaded by some form of boon or blessing. But the chamber he currently found himself in had no healing pool, no shop, and no allies, let alone enemies. It was just plain empty.

So busy with examining the room for some sort of clever trap, Zagreus didn’t even notice the obvious obstacle until he fully tripped over it, sprawling onto the rock with his weapon—Stygius, this time—clattering a couple of feet away. Zagreus looked back to see what had caused him to stumble, and his brow furrowed deeper in confusion. A scythe, large and dramatic and adorned with gold and a piercing purple eye lay abandoned on the rock, its usual wielder, the physically and emotively grey demigod that Zagreus had the biggest soft spot for, was nowhere to be seen. Or was he?

Zagreus turned his head, looking from Thanatos’ weapon to his own. A couple of feet away. His gaze lifted slowly upward. The grey and currently half-rocky skin had blended quite well into the environment like a natural stalagmite, and it wasn’t until he was actually looking for it that Zagreus could see that Thanatos was there, and likely not going anywhere any time soon.

The prince rose, grabbed and sheathed his sword as he rounded the Thanatos-shaped pillar until he faced the front. Zagreus had been grinning already upon realizing what he’d stumbled upon, but that grin grew all the bigger and brighter when he saw the normally brooding Thanatos looking flustered and positively grumpy.

“Don’t—” Thanatos said, sighing in defeat when Zagreus snorted and burst into bright laughter that he tried and failed to hide behind his hand. “Don’t laugh.”

"I'm sorry, but can you blame me?" Zagreus said, nearly falling into another fit of giggling when he rapped a knuckle lightly against Thanatos' chest and the action produced a satisfying thunk. "What happened?" He asked, but it was fairly obvious: petrification. Gorgons were aplenty in Asphodel, and none of them so friendly as Dusa. Most of Thanatos' body was still affected by the curse, frozen in place and turned a stony stormy grey. By the looks of it and the fact that he could talk, the petrification was naturally draining from Thanatos' form from the top first, leaving the rest of him to wait out the "thawing" process in the stiff and stiffness-inducing position of both arms partially raised as those blocking with his scythe, and both feet floating their usual few inches from the ground.

"I was waiting for your slow ass," Thanatos grumbled, drawing the prince to close his cursory examination with a snort. "Expected for us to have one of our contests, but a gorgon caught me from behind. You'd be standing in her remains, if I hadn't vaporized her."

"Remind me to stay off your bad side."

"“Stay off.”"

“Shut up.” Zagreus walked a slow circle around Thanatos. He cast his gaze outward, studying the chamber without the blinders of adrenaline and stress that tended to make things look fuzzy. He knew Thanatos was powerful, but—blood and darkness—he’d probably obliterated every shade within the next three chambers, let alone their current one. It was just a guess, but, with how thoroughly every trap had been tripped and every structural fault had been compromised simultaneously, as though from a massive blast, Zagreus was fairly certain that A. he and Thanatos were better than safe from shades for the time being, and B. even caught off guard, Thanatos did nothing at half-intensity. Drama queen. “So how long have you been like this?”

Thanatos grunted, straining to look over his shoulder at Zagreus when the prince moved fully behind him. “I don’t know. I didn’t count, as I was counting on you to be quick. Thanks for picking this one time to be the one where you drag your feet.”

Zagreus didn’t respond to the jab with more than a thoughtful hum. He was too busy watching the petrification dissipate, the cold stone color receding like a lava wave at low tide at a slavug’s pace. Ugh.

“I don’t know how long I’ve been like this, and I have no idea how long I’ll be like this, since I usually have you to cover me.”

“It’s pretty quick, from the hits I’ve taken.” Of course, Zagreus realized upon thinking it over, he was often petrified while surrounded by enemies, and the threat of being sent back down the Styx made him struggle against the enchantment with all his might. Maybe it was supposed to last a long time; he’d just be thin on patience and break himself out. “Helps if you wiggle.”

Thanatos scoffed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “You are an amazing help.”

“Well, what do you suggest I—?”

“Just—” Thanatos huffed, neck and shoulders visibly straining where he tried to move them, move anything, “just keep watch to make sure nothing respawns. I didn’t even want you seeing me like this, let alone your father’s subjects.”

“Any shade would think they’ve gone mad with the heat before they accepted seeing you like this as real. Or they’d be laughed out of the House for such a ridiculous and unbelievable tale, you know that. But fine,” Zagreus replied with a yawn and set himself on a little guarding route around Thanatos, keeping an eye trained outward for ominous growling, keeping an ear pointed toward Thanatos to listen to his comical grunts and breathy swears of efforts, and letting his mind drift elsewhere.

When Zagreus found himself petrified on his escape attempts, a quick shake and healthy dose of stubbornness was all it took for him to bash his way to freedom and back to slashing shades to dust. There had been one time, though, when he’d found himself without monsters to slay beside the shade who’d landed a hit and then lazily floated away and straight into a fountain of lava. (Zagreus could understand enjoying a hot bath, but yikes…) With no adversaries, Zagreus had lacked his usual incentive to escape as quickly as possible. It was odd, to stop moving so thoroughly, without being able to so much as jiggle his leg or tap his fingers or click his tongue. His companion on-call at that time had been Dusa, and he couldn't think of anyone better to offer advice as to getting un-petrified than her. Luckily, the little gifted doll he kept like a keychain on his weapon didn't need to be physically or verbally invoked—that would make summoning under the onslaught of a dozen rakers or one very maltempered ROUS even more difficult—so he pictured the soft snakey toy, reached out with his mind, and called for his companion. In a flash, Dusa appeared, all smiles and polite shyness and readiness to stone and slaughter any foe that challenged the prince. Of course, there were none, but Zagreus' head had gotten enough feeling back to explain the situation to Dusa. Her advice was the same Zagreus had given to Thanatos in the present: wiggle around a bit. And she had, so helpfully, provided a new incentive via her trusty feather duster.

Recalling the event made Zagreus—well, first he flushed to the roots of his charcoal hair, and he was glad he'd come to stand behind Thanatos at that moment, and then—grin, delighted and devilish. "Actually…"

"What?" Thanatos tried to look over his shoulder at Zagreus once more, and found only the slightest more yield in his stone-struck muscles. He could almost touch his chin to his shoulder.

Zagreus side-stepped accommodatingly to face his captive companion. "Funny thing is, Than, you're not rock. You can feel just fine." He gave another demonstrative flick to Thanatos' shoulder. "It's a bitch when you're being bombarded with enemy attacks. But it might help you break free. If I just—"

It had been a tactical move for Zagreus to move around to Thanatos’ front. For one, it allowed him easy access to scribble his fingers under death incarnate’s arms unimpeded. For another, it meant he got to see Thanatos’ face morph from dismay to betrayal to amusement (however helped along and hysteric).

“Zagreus!” cried Thanatos, the sound colored with a splash of helpless laughter. Truly, it was funny how his technically perfect defensive position, when without his intimidating weapon, left him totally vulnerable to a little tickling. (Well. A lot of tickling. Zagreus was usually on the other end of these fights, and he had already decided he was not letting such a golden fleece of opportunity go by.)

"Yes, Than dear?" Zagreus teased, smile growing wide enough as his victim's when he saw the way Thanatos' cheeks began to burn violet. It took the strength of Sisyphus, but Zagreus looked away from Thanatos’ face, looking instead at his chest and trailing the progress of the curse. Still slow, but with a bit more stuttering speed. The stony color had dissipated all the way down to about his collarbone, leaving the topmost part of his collar golden and shining once more. “No need to thank me. I can already see the curse is lifting faster. You keep wriggling, I’ll keep helping, and you’ll be out in no time!”

A whine that slipped seamlessly into a squeal punctuated Thanatos’ chortling. “But—!”

The dual-eyed demigod slowed his attack, keeping his fingers and just a featherlight flutter in Thanatos’ armpits. It was far from rare for the pair to engage in all-out tickle wars that could border on brutal, but this may have been a bit much. Zagreus didn’t want to overwhelm Thanatos. He waited for even the slightest inkling of dissent.

Thanatos ducked his head, panting and giggling and bumping his forehead gently against Zagreus’. “If someone sees…” It was a thin excuse, between euphoric lips and yellow eyes burning with excitement, and Thanatos knew it.

Zagreus definitely knew it, holding Thanatos’ jaw in his hands to pull him in for a kiss that ended when the prince chuckled, low and wicked and delighted. “Darling, with how you smote those shades, we won’t be interrupted for awhile, I’m sure.” Thanatos’ eyes scrunched shut, and he bit his lip valiantly against a renewed fit of giggling when Zagreus’ hands migrated gently down his neck and back to his underarms. “No one but me to relish your screams.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Thanatos teased, teeth gritted in a grin.

Able to bear stillness not a second longer, Zagreus set his fingers dancing once again, spidering viciously beneath Thanatos’ arms. Poor death threw his head back as the villainous onslaught sent laughter bursting from his lungs to echo through the lava chamber. His shoulder muscles strained against stone, but, try as he might, he couldn’t lower his arms at all. Not the tiniest inch, not the slightest bit of reprieve. Zagreus grinned. It was spectacular.

In self-preservation, Zagreus had tipped his head back from his and Than’s intimate moment seconds before going back to full tickle monster mode, which had been smart with how determined Thanatos was to thrash even with just his head. A minute or two of torture later, Zagreus saw another inevitable point of danger. The curse was ebbing; soon Thanatos was free to his shoulders, and that gave him only the ability to laugh enough for them to shake. As soon as his pectorals were free, Thanatos was going to have means, however clumsy, to fight back. With a sigh lamenting the end of a helpless Thanatos, Zagreus took one last adoring gaze at that tickled-mad, wide-grinning, ecstasy-dizzy face, and he ducked.

A deadweight hand swung over his head, and Zagreus sent one of few thanks to his father for increased difficulty in his pact of punishment. It might have been small, but his instincts were good enough now to avoid what would have been an impressive black eye. Blacker eye. Still, stone-from-the-chest-down was not the way Zagreus preferred his partners, so he couldn’t rest yet. Thanatos was flailing his arms with all his might, but he still couldn’t bend over, so Zagreus was relatively safe lounging against Thanatos’ knee. Reaching as high as he dared, Zagreus gave a few quick and indiscriminate tickles—resulting in beautiful answering shrieks—and latched onto Thanatos’ hips. Instead of pinching, Zagreus held on for dear life and dug into the fabric beneath Thanatos’ belt, burrowing into and scratching the soft sensitive spots that had the potential to make Thanatos purr but were currently making him wail like the damned.

The longer Thanatos suffered under Zagreus’ malicious mischief, the quicker the curse faded. Zagreus’ wiggling fingers seemed to be fleeing from it as they squeezed down Thanatos’ thighs, skittered behind his knees, and eventually dashed to his soles. Thanatos was fully able to buck now, body all but back to his control. Had Zagreus not laid down on the rocky ground, he likely would have been throttled. As it was, he was still out of reach, grinning up at Thanatos and receiving an exhausted but elated smile in return. There was even almost a flash of fear in death’s eyes when Thanatos realized what Zagreus had planned for the finale of their first—and hopefully not last—curse-breaking session.

“Don’t worry, Than. This spot ALWAYS makes you dance. If it doesn’t free you, nothing will.” Zagreus was positively beaming up at Thanatos, facing no defense in the form of scrunching toes or kicking feet his usually did even threatening to tickle this spot, and certainly not deterred by the pitiful attempt at a glare the smiley and slumped over Thanatos shot at him.

Any shade that had even thought about reforming within a mile of them had probably changed their mind and stayed dead a few more minutes upon hearing the howl death let out when two fingers were traced delicately under his toes. Never mind the subsequent guffawing screams he uttered when Zagreus raked five fingers back and forth beneath them while his other hand devastated Thanatos’ soles with some evil scribbling that he could only imagine tickled like hell. Those sounds, even if it did make Zagreus wince and almost want to cover his ears, and the blazing, amazing, unabashed smile that accompanied it was better than any boon the gods could give him. Maybe it was a little devil in him talking, but it was simply divine to see his lover so undone and hysterical, so free even when immobilized, so happy and for only Zagreus to see. He wouldn’t mind staying there, basking in Thanatos’ warm and hysterical glow, for a few dozen winters.

His wish was not granted. He barely got a dozen seconds before Thanatos finally shook free from the petrification, yanking his feet away from Zagreus’ hands and subsequently upending himself, laughter having sapped his strength to the point where he couldn’t even float, collapsing on top of Zagreus’ chest and leaving them both wheezing.

Once he’d gotten back the wind that had been knocked out of him, Zagreus chuckled, wrapping his arms around Thanatos and holding him close, rubbing smooth and soothing circles into the soft warm skin of his shoulder. So gentle and loving was the attention and little kisses he showered Thanatos with that his next words were a jarring dissonance.

“You know, it usually only takes me a few seconds to break free from a gorgon hit when I really want to,” said Zagreus, and he hummed smugly when he felt Thanatos’ face grow warm where it was suddenly buried in the prince’s neck. “Can’t help but wonder if, maybe, you just didn’t want to escape that badly.” He pressed a grinning kiss to Thanatos’ burning forehead. “Eh, Thana-toes?”

Just as suddenly as he’d been pinned to the floor under Thanatos, Zagreus found himself pinned to the floor, arms raised and locked in the grip of a vengeful death, whose amber eyes were absolutely alight with promise and payback, and smoldering more softly with fondness that could not be more obvious when he rolled them. “I will give you three conditions to escape a slow and very merciless end, after which I will personally drag you back down the Styx and deliver just as merciless a wake-up call.”

Zagreus gulped, his grin growing wobbly and his stomach already tickled by a swarm of prickling nerves and butterflies. “And those would be?”

“One,” said Thanatos, summoning a ghostly indigo shackle to bind Zagreus’ left wrist. “Please don’t tell anyone about this that I work with. I’d like to keep some professional dignity. Two.” Another shackled encircled Zagreus’ right wrist. “Don’t you dare call me that ever again.”

Zagreus couldn’t help but smile proudly at the purple flush that touched Thanatos’ cheeks at that, albeit his smile swiftly turned giggly and giddy as those two shackles pulled his arms taut.

“Three.” Thanatos leaned in just to nuzzle Zagreus’ ear and scoff lowly when he tried to scrunch up his shoulders. The wickedly sharp tips of Thanatos’ iron gauntlets grazed gently along Zagreus’ highest ribs, making him jolt and bite down on a yelp, grin already hopelessly wide and nerves tingling in anticipation. Zagreus was sure he lost what color he had, most of it roaring to flush and flicker in his hair and ears, and surer that he’d be cursing Thanatos next time, when the latter bowed close to whisper the final condition.

“Don’t laugh.”

#ro writes #squealing santa #squealing santa 2k22 #ss2k22 #hades tickling #ticklish!thanatos #zagreus x thanatos #lee!thanatos #ler!zagreus #switch!thanatos #switch!zagreus

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alexx013 · 11 months

Note

Hey there, can I make a request for genshin impact?

So, a friend of mine slowly started to neglecting our friendship because they have someone who they're very close with and developed feelings for them. That's why we rarely talk anymore and every time I try to reach them, they say something like "oh sorry, I don't have time, I'm meeting (random name) soon". So it's pretty painful to watch this gap between us growing more and more and sadly, I can do nothing about it.

So my request would be, can you write this scenario but with the sumeru boys (tighnari, cyno, alhaitham, kaveh) noticing reader's situation and trying to comfort them? Something like "don't worry, I'm here for you and never going to leave you". I really need some comfort because this makes me so sad..

If you have a character limit, could you at least write for cyno and/or tighnari please? ;_;

Reader can be gender neutral but personally I prefer f!reader.

I hope this is okay for you and thank you ;_;

A/N: Hii there and thank you for the request. I'm so sorry that happened to you, it must have felt terrible. If you, or anyone else reading this post wanted to talk to someone, you can add me to friends on Genshin (it ain't much, but still is sth) . There will be a second part to this story.

My UID: 720520373

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TW: panic attack, bitchy friend

Slight spoilers in Alhaitham story!

Second person, f!reader

Characters: Alhaitam, Cyno

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Prequel

It was a sunny afternoon on a Thursday. Y/n just finished her lectures for the day and happily walked towards the main building of Akademiya, glad that school was over. The sun shone through the window illuminating the stony floor. Being a student of Rtawahist definetely wasn't easy, and even if Y/n didn't have any homework assigned for tommorow, she would still have to work a bit on some projects. But that could be done later, now was time for her tradition - a girls' afternoon with her best friend, Aisha. Y/n waited for her to finish her lectures, because she was from Haravatat and it always took her longer to get to the main hall. It's true that Aisha was busy a week ago, and two, but this time it'd be different... right?

Not so long after a tall girl with almond shade skin and black hair styled in a simple updo walked into the main hall, looking around as if she was searching for someone. It was Aisha, Y/n walked over to her with a bright smile appearing on her face but the closer she got, the more she saw that her best friend's smile started disappearing

- Hii Aisha

- Hi, do you know where F/n is? They also go to Rtawahist, and we're having a girls' night

- But.. those on Thursdays were our tradition

- Oh, um yea... Maybe we could do that next week.. or sometime

Aisha quickly walked away, but Y/n just stood there in shock. In this very moment her last bits of hope disappeared. Her mind was a mess, tons of different emotions and words she wanted to say this moment overlapping in a chaotic way. Her eyes burning like they were on fire even though tears started appearing in their corners, and her lips quivering unable to let out a proper sentence. All Y/n wanted to do was run away from this place, so she did. She sprinted out of the main hall before anyone noticed. Or so she thought

Alhaitham 📖

Y/N sat on a cold tile, under the bridge in the small library leading to the House of Daena. She tried to muffle any sounds coming out of her, so no one notices her, by covering her mouth with her hand. Tears falling out of her eyes were falling to the ground, and making a *plask* sound when they hit the tiles, but no student seemed to notice. They were hurrying to get back home, or to go to the library.

Y/n wanted to scream out of anger, but her voice got stuck, not allowing her to even say anything. Her throat hurt, like it was on fire but it looked like there wasn't any good solution to solving that. Focused on trying to make her voice work again, she didn't hear footsteps behind her.

- Y/n, why on earth are you sitting on the floor here

She looked up and saw a certain gray haired tall male, who also was your boyfriend. Y/n tried to reply, but only some rough shrieks came out of your mouth. He sighed and said:

- Get up, we're going to my office

Y/n silently followed the new Acting Grand Sage. When both of you got there he told you to sit on his old chair, back from when he was a Scribe, and went off somewhere. Not so long after he reappeared, putting a mug with a liquid inside along with a bowl of fruit. Y/n must have looked confused because he said:

- Zatyun Peach tea, will help with sore throat and a bowl of fruit. Eat, I'll continue with my work but you can talk if you want

Y/n took a sip, and then words started spilling out of her. And he listened, to every single one. When she finished, he looked her in the eyes and did something he rarely does, as he isn't really fond of making affectionate gestures - he put his hand on her cheek and stroked it with his thumb saying:

- You're enough

Y/n couldn't help it, out of shock and his sudden words tears started to reappear in her eyes. Alhaitham, considering the best option after a while moved closer gently trapping you in a light embrace.

Few hours later, as the sun started to fall behind the horizon, Y/n was comfortably sitting on her boyfriend's lap, reading a book while he filled out the papers laying on his bed. The room was filled in silence, except for her slight humming (which normally would annoy tf out of Haitham but it's you, he'll suffer through), yet no one wanted to change it.

It was perfect the way it was, just the two of you.

Cyno ⚖️

Usually Y/n took her sweet time walking the way to her home, talking with the vendors and adoring the newly planted Paradisah. But today was not like any other day, she sprinted towards the only place she considered a safe space right now. Tears were building in her eyes, slightly blurring her vision, but Y/n didn't wanna have a public meltdown so she focused on running.

Then Y/n's heaven on earth appeared: a small house with white walls, green roof, wooden framings and entrance door. She quickly searched for the keys, and found them in her back pocket. She inserted them into the key lock, as the heart locket keychain swished in the air from sudden movement.

When Y/n entered the four walls, closing the door behind her, she slided to the floor gripping her head. The tears stopped, along with the sadness but something else appeared. Her lungs felt like they were wrapped in barbed wire so taking even a tiny breath hurt like hell, her hands were shaking and could not be trusted with even the tiniest tasks as helping Y/n get up from the floor. Even if it was a space she knew well, it suddenly felt big. She felt like a mosquito: small, annoying and not important. Y/n crawled over to a grey couch and took off a blanket thrown over it, which then she covered yourself with. Y/n took another shaky breath and closed your eyes.

- Y/n... Y/n, wake up!

She slowly opened her eyelids, but upon the sudden attack on her vision by the sun shining right in her face, she closed them again scrunching her face in uncomfortability. Then Y/n felt a warm hand covering her eyes. She asked the owner of the hand over her eyes - her boyfriend Cyno:

- Did I forget to lock the doors? How did you get in?

He left out a chuckle and she could hear his soft voice saying:

- You gave me the keys a month ago, I let myself into your house after I saw you running out of the Akademiya in panic

When he saw her lips starting to quiver again he added:

- Take deep breaths Y/n, slowly

He rubbed Y/n's back as she complied to his request: a deep breath in, hold for 3 seconds, and then out. And it helped, a bit but still something. When he saw her slightly calm down he moved onto the couch, beckoning for her to do the same. When Y/n joined him, comfortably leaning into him, he asked:

- Who? Do I want me to serve them justice?

She shook her head, then nuzzling it into his neck. Y/n could feel his body getting hotter out of embarrassment, cute that even after half a year he still got affected by such small displays of affection.

- Just hold me - she answered

He pulled Y/n closer, his arm wrapped around her waist, his head on hers. Then, with a bright smile on his face (which she sadly couldn't see, bc her face was still in the crook of his neck) he asked

- Do you wanna hear some jokes?

Y/n simply hummed in approval, and she heard his breathing as gears in his brain worked trying to come up with some good ones

- Singing in the shower is fun until you get soap in your mouth... Then it's a soap opera

Y/n lightly chuckled as he told her more and more of his jokes. Some were funny, some were not, but it's the thought that counts.

Soon the sun was down, and you still were sitting entangled one into another.

Simply his presence was enough.

#genshin impact #cyno x reader #cyno x y/n #cyno x fem!reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #alhaitham x y/n

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absolutebloodychaos · 6 months

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Ohh writing prompts 👀👀👀👀👀👀. Can we get Bojan and Kris and the mouse ears 👀👀👀🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹, it was so silly and cute and sweet. Krissie Mouse is so cute 💛💛💛💛💛

Thanks @j-restlessgeek heaps for the prompt, this was really fun to write and I hope you like it:)

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

Mouse ears. Someone in the crowd had given Bojan mouse ears.

Well of course the next logical action would be to put them on Kris’ head, and when he did (if he needed to go on tiptoes to reach the taller man’s head then that was his business) Bojan had to congratulate himself on the sight he had just created.

Kris was not fazed by this action, he kept playing the chords of Dopamin with laser like focus as Bojan settled the accessory on his head, and Bojan couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of his bandmate seriously stony faced playing the song with fluffy mouse ears on top of his head.

The sight was for lack of a better word adorable, and Bojan was distracted for a good while just staring at his friend.

Now was not the time to indulge such un-heterosexual thoughts though, and there was still a song to finish so Bojan went back to doing what he did best, singing incredibly beautifully whilst badly repressing gay thoughts about his band-mates.

The gig went on, and other things happened to distract Bojan from thoughts of Kris, things like slapping a certain bassist and blindfolding the other guitarist in the middle of his solo.

Later though, when they made their way off the stage Bojan was met with all of the memories of seeing the other man’s outfit earlier, and all of the feelings it had risen in him.

Something about the sight had made him want to gather the taller guitarist up in his arms and never let the man go.

These thoughts were soon replaced with thoughts of merrymaking and revelry at the gig they had just completed, and didn’t return until a few days later.

They were in Vienna and would later be preparing for another show, but had decided to spend the earlier parts of the day dressing up and ingesting large amounts of sugar in honour of celebrating Halloween which they all didn’t want to miss out on.

They were going to have a small party in the biggest hotel room they had booked, and Bojan was busy getting ready for the festivities ahead.

He had decided on a simple but effective costume, donning some riding boots, a tight vest and equally fitting pants, and a ten-gallon hat, making quite a dashing cowboy if he might say so himself.

Feeling quite clever about his costume and ready to impress the others (maybe one specific other), Bojan knocked on the door of the party room and was ushered inside by some of the crew members who were already inside.

The room had been decked out in all sorts of decorations, with fake spider webs and skeletons hanging as far as the eye could see, everyone seemingly getting into the mood of the holiday.

Bojan soon gathered that he had probably arrived a bit early as none of his other band-mates were there yet, but they soon arrived throughout the next few minutes.

Nace and Jan arrived first funnily enough, it seemed that as soon as they started dating Jan’s terrible streak of getting places hours late suddenly ended, and they were dressed as Baby and Johnny from Dirty Dancing.

The flowy pink dress that Jan had on unsurprisingly suited him very well, and Bojan could see the way that the man was frequently distracted by the sight of Nace in a very tight fitting leather jacket and black pants.

Jure arrived next dressed as a mad scientist with fully teased hair and a smoking beaker which Bojan dearly hoped was just a prop.

It was strange to find everyone there except for Kris, and Bojan was about to start worrying when he saw the door open and was met with a sight which momentarily made him speechless.

Kris was posed in the doorway, body enveloped with an artfully draped but incredibly short black dress, waist circled by a pink ribbon, knee high boots, and with those goddamn mouse ears gently perched on the top of his head.

Bojan would have never thought that a Halloween costume of Karen from Mean Girls would be enough to make him hot and bothered whilst standing in the middle of what was practically a work party, but seeing Kris in that sinfully short silky fabric made certain parts of his brain short-circuit.

Bojan was rather suddenly pulled from his stupor as Kris moved from the doorway approaching him, and only then again realised who and where he was, and the reason why he was there.

Regaining his senses and putting on the best cowboy accent he could muster, Bojan greeted his tall friend and tried to keep his thoughts under control enough so as not to jump on the guitarist right then and there.

“Howdy there partner, what’s a fine person like you doin’ here,” he asked, trying to keep a straight face whilst badly flirting with the other man.

Kris however had no qualms however about breaking character and immediately burst into laughter the moment Bojan had finished talking.

He soon joined in and any umazane misli that were darting around his brain were soon relegated to the back of his thoughts as all energy was diverted to the party.

The party was fun, everyone got slightly jacked up on sugar, and dumb games and spooky music were played to excess as the hours went by, until it was time to pack up and get ready for the gig.

The band made the decision to keep their costumes on throughout the show, and if Bojan thought that he was distracted by Kris’ costume earlier, that combined with the other man’s stage presence was completely mesmerising.

His younger friend wasn’t just attractive, he was stunning, breathtaking, ethereal, and Bojan wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in a five kilometre radius could sense the longing radiating off of him.

Afterwards, if you had asked Bojan what had happened in the course of that concert he probably would not have been able to tell you any details that weren’t related to Kris as he had spent most of the show enraptured by his friend.

Once the show was over and all of the necessary things had been packed, they made their way back to the hotel, Bojan having found himself wrapped in Kris’ embrace, and the two men made their way up to their separate rooms.

Bojan had been pretending to be his character for the past hour, sporting a ridiculous southern accent and being incredibly chivalrous towards his friend, walking Kris to his door at the end of the night.

As much as he knew he should, Bojan couldn’t make himself leave, and if Kris left the door open behind him and he willingly followed then what of it.

If in the morning various pieces of furniture in the room were decorated with a cowboy hat, a pink ribbon, two pairs of heeled boots, a mess of silky fabric, and those goddamn mouse ears, then that was their business.

#joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #bokris #joker out fanfiction #joker out fanfic

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chasesvillainera · 9 months

Text

The Great Sebchase Rewrite: Under Seige

Will I actually finish this who knows? But this idea has consumed me

Also there’s no way I’m writing these in order, but lmk if there’s a specific episode you’re hoping to see

Sebastian was honestly impressed with himself, for how quickly he had ruined his own life. If that was a bionic ability, he’d be top of the class.

A few flashes of memories, and he turned on his new life for some “creator” he couldn’t even remember? He couldn’t explain it himself.

Chase had saved him. Again. Showed him what Krane really was, why they had to take him out.

But not before he blew up the Hydroloop tunnel, and loudly declared to the academy that he was rebelling. Davenport and the others gave him another chance, but the damage was done. He went from the top student, dating one of the original bionics, and beloved by the mentors, to the traitor. People whispered when he walked by, no one trusted him to be alone in secured areas anymore, and worst of all, Chase was disappointed in him.

After the attempted rebellion, once they saved Davenport and Perry from the Hydroloop, all he wanted to do was thank Chase for stopping him before he went too far. For saving his life again.

But Chase just looked at him, face stony and hard with disdain that surpassed even their first weeks at the Academy, when they had “hated each other”. (Sebastian preferred to think of it as unique flirting, but the point stood).

“I don’t want to see you right now.” Chase had said, before storming back to the mentor’s quarters.

Sebastian was left alone with Adam, Bree, and Leo, all glaring at him like he was the dirt from their shoes. He shuffled back to the dorms to await Mr. Davenport’s punishment.

It wasn’t so bad, considering the attempted murder, but he was miserable.

He stayed in the dorms for a week, too embarrassed to face the world. Hoping every sound was Chase finally coming to see him, if only to tell him off and dump him officially.

Eventually, he came.

“Hi,” Sebastian jumped up from where he’d been sitting, “you came! Thank you!”

Chase raised his hand to stop him. “Don’t be nervous. I just want to talk.”

“Right. Of course.” Sebastian’s heart sank. He was expecting this, but it didn’t mean he was looking forward to it. “I should start with apologizing, again. I…can’t explain how I reacted to what you told me. I panicked, and I did something unforgivable.”

“I do understand, you know. I’ve done my fair share of stupid things in emotional situations. Remind me to tell you about the Avalanche. But I have to protect my family, first.”

“I get that. It’s…what I thought I was doing, avenging my father. Probably shouldn’t have relied on Triton app memories to make that decision.”

And then, a miracle happened. Chase actually laughed. He’d missed that laugh so much.

“Do the others know you’re here?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes. Adam said something about second chances, Leo just sighed, and Bree went on a rant about my horrible taste in men. I don’t think I’ve heard Douglas say ‘that’s a bad idea’ so many times in a row since Adam got into the lab.”

“Ah,” Seb sighed. That was fair. He was hoping Chase would get on with it, break up with him already instead of dragging it out.

But then…he didn’t. He fucking forgave him, because Sebastian had fallen in love with the most perfect man ever.

Everyone else distrusting him didn’t matter as much, when he had Chase.

—-

It had been about a month since then, and things had returned to…a state of normal.

Adam no longer looked at him like he wanted to kill him, at least.

All Sebastian could do now was work hard, keep his head down, and try to atone.

And it wasn’t like there was no good in his life.

“Hey,” he swung an arm around Chase after training had ended, “what’s up?”

He didn’t think he’d stop hanging on Chase like a koala any time soon. Sue him.

“Someone broke into our room last night. Smashed up Leo’s tablet.”

“Was it Perry’s niece? Did you catch her?”

“No,” Chase sighed, “we thought that too, but then the criminal disabled the security cameras and attacked Perry. I’m thinking someone’s looking for classified information.”

Sebastian frowned, trying to think of any of the students had been acting oddly. His usual suspect would be Perry, but she had been targeted.

“Guys,” Leo called, “can you break up the lovefest and get over here? Something happened with the Hydroloop.”

It turned out someone had fried the control panels, trapping them on the island.

“Wait,” Chase stepped forward, “these burn marks are from bionics.”

Shit.

If someone bionic had done this, Seb knew there would be only one suspect. The glances he was getting from the assembled mentors confirmed it.

He wasn’t sure what to say. “I didn’t do it” felt so hollow and untrustworthy.

“There’s still a rebel living among us.” Chase declared.

“How could there still be a rebel here?” Bree asked, shocked.

Leo did an exaggerated gesture in Sebastian’s direction.

“Maybe because we let Chase convince us to let the rebel stay here?”

“Leo!” Chase jumped in. “We can’t start placing blame. For now, everyone’s a suspect.”

“But shouldn’t more of the suspicion fall on the person who rebelled before? Like just a month ago?” Bree sighed.

Sebastian hated that he couldn’t argue with her logic.

——

“I didn’t do it.” he said to Chase when they were alone, Chase laying against him on the couch.

“I believe you.”

He could tell by the ease with which he said it that Chase was telling the truth, and he was filled with happiness that this time, the trust wasn’t misplaced.

“Thank you.”

“I’m just not sure the others will. We’re going on a stakeout tonight, even though they think it’s pointless when a suspect is right under our noses. I don’t know how to convince them.”

“I don’t think you can,” Seb said, resigned. “Wouldn’t you have the same reaction, in their position? The only thing that would help is catching the guy. What about I stay here, until we find him, so I always have an alibi?”

Sometimes that super intelligence came in handy. Or maybe it was those cheesy crime shows he and Chase liked to watch and make fun of.

“Actually, I was thinking the opposite. Join me on stakeout tonight. If you’re with us the whole time, there’s no way they can suspect you.”

————————

Bree and Douglas both made their displeasure with Chase bringing Sebastian along very clear.

Seb tried to give a look that conveyed “I didn’t think this was a good idea either, I promise!”

“There’s no way I’m leaving him alone with Chase,” Bree decided, “If you’re staying, go patrol the weapons room with Adam.”

Sebastian acquiesced easily. Someone to vouch for him who wasn’t his boyfriend might not be the worst thing.

Adam looking at him like he wanted to kill him while surrounded by weapons…was less fun. Sebastian didn’t see Adam’s penetrating gaze leave him for hours. He did everything but say “I don’t trust you.”

Until of course, being Adam, he did say it.

“I know,” Sebastian said, “you have every reason not to. But I promise the whole…rebellion thing isn’t going to happen again. I love your brother.” He hadn’t gotten to say that to Chase himself yet, but anything to convince Adam.

Adam didn’t have a chance to respond before Chase came over the comm-set.

“How’s the weapons room, Adam?”

“All clear in the boom-boom room.”

“What about the training area, Leo?” Chase asked, receiving no response. “Leo? LEO? Guys, he’s not responding, come quick!”

Adam shot another glare at Sebastian, as if he could have attacked Leo from right there, and the two took off running.

Leo wasn’t in the training area, and just as they were fearing the worst, the island rocked with a massive explosion.

Someone had tried to blow up the whole academy by setting the weapons on fire. If Adam hadn’t put them out, they would have.

Sebastian knew the explosion happening in the area he was patrolling didn’t deflect suspicion from him like he would have wanted.

Once Douglas was taken out, Chase declared the academy under attack. Like he’d done once before.

Sebastian didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t Leo Dooley stumbling out of the training area, laser spheres shooting from his hands.

It wasn’t even a rebellion. Just a glitch.

—————

Douglas set Leo up with a capsule so it wouldn’t happen again, and all seemed to be solved.

Chase bounced up to him the next morning, trademark “I was right” smirk on his face, and kissed him in front of everyone present.

“Thanks for believing in me.”

“Thanks for not making me regret it. I got to make Adam apologize to me today, it was awesome.”

#chase davenport #lab rats #sebchase

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oneirataxia-girl · 9 months

Text

⇝ DRABBLE -- The Faeries In The Woods

this is the first piece of writing i've done in MONTHS, @ariparri the cardverse au has me in a chokehold and this is the product of annoyed & tired alvita doing everything she can to get her mind off schoolwork, ended up writing the first draft in one day (???! i am astonished by this too) and uh yeah, it's rough it's not my usual style but hey, my writing skills are basically the equivalent of sandpaper in terms of roughness so it's definitely going to be bad no matter what lol quick author's note before we get started though: for those who've known me since my hphm phase, you might recognize the "faeries in the woods" as the arcane-zheng family who i criminally ignored in favor of building the alvina/talbott ship (yes i am aware that it was a mistake), but while the basic setup of the fae family is still the same, they all have completely different names which i hope i'll be able to introduce to you guys in a later piece; this is more like "setting the vibe" word vomit than anything tbh. but hope you guys enjoy!!

You're a child, barely able to run without stumbling once or twice; you've met the kids on either side of your house and the ones a little further away too, and you've all got the thirst for information your parents say is natural for a Club to have.

The forest has been off limits ever since you remember, but that doesn't stop you from running with your playmates to the clearing barely a one-minute walk in the woods, nor does it prevent the answering frenzy your parents were in to get you back to the village.

"Don't ever go near the place!" Your papa yells at you, "If the fairies --"

Your mama makes a noise you can't understand, and Papa stops talking in favor of trapping you in a big bear hug. You giggle and wrap your own arms around him too, and you forget all about the silver stars staring at you from the edge of the clearing.

You're older now, knobbly knees decorated with scrapes and bruises from your frequent meetings with the stony ground; your friends are older too, and you all start to wonder why the forest is always shrouded in the dark, even when the sun shines high in the noon sky.

Ma cuffs you on the head for asking, but you keep at it, chipping away at her resolve and Pa's in search of an answer.

Eventually, Pa tells you that all will be revealed when you're eleven.

Eleven? You're barely half past the age of eight! It's going to be ages until you learn anything about the forest.

Pa and Ma are always telling you to fight in your chase for knowledge, and this is something to learn, no? So in order to find your explanations, you gather your best friends and pool your wits together to pursue the thing your family and kingdom puts so much importance on: answers.

Your merry troop marches on the pebble-lined path into the forest as soon as your best friend and a boy you don't like come up with a plan.

You come out of the forest drenched in red; some of it yours, most of it from the barely-breathing boy being rushed to the medical building.

You're not a kid anymore now, scrapes long faded into light scars; not all of your friends are older, and you wonder if the one that is gone was taken away by the faeries.

Faeries, not fairies, because you know now that the things lurking in the trees aren't sparkling-winged fairies ready to grant you a wish, but monsters with silver eyes and teeth stained crimson with the blood of their victims. Pa tells you this while Ma rolls up her left sleeve for the first time in your memory to show you the scars she got from the fae family -- probably the mother of the current set of spawn, she tells you.

"How do you know?" You ask her, leaning your head on her lap.

Ma lifts her arm, the raised skin of the healed wound darker than the rest of her skin, "No animal has claws that can do this kind of damage, Darling."

Your forehead wrinkles as you take in this information, and presently you ask whether it could be a weapon.

Pa shakes his head this time.

"If it was a person, they would've been found soon after they went into the forest," He tells you.

"Maybe they're very sneaky," You argue, "Or maybe they always get in and out from the Spades' side of the woods."

But even as you speak the words, you know that they were just that: words.

No human has stayed in the forest for over a day and survived. The longest surviving one was Ma, trapped in a bog for about sixteen hours on a forage for herbs.

Pa pulls aside later to tell you that when they found her, she was muttering about silver-eyed fae and how they gave her a "message to deliver."

She doesn't remember any of that.

You're tying your bootlaces by yourself now, mentally cataloging the plants you're supposed to provide to help make the prototype for a new distress signal; your friends have all grown up as well, some of them left the village for bigger things and some stayed behind with you, none of them are willing to go back to the forest without a weapon by their side anymore.

Can't fault them, you're the same, too.

The only stars you see are the ones in the night sky, fiery balls of gas that live light years away from the small village on this side of the Clubs-Spades border, and you're forcibly reminded of a time when silver stars plague your head.

You shake said head before you stand up to walk towards the academic buildings. The doctors said it'd get better in time, but sometimes you feel like it's only getting worse.

As you kick away stones in your trot, you bump into a girl -- short and thin, with a mane of dark hair that reaches her waist, she turns around and you take note of the dark shades hiding her eyes and the shaky step she takes to get away from you.

A green cape covers most of her top half and you frown when you notice that both the green fabric and the dark tights she wears are ripped. Did she run away from home? Why was she wearing dark glasses?

"Irene!" Comes a call, you turn to see a older guy with the same dark glasses stride towards the girl. His clothes were also worn, and you catch a few sympathetic glances thrown their way by some of your fellow villagers.

Not from the village, that much was clear. Maybe they were running away from Spades, you hear that they're in terrible turmoil and its people are leaving in whatever way possible.

All hearsay though, no evidence has ever come by to confirm this.

The guy throws an arm around the girl and you notice that he has the same twig-like frame, barely a head taller than the girl; he has the same messy hair though, and he barely spares you a glance before dragging his sister away.

You watch their backs retreat, and you notice that their feet don't make a sound on the gravel ground.

You shrug your shoulders and continue on your way, pebbles crunching underfoot as you walk.

Perhaps the refugee rumors are true after all.

You're finally allowed to drink in the open now, grin wide as you accept your first glass of beer from your ma and act as if you aren't used to the bitter taste linger after you swallow; your friends cheer and clap you on your back, even the ones that went to the big cities, for everyone still alive had come back to celebrate your birthday. You clink your glass with a shy smile at one of your best friends and tip your head back to chug the rest of the beer in one go.

Pa gives you a suspicious look. You try coughing to pretend that it didn't go down like water. It doesn't seem to work, but he only brings a finger to his lips and turns away.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

Second, third, and fourth mugs of beer come and go; you toss jokes and barbs at your friends and shrug off their laughing sneers. Conversation flows like your drinks and it eventually follows dirt-strewn trails to the shadowy woods just a few steps from the village borders.

"You remember the faeries our parents used to scare us with?" One of your friend asks, cheeks ruddy from the alcohol.

They've come back from the city just for your birthday, so you bite your lip and stifle the urge to correct their mistake.

Another one of your friends does it for you, this one having lived in the house a five-minute walk from yours for their whole life; it sparks a debate whether there is anything in the forest other than the typical trees that make one lose all sense of direction and odd creatures.

Silver stars blink on the very edge of your vision. You turn around and see nothing but yellow light bathing your party. You turn back and ignore the feeling of something watching you.

Feelings -- such fickle things, you muse, making think there hid things when there are none. No wonder why your kingdom stresses the importance of logic and reasoning.

A fist punches your shoulder, it's your best friend, smile as lopsided as the day you two met, "What do you think? You reckon faeries live there?"

The rest of the chatter dies, eyes waiting for your answer expectantly.

Licking your lips, you hesitate to give an answer. You still recall the silver stars bursting in your head and the wails of your friends, but they seem sharper than they should be, and the stars now just seem like normal migraine-induced sights.

The window allows you to look out at the forest. It's as dark and gloomy as always, not a lick of life shakes its leaves.

Then, your mug crashes onto the floor.

Three -- no, four -- figures emerge from the depths of the woods, three of them with silver stars for eyes; the last one to emerge stands still while the six silver stars blink in unison, the only one to have the faint outline of their silhouette be the only thing separating them from the night.

You hear an exhale close to your ear and you realize that everyone has piled up behind you. It's your ma, she has a hand on your shoulder and you spot the scars running down her arm when your turn your head to look at her.

Her grip on your shoulder tightens and her face goes pale. Whirling your head back to the clear glass, you see six silver eyes pointing directly at you.

A drum starts pounding in your head, so you close your eyes for a fraction of a second to shush it. You open your eyes to meet a sea of black outside your window.

Nothing was left of the four creatures, not even a crunch of a footstep.

A beat.

"What," Someone finally says, "Was that?"

You want to say it was the faeries, but those are anything but fae.

You're woken up by the sound of shouting now, and you leap out of bed when the iron tang of blood assaults your nose.

Bootlaces untied, you run out to carnage: you think someone screams when you see Ma lying on the floor motionless, and you follow the direction of the scars on her arm to see Pa.

Their fingers just barely brush each others'.

Your throat burns a white-hot pain and you crumple to the floor and you crawl to the window to see bodies on the gravel ground. You slide down and close your eyes and beg for this to be just a beer-induced nightmare.

A resounding boom shakes your eardrums and your stomach drops further when you register where the sound came from:

The distress signal. The one you helped to make.

Shouts turn to cries and whimpers and gasps, and then even those are cut off. You glance at Grandma's door and decide you don't want to open it.

Nothing disturbs the gravel path before the front gate squeaks open. You press yourself closer to the wall.

Moonlight bleeds into the room as the front door clicks open, you wonder whether you'll be able to make a run for it.

"Swear I could hear a heartbeat in here."

"Don't these --" You watch as someone seemingly nudges your ma's top half -- "have a kid? You two saw them before, right?"

You think you would remember seeing monsters with silver eyes --

oh.

You did see them before, they just weren't dumb enough to show their eyes.

A cry leaves you as the collar of your jacket yanks you up. Six silver eyes blink at you.

"Sorry," No flash of fangs glitter from the speaker's mouth, "Blame your friend for this."

You struggle and claw at the vice grip on your collar tightening.

You sputter as you suddenly drop to the ground. You think you see white lights and you wonder if you've joined your family as shouts grow near.

Something is shoved in your mouth and you want to wail as the bitter taste of the thing infects your mouth.

A blinding glare shoots through every opening your home has. The three creatures hiss and crouch down to escape the light. They start talking, and you work on getting the foul-tasting thing out of your mouth.

A growl jerks you from your endeavor. You see the smallest of the three standing.

"It's the only way." One of the other two states simply.

The small one scoffs and the light turns her dark hair into a rippling waterfall, "Don't tell me you think we can't take a couple more humans out."

The other speaker turns her head to look at you -- silver stars framed by wide eyes, no flash of teeth when she opens her mouth to say -- "There's only going to be more of them the longer we stay."

"So we should all go!"

"Too dangerous," It's the guy, the one who dragged his younger sister away that time you bumped into her. She's the one they're convincing to do something.

You don't catch the rest of the conversation, your eyes are getting heavier by the second, everything's gone out of focus...

The last thing you hear is a chilling howl, and the last thing you see is Ma offering her scarred arm for you to grab.

#not proofread whole so its probably messy #but i just wanted to get it out #also irene is NOT one of the faerie siblings' names!!#“you” simply heard it wrong lol #pls feel free to clown with me in this for i fear there is no sign of me stopping #and i don't even have a face claim for any of them yet 😭#alvita’s writing

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thisisgonnafuxkinkillme · 3 years

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Hiya! I was wondering if you could do some Dadzawa fluffy/angst-ish stuff where he finds one of his students having a panic attack and he just helps comfort them and they end up just clinging onto him for dear life and just sobbing into him? And could their personality be quiet/shy, friendly, and it seems like they are mentally stable but their mental state is literally deteriorating?

If you don’t want to do that, it’s totally fine tho! Hope you have a lovely day :)

Done!

Lemon Drops

Warnings: panic attack, anxiety and depression mention

Your pencil shook as you pressed it to your paper with ever increasing pressure in order to get your mind off of all the swirling thoughts within. You weren’t doing well this semester. Your grades were fine, sure, but that wasn’t the issue here.

You’d been able to keep up the act of ‘quiet but good, hardworking student’ for long enough.

Long enough, in fact, to have grown quite close with one of the strictest teachers at UA. Mr. Aizawa.

By close, he’d give you a tiny nod whenever you’d be the last one to leave class, still hurriedly writing one last note as he’d yell out reminders to ‘get this work done by Friday. I don’t want to be grading all weekend.’

And he’d learn not to call on you when you weren’t raising your hand. That was a practice he’d often used to find out who was truly paying attention. For you, though, it was a total nightmare. Even if you knew the answer, being called on so unexpectedly would cause you to go totally blank, stammering and stuttering while turning red in the face.

After seeing that from you, he kept you after class and softly apologized to you.

That is how you knew he thought of you highly. He knew that you weren’t just an inattentive student, and that you probably had social anxiety like he did when he was your age.

“I don’t mind not calling on you,” he said, “but just don’t let anyone else know. Let them think that I just forgot about you or something.”

Of course, that was so that other students wouldn’t pull the same act. Plus, he didn’t want anyone to think he was giving you special treatment.

Today, though, was your breaking point. None of the ‘special treatment’ he gave you could help you now. Tears were pushing their way past your eyes as you squeezed them shut. Your hands were slick and clammy with sweat and your heartbeat was so loud that you were sure everyone else could hear the pumping in their ears like you did.

The world around you faded away as your brain screamed at you, attacking you from the inside out.

Suddenly, a hand gripped your shoulder firmly.

You jumped, looking up to greet a stony faced Aizawa and an empty classroom.

He handed you a sour lemon candy.

“Eat this,” he ordered. You looked up at him questioningly, to which he added, “trust me.”

You did so, assulting your senses with the overly sour morsel.

It was so overwhelming, in fact, that you couldn’t hear the shrieks coming from your mind. All you could hear, now, was your own breathing.

“Are you okay?” he asked, nearly at a whisper. He knew that having a breakdown like this was bad enough on its own, but other students knowing about it made it even worse.

That question was all it took for you to snap. Tears poured down your face and you finally let out the sob that you’d been holding in for what felt like centuries.

Now, many coworkers and students of Aizawa would think that in a situation like this, he’d kick you out of his classroom, chiding you for making his next class wait.

But he didn't.

He'd locked the door so that no other students could come in and make things worse.

Screw the next class. You needed him more than they did. Plus, who wouldn't be happy to have a few extra minutes of chatter?

When the tears began to flow freely down your cheeks, and the sobs were impossible to contain, he approached you. Gently, he placed his hand on your shoulder, as you clutched onto his chest.

“I-I...I can’t do this anymore. It’s all too much,” you whimpered. Even though your words were muffled by hiccups and by his shirt, he understood all too well.

“You’re good at hiding your struggles. Stop that.”

He allowed you to hold onto him, surely wrinkling his clothes and staining his shirt with tears, without any scolding or reprimanding.

“Take your time,” he murmured comfortingly. He wasn’t big on physical affection, but he was happy to do what he could to help alleviate everything that’d built up for so long.

He added, “Don’t ever let things get this bad again. I care about my students. You may stay after class and talk to me any time. Any time.”

Soon, your shuddered breaths slowed and your tears dried. Your fingers loosened around his shirt, returning back to you as you returned back to reality.

Somehow, things seemed a little brighter.

#answer #askbox #mha fic #mha drabble #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta headcannons #aizawa hurt/comfort #anxiety comfort #mha comfort #hurt/comfort #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x student

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 3 years

Text

ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴ ᴀʀᴄʜᴏɴ | ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ ; ᴢʜᴏɴɢʟɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ - ꜱʜᴏᴛ

Ayo ayo!! It’s been a second hasn’t it? I’m so sorry it’s been a second since I’ve last posted and I do apologize about that ;; I’ve been in a massive writer’s block but also a drawing mood lololol I finally had the feeling to write after drawing a jealous / possessive dragon Zhongli, thus spurring on with where I am now. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it!

Art: @ko-ffeine

>> Admin Ko

“What does today’s commission entail for us?”

Soothing and melodic, the former geo archon’s voice swam into her ears as she briefly glanced back at her companion. It was one of those rare moments gifted to her that she was able to complete some commissions for the adventurer’s guild. After all, being a traveling librarian who focused more on knowledge than combat was much more of her strong suit.

“It should be something simple. Nothing too hard from what I could gather.”

A gentle smile was given to the tall male as honey amber hues gazed gently upon her form. Respectable and always the gentlemen, Zhongli stood tall and proud beside the adventuring librarian as the pair leisurely explored the plains of Liyue for the commission spot. When he had first met her, the funeral associate couldn’t help but become enamored by her curious filled eyes. The way she always happened to sought him out for knowledge and genuine respectable curiosity for the information he was able to procure for her.

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind, adeptis or not, that the former archon had become extremely fond of the librarian. Some may even compare it to that of a dragon guarding their beloved treasure.

“Then I believe if we are to finish this in a timely manner, we could finish our discussion about the historical sights you happened to last visit.”

Upon seeing her (e/c) shimmer with absolute delight brought a sense of peace into Zhongli’s heart as he couldn’t help but fondly pat her head as she flushed at the endearing action.

Yet the feeling subsided as they neared the commission sight. Immediately her heart plummeted as she felt the color drain from her face at the familiar sight of an unwanted individual. One that she, disappointedly had the honor of meeting whilst adventuring with Xingqui.

Having sensed her distress, the male stepped forth almost protectively before her as sweet amber hues turned molten with unbridled rage as he kept his stony gaze on the figure before the pair.

“There seems to be….a tale of strife here. Do tell me what has happened little one…”

“I…It-’s nothing, c’mon. I think Kathryn won’t be mad if we skip this commission.”

“Did they touch you, Little One?”

“Zhongli….”

“Did those disgusting sewer rats touch you?”

She flinched, the sheer anger that enraptured his words had her gulping as she lightly tugged on his sleeve, her voice soft and desperate to not further escalate the situation as she pleaded with the former archon.

“Please…let’s just go…”

“….Very well.”

Sensing the urgency in her voice, the former god conceded as he turned to face her. The anger in his eyes forcibly subsiding as he hurriedly guided her away before the treasure hoarders could notice. Yet unknown to the librarian, Zhongli had made sure to etch the man’s face into his memory. After all, there was information that had to be gathered.

Upon the return to the colorful and bustling Oceanside city, (y/n) couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief. Besides the one commission, everything else had ended rather well. With Zhongli’s strong shield and her own combat style, the commissions ended fairly quickly.

“Thank you again for your help Mr. Zhongli.”

“Nonsense. I take great pleasure in accompanying you wherever you need it, Little One.”

The pet name brought a sense of fondness to her heart as she hurriedly turned her gaze away from the liquid honey being poured into her very being as she coughed lightly to distract the male from her reddening cheeks.

“I really appreciate it…well, I’ll be off then.”

“Hm, returning to Mondstat?”

“That’s correct. It’s been a nice couple of weeks out here in Liyue and I’ve definitely learned a lot from everyone here, but I do need to return to my duties as Lisa’s assistant.”

“I see, well I wish you safe travels back. I do hope that you’ll return soon though. Or else I’ll have to visit the land of the free myself. I do have some acquaintances there after all.”

A light laugh escaped her as she playfully nudged the other. A roll of her (e/c) hues showing nothing but an annoyed fondness as she lightly shook her head.

“Goodness, if I wasn’t so busy I’d think that you’re trying everything in your power to stay by my side Mr. Zhongli.”

“And if I was?”

She waited. A building heat in her veins as she awaited for the handsome man to reply with a joke. Instead of that, she was met with an all serious expression— save for the sweet affection dripping from his amber hues as he brought a hand up to lightly ruffle her hair. Immediately stammering out a flurry of words and rushed goodbyes, the librarian hurriedly bowed before scampering off towards one of the teleportation stations. All the whilst ignoring the fond look and deep chuckle that reverberated from Zhongli’s chest as he watched her scurry off.

Once out of sight, the former archon’s expression went from fond to unbridled anger. The atmosphere around Liyue hurriedly reflecting that of the former archon as darkness enveloped the usually bright lands as Zhongli made his way towards the adventurer’s guide. There, Katheryne easily supplied the terrifying male with the information he desired. Already knowing fully well what was to become of the treasure hoarders that dared to touch his treasure.

»»————-　　————-««

It had been a week since her return to Mondstat, and if (y/n) was being honest with herself the amount of work thrown upon her had her quickly forgetting the distasteful incident she had faced weeks prior to her return. The disgusting feeling of hands and detestable warm puffs of air against her skin. The mere thought of it alone sent shivers down her spine as she shook off the feeling of disgust as she went about her duties.

“Now…if I’m correct the next thing on the list is to just give reminders to those who borrowed Ms. Lisa’s books…—ow!”

Yet before she could even begin her search for the current occupants of the various tomes of knowledge a familiar figure loomed before her, causing the librarian to bump straight into a firm chest. Before she could even begin her apologies the stench of blood overwhelmed her as she stumbled backwards to meet familiar golden orbs.

“Ah, I do apologize little one, I hadn’t meant to surprise you…”

“…Zhongli?”

Finally getting a good look at the former archon she couldn’t help but gasp as she surged forward. His usually crisp and clean outfit was marred in blood and tears, yet in her fervent search for nonexistent wounds, she failed to notice the look of adoration that graced his features. Hesitantly, he peeled off his gloves before a large warm hand found it’s way into her hair as he gently petted her unruly locks to hopefully soothe her anxiety riddled form.

“Fret not little one, I merely disposed of some trash on my way to visit you.”

“…t…rash?”

Confused (e/c) orbs met his own as his hand dropped from the top of her head to lovingly cup her cheek.

“Yes. The trash that dared to create discomfort for you when you and Xingqui had stumbled across in your journey.”

The statement itself brought a sense of dread into her heart as she gulped, knowing fully well how insanely powerful the male was, god or not.

“D…Did you kill him?”

“No. Though I wish I did, remember our contract little one? I will not break it. Though I do admit, an acquaintance of mine is….educating him as we speak. I merely just gave it a stern talking to.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, (y/n) couldn’t help but slump against the blood muddled archon as she lightly swatted at his chest. The horrors of what could’ve become of the treasure hoarder now long gone— though of course that didn’t keep her from hoping that Zhongli’s ‘acquaintance’ would be merciful.

“….Thank you, but you didn’t have to Zhongli—-”

“I wanted to. No one should ever make you feel uncomfortable, Little one. As long as I am by your side, this will no longer happen. I promise.”

With a small smile, Zhongli shifted his hand down to hold her own as he lightly kissed the back of it.

“Now, will you please show me your favorite places here in the city of freedom?

#genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact imagines #zhongli imagines #genshin impact scenarios #zhongli scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin impact reader insert #genshin impact #genshin zhongli #zhongli x you #zhongli reader insert #genshin impact morax #morax x reader #rex lapis #rex lapis x reader

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cantalouupe · 3 years

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Forgive me for writing sm- okay okay how about Kaeya getting jealous over seeing his gn! s/o get head patted and snuggled by Childe so when they get home he just goes crazy but in the end gets shocked to see his s/o beg for more

Also side note I love your writing it’s inspiring me to think of nsfw ideas since I just started accepting those- dhkddhjd basically I’m saying I love your writing andiwishwecouldbefriends :,))))))

you’re the sweetest ever omg thank you :’0 im so glad i can be some sort of inspiration to you, that means so much. pls dont be afraid to reach out i swear im not scary, im just kind of boring and awkward lol. this isn’t exactly what you wanted but i hope its okay ^^;

super short nsfw!!! kaeya x gn!reader

jealous kaeya, needy reader, degradation

Kaeya isn’t necessarily a jealous person - he doesn’t need to be, not when you don’t seem to have eyes for anyone else. Sure, he was a little possessive at times, but definitely not jealous.

So when he sees you a little too close for comfort with Childe, his hand petting through your hair and you looking up at him the same way you do to Kaeya, he isn’t jealous. While smoothly talking to the two of you and pulling you away, claiming that you have business you need to attend to, he isn’t jealous. Especially not when he sees you brightly grin and wave goodbye to the orange haired male, claiming that you’d see him again soon.

You notice, though, on the walk with Kaeya that he was a little stony-faced, a little quiet and you wonder if something happened. When you grab his hand and call his name, he just tells you “we’re stopping at home.”

You realize quite quickly, once inside and pushed up against the wall, what he was bothered by.

“Were you hoping you could get some extra dicking down?” He asked, ridding you of all your clothing so you stood bare in front of him. “I didn’t realize you were such a whore.”

Your face burned with the humiliation of his words and being naked in front of him while he is fully clothed. A small murmur of “thats not what i was doing” resulted in a scoff from him, him reaching out to touch you.

His hands were rough, grasping at your body, trails of bites being left along your skin. “Maybe we should have brought him home,” he continues, “he could have seen me have what he’ll never get.”

A push and you’re onto the bed, Kaeya following immediately, slapping your ass hard. He’s mean right now and it makes you feel like you’re on fire, makes you feel needy for him. You tell him, attempting to pull him in while whimpering that you only want him and to please not stop touching you the way he is.

He pauses for a second, staring at you with a dark eye like he was surprised that you wanted it so rough, before assulting you with his lips, and finally touching you where you wanted him to. It’s hot, each hit against your ass making you fall further while his fingers bury inside you.

He makes you come multiple times like this, murmuring things that made you feel dirty while fucking his fingers into you.

“That’s right,” he murmurs while thrusting his cock into you for the first time since he started, “You’re mine to take apart like this.”

#this is bad im so sorry #my brain is mush i should sleep #genshin impact x reader #kaeya genshin impact #genshin impact smut #kaeya smut #kaeya x reader

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arabellamonkey · 1 year

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hi! i saw meidui left fandom and i've seen you're less active lately. i just wanted to say i hope you're not leaving too. you two were some of my favs writers in the stony fandom (i discovered you at the same time, i think) and both of you leaving would make me really sad 💔

this is so sweet!! thank u for telling me. cassie is one my favorite stony writers too, if not my favorite directly. and although i'm really sad she's left, i still go back to her fics and enjoy reading her like the first time 🥰

i have no plans to leave fandom for now, so don't worry about that! i've just been dealing with RL stuff, but i hope to get back to writing and posting soon. it may be some of the prompts i have on my inbox, or a christmas fic or some collab, but be sure i'll come back with something ❤️❤️

#ari answers #meidui #writing

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gardenerian · 3 years

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Your 5+1 s are so fun to read. I wish you would write a 5 ways they apologized to each other without saying "I am sorry" + 1 time each of them actually say it

oh i was hoping someone would ask for this! i've been doing a lot of post-canon for these, so this time i'm taking us back in time for the first five 🥺 tw for discussion of canon events in 4x09/5x02! the ficlets take place after they occur, but they will be referenced. some toxic masculinity in the first one, a lil light drug use in the second, surprise smut in the fifth one (it took even me by surprise!), and mentions of their physical fights in the fifth and sixth ones.

mickey's only gone for five fucking minutes but it all goes to shit while he's out back smoking. he steps over the mangled carcasses of what used to be tomatoes as he walks back into the store.

ian sits motionless behind the counter, a beer in front of him, glaring at the floor. the floor that's coated in the grisly remains of a watermelon brutally attacked. it's already sticky as mickey moves to stand in front of ian.

it doesn't take much to know that lip was here. goddamn gallagher nonsense.

"the fuck is this?" mickey snaps, even though he already knows. ian had filled him in on the salutes in the living room, the application mix-up, the fight. the stony silence between brothers.

ian gallagher may be a dramatic ginger dumbass, but he comes by it honestly. and this fruit massacre has lip written all over it.

ian doesn't answer him - just juts his chin out sharply, seething anger rolling off him in waves. his fists, white and shaking, rest tightly clenched in front of him.

and yeah, okay, mickey can see why this pissed lip off so much. to stand in front of ian, to be close enough to touch, and to get none of his attention: it's infuriating. his own fingers itch to throw something.

lip couldn't get a reaction out of ian; mickey thinks maybe he can. he's always been able to goad ian into action. usually it ends in ian bending him over the nearest surface, and mickey wouldn't say no to that right now.

maybe it's what ian needs to calm the fuck down.

"yo, cadet asshole, were you plannin' on cleaning any of this shit up? or were you just sittin' pretty waiting on me to do it?"

ian doesn't say anything.

"this ain't even my job, man, i'm just security. so why don't you run along and get a fucking mop, huh?"

ian doesn't say anything.

"jesus christ, man," mickey spits, kicking at a piece of watermelon. "why don't you just man up and punch him? you really gonna let him walk all over you like this? how you ever gonna make it in the army acting like such a bitch?"

ian doesn't say anything.

and when mickey looks back up at him, he thinks maybe this was the wrong way to go. rather than spurring him into action, mickey seems to have just knocked the wind from ian's sails.

his shoulders sag and he slumps, spineless, with his hands now braced against the countertop. he worries his lip between his teeth and his eyes, just moments before steely and laser-focused, drift aimlessly around the store.

in some other universe, mickey walks around the counter and rubs comforting hands down ian's arms. leans forward and places a kiss to his hair. "i'm sorry," he says, "let me help you."

but mickey is here and he's now. so he heads back to the cooler and grabs a fresh, cold beer. he pops it open and pushes it across the counter to ian.

then he grabs the mop and gets to work.

it's chaos as soon as they burst through the front door.

mickey is shouting and pounding his fists and his ass is bleeding all over the kitchen. there are kids crawling over every surface of the living room. fiona stands in the back doorway, spluttering and covered in dirt, and suddenly debbie’s there, apparently having just drowned some preteen slut.

and then - it’s quiet.

mickey’s carted off and the kids clear out. it’s just the gallaghers, following brittany from dfs around the house and making frantic excuses for the way they live. it doesn’t work, and brittany informs them that she’ll be back to pick them up in the morning.

ian lies in bed that night, his backpack already stuffed with random clothes and some meager possessions, and wonders how far he’d get if he just made a run for it. if he skipped out on dfs and found a place of his own.

and if he knocked on mickey’s window, would he climb down and come with him?

ian smiles in the dark. his lips still burn from their kiss, even after he washed mickey's blood from his face. ian brings a finger to lightly trace his own lips, thinking about mickey and his good heart.

mickey kissed him today, in broad daylight and with his cousins just steps away. mickey stole into ned’s house because ian brought him there, leaving with a bullet in his ass for the trouble.

ian grabs his phone and types out a text: you alone?

when the reply comes in, ian pads quietly down the stairs and slips out the back door. the way to the milkovich house is easy, even in the dark.

mickey is stretched out in bed when ian creeps through the front door, ass up. ian whistles at the sight of him and mickey immediately flips him off.

"the fuck you doin' here?"

ian shrugs, moves further into the room. "just came by to check on your ass."

he chuckles when mickey flips him off again, then drags a chair closer to mickey's bed and sits down, looks at him.

"well it's fuckin' wrecked, thanks to you, and not even in the way i like."

ian nods, grimaces. "you on any good shit for it?"

"my cousins left me a couple'a pills," mickey replies, gritting his teeth as he leans up to rest on his forearms. "they've worn off by now.

"hurtin' pretty bad then?"

"no, feels great man." a beat. "what happened with that lady?"

"mmm," ian hums, "she'll be back in the morning to remove us from our troubled environment."

they're quiet for a moment. mickey picks at his comforter, ian studies the posters on the wall. there's not much to say and ian doesn't want to talk about it anyways. he wants to talk about the kiss; he wants to talk about what mickey did for him today.

and how he's in pain because of it, home alone with no one to help him.

ian digs in his pocket for the joint he stole from lip, waves it in front of mickey's face. mickey grins, toothy and wide.

"oh yeah? whatcha been hidin' that for?"

ian just shrugs again, lighting it up and inhaling deep and long. he's instantly warm, instantly loose, and he smiles lazily as he passes it over to mickey.

mickey takes a few pulls, and ian watches his body settle. he brings his head back to rest against his pillow, turned on its side so he can look at ian.

"better?" ian asks, and mickey just hums in contentment.

they pass the joint back and forth between them until it's late and ian knows he has to get back home. to rejoin his siblings for their big ordeal. mickey's eyes have drifted shut, but he's still smiling.

before he goes, ian hunts through the milkovich kitchen for a relatively clean glass. he fills it with water, grabs a box of crackers from the counter. he places them both on mickey's rickety bedside table, along with another pilfered joint.

he wants to reach out, touch mickey's hair. run his hand down his spine, soothing his aches. instead, he just watches mickey breathe for a moment.

"see ya at work, mick," he murmurs from the doorway. mickey mumbles something unintelligible; ian brings a hand to his lips as he flips off the light.

mickey counts his cash in the elevator. about a thousand, enough to keep svetlana off his back for a while. he pockets a few bills for ian, for his help.

as the elevator climbs, he thinks about what just happened.

ian had seemed unsettlingly comfortable with mickey's plan to get some quick cash. as he sat in the closet watching, always watching, mickey heard the practiced ease with which ian spoke. whatever you're into, he'd said. resigned, almost amused when that man put his hands on him, crashing into him.

mickey would keep him safe. mickey would always keep him safe now that he had him close again. but who kept him safe before now?

ian is always moving these days. he was always moving before, of course, but he always moved with purpose then. he moved because he had somewhere to be. now ian moves just to do it.

he's everywhere, all the time.

tonight, ian's sitting on the plush hotel bed when mickey pushes through the door. and he's still fucking moving. his fingers tap along the bedspread, his feet twitch against the carpet. his body trembles with something; he wriggles his shoulders as he stares down at his lap.

then he looks up at mickey and suddenly he's still.

ian's eyes are wide, and so aware as he stares at mickey. they're begging him, pleading with him to act, but mickey doesn't know what ian needs right now. he's not sure ian would know, either.

mickey steps closer, reaches out a hand to touch him. to ground him maybe, to let ian know he's here, that he's listening. but ian jerks back before mickey can touch his skin.

and his eyes widen impossibly further. ian's shaking his head in apology then, his shoulders raised by his ears as if to say that he doesn't know what's happening, either.

he's afraid, mickey realizes.

and mickey can't stand it.

he looks wildly around the room for something that might help. the mini bar is likely stocked, but there's no way they can afford it and ian probably shouldn't have booze like this. he could turn the tv on, but the sound might make things worse.

then his eyes land on the bathroom, on the deep tub in the corner.

"hey," mickey softly, resisting every instinct to touch ian. "sit here for a sec, i'll be right back."

ian raises his head in alarm and mickey holds up a hand to calm the panic. "i'm just goin' in there for a minute. you sit tight."

he rubs his hands over his face when he's in the bathroom, then slaps his cheek lightly to keep focused. the water is too hot at first; mickey cools it slightly as it fills the tub.

ian hesitates when mickey leads him into the bathroom. he brings an arm across his bare chest, covering himself even from mickey's eyes.

mickey turns, faces the wall. "i won't look, man," he promises. "just get in, relax." and he sags with relief when he hears ian unbuckle his jeans and sink into the water.

he turns, just to check on him, and ian's looking at him. his knees are drawn to his chest, but his shoulders are relaxed. he pats the rim of the tub.

tomorrow ian will be moving again. he'll dart around the gallagher house with ideas and plans. he'll run for miles in the cold and still shake with restlessness. he'll bring a fucking knife to man's throat.

and they won't talk about this. not for a long time.

but for tonight, he's still. ian lets mickey cup warm water in his hands and drop it down his back, over his head. he lets mickey rub soap over his skin, washing away the scent of another man.

he kisses mickey with wet lips.

after everyone's gone, after the photos are posted and the pastor's rushed out the door, ian starts to think that maybe he did something wrong.

no, he didn't do anything wrong.

that homophobic prick deserves everything he got, and his fellow soldiers deserve the dignity ian's fought for. he was right, he knows it.

but mickey and mandy don't look happy. they look tense, talking quietly in the kitchen. mandy rubs at her arm as she speaks; mickey's hair is wild from his hands running through it.

every now and then they'll turn to look at him, eyes wide and cautious.

and even though ian knows he did a good thing, did the right thing, he feels a little sad right now. they did such a good thing today, such a clever thing, but now mickey and mandy just look stressed.

he smiles at mandy when she passes him on her way to bed. she smiles back at him, softly, sadly. ian's confused for just a moment before mickey comes to stand in front of him - and then all of his senses are consumed.

mickey reaches out a hand, pulling ian from the sofa. "please tell me you're good to go to bed now," mickey mumbles into his neck.

"'course i'm good," ian tells him. "let's go."

and ian is good. he's good and he wants to make mickey feel so good. when they crawl into bed, ian's on him in an instant, pressing wet kisses against his neck. he runs a hand down mickey's body, over his chest and belly, down between his legs -

where he's completely soft.

ian pulls back to look at him, and mickey doesn't meet his eye. he stares up at the ceiling, chewing his bottom lip between his teeth.

"you don't want...?"

"ian," mickey sighs, "it's just been a helluva day, man." he finally brings his eyes to lock with ian's. "not really in the mood."

and - oh.

ian stressed him out today.

ian fidgets quietly for a moment, embarrassed. he made mickey feel bad today, when they were supposed to be doing something good.

he still wants mickey to feel good.

so he pulls mickey closer, hooking his arm beneath him. mickey goes easily, settling against ian's chest. ian sinks his fingers into mickey's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

mickey hums in surprised delight, pressing closer to ian's body. ian feels him loosen as he scratches a little harder, moving his hands down to his neck and shoulders.

ian kisses mickey's head, his hair just illuminated by the moonlight outside. his breaths grow even as they lie in the dark. ian settles down against his own pillow. he won't sleep tonight, but he'll watch mickey rest.

and tomorrow will be a nicer day.

there's not much of a celebration after the engagement is announced, the entire gallagher clan too bogged down by lip's milwaukee news.

they all sit in the living room for a while, toasting quietly with beers and drifting off with their own thoughts.

mickey watches ian fiddle with his beer bottle, not really taking any sips. and, god dammit, fuck lip and his bombshell news. they're getting married, finally; they should be cheering right now, not sitting around the living room like they're at a fucking wake.

when the others get up for second beers and snacks, mickey twists to catch ian's eye. he nods his head towards the stairwell - it's time to go up. ian shrugs in agreement and mickey helps him hobble up the stairs.

they undress quietly and climb into bed. mickey is flooded with disappointment again. this should be the moment for rigorous and athletic celebratory sex, and instead he's lying next to his sullen fiancé with a bum leg.

ian struggles to get comfortable. he wriggles around in bed, pausing every few moments to reach unsuccessfully for his broken leg. a stunted sound escapes his throat - like he wanted to groan in pain but swallowed it.

it's been a few days now. mickey's hurt and anger has settled beneath his skin, and ian's proposal tonight is a soothing salve. they fucked up at the courthouse. they didn't talk; they didn't listen.

and now ian's lying here, on the night of their actual engagement, trying not to let mickey know he's in pain.

"you hurtin'?" mickey asks at last.

"m'alright," ian answers softly. mickey just raises an eyebrow and ian says again, "mickey, i'm alright."

mickey props himself up on his elbow, looking down at ian's pinched face. this won't do. they should be close tonight.

mickey leans over and kisses ian's cheeks, his forehead, his jaw, his mouth. ian responds immediately, bringing his hands to cup mickey's face. he drags his nails down his neck and across his shoulders; mickey's skin is alight with pleasure.

mickey works his way down ian's body, kissing and nibbling and he goes. then, carefully, so gently, he moves ian's castless leg so there's room to settle between them.

"you good?" mickey asks, ready to stop if it's too much.

"good," ian breathes, watching mickey through heavy, hooded eyes.

mickey runs his tongue along the waistband of ian's boxers. he brings his lips to mouth along the line of his cock under the fabric. ian stirs, rocking his hips a bit.

"hey," mickey warns, lips still pressed against him, "you stay still."

"you can't do that and expect me not to move, mickey," ian laughs.

mickey reaches up to hold ian's hips in place. "don't move," he warns. "we're not fuckin' up this leg anymore."

ian's grin slips a little and he nods, swallowing thickly.

mickey returns his attention to ian's cock. he slides his boxers down, and kisses every inch of exposed skin. mickey's mouth is everywhere: around his hips, his belly, his thighs, and then - he licks up ian's length and feels ian jerk against him.

a rush of pure want runs through him. mickey loves this part, when ian's gasping above him, panting as he waits for it - for the heat, for the wet warmth of mickey's mouth.

and he loves giving it to him.

he takes ian in, feeling the stretch at his lips as he slides down. he moves slowly, deliberately, flicking his tongue as he goes.

"oh," ian breathes, "love you."

mickey hums and ian jerks again. he starts a steady, pulsing rhythm, sinking down and rising up, swirling his tongue at the tip.

"fuck," ian moans. "fuck, i can't wait to marry that mouth."

and mickey's got his hands on himself in an instant. he bobs mercilessly on ian's cock, keeping in time with his hard, rapid pulls on his own.

they come with gasping breaths, and ian reaches for mickey before he's even swallowed. he kisses mickey's face, his neck, his hair. "i love you," he laughs, "i love you."

mickey kisses at the fading bruise beneath ian's eye. tries not to hate himself for it. "love you," he promises. "i love, you too."

it's a quiet evening at home. no gallaghers are having any emergencies, no one's tried to rob them lately, and they've got plenty of cash to order takeout for dinner.

so, naturally, something has to go wrong.

ian's flipping through channels when mickey decides it's time to eat. his phone is charging in the bedroom and he could go get it, but ian's legs are draped across his lap, and he doesn't really want to. he nabs ian's from the coffee table.

"can i borrow this?" he asks, already punching in the passcode.

"'course," ian chirps. then, a breath. "wait, mick - "

but mickey's already unlocked the phone, and now stares disbelievingly at the webpage ian left up. "how criminal charges can affect your right to adopt a child," he reads flatly.

ian's face is twisted in guilt when mickey looks back at him.

"thought we agreed to let this go for a while," mickey accuses. "you gonna pick up a kid without tellin' me?"

"jesus, mickey, no," ian sighs. "i was just lookin' at it."

"why, though?" mickey demands, pushing ian's legs off and standing. "why, after we agreed to shelve this, are you readin' shit like this?"

ian stands and grabs his phone back.

"because i can't just let it go," ian shouts. he tosses his phone on the couch and grabs mickey by the shoulders. "look," he says, softer, quieter. "i'm sorry you were surprised with that. sorry i didn't close the page. but, mick - i wasn't gonna say anything."

mickey breathes out harshly. his defenses soften, and he gestures for ian to continue.

"i'm not gonna pester you. but this is something i wanna prepare for. it's something i want to think about. that way, when you're ready, we're ready."

a series of images speeds through mickey's mind then. ian, face down in the bloody gravel at mickey's feet. himself, split lipped and terrified, rolling around with ian in the grass at the baseball diamond. ian again, clutching his leg at the bottom of the courthouse steps.

the two of them, a tangle of limbs on the alibi floor.

not once did they apologize. not once did they tend to each other's wounded bodies or hearts. they just wiped the blood away and moved on.

and they did fine. they healed. they came back together, scars and all.

but this is a different way to go. this thing they've been learning, this push and pull called marriage. mickey doesn't want to go to bed angry tonight. and he doesn't want ian to feel like he can't think about their future. not when they finally have one.

he brings his hands to grasp at ian's wrists.

"m'sorry for freaking out," mickey tells him. keeps his voice steady, his eyes steady. "sorry for snappin' like that. you can read whatever you want - you should."

ian dips down to kiss him then, and it feels like they've done something tonight. avoided something that could have otherwise unraveled them for days.

and mickey feels like maybe, someday, they'll be ready for the next big thing.

#i deeply dislike 4x09 #and this didn't help like i thought it might :(#still DISLIKE #once again this is written on my phone so excuse any fuck ups ty #i like to think they learned how to fuck with the cast but it's a process safjsahd #the last one is maybe too quick? but look what happens when you TALK!#it takes less time to sort shit out asjdkfhaksd #does anyone ever read the tags before the fics do i give too much away #i add tags as i write each one 😑#anyways #shameless #see tws at the top!#tumblr writing

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il-ballo-della-vita-maneskin · 3 years

Note

Hiiii first, I'm totally in love with your blog...

Second I'm obsessed with that video of Damiano were he pulls vic all of the way of a motorcycle, could you do a imagine based in that and it turns in a argument with reader maybe fluff in the end just him being protective and all...

sorry it took me so long to write this, but here it finally is

i really hope this is somewhat what you wanted. i maybe have gone in a sliglty different direction, but i honestly couldn’t help myself, i really love mutual pinning, lol.

anyway, i hope you’ll like this, i had so much fun writing it and thanks for the request (if you have any more, send them in).

damiano david x reader

word count: 1802 (i think, lol)

warnings: mutual pinning, arguing, make out scene, cursing, maybe a little pathetic characters ng

gender of the reader: unspecified

You knew Damiano was next to you and that he was telling you something, but you didn’t pay much attention. You absentmindedly nodded your head while writing a message to Victoria to tell her you’ll be back soon.

It was already much later then you have expected it’ll be. Damiano and you had a meeting with some photographer, that will take pictures of the band. All of them were supposed to go, but none of them felt like going, so Vic asked you.

With your feelings for him clouding your thoughts and leaving you awake at night, you weren’t sure how clever of an idea was that. Though, it didn’t seem like he was enjoying it either. For quite some time now, he’s been acting distant, hasn’t really been talking to you. And it was the same way today. He barely said a word to…

A hand grabbed your forearm and yanked you aside, just as you had sent a message to Vic, to tell her you’ll be back soon. You raised your head to see what’s happening and a motorcycle passed by you. Judging by its speed, you knew that if you weren’t pulled away, you’d most likely be hit.

“What in the…” you murmured and turned to see who saved you, only to be met with Damiano’s furious gaze.

“What were you thinking!” he shouted too loudly and you flinched. The night was so quiet, with the humming of the wind as the only source of sound, and his raised voice was almost like an explosion.

“Don’t yell,” you said and jerked your hand away. His eyes crossed your body and you unintentionally held your breath. You could hear your heart beating rapidly and your mouth got dry. You felt like kicking yourself. What about him forced your body to react this way, as its only wish was closeness to him, as it only yearned for his touch and it couldn’t focus on anything but his presence?

It was remarkably irritating, really.

Especially now, when you didn’t even realize that he was talking to you, until his features changed into a frown.

“Are you even listening, Y/n?” he asked.

When he didn’t get a response, he heavily sighed and ran his hand through his hair. You wondered would it be like if you did the same thing.

“You are unfixable,” he said.

Thoughts about touching his hair vanished and your head suddenly cleared.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“It means, Y/n, that you can’t even not get yourself killed. You were on the middle of the fucking road! You could have died and you aren’t even bothered about it,” he said and got a step closer too you. Unlike usually, it didn’t wake a nauseous feeling, like someone removed earth under your feet. This time, it just angered you more. You knew it was stupid, but you couldn’t bottle up your feelings any more.

“Well, you wouldn’t be bothered even if that did happen, so you can stop already with that bullshit. Thank you for pulling me aside, but now we can just get back to the ignoring and not giving a fuck about each other, like recently. I assume you must miss it, after helping me and stuff. It’s a big deal, as you’re usually not able to be polite to me for a minute,” you said, surprised how steady and stony your voice sounded, despite the devouring ache in your chest. You wanted to hit him, push him, scream at him, pull him close, hold him, kiss him, but you stayed still.

“Oh, gladly! Tell me, do you want us to completely ignore each other despite being friends once, like you did for last couple of months, or do you think we could actually explain what our fucking problem is?” he said and raised his eyebrows at you mockingly.

“Don’t even try,” you said through gritted teeth. “It was you who stopped talking to me, you who pretended I’m not in the room and you who killed our friendship. Don’t blame it on me.”

He was dangerously close to you now and your brain only managed to process it when his breath fanned over your face. The realization left you breathless. It was like you couldn’t inhale properly and it made your head spin.

“Well, I do. I blame it on you, Y/n. If you weren’t- fuck,” he cut himself off and took a step back, his eyes purposely not meeting yours.

Despite air absence, you managed to crook out “What? If I weren’t what?”

Your feet twitched, begging you to run away. The way street illuminated his features, made his skin glow almost an ethereal shine and brought warmth and depth into his eyes seemed like too much. After having him so close, no matter that it was only due to a fight, you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. You needed to leave. Or you might do things you’ll regret later.

Though, your curiosity got the best of you, as it’s prone to do.

“Damiano? If I weren’t so what?” you said and now it was you who got dangerously close. You pulled his shoulder to force him to face you. When he turned, you were only inches away, but you managed to disregard the throbbing pain in your heart. If only you could lean a little closer…

“Stupid. That fucking motorcycle almost hit you! You were walking on the middle of the roadway. It could have hit you,” he first raised his voice, but then it got quieter. You could swear his face softened, but then every trace of that disappeared again.

“What were you fucking thinking? If you didn’t focus all your attention to sending messages, you would’ve heard it. Or heard me when i was calling you.”

You didn’t know how to answer him. You were already tired and this fight seemed needless.

“Look, Damiano. Can we just stop now? I was reckless, I suppose, alright. Thanks for not letting a motorcycle kill me, if that’s what you want to hear. Can we just go-“ you started but was cut off by Damiano: “That’s not what I want to hear! How can’t you see it, Y/n?” he said and only then have you realized how tired he looked. And somehow… sad.

Last few months, something in your relationship with Damiano changed. There was that constant tension when the two of you were in the room. Gradually, you grew apart. And you hated that. It might would’ve been easier for you to bury your uninvited feelings for him, but you loved Damiano. He was your close friend and you didn’t want to lose him.

You blamed him for fall of your friendship, for the hole he left in your heart, yet it never occurred to you that it might be just as hard for him. You knew friendships sometimes fade and there in no one to blame for that. But you refused to let it happen with you and Damiano. Even if you needed to sacrifice your own feelings. Maybe, after some time, they will disappear.

“I don’t want you to thank me. I just… be more careful. I- “but he stopped. You wanted to urge him to continue. But you resisted.

“Alright,” you said. “Let’s just get back.”

You needed to fight the tears. It felt so bitter, saying goodbye. But it was better to part from your emotions than from him, right?

He grabbed your hand. You turned your head to face him again. His scent was so familiar, every little part of his face you knew better than your own. His dark eyes looked at yours, but something in them changed. His gaze wasn’t angry anymore, but some new determination found its way into it.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke quietly, almost whispered. A sad smile formed on his lips, as if every word hurt him. “I just… I don’t want you to get hurt. I got scared and… I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want you to be hit by a motorcycle.”

“I don’t want you to be hit by a motorcycle either,” you said, before you could stop yourself. You wondered why did you say something so stupid, even though it was true, but it was too late. Though, on your surprise, he lowly chuckled.

The sound was so beautiful it put you in a daze, but you soon joined him. You were laughing for some time, the sound spreading through the chilly air of the night and filling the empty street. Though, he got serious again.

“But I really am sorry, Y/n. For acting the way I did for last few months. I wish I could say I didn’t mean to push you away, but that’s exactly what I wanted. I- “

The said smile stretched his lips again. It didn’t fit him. You preferred his laughter from few moments ago.

“I suppose I care about motorcycle not hitting you more than as for the other people.”

Your heart threatened to burst out of your chest.

It maybe didn’t mean anything, of course. You were close friends, that was probably what he implied to.

Though, you could wait no longer to find out.

You leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

But he didn’t kiss you back.

You could feel something inside of you breaking as you backed away quickly, and you knew it was something vital. You fucked this up, you just ruined…

His hands grabbed your face and pulled you to him. Your lips collided with such force it made you lose your balance. But he held you tight and you placed your arms around your neck, as in wish to pull him closer, though it was impossible.

His lips tasted of cigarettes and whiskey he had at the meeting with the photographer, his tongue fought for the dominance with your own. Your teeth clashed in the kiss so passionate and hungry, yet capable of showing how much you needed each other, to make known all of your hidden wishes and pains.

His fingers pressed your waist, so hardly you were sure you’ll wake up with bruises in the morning. Yours were pulling at his hair, which made him shiver and deepen the kiss even more. You could feel his heart beat and chest heavily ascending and descending against yours.

You slowly dragged your fingers on the back of his neck and into his t-shirt, but you needed to pull apart when you lost your breath.

It spun in front of your eyes and you couldn’t even see him clearly. But you could very well see the grin on his face and it brought the alike on your face.

You placed your head in the crook of his neck. His arms embraced you and he was about to say something when your phone buzzed.

The message was from Victoria: You will come back soon, huh? Well, I guess you and Damiano are busy

i know this went in quite different direction, but i hope you still like it<3

Love, Ri✨

P.S. imagine requests are open, so feel free to send requests, i really like getting them (and sorry if it takes me a while to answer to you!)

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readerstories · 3 years

Text

I’m sorry- Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Idk if angry was the emotion you wanted, but for some reason that is what I was feeling like writing this time. Also, I cannot keep stuff with Hotch short apparently. (AO3)

Warnings/tags: established relationship, angst, fighting, hurt/comfort, Hotch being an ass, happy ending

Wordcount: 2696

Request: I was wondering if you could do a hotch x BAU!reader where Hotch says something in the heat of an argument and the reader gets super emotional and Hotch just tries to apologize and make it up to reader. Thank you💕💕

Sometimes, injuries happen at work.

You had done a quick assessment in the field, making a hard decision when you needed to. Going in without much backup had been a risk you chose to take.

Being hit in the head with an old briefcase that has metal edges had not been a possibility you had foreseen, but it happened anyways.

You had rounded a corner in the unsub’s home, gun raised and yelling his name, and he had gotten a good knock on your forehead. You had been dazed for a few seconds, but managed to tackle him and cuff him anyway, reading him his rights as you did so.

The hard edge of the briefcase had hit your forehead, making a small gash, which was not deep, but it was bleeding quite a bit like head wounds tend to do. It’s running down your face as you get the unsub up on his feet, so you have to close your left eye and wipe at it as you lead the cuffed man outside.

Once outside you hand him over to an officer, who gives your head a glance, but doesn’t ask as you turn away from him as he starts to lead the unsub towards a car.

Rossi spots where he’s talking to Hotch and the police chief and points towards the ambulance standing close. You nod, and wipe at your face with the edge of your jacket sleeve, catching Hotch turning around to look at you too, but you don’t catch the worried look in his eyes.

Walking over to the ambulance, you’re guided to sit on the back as one of the paramedics cleans you up.

Even though it looked bad with the blood, the clean up goes quick, and they say you won’t even need stitches.

And luckily no concussion either.

A few butterfly strips get applied to your forehead and you are allowed to go with a promise that you will take it easy for at least a day or two.

You’re asked if you have anyone to stay with just in case and you nod as an answer, the adrenaline of it all wearing off as you stand up and yawn. The paramedic smiles and wishes you good night, you do the same to them.

Joining Aaron at his car, he doesn’t say anything, his mouth in a thin line as he looks at the strips now adorning your forehead. Both of you had agreed from the start to keep PDA to a minimum at work, but you wish he would at least say or do something.

Ask you if you’re fine.

Hold your hand maybe.

Comment on how you should change out of your bloodied jacket.

Something.

Something other than the stony silence that follows you into the car.

It takes a few minutes of Aaron driving towards Quantico before anything is said.

“You were reckless.”

“I made a decision on the spot and it backfired a little, yes, but I was hardly reckless.”

“If he had a gun-”

“I would have disarmed him or shot him first.”

“You couldn’t stop a briefcase, you think you could do a gun?” Getting irritated, you glare at Aaron.

“Yes.” You grit out.

“You sure?”

“Aaron, what the fuck is this?” You see him clench at the wheel, his knuckles turning whiter as he concentrates on driving for a few seconds before answering you.

“You need a debrief.”

“Yes, from Rossi, at the office, not like this.” He scoffs, glancing at you briefly before locking his gaze back on the road. You see his jaw clench, but he doesn’t answer you, so you don’t say anything either.

Neither of you speak again until you’re back at headquarters. Aaron beelines for his office, and you’re hot on his heels, not paying any attention to the rest of the team already gathered at the bullpen.

“Aaron-” You try to speak as you close the door behind you, but he interrupts you.

“You should take a week off.” You stare at him as he rummages through some papers on his desk, not even looking at you as he speaks. “One paid week off should do you good. After all this.” He gestures at you and finally looks away from the papers again.

“Hotch, if this was anyone else, you would let them come back after a day to sleep in.” Aaron sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t have to explain my reasoning to you.” His voice is angry, but simmering with tiredness just beneath the surface.

The silence in the room as you don’t even give an answer to the statement is deafening. There’s a look in your eyes that he never wished to see directed at him.

Ice cold anger. Mixed with disappointment, and something else he can’t quite place. Sadness perhaps?

You unclip your gun from your holster, placing it on his desk with your badge.

“See you in a week, Hotchner.” The use of his full last name hurts, you might as well have used bullets.

You don’t let him give you any response to your statement, opening the door and striding out of his office, not slamming the door behind you as much as you want to. Your steps down to you desk are fast, as fast as they can be without fully running.

You gather your things quickly, ignoring the rest of your team.

Morgan tries to stop you with a hand on your shoulder, but you evade him with a glare, making him back off.

All the things you need on your person, you’re out of the glass door seconds later. You slam on the elevator button, debating on just taking the stairs to run off some steam while also getting out of here.

Rossi joins you as you wait, and you hear him open his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“If you try to say something to get me to stay, I swear to god, I will put you on the ground.” Your words and glare makes Rossi’s eyebrows rise, but he keeps his mouth shut and takes a few steps away from you.

Finally the elevator doors open and you get in, pushing the button for the parking garage and the button to close the door faster in quick succession. With one last glare at the bullpen the elevator door closes in front of your face.

While you try your damnedest to set a new speed record for leaving the building, Rossi goes back to the bullpen, where the rest of the team sends him questioning glances.

“What even happened?” Morgan wonders out loud. “I’ve never seen them so angry before.”

“I don’t know.” Rossi is looking at Hotch, who is moving around in his office, partly shielded by the blinds. Everyone is looking between each other and Hotch’s office, the first one daring to go up there ends up being Rossi.

He knocks softly on the door with a knuckle, making Hotch look up from where he is standing next to his desk and reading some paperwork in his hand.

“You want to talk?” Hotch scoffs, putting the papers down on the desk.

“I’m fine.” Rossi closes the door behind him.

“But they clearly weren’t, so come on, spill. What did you do?” Hotch clenches his jaw, sparing a glance down at the bullpen, where the rest of the team tries to pretend they’re busy.

“I told them to take a paid week off, they protested, I insisted.” Hotch sighs as Rossi scoffs.

“For such a smart man you sure are dumb sometimes.” Hotch’s head snaps back by the comment, looking like he wants to answer and defend himself, but Rossi holds up a hand to stop him.

“You messed up. You must have known telling them to take a week off just for this was a bad call.”

“I didn’t.” Hotch's eyes are like steel, but there’s hurt hiding behind, if it’s at Rossi’s words or your actions he doesn’t know.

“But it was. Fuck Aaron, what are you even still doing here?” Hotch squints his eyes at Rossi, who throws his hands up into the air.

“You should be running after them and begging them to forgive you for doing the wrong thing. Preferably with their favorite flowers and candy in hand, or some sort of gesture, because this-” He gestures at Hotch and your gun and badge on his desk, “Is not good for anyone.” Hotch watches him for a few seconds.

“Rossi-”

“Just go Aaron.” Seemingly making up his mind, Hotch gathers his stuff, only stopping right next to Rossi and giving him a glance.

“I-” Rossi pats Hotch’s shoulder.

“Someone had to knock some sense into you. Go.” Hotch nods, out the door in seconds. The team watches him go, neither of them saying anything before Hotch is gone and Rossi joins them in the bullpen.

“They going to be okay?” Morgan asks.

“Let’s hope so.” Rossi answers, staring at the glass doors.

“I hate when people fight.” Garcia says quietly as Morgan pulls her into a side-hug.

----

You don’t know if you should even be driving right now, but can’t find it in yourself to care or think too much about it.

You just need to get somewhere where you can be alone and clear your head. Somewhere there’s less people and more open space.

And lucky for you, you know just the spot.

Almost on auto-pilot, you drive your truck away from work, heading out on the main road, not driving for long until you turn onto a small side road. It can barely even be called that, small and uneven as it is, but it’s no problem for you truck where you drive it with sure hands.

You end up in a clearing near the water, a small beach barely touched or seen by anyone else, except maybe the occasional hiker. You debate going down to the water, but instead you park your truck with its back towards it, flipping the tailgate down so you can sit on it.

Jumping up to sit on the tailgate, you pull out the newly bought pack of smokes and lighter from your pocket. You had quit years ago, but tonight seems like a good idea for bad habits, you think to yourself as you light one.

Taking a drag, you can already tell you will regret it later with the aftertaste you know it leaves, but you continue smoking nonetheless.

Turning some old candy wrapper in your pocket into an improvised ashtray and putting it on the right side of you, one cigarette turns into two, soon morphing into a third.

It’s just seconds after lighting your forth cigarette that you hear another car approach. Which is odd, because you were certain few people know about this place, but you’re not too worried, your private gun resting in the back of your pants a comforting weight.

The car rounds the last bend of the small road, coming to a stop not too far from you, lights illuminating your truck and the beach beyond. Turning to look, you’re almost blinded by the lights, but they are quickly shut off as the car is turned off, and you realize you know the car.

Aaron’s car.

You snort.

The trip out here from the main road couldn’t have been comfortable for his car, or for Aaron.

Good.

You turn back around just as the driver door starts to open, and you ignore the sound of Aaron’s steps in the dirt in favor of taking another drag of your cigarette and staring into the water.

Aaron comes around your truck, leaning against your truck’s tailgate on your left, keeping his distance. He places a plastic grocery bag in the space between you. It makes a dull thud and despite you trying to ignore it, you find yourself curious.

“Peace offering.” Aaron explains as you eye the bag. You reach over and push at the top of the bag so you can peek inside. A couple of your favorite snacks, drinks, and a DVD with the logo of a movie you had talked about wanting to see. You push the bag behind you into the truck bed, taking another drag of your cigarette.

“How did you find me?” You don’t look at Aaron just yet, but you can tell he is looking at you.

“You told me about this place a few months ago and how you go here to relax sometimes and I- I just thought with how I acted-” Aaron sighs. He holds out his hand just in your field of vision, gesture clear. You give him your cigarette, watching him for the first time since he arrived as he takes a drag, letting the smoke lazily spill out from his lips with practiced ease.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

“I had a phase in college.” He offers, taking another drag before giving the cigarette back to you. You take a drag yourself, letting the silence linger for a moment before you speak.

“You know you were being stupid.”

“Yes.” You’re just slightly surprised with how there is no hesitation in the one-word answer, but you’re a little content as well.

“If it had been anyone else in the team you wouldn’t have reacted that way.” Aaron sighs, putting his arms back on the tailgate, using them as leverage to hoist himself up so he’s sitting on the tailgate too, still keeping his distance.

“No one else in the team are you.” You wait for him to say more, taking a last drag of your cigarette, putting it out with the three others in the candy wrapper.

“I’m sorry.” Aaron admits, but you still don’t say anything. “I was acting and thinking like your significant other, and not your boss. I let my worry get the best of me, and I tried to find a way to shield you from any further harm in what little way I could by telling you to take a week off.” You nod, at least seeing his reasoning a bit clearer now.

“I’m not taking it.”

“You are but-” He holds up a hand before you can protest and glare at him too hard “-but so am I.” You blink, staring at him for a few seconds.

“You are?” He nods, and you lean forward to place the back of your hand on his forehead. He almost jolts at your touch, but doesn’t move away.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking if you have a fever.” Hotch scoffs, but a small smile peaks through as you let your hand fall down. He felt fine, and other than looking a bit tired and very sorry, he looks fine too.

Hotch takes your hand in his, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles and you can’t help the fond smile on your face.

“I’m sorry.” He offers up again, letting go of your hand in favor of moving closer so he can put an arm around your waist and lean his head on your shoulder as you look at the water again. You hum, turning your head ever so slightly so you can kiss the top of your head. You can’t see the little shy smile on Aaron’s face, but you can almost hear it in his almost hopeful voice as he speaks.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” You hum, moving your hand to rest on his knee.

“Mostly. But you are the only one doing chores this week.”

“That’s alright with me, as long as I get to spend time with you.” His hand on your jaw turns your head towards him, letting him give a brief kiss to your lips, and then a feather light one just below the butterfly strips on your forehead.

“You’re a fool Aaron.”

“I’m only a fool for you.”

“Cheesy.” You roll your eyes at him with a smile as you get down from the tailgate, Aaron joining you, standing close so he can give you another kiss.

“Always.” He says with a grin, making his eyes light up and you can’t help but kiss him.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #gender neutral #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #reader #readerinsert #reader insert #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #written

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ahtsumu · 3 years

Text

vignettes from a simple and good life ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: a year in review.

tag(s): fluff ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, kinda bad but i tried LOL ; wc: 1.3k

a/n: happy birthday to @bbytetsu ! ik i said i wouldn’t write anything but i’m a woman of my own word. also sorry this isn’t geto LOL. anyway this is kinda different from anything i’ve ever done but i hope you like it! love u

he walks past you and suddenly the world’s aflame.

“um,” you stutter, turning around with wide eyes. “excuse me?”

cool grey irises hold your gaze expectantly.

he’s gorgeous.

“i–” you falter. there’s no way you can describe the feeling that made you turn around. the gravitational pull that sometimes occurs between strangers. perhaps the clever tugging of two red strings. separate melodies that converge at whim on a concord. it’s all so abstract, but that’s what you’re good at.

to your surprise, he just smiles. “same.”

learning miya osamu is like learning to whistle: either you get it or you don’t.

you get it.

you get that he’s not at all the serious, stony-faced man he makes himself out as. that he’s hot-headed and petty but doesn’t want to be. that just because he’s not laughing doesn’t mean he’s not amused.

miya osamu is the dead of night and all the mischief that happens during it.

seven a.m. is too early. osamu isn’t sure how he used to get up even earlier for morning practice, but then he remembers that that was when he loved volleyball. either way, it’s seven a.m. and for some god-forsaken reason, miya osamu is going on a hike.

(god-forsaken is a bit dramatic. it’s not all that bad – he’s just grumpy in the morning. actually, to think of it, it’s not bad at all…)

“one cappuccino," he tells the barista. and then his eyes widen. smiling, he adds, “and a matcha latte, please.”

it dawns upon you in the passenger seat of his car.

“what?” he asks, feeling your eyes on him as he drives.

“… nothing.”

“tell me,” he laughs, squeezing your hand with his free one.

“later,” you promise, feeling giddy with realization.

osamu hums, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

the light from his laptop illuminates osamu’s darkened bedroom, bathing both of you in a subtle blue glow. osamu looks down at your body tucked into his side and smiles. he whispers your name. “are you awake?”

there’s no reply – just the steady stream of your shallow breaths.

maybe you hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the middle of your movie night but now that you have, osamu doesn’t have the heart to wake you. it’s late, it’s still a little cold outside at night, and it’s not like you’re busy tomorrow morning…

and maybe he doesn’t want you to go. carefully, osamu shifts around to make you both comfortable, slings an arm over your waist, and closes his eyes.

you wake up to the smell of breakfast and the swingy tune of twenties jazz.

how do you know it’s love?

you tell him that he feels like a soft blanket and a rollercoaster ride at the same time.

he laughs and grabs your hand, placing it on his chest right where his heart is.

“that’s how i know,” he says.

when you step into his apartment, the first thing you notice is the mouthwatering scent floating out of the kitchen.

“babe?” you call out.

a muffled “kitchen!” reaches your ears.

the kitchen’s a mess of ingredients. and in the middle of the mess is your boyfriend. lo and behold, miya osamu is yet again experimenting with new recipes for onigiri miya, mixing potential fillings in a large metal bowl, wearing the “kiss the chef” apron you bought him a while back. he takes a bite of the stuff on his spoon and looks up at the ceiling in thought. not a single muscle in his face twitches, probably because he isn’t sure what to think of it.

you clear your throat. “hey, you.”

smiling, osamu spins around. “hi, angel. can you taste this and tell me whatcha think?” he spoons out some more of the mixture in the bowl, holding it out for you to try.

“sure,” you say, and you ignore the spoon, pressing your lips to osamu’s for a kiss instead. when you pull away, you lick your lips and hum. “needs more salt.”

the grin on his face is absolutely charmed. “i thought so, too.”

what most people get wrong about miya osamu is that he doesn’t talk much.

he does.

(“and i told her she had the wrong place, but that woman just wouldn’t leave,” he complains, pacing around your living room with so much force that you think you might have to check on the rug once he’s gone. “held up the entire line, too. so embarrassin’. and then she said she’d leave us a one-star review, which is ridiculous because it’s not like i could make her a burrito, right? jesus. so i told her to go fu–”

“babe,” you laugh, pulling him gently towards the sofa.

osamu sits down beside you and inhales deeply. “so i tell her to go fuck herself–” he pauses when your hand runs through his jet black hair. seconds later, you feel his firm body melt against your arms.

“well, go on,” you say with a giggle. “what happened after?”)

osamu just doesn’t talk to most people.

and when he isn’t talking, he’s thinking.

“i saw something funny earlier. if you were a tortured poet,” you ask on the walk home, “what would be the cringey quote people know you for?”

osamu raises his brows and looks up at the sky. “hmm,” he says, grinning. the two of you continue walking as he mulls over your question. a few minutes later, he says, “take not my silence for a lack of thought. i am always thinking. i am haunted by the magnitude of thoughts i can never put to spoken word.”

you stop in your tracks. “that was actually good,” you say in disbelief. “what the hell? ‘magnitude’? seriously?”

he shrugs and slings an arm over your shoulder. “i’ve been readin’ lately. forbes said somethin’ about good leaders readin’ books’.”

“are you actually haunted, though? ‘cause you can always tal–”

“no,” osamu laughs. “i like my thoughts. and if i really like ‘em, i just say ‘em. it’s a simple and good life.”

10.

“you’re beautiful,” he breathes, pressing kisses up your neck.

the air’s thick with tension and want and he needs to be closer – he needs every inch of your bare skin touching his and even then that wouldn’t be close enough.

but it’d be a great place to start.

“god, you’re so beautiful.”

11.

when he steps into your bedroom, you don't even notice.

“hey,” osamu says, knocking on the door.

jumping in your seat, you whip your head around to face the intruder. “you scared me,” you sigh.

“i texted you this morning and it’s almost midnight now,” he says, frowning. “had me worried.” osamu walks to your desk and observes your work over your shoulder.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, tilting your head back against his chest. “this is due soon and i lost track of time. i’ve been at this since midnight last night.”

osamu’s frown deepens. “what?” he spins you around in your chair and studies your face with disbelief. but seeing the bags under your eyes and frazzled hair, he suddenly completely believes you. of course you’d procrastinate for days and then work yourself to the bone.

his firm hands find your shoulders and squeeze. “take a break.”

“‘samu–”

“or at least let me give you a little massage.”

12.

“when i stopped you in the street,” you say, “what was going through your mind?”

osamu laughs, the light sound melting into the mellow atmosphere of the restaurant. “nothing. absolutely nothing.”

“how romantic.”

“for the first time in my life,” he says, grey eyes twinkling, “my head went silent.”

he raises his glass of wine and takes a sip.

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff

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mingoyeob-archive · 3 years

Note

45 and 78 with jungkook pls🥺(Btw i love your writing and take your time for part 3☺️)

under the oak tree drabble game ⚔️🌳 to make up for my delayed release of part 3 of under the oak tree i’ve decided to do a drabble game! send me a number + any of the characters from under the oak tree and i’ll write you a drabble :)

hi thank you guys so much for requesting and also for being patient with me anon! I combined these two asks because you both asked for 78 so other anon you get a little something extra haha! I hope you enjoy <3

45: “Take.It.Off” + 78. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any more gorgeous” - jjk x reader - word count: 1.4k

Around the castle people buzzed and shuffled, zipping past one another like moving pieces in a well organized machine. The sound of numerous conversations and orders being shouted from left and right was only beaten out by the loud rushing water from outside, heavy drops of water hitting newly installed stain glass windows and ringing off like canons. Rain was nothing new to the occupants of Uwhen and not even the downpour outside could stop the bustling maids and the boisterous knights that littered every hall. So it was to Jungkook's surprise when he heard the noise come to a halt, turning his head to follow the direction of everyone's gaze trained on the main entrance. His eyes fell upon the distressing, albeit slightly amusing, sight of you standing drenched from head to toe, looking akin to a shaggy dog he had once seen fall into a river as a young boy.

It wasn’t your fault of course, this was your first rainy season after all. Sure there were a few cloudy days and drizzles that happened here and there but for the most part Aster was typically a sunny land with what seemed like never ending summers. So how were you expected to know that during this time storms came through quicker than the drop of a hat, nose untrained to picking up the fresh scent of lingering salty rain that was always a tell-tale sign of what was coming. And by the time you were able to feel the light drops of water landing on the top of your head it had already been too late and the next thing you knew you were trudging through thick mud, struggling to pull the train of your dress and walk with the weight of your heavy petty coat holding you down.

“Y/N!” Jungkook exclaimed and rushed over to you in only a few strides. His hands found themselves landing on your shoulders as he worriedly looked you over, eyes full of concern. He could feel you shaking under his fingertips. “What the hell happened to you, my love?”

You could only gaze up at him through wet lashes, lips set heavily in a pout. You could tell he was waiting for you to answer but you were too caught up with the fact that everyone had stopped to stare at the pair of you. Too afraid to sound like a fool, you had no intention of explaining yourself out here in the open, only letting out a small whimper as you huddled your arms close to yourself to stave off the cold. Jungkook noticed your hesitation, head whipping around to glare at the onlookers who had stopped to see what all the commotion was about. “Fucking hell- what are you all looking at!? Get back to work!”

Like a flip was switched, the noises returned and everyone went back to rushing past each other. All except your hand maiden who came running over the minute she saw a clear path over to your dripping figure. “Lady y/n! Let me get you back to your bed chambers and I’ll run you a fresh bath and get you a new pair of clothes and-”

“No need.” Jungkook had brushed past the maid, arm locked heavily around your frame as he started escorting you back to your room, not even sparing her a glance. “I can do all of that perfectly fine on my own.”

She sputtered and followed hastily behind you two, “But- but sir! Are you sure you don’t wan’t-” Jungkook's steely eyes had her mouth clamping shut and she stopped dead in her tracks. “Of course, my apologies. Please let me know if you need anything else, my lord.” She didn’t even wait for a reply before bowing and leaving in a hurry.

Jungkook merely grunted and continued walking the two of you up the staircase, your graze trained behind you as you watched your hand maiden scurry away. “You didn’t have to be so rude, you know.” You muttered, letting out a small hmph. Jungkook just gazed down at you briefly before pretending as if he didn’t hear your snarky comment. Though you swore you saw the hint of a smile twitch at the corner of his lips.

Upon arriving at the room, Jungkook had immediately pushed you into the center of the room, broad shoulders looming more than a few inches over you just an arms reach away. He sighed slowly and crossed his arms, “Take it off.”

You deadpanned, “What?” you say. You had heard what he said, but you hoped he wouldn’t say it again. That hope was mistakenly misplaced.

“I said take your clothes off. They’re soaking wet and you’ll get sick.” Jungkook said, talking as if this whole thing was just a giant nuisance. His facial expression was cold (as usual), so it was hard to really tell if he was serious or not (also very usual). “Once you undress I’ll give you a bath-”

“No no I’m fine! Haha no need for that, yup completely fine.” Your attempt at passing off the situation in an effort to avoid his offer was very unconvincing. “It’s not even that cold, I’ll dry off soon.” That was a lie. You were freezing, Jungkook could practically hear your teeth chattering as you spoke.

You were obviously uncomfortable with his request. He wasn’t mad, in fact, he completely understood. Despite being married for 3 years (most of it being spent apart except for one short night), he had only ever seen you naked once. At least in real life it was only once, his dreams were a completely different story.

Jungkook just shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, “Y/N…” he let out a sound of annoyance and took a deep breath to compose himself before dropping his hand and fixing you with a steely glare. He hated having to get stern with you. “Take.it.off.”

This time you could definitely tell he was serious and your nervous smile immediately dropped, replaced quickly by a look of defeat. You knew you had lost this time so there was no point in trying to push off the inevitable so instead you just sighed and began undoing your corset, Jungkook standing quiet as he watched. You could practically hear a pin drip, the room was so silent. It was deafening.

When Jungkook saw your fingers get to the last loop, he waited with bated breath. Finally, he thought, he really had to talk to someone about making your dresses less complicated to get off (for your convenience, of course). He watched you gulp just as the cord was set free and then stared transfixed as the material fell, pooling around your ankles. If he wasn’t already holding his breath, he would’ve choked. His dreams were doing you absolutely no justice.

By now your face was on fire, heat feeling your cheeks to the point you no longer even felt cold. And Jungkook's stare was only making it worse, your head filling with so many nervous ramblings and worries. Have I gotten fat since he last saw me? And was that stretch mark always there? Wait, when did my thighs get so big?

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any more gorgeous.” your breath caught in your throat. Jungkook had whispered the words completely in awe, irises finally filled with something other than stony resistance (dare you say, love?). You don’t know how, but for some reason those simple words had all your insecurities fading away, at least for the time being. Because the way he looked at you in this moment, it didn’t matter if you had gained a stretch mark or two, cause you knew he would still see you as nothing less than beautiful.

It was hard for you to say exactly how he was feeling since he didn’t say much else before turning around to head into the bathroom (presumably to run that bath that he mentioned earlier), but for someone who was a man of a few words, just one sentence could mean a thousand. And you hoped he would stay with you long enough for you to hear a thousand more.

#drabble game #bts #under the oak tree #jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #knight jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic

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