#not my intention when i started this but here we are
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mic'd up for aces v fever/ k.martin
kate martin x reader!
summary: you're mic'd up at the Aces game versus the Indiana Fever as your girlfriend plays her (and your) best friend.
!𝑨𝑩𝑩𝒀 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑺¡
okay okay my first wbb fic on here (lol pls be nice)
also, this is my first ever y/n fic so...
Two days before the Aces were set to play the Fever, you were sent an email from the Aces media team. Kate had been sitting behind you as you opened it, laughing immediately at their request. They were practically begging you to be mic’d up at the game, courtside. They wanted you of course, due to your connection as a Hawkeye, deciding to come back for a fifth year instead of entering the draft as you were going for your masters. It also helped that their star rookie was your girlfriend.
It was an easy decision. You told them, yes, ignoring the teasing from your girlfriend as you did so. Honestly, it seemed like a great idea to you, getting to commentate on your girlfriend and your best friend as they went head to head for the first time as pros.
“Baby, you realize this is the perfect opportunity for me to embarrass the hell out of you and Cinamon?” Kate got quiet real fast after that threat.
🂡🂡🂡
The day of the game had arrived, and you decided to go with Kate to the lab, as it was a home game for the Aces. As soon as you arrived the team swarmed upon you, laughing and asking for you to add in specific commentary tonight during the game.
“No Syd I will not tell everyone you’re single and ready to mingle,” you playfully shove the older woman, laughing with everyone else as she starts to fake cry. “Go away you baby, I gotta go get mic’d.”
They all began to hype you up as the media crew came over with a little clip-on mic and pac. You listened intently as they walked you through how it would work tonight. You’d be seated right next to your coaches, and former coach Lisa Bluder, and would have the mic the whole game. You couldn’t be more excited as you knew this would give your girlfriend even more publicity and love from the media and fans.
You turned to her as she grabbed your hand.
“I’ll see you in a bit when we head over to Michalaub,” she leaned in, connecting your lips, leaving you wanting just a little bit more.
🂡🂡🂡
The media team had your mic on as you and Kate made your way into the arena for pre-game shoot-outs. The Fever was already there practicing and you giggled to yourself as you saw Caitlin stretching.
“Hey guys!” You turned to the cameras, “My name is y/n l/n, some of you may know me as number 26 for the Iowa Hawkeyes, and my favorite title, Kate Martin’s girlfriend!”
The entire team started laughing as you introduced yourself and you turned around to shush them. Cait couldn’t know you were mic’d up yet. It had to be a surprise.
“Anyways, I’m going to be mic’d up courtside tonight at the game versus the Fever. But for now, I have a reunion to get to.” You winked at the camera, spinning on your heel and cupping a hand to your mouth.
“Hey, Cinamon!” Her head whipped around from where she was standing with your girlfriend, the two of them having had their reunion.
“Tink?” Her eyes went wide with disbelief, she’d known you’d be at the game but had no idea you’d be at shoot around.
The pair of you collided, and she spun you around the same way Kate had done to her. Tears immediately pooled in your eyes at the contact. You and Caitlin had been friends for years, both of you meeting when you played for USA in 2018. You both committed to Iowa and roomed together Freshman year, she was the sister you’d always wanted, and it had been painful to be away from her.
“How are you?” You whispered, being mindful of the fact that you were mic’d up.
“I’m fine,” she smiled at you, repeating what she’d said to Kate, and you knew she’d also seen through the bs answer, but you let it go.
“I’m all mic’d up tonight,” you grinned, pointing at the mic on your shirt, “Kmart’s scared I’ll embarrass her.”
“Hey, I never said that!” Kate butted into the conversation, “She’s lying CC.”
“You calling me a liar right now?” You raised an eyebrow, eyes glancing down at the mic on your chest.
Kate folded immediately, “No Baby, I would never.”
You and Caitlin look at each other before bursting out into laughter. Some things never change.
🂡🂡🂡
“Hello, Las Vegas!” You had a cameraman pointed at you from next to one of the hoops, the media crew had told you they had a few different angles on you, all connected to your mic. “I’m here with some of my favorite women!”
You wrapped an arm around your former head coach as she laughed, wrapping her own arm around your shoulders.
“Hey Tink,” she pressed a kiss to the side of your head. She’d been the one to give you your on-court nickname. It started as ‘Tinkerbell’ because you would flit around the court like you were flying while playing defense, and the team eventually just shortened it to ‘Tink’.
“Hey, coach! You excited for tonight?” You pulled on your shirt so she could talk into the mic.
“Very excited, it’s going to be weird not yelling at Kate and Caitlin, but I guess I’ll manage.” You and Coach Jan erupted into laughter, and so did Coach Hammon who was listening in with a smirk.
“I’m also joined by my new head coach!” You positioned your body to face Jan, grinning at her.
“You excited to see our girls play?”
“Of course I am! I’ve got my phone ready to take all the behind-the-scenes pictures and videos.”
“Me too!” You grin, “I can’t wait to hit Caitlin and Katie with the evil 0.5s.”
You hear the whistle blow, and watch everyone come out onto the floor.
“There’s Cinamon!” Your eyes find Caitlin and she sends you a grin. “Look at her, my sister from another mister.”
You watch as the Aces get possession of the ball, eyes following Caitlin as she defends Kelsey. Moving down the court you can’t help but laugh as you watch Jackie attempting to guard her.
“Jackie’s in for a challenge, CC is hard as hell- oh shit- wait fuck- no sorry, am I allowed to swear? Whatever, Cait’s hard to guard. She’s knocked me on my ass -sorry- a few too many times.”
“Let’s go!” You stand up as Jackie drains the three, smirking at Cait as she runs past you.
“Cait that's not your basket.” You laugh as she shoots after Kelsey gets a foul.
Cait turns the ball over and you share a look with Coach Bluder, this has been a problem since you were Freshmen. Caitlin just sees the game differently and is six steps ahead of everyone else. It was you and Kate who were able to keep up with her pace, which is what made you so unstoppable on the court. It would take time for the Fever to match what she was putting down.
“Come on Cait, shake it off.” You watch as she misses a three, shaking your head, “she's gonna be pissed about that.”
Your eyes flit away from the game and onto the figure of your girlfriend as she sits on the bench, eyes fixed on Caitlin and the game.
“Kmoney is locked in everyone, she’s got her serious face on.”
Caitlin fouls and you let out an audible “oh shit” before apologizing into your mic again.
“Cait never loses the ball like that- oh she got it back!”
Your eyes flick between the bench and the court, waiting for the moment Kate takes off her warmups.
“A’ja’s going to have a nasty bruise from that.” You watch her get popped in the face, the entire crowd going crazy over it.
“Guys I’m just sitting here waiting for my girlfriend to go in,” you smile at one of the cameras pointed at you, before pointing at the jersey you’re wearing with Kate’s number on it.
“I'm repping 20 for a reason. Ooo that sounds like the Sabrina Carpenter song ‘Pushing 20’,” you start humming the song. “Kate when you watch this, that should be your theme song.”
“LET’S GO!” You jump up from your seat as Caitlin drains her first three of the night, holding up three fingers at her. “That’s my best friend!” You side-eye your girlfriend who’s looking at you with a raised eyebrow “Sorry Katie. You’re still number one in my heart.”
“Okay CC’s on the bench guys, geez she looks wiped already, girl needs some sleep.”
“Okay, Megan’s getting ready to check in, a win for the Hawkeyes tonight.” You high-five her as she passes you. “Guys I never played with Megan, but she was a legend when CC and I came in as Rookies.”
Your girlfriend comes running towards you, “Yes Baby!” You catch her warmup shirt that she tosses aside slapping her ass as she passes.
“My girl is so fine,” you’ve completely forgotten your coaches are sitting next to you until Julie reaches over.
“Hey, that’s still my niece Tink!”
“Sorry, Julie!” Caitlin also gets up to check in, squatting down right next to Kate. You watch them exchange smirks, knowing they’ll be guarding each other. “Here we go, Coach!”
You nudge Coach Bluder who looks a bit teary-eyed herself.
“Shit Kelsey,” you catch the ball that bounces out of bounds keeping KP from falling on you.
“Sorry y/n,” she grins before locking back into the game.
The buzzer goes and you stand up as Kate and Caitlin check into the game together, “That’s my girl!”
“Guys I might start crying and that’s embarrassing.” You say as you sit back down, eyes filling up with tears. “It’s weird seeing them in different colors, and sitting on the side instead of being on the floor with them.”
“Sorry guys you might have to cut this,” you stifle a small sob as you watch them defend each other. It was one thing talking about it, and making jokes, but seeing it happen, and not playing yourself was a whole other thing that had your throat tightening.
“I’m filming!” Jan says, making you let out a choked laugh. You push back the tears, telling yourself to be happy that they’re both living out their dreams.
You pull out your phone, taking a few photos and videos of your girl and her best friend as they guard each other for the first time outside of carver-hawkeye.
They’re both trying to play it cool, but the smile on their faces as they sprint down the court towards you tells a different story.
“CC and Kmart together again.” You point to Cait who points back giving you a grin.
“All that’s missing is their Tink.” Coach Bluder says, patting your knee.
“Look at my girl go!” You grin, pointing at Kate who grabbed the ball in the turnover, making her way down the court.
“How is that not Aces Ball!?” You’re just as pissed as your girlfriend, who’s gotten good at challenging ref’s over the years. “She’s going to complain about that to me later guys,” you whisper into the mic.
“Okay guys, the first quarter is over. We had our on-court reunion with my favorite Hawkeyes. How are we feeling, because I’m emotional.” You’re having a one-sided conversation with yourself as Coach Bluder gets up to go sit with the commentators for the second quarter.
“Guys she’s starting in the second quarter! My girl is a pro now!”
“I’m never letting that go CC,” you say as you watch her basically throw the ball out of bounds.
“Look at her, I’m literally the luckiest girl in the world.”
“Cait just missed that three and it landed in Katie’s hands, once upon a time that would have ended up as an assist.”
Your eyes widen as you watch Kate go down, her knee at a weird angle, your heart in your throat. “That better not be a bad fall.” You say to Jan, “Thank God.” You mutter as she gets up, sprinting down the court.
“Oh shit, that looked like it hurt,” all respect for your language went out the window the moment Kate fell. You were fired up, the worry for your girlfriend at the max. Even as you watched Cait get smacked in the eye.
“Cinamon shoots two.” She drains the first, “nice CC,” drains the second, “easy money.”
“Good job Baby,” Kate smiles at you, hand grazing your leg as she walks back to the bench.
“Syd babes that was a flop.” You laugh watching her go down.
“Get some Money!” Kate runs past you again to check-in. “Katie in, CC out.”
“Shit Kate!” Your hand flys to your mouth as you watch her ankle go, and the limp-hop she does after. “That is not good guys. She shook it off pretty good, but I can tell when my girl is in pain.”
Kate goes down again, and you can’t help but clench your teeth as you hear the skid of her thigh on the court. “Come on baby, shake it off.” She gets up slower this time, you can tell it’s wearing on her, but she's pushing through.
“Yes, Money Martin with the assist!”
“Jesus Christ, is it throw y/n’s girlfriend to the ground day or something?” Kate goes down yet again, this time a foul is called, thankfully. A’ja runs to pull her up and you grin, “Look at A’ja helping my girl out like the good vet she is.”
You turn your head to look over at Caitlin who has her face buried in her towel, only her eyes showing, and you know it’s her way of keeping her eyes on the game without revealing anything. But you can see worry in the crease between her eyebrows, you’re both not liking the ground time Kate’s been getting.
Kate walks past you as she comes in for the time-out. She sends you a nod, letting you know she’s okay.
“Okay guys, sorry for the lack of comments, it’s been a bit tense here. Gotta make sure my girl is fine before I can be commentating.”
“You would make a terrible sports commentator,” Coach Bluder says, laughing at the put-out look on your face.
“Cooked by Bluder, everyone!” You hold your hand to your chest in mock hurt, “demolished by my coach. But alas, she’s right. I’d just be too busy talking about my girlfriend to be a good commentator.”
Coach leans closer to you, “She’s censoring herself for you guys, these are tame compared to the comments she drops during Hawkeye practices and games.”
“Okay, enough mic time for you coach!”
“Look at her go bringing the ball up! My little pro.” You practically have heart eyes, and for the first time, you see yourself projected on the jumbotron.
“Oh okay, I see how it is,” You grin, finding the camera that’s projecting you, winking pointing to your jersey, then the court where Kate is.
The crowd goes insane, causing some of the players to look up, earning a laugh from Caitlin and a wink from Kate.
“I’m more popular than both of them combined.”
Kate comes back to the bench again and you squeeze her hand as she passes. She sends you a smile, finding her seat next to Megan again, both of you locking back into the game.
“Let's go! Halftime baby!” You stand from your seat. “See you guys after the break!”
🂡🂡🂡
“Okay everyone I’m back! Let's go! I have a feeling we’ll be getting some money this quarter.”
You turn to look at the empty seats around you. “Well, you may notice I am now awkwardly here alone. Coach Bluder and Coach Jenson are off socializing, so I’m left to man the fort.”
“I can’t believe they called that a foul,” you mutter, as Coach Hammon goes to challenge the foul a second time.
“My lover is back in the game, you guys.” You watch as Smith misses both foul shots.
“That was a waste of a foul.”
“MONEY!” You shout, jumping to your feet as Kate scores her first points of the day, draining a three with ease. “That’s my fucking girl! Let’s fucking go! We are so back!”
Kate points to you as she runs down the court, making a heart with her hands as you hold up three fingers.
“Get her babe!” Kate’s on Caitlin again, and your bias towards your girlfriend begins to show as she plays solid defense.
After A’ja’s fouled you can see Caitlin talking to the ref about Kate, you can’t make out what they’re saying, but it’s got Kate smirking.
“They’re talking mad shit to each other, I just know it,” you whisper into the mic. “I wonder how personal those insults are getting.”
“Baby’s gone beast mode,” you say as you watch Kate celebrating A’ja’s shot.
“Look at her cheesin’ isn’t she the cutest.” You watch Kate grin at whatever Caitlin says to her.
“Kmoney for the block!” You yell, “a fucking beast!”
You stand as she goes for the three, but it rims and falls out of the basket, “shake it off, baby! Plenty more buckets to make!”
“Quarter three is over guys, and my beautiful girlfriend has been burning up the court!”
“That’s my fucking girlfriend!” You stand throwing up three fingers as Kate drains her second three of the night. “Redemption baby!”
She points at you as she runs back down the court.
“Kmart is on fire right now guys!”
“That’s a fucking foul! Yeah, call that shit! It’s in Let’s fucking go!” You’re on your feet, ignoring the laughs from your coaches at your yelling, you’re saying everything you can’t say when you’re on the bench.
“My girl is the goat guys. She’s on fucking fire.”
Kate's eyes find yours, grinning when she sees you standing, clapping for her, a triumphant smile on your face.
“Drained it!” You watch her make the foul shot, clapping your hands together as you finally sit back down. The jumbotron is split between the two of you, one half showing you’re over the top reaction and the other replaying her basket.
Caitlin stands in front of you as she checks back into the game. “Let’s go CC,” you can’t see her face, but you can sense her little smirk.
“Y’all see the bruises on that girl’s arms? Geez, maybe I need to send her some arm guards for real.” Coach Bluder bursts out into laughter at that.
“Katie’s back on the bench guys, so my commentary will be limited as I will now spend this time admiring her.” Your coaches snort, as they know this is a very common occurrence for you. But you ignore them, eyes finding the tired ones of your girlfriend.
‘you okay?’ you mouth, looking at her intently.
She nods, ‘I’m good, love you.’
‘I love you too.’
Your eyes move back to the court, finding Caitlin’s very tired-looking figure. Her hands are on her knees and you just know she's done for the night. She spends more time in the game than on the bench, and it’s wearing on her. WNBA is way more physical and demanding compared to the NCAA, and Caitlin is getting the short end of the stick.
You pull out your phone, pulling up her contact.
‘cinnamon, if i don’t receive photo evidence of you resting over the next few days. i’ll fly to indiana and sit next to your bed while you sleep.’
You hit send, knowing she won’t see it until after the game, and that you could tell her in person, but this way she knows you were thinking about it during the game itself.
“CC is 100% done for the night guys, she’s tired.” You say as you watch her check out of the game and head to the bench.
“But my girl is back in playing the last few minutes of the game!”
The quarter moves on and your eyes intently follow Kate as she runs up and down the court. But you’re silent as you observe, too entranced with Kate to remember your mic’d. That is until she’s fouled again.
Your breath catches in your throat as you watch her knee go at a dangerous angle yet again as she goes for the three.
“You’re literally kidding!? Yeah, that’s another fucking whistle!” You watch her take a few stumbling steps before regaining her footing. “You got this Katie.”
“Three foul shots, if she makes just one, guys, she’ll go double digits for this game!”
“Get in there… YES!” You grin, clapping your hands together as you will the ball to go in.
“And she hits the second, that’s my fucking girlfriend!” You can hear A’ja laughing at you from the bench and you send her a look, getting a grin back in response.
“All three! Twelve points tonight for my girl!”
“And Aces win!” You jump up from your chair as the buzzer sounds. Your arms wrap around Coach Jensen as she stands up as well, both of you laughing with joy for Kate. You pull away, your eyes finding Caitlin on the floor, sending her a smile, asking with your gaze if she's okay. She nods at you, knowing you want to spend the next few minutes with Kate.
‘See you later?’ you mouth and she nods again.
“Kate was on fire tonight!” Jan exclaims, “Twelve points is incredible for her!”
“She was amazing,” you say as you see her heading back from the commentator stand. She jogs over to where you guys are, launching herself into your arms.
“Hi baby,” she says into your neck, hands around your waist.
“Hi lovebug,” you tighten your arms around her neck, “you played so well tonight.”
“Mmm,” she mutters, nose still pressed against your throat. “I need you at all my games now.”
“Every game this summer till training camp for Iowa, baby.” She pulls back, finally pressing her lips to yours, not a care in the world for whoever is around.
She pulls back, glancing down at the mic still attached to your shirt. “Alright guys, I hope you had fun listening to my amazing girlfriend’s commentary, but now I want her all to myself.”
Kate plucks the mic from your shirt, handing it off to one of her coaches before taking your hand and leading you towards the rest of your little ‘party’.
🂡🂡🂡
After the game, you meet up with Caitlin, pulling her into your arms, knowing how she beats herself up after a loss. She melts into your arms as if you’re sixteen again and living without a care in the world.
“You played good tonight cinnamon, don’t beat yourself up. You’re drained from your game in LA.”
“I know,” she mumbles, “it still sucks.”
You rub her shoulders, sending Kate a reassuring smile at the look of concern on her face. “It’ll get better CC, you just can’t let yourself burn out. You gotta take care of yourself.”
“I’m trying Tink. It’s hard. But I’m trying.”
“Call me whenever you get down, okay?” You pull back, looking her in the eyes. “I’m here for you, Katie’s here for you. We want you to be happy and enjoy yourself. So talk to us okay?”
“Okay.” She smiles, a mischievous look crossing her face, and you know what’s coming because you saw her do it to Kate and yelled at her for it.
“Don’t you fucking dare Clark!”
“Too late,” she smirks, hand connecting with your ass. You yelp shoving her away.
“Hey, woah woah, hands off Clark.” Kate pulls you into her arms, making sure you don’t step on her, as she’s not wearing shoes, again.
Cait puts her hands up, grinning. “Sorry Cap.” Kate makes a face, hand going down to wrap around your waist, keeping you at her side and away from Caitlin’s ass slaps.
The three of you were back together again, and you knew, somehow everything would be okay.
#kate martin x reader#kate martin x y/n#kate martin#wlw post#lgbtq#pride month#caitlin clark#lv aces#indiana fever#iowa wbb#wbb#fanfiction
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
Summary_ He pushed you away some time ago. You forgave him, but Miguel realizes intentions don’t mean much and he wants you back.
Warnings_ age gap! (I’m 20, Miguel is around 28-31, bear with me), angst, fluff.
A/N_ this is The Craving from Twenty One Pilots, I loved the new album. and imgonnagetyouback from Taygod Swift, BOTH IN MY MIGUEL PLAYLIST🩷
♪ ♫ My Miguel O’Hara playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)
_____________
Waves of silence crash all over the Spider Society. Miguel O’Hara had just told Miles Morales that he had to let his father die to protect canon. Your guts twist in an odd feeling, you feel a bad omen. The chase had been tough, your insecurity playing with your head as you knew Miles had the right to choose his destiny.
Canon had been fair with you, offering you light problems compared to others. So you wished every spider had the same destiny as yourself.
Now seeing that Miles was gone thanks to the “Go Home Machine”, you couldn’t let Gwen to follow the same path.
“Miguel… you can’t send Gwen home. She’s vital for this.” You say quickly stepping up against the man who was intimidating the sixteen-year-old girl.
“I don’t need more problems than we already have. I restate… she’s a liability” Gwen pleads you with scared eyes. You gasp, running out of options to calm the angered man.
“You gave me a second chance too, I was once a novice like her” Miguel huffs, looking at you with much impatience.
“Yes, and you learned from that, never committing an error again.” Gwen is picked and caged inside the machine, she starts panicking and you too. In an act of desperation, you grab Miguel from his forearm, making him turn to look down at you. His crimson-red eyes stare at you with such hostility that you know you have to be careful to choose the right words.
“This is not right. You are not thinking clearly. Miles and Gwen deserve better” Your gaze moves between him and Gwen, hoping Miguel would agree and let the girl stay.
“Miguel, please…”
“THIS IS ABSURD, Y/N!… CANON HAS GIFTED YOU WITH MUCH LUCK, YOU CAN’T EXPECT EVERY PERSON HERE TO RUN WITH THE SAME FATE. BE REALISTIC, RESPONSIBLE, AND INTELLIGENT FOR ONCE!” As he attacks, Gwen is gone. Another round of silence invades the place, but this is worse. Your eyes open in shock after hearing Miguel.
He can’t be fixed. He won’t change. It’s time to go and follow what you think it’s correct.
You eye Jess and Peter, they seem like they have some things to say but remain quiet.
Miguel finally looks delicately at you and notices your eyes are watering. The awkwardness is very loud, your blush letting everyone know you are embarrassed.
You won’t say anything about it. You just look back at Miguel for a second, before opening a portal in your gizmo, doing the same as Hobie Brown did; quitting.
“I really thought you would get it…” Your gizmo fell to the ground as you disappeared, the screen of it cracking and leaving Miguel a little stunned by your decision. He sighed, knowing he had screwed it, but confident that his intentions were correct.
That night, after a quick patrol, when you returned home, you took a quick shower to wash away all the pain and bitter taste of the day you had. But when you came back, there was a little present wrapped in newspaper that wasn’t from your earth. You unwrapped it, revealing a homemade gizmo. You grabbed the little note attached.
We need you
-Hobbie
You would do things right. And you didn't care if you had to fight with old friends or colleagues. Especially Miguel.
…
The seasons had changed so fast. By the time summer ended, the leaves were already drying and many people had left, by winter and the snow falling over, others came back. But you stayed the same.
You had the same suit, with upgrades and chrome instead of golden details, but it was the same. Your earth was well controlled, with no sign of the villains that used to terrorize your city. All the smiles you offered were the same. All the laughing with Peter B. Parker, Hobie, Gwen, Pavitr, and Miles was the same. Yet, something had changed between you and Miguel O’Hara.
The man knew the perspective people had of him would change after the events of last summer when he put the lives of Miles and many others at risk. He let his fears win and while he tried to protect everything, he was only pushing it towards the edge, dooming the fate of the multiverse. You were on his side at the beginning, claiming that canon was sacred and couldn’t be changed. But the image of Miles, his face full of fear and anxiety, unsure and terrified of his future. He was a kid, he had no idea of anything. He made you question if canon events could change. Either way, the kid was more than enough to draw you worried. Destiny could be wrong, so you decided to help Miles. Your decisions had consequences? Yes. The moment you left the building of the Spider Society, you started to miss everything. In your mind, you were almost assured Miguel didn’t care about you, but deep down, your heart said the opposite. Ending with a drift that seemed invisible at the beginning. But now, a year later, it was more than clear.
The change was something you could get used to. Your work remained the same, with Jess and Peter. B Parker. Your missions only turned more fun with the addition of Miles and Gwen permanently returning like you. Gatherings at Peter’s each Saturday remained the same. But all the awkwardness of the spiderverse invaded you when Miguel O’Hara came into the picture.
After all, you two had gone on a date the day before you met Gwen at her earth while capturing the Renaissance vulture. He asked you out, and you said yes. It was a lovely afternoon and he even visited your home. What started as a mentorship from him, blossomed into a friendship and then as a “almost something”. Which hurt worse.
It all started with you walking away. Briefings were cautiously heard by you, even staying after for further questions. Jess asked you to hand the mission details to everyone when Hobbie and Miles came to talk about a concert you were going to with Gwen and Margo when Miguel came and started asking about a new gizmo coming soon. Everyone noticed you grew quiet and soon after you were gone.
Then, you stopped asking to go on missions with him, Ben, and his usual party. When you were recruited, Miguel was annoyed but pleased to have you along. It happened that one day, you blew things off accidentally, making him extremely angry. Your web shooter failed and you almost missed it to save a baby. Nonetheless, you quickly were ranked higher thanks to your abilities.
All of your friends could see how your small friendship with your boss had suddenly evaporated. And Miguel couldn’t blame you. After all, he was the one yelling in your face when you argued in favor of Gwen when she was sent home. Miguel could remember he almost made you cry, leaving you completely embarrassed in front of everyone. He felt terrible seconds after you left, but he soon went to the earth of Miles with Ben and Jess. Eventually, when the man learned you were silently helping the kid and the ones who had left his side, he didn’t say anything. In the final moments, Miguel knew he had to side with the teenager and help to get rid of The Spot. And when the chaos was over, he wished he had the right to celebrate it with you.
The aftermath changed him, over the months, he even thanked you for trying to make him see the reality from the beginning, and he apologized. But that night, he understood that you had forgiven him, but remained hurt.
Either way, Miguel had to deal with the consequences of his acts and sort the way things would work for the sake of everyone’s canon. Yet, in the middle of the night, he constantly remembered you.
Out of nowhere, Miguel O’Hara was accepting that he missed you. And acknowledging that fact, only made him accept he had some feelings towards you. Which scared him for sure. But after losing his daughter, almost losing all he had built for spiders like him, after feeling so isolated, Miguel lounged to have a partner. He craved the love of someone. And had found it. He just wished he had done things differently.
Jessica knew Miguel so much that she easily solved the mystery. On a random Monday, she bombarded him with questions that soon made Miguel spit out he was attracted to you. She suggested the man slowly try to talk to you. Nothing was lost, there was hope. The woman had her theories about you never getting over that crush on Miguel. She often had caught you staring at him, staring too much for later to avoid him. Jess knew you were protecting your own heart.
“Miguel?” She asks.
So there he was, Miguel was sitting in the cafeteria, taking a big bite of his empanada de picadillo. He could taste the shredded beef, potato, carrot, jalapeños, and mushrooms freshly mixed with spices.
“Yes?…” The insides of the empanada are burning his tongue and he doesn’t mind.
“I asked if you assigned today’s missions?” He nods. With a quick glance at his surroundings, he huffs at the sight of the hamburger with the face of his mask still being served. The cafeteria is full and he hates all of the voices speaking at the same time. He has to wear sunglasses because the place is full of light, and it hurts his eyes. Why is everyone still eating a hamburger with his mask on the bun?
“Are we lunching here because perhaps you want to see when a certain female spider appears?” Miguel rolls his eyes. Some days, he loves Jess and knows about his feelings for you because she grants him free therapy. But other days, he hated it because Jess knew how to mess with him. Like now…
“Oh…Hi y/n!” Miguel looks at Jess panicked, but soon feels relived that his sunglasses are dark enough to cover his blown wide eyes. You appeared there. Upside down, of course, Miguel notices how your hair hangs freely, and he isn’t sure if it’s longer, or it’s just the gravity.
“Hey, Jess. I just came to drop this file with Miguel. Lyla said he wasn’t in his office” You say calm. He notices you have your mask on, but you’re definitely not looking at him. He takes the folder from your hand and stays there looking at you. You seem awkward but remain relaxed.
“That’s from my morning patrol, you asked for a report. I’m leaving with Hobbie and Pav now…” you add. And you can see how Jess keeps glancing back and forth between you and Miguel. Was she hiding something from you?.
“Okay… guess I’m leaving now…” you only sigh when no one answers.
“Get back safe, please,” Jess says as you are already far away from them.
“Thanks” you answer without looking back. Soon you open a portal at the entrance of the cafeteria and you’re gone. That’s when Jess comes back to her friend, side-eyeing him.
“Really? You couldn’t even say ‘thank you” or “good luck”?” Miguel sighs, dropping his empanada and relaxing his shoulders. He knew he had to say things to you to get back to normal.
“I know… I just… I don’t know how to start this” Jess smiled. In the end, even when Miguel was a 6’9 tall man with the title of founder of the Spider Society and creator of the Gizmo, he was a silent and certified emotion avoider.
“She forgave you for last summer and all. But this is now, she’s also awkward about you. She’s also unsure if you want to talk to her…” Miguel leaned closer, interested and equally anxious.
“She said that?” Jess shrugged while taking a bite of her French fries.
“It came out very vaguely. But for sure she’s also a mess for you”
“What? Did she also say that?” Jess giggles at him, only sipping from her soda.
“Maybe you could start sending flowers or letters, Romeo” Miguel huffs, wondering if his friend actually knew something or not.
Jess wanted to lock you two in a room and hopefully, when she opened the door, Spiderman 2099 would have a prospective lover.
…
With another college semester ended and a driving anxiety, summer was a relaxing time for you to spend in your room. Painting your toenails, you were singing at your CD player playing one of your favorite songs. Your family was gone, so you could be letting your feet dry walking upside down in your ceiling. Suddenly, your gizmo beeped and it was a deleted message from Miguel. You frowned and almost screamed. Probably he sent something to you by accident and then he deleted it. But you had an omen. So you called Jess, she answered with a long and mean “what?”, she must’ve been watching some movie with her husband.
“Miguel sent me a message and proceeded to delete it before I could read it?” You didn't mean to sound so fast and desperate, but you did.
“Slow down, girl. But… he deleted it?” Actually, she had been sleeping, her toddler being a little bolt that demanded a lot of her time even with her husband there.
“Exactly… Odd, Right?”
“Coming from Miguel? Sure it is. But… I think it’s time you try to talk to him too, y/n. Maybe he’s awkward about what happened last summer and doesn’t know how to approach you” Jess wants to scream that Miguel likes you too, but she can’t ruin it.
“ I feel like Miguel doesn’t even care I distanced myself from him. But when I see him, my heart starts beating so fast, and my hands sweat.” She laughs and lets out a long “eww”.
“You hide it very well. But you’re very cold, it doesn’t help. I have to admit you also might need to try….”
“Jess, I’d end up bursting out that I’m in lo-“You immediately stop, Jess lets out a surprised groan.
“MISS Y/N, YOU LOVE HIM?”
“Goodnight, Jessica” You go straight to bed, ignoring the deleted message and everything regarding Miguel.
But Jess and her questions keep popping up in your head.
Could it be possible that you were actually in love with Miguel?
…
“So my teacher said my essay was lacking everything, it was marked with red all over,” Miles says walking beside you, both of you are done for the day with the missions. You were almost infected by some poisonous lizard that was haunting earth-2407.
“Did you actually make the corrections?”
“I did-“ you side-eye him.
“Well, not all of them but-“ you two are just walking around with no destination secured. So when you two pass by the training center, Miles literally pushes you towards the stairs that lead to the balcony of said center. He gestures to you to keep hushed before turning to see the couple speaking; Miguel and Jess.
“We shouldn’t be hearing them” you remind him, not wanting to get caught, especially by Miguel.
“Jess banned me from the 10th floor because I was disturbing everyone. Gwen was with me and she received no punishment, bro” the teenager whispered. At sixteen, Miles had grown impossibly taller, almost like Peter B. Parker and Noir. Even Gwen was taller, everyone was taller. But at least you weren’t the same height as Penny or Peter Porker.
“Maybe because Jess is training her yet?”
“So? That’s nepotism” You want to laugh but he shushes you again. So you turn to see Miguel and Jess training.
The man was extremely sweating and Jess too. You never reached the same level of training simulations as them, thinking it was unnecessarily violent and fast-paced.
“Keep Gwen and Miles out of my lair. I’m tired of catching them trying to make new suits from themselves”
“They don’t even know how to work the machine, relax” the woman bites back.
“So? It’s annoying”
“It’s also annoying that I have Lego Spiderman and y/n printing random pictures at my office” The mention of your name makes you blush, remembering the print of Peter B. Parker with a big red font saying “Have you seen this man in your dreams?” It was very funny among the coworkers and every time Peter saw it, he would start complaining from all the bullying he had to endure.
“Don’t get y/n on this. I can’t even stand her now” You swear you can feel your heart shattering. Miles turns to look at you, encountering your sad expression.
“Y/n…” the boy tries to soothe you, but you just shake your head.
“I think I’m going home, Miles” you whisper to him, leaving soon after.
Your eyes water as you walk away from the training center, many fellows stare confused at your sadness. But you ignore them as you open a portal towards home.
And when you are in the safety of your earth, you are not ready to go to your pillow to cry. So you start swinging between skyscrapers and buildings just to clear off your mind.
You knew it was a mistake from the beginning to start developing feelings for Miguel O’Hara. Then he invited you to that damn date. Such a fun day till he had to yell in your face that you were privileged and shouldn’t be stupid ignorant. Now he seemed to have left the issue behind, after his apology. And you forgave him, even letting your feelings for him float around. But if he didn’t want you back at the society? Why did he call? Why did he offer the gizmo again?
He was an asshole.
Meanwhile, Miles stayed a little longer, hearing more of the conversation.
“Just tell y/n to stop using my printer” Jess pleaded.
“Nah, I won’t tell her,” Miguel says smirking. The woman training with him rolls her eyes annoyed.
“Just because she’s your impossible crush doesn’t mean she can have the privilege to print stupid things at my place” Miles gasped, thinking what Jess said was a joke.
“You can use my printer, so I don’t have to say anything to my girl,” Miguel said and Miles was officially shocked. He had to tell you everything the next day.
…
Two days later, the overheard talk is somehow forgotten. Miles tries to mention it occasionally but you brush him off. You have your head centered on Mayday, the two-year-old toddler walking beside you across the hallways of the Spider Society. Peter completely trusted you to leave his child with your babysitting.
“Where did you leave your ribbon, Mayday?” The little girl giggles. She has a dress of flowers and sneakers, making her look very adorable with her long disheveled hair.
“Don’t know” she babbles. Peter would be mad since it was the third pair being lost in the week.
Mayday clumsily waddles, giggling as you keep searching around for that ribbon. Even though the floors are mysteriously always clean and shiny, you can’t see the damn ribbon.
When you walk slightly away from the little girl to look down on a bench, you hear a little yelp from her and when you turn back, you see Mayday on the floor and then she starts crying.
“Oh fuck me…” you whisper, running to grab the kid and start calming her. You carry her in your arms as you sit on the bench.
“It’s okay, Mayday. It was only a little slip, but you are okay” She starts hearing your voice and her cries turn to sniffles, feeling protected when you hug her and gently brush her hair.
“Daddy won’t like looking at you crying. He wants to see you laughing and happy. You are fine, see?” The kid nods brushing away the tears.
“Now give me a smile. You were very brave!” mayday smiles brightly and you chuckle.
“That’s the Mayday I know!” The kid laughs at your way of entertaining her. When you turn towards the hallway to see if Peter is back, you almost drop Mayday again.
Miguel was there, looking at the interaction.
“I found the ribbon,” he says walking towards you and the girl. His expression is very neutral, and you can’t see the way Miguel’s hand is shaking slightly.
“Miguel!” Mayday greets the tall man with a smile, asking him to be in his arms. They both had grown closer. After all, Miguel had been around Mayday since she was born. You appeared when Mayday was 10 months old.
“Hey, kid” you let him take the girl, then you accept the ribbon from his free hand. You barely touch him but your lungs are dry and your stomach is a mess like a powerful tsunami. Nonetheless, your face shows the contrary.
“Thanks. Peter was growing annoyed by how many ribbons this little girl had missed.”
“I know. And you handled very well the situation back there…” he admits, recalling the little slip of Mayday. Miguel sees a little blush in your face, it lights up his hopes.
“Thanks…” you awkwardly say, standing up to try to reach the little girl.
Miguel leans slightly to let you tie the ribbon on Mayday’s hair and he’s able to smell your perfume of figs and brown sugar. He also sees the little golden seashell pendant hanging on your necklace. He smiles when he realizes you are avoiding his gaze. And when you’re done, both stare at each other, with many questions, but silence reigns. Both of your hearts racing with a tormented passion.
“Y/n… I feel like we need to talk about-“
Miguel grows quiet when Peter appears running in the middle of the hallway.
You don’t even catch what he said, you turn relieved to see Peter was back.
“Oh boy, we are late for her passport appointment. M.J.’s gonna kill me” You giggle at his drama. Miguel is still there behind you, he rolls his eyes making Mayday laugh.
“She will understand. And thanks for the ribbon, Miguel” The little girl is back in his father’s arms and you quickly start following them, too nervous to stay with Miguel alone.
The man just stays there seeing how you leave, and he sighs, taking a long breath. His intentions are not enough. His little efforts are nothing to reach you, it makes the craving he feels to be corresponded by you even bigger.
As for you, you feel a great heartache. Half of you feel very nervous, because it seems like some days Miguel wants to talk to you, and other days he wants to say he’s tired of you. What a confusing and fucked up situation.
…
He gives two steps forward, like five steps back. Miguel is standing at the entrance of the terrace in the building of the Spider Society, debating whether to go and talk to you or not. He even prepared a few things to say, hoping to not scare you away, more than you already were. While he knew he couldn’t just scream out he was in love with you, he could try to mend the breach built between you two.
It’s getting late in Earth-928, and a lot of spiders are leaving their home. It’s Saturday and a lot of them have plans with their families, partners, and friends. Miguel is set to have another lonely weekend doing some patrol. But for now, he’s still there, watching you seated on the rooftop of the building, eating some chicken and avocado tacos from the cafeteria. Miguel wants to laugh when he catches a glimpse of some avocado dropping from your taco. You set the plate aside and look down, letting out a little “yikes”, Heaven knows what or who would end up getting a piece of avocado from the sky.
He’s not ready. Miguel curses himself for being a big overthinker. He’s able to fight the most callous and evil villains from different dimensions. But he’s unable to say “Sorry, I was an asshole. Can we try it again?… Oh, and I love you”. Perhaps it was his anxiety or panic, but Miguel swears his gizmo beeped, so he walks away, going down the stairs, feeling his heartbeats returned to normality.
Each step he takes is filled with greetings, comments, warnings, notices, and more from different spiders. He sends spider plushie and Penny to work in a minor anomaly and finally, he closes the door of his office.
There’s a mess of papers around. Miguel suddenly remembers someone… Gabriella. He’s happy that his trauma is slowly fading away. He was officially healing and had accepted his daughter had also forgiven him. Miguel could rest knowing his errors were sealed.
And just as he was about to play some of the recorded memories he had, Lyla appeared.
“The whole gang is coming” she blurted out with her usual cocky smile.
“Tell them I’m busy, Lyla”
“But they’re already here” The AI had a new pair of fucsia heart sunglasses and coat. Which seemed to have made her more stubborn. Miguel sighed, turning off his monitors.
“MIGUEL!” the man heard the annoying voice of Peter B. Parker and sighed. When he turned around, he saw the whole club; Peter without Mayday, Hobie, Pav, Margo, Miles and Gwen.
“What is it now?” he looks down at them from his platform and is already irritated by their presence. Even after a year of changes, they were a group of teenagers and Peter.
“Well… uh-“ Gwen starts, but soon pushes Peter forward, encouraging him to speak up instead of her.
“Uh… Miguel, we know you hate us for wandering about your private life and we respect it. But we feel like you need to talk to y/n about her position here.” As Peter talks, he has Miguel’s whole attention.
“And why is that?” He sounds reluctant, but he grows anxious.
“She said she doesn’t feel the same as it was when she was recruited. That you confuse her with your behavior towards her” Margo answers for Peter, with a better choice of words, of course.
“As the leader of this team, we just want you to remind her that she’s welcome and that you want her here. Because you want her here, right?” Peter adds, Miguel crosses his arms.
He needs you, actually.
“I’m not sure I’m the most adequate person to tell her that,” Miguel replies.
“Oh, you have to be kidding. She heard you and Jess. At the training center…” Gwen speaks again, Miguel is shocked, even terrified of you hearing you were his girl.
“How much?” Miguel asks with that well-known tone of anger and fully intentional intimidation.
“Well…” Peter said.
“HOW MUCH?, POR DIOS!” Miguel yelled exasperated.
“She left when you said you couldn’t stand her,” Miles confirmed to him, making him sigh. Trying to get you back was only getting trickier than expected.
“Yeah… I don’t think chicks want to be neglected twice” Hobie speaks for the first time, mocking Miguel.
“Hobbie, not helping here” Margo scolds him whispering.
“At least I’m trying to pull one out” Miguel fires back making everyone bite their tongue to avoid laughing. Because Hobbie Brown didn’t have the best history search with girls.
“Hey no, stop. The point here is that you need to talk to her. I accidentally heard everything” Miles speaks up, walking forward toward Miguel.
The man only pinches the bridge of his nose, cringed that the teenager had to listen.
“I’m pretty sure she feels something too” Miguel hated that Miles had to be a wise kid, frequently reminding him of his errors and making him realize there were always other options.
“She must hate me.”
“No, y/n just needs to know how you actually feel” Gwen encouraged him, and unconsciously, Miguel was being pulled towards the exit.
“I couldn’t speak to M.J. for a very long time after we divorced. And I had nothing to lose, I just knocked on her door with some flowers. Look at us now… y/n will know too” Miguel thought Peter could be the goofiest man he ever met, but he was his friend. So maybe he could accept his advice.
“Va pues, don’t know why I’m listening to all of you” huffing, Miguel and the group were out, except for Hobbie, who stayed behind stealing things from Migue’s lair.
…
When you open your door, you gasp shocked. Miguel is there, he’s wearing a sweater that fits him a little too tight but nice, dress pants, and tied shoes. You rarely saw him without his suit. But that isn’t all, he has a pretty bouquet of lilies in his hand.
“I’m sorry.” He says and you are already making a pout.
“Miguel…”
“Let me finish, please.” He interrupts you, so you nod, stepping out of your place.
“I’ve made some mistakes, but as the son of a mother and… and-“ you start giggling and Miguel is red like a tomato.
“Let me guess… Peter gave you a speech to say to me?” Miguel tilts his head.
“Yes and… I-… mierda. See, I’m sorry, I don’t want you to leave the Spider Society. I need you. And I still feel guilty for last summer. But if you give me another chance… I swear that I will give you more than I take away” You nod, smiling. Miguel sighs relieved. To his surprise, you grabbed him by the sweater and pushed him towards you to give him a big kiss on the lips. He reciprocates immediately, smiling in between.
“I’m in love with you” he admits, his forehead kissing yours.
“I’m in love with you too, Miguel” As both of you kiss again, chants and applauses start. When you step away from Miguel, you see your friends there, passing past you and Miguel to step inside your home.
You are extremely confused.
“We were here the whole time, FYI,” Margo says as Miles, Gwen, Pav, and Noir pat your back and step inside.
“I’m so happy for you both. I can’t wait to have a double date. You two, M.J. and I” Miguel rolls his eyes at Peter.
“What did I miss?” You ask Miguel. Not that you mind that your friends literally invaded your home, but it was just weird.
“They wanted to help me”
“Aww, we have such good friends,” you say smiling.
“They’re not my friends. I just tolerate them” he is lying of course. You grab his hand, your cocky smile making him feel so happy. He’s still processing what just happened, he can’t believe he officially got you back.
“Oh shut up, of course, they are our friends”
“What about you and I?, Are we more than friends?” You blush at his questions. He grabs you by the waist to prevent you from going inside the house.
“Not so fast, bonita”
“I don’t know. But I’m eager to be your lover”
Now Miguel was turn to get blushed.
_______________________________
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara imagine#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara x reader#atsv x reader
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The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known
Or: Does Morpheus really have commitment issues?
[Bear with me, I’ll get to this panel 🤣]
I’ve read many times that Morpheus supposedly has commitment issues, and it always has me scratching my head a bit…
I personally rather think he is desperate to commit. He so badly craves a serious relationship that he is prone to rush into it and build it on wonky foundations, but he has certainly no commitment issues as we would commonly understand them.
Is it in his nature though to be truly seen and understood when he is [a] Dream? And can dreams ever last? These are the much more interesting questions in my view. Let’s have a look at the romantic relationships we know of…
Killalla: Walked out on him. That wasn’t his lack of commitment. If anything, he came on a bit strong while she was still assessing her feelings for him.
Alianora: He fully committed to her despite basically being bullied into it by Desire. And they were happy for “a goodly while”. For those in doubt: “Goodly” doesn’t mean “a bit”. It means “great, large, long.” And the fact that Alianora couldn’t go back to her own plane because she had stayed in the Dreaming too long corroborates that they were together for a long time. Probably longer than any human relationship ever lasts, because I doubt “a long time” means “a couple of years” for someone who is 12 billion years old.
And now I’ll sandwich the relationship we hardly know anything about between some random (?) panels to also make a point why I think it might sit here in the timeline…
Titania: Who knows. Sounded like an affair, and as if they both had no intention of committing. He was clearly very fond of her though, and I can never shake the feeling that we should look a bit deeper into AMND and find the parallels between Auberon, Titania (not hard, and they are pretty much pictured as estranged) and Bottom. There are many ways to get confused with a jackass, you know? 🤣 Plus, Bottom is the one who gets to play Pyramus in “Pyramus and Thisbe”. That’s the ultimate blueprint for “Romeo and Juliet”: Ill-fated love of catastrophic proportions, people are dead by the end of it. That’s why I often wondered if the affair with Titania was actually pre-Nada, and the inspiration for Shakespeare wasn’t random (it wasn’t random for The Tempest either). I mean, it wasn’t random anyway because it was a parting gift, but I also don’t think it was entirely random with regard to their relationship. Wild head-canon of course, but maybe not that wild (he also says that Wendel’s Mound was already a theatre before humans walked the earth, so there’s that)? And even if he wasn’t committed (we quite frankly don’t know if he intended to but she didn’t or couldn’t), she and the Fae meant enough to him to give them a play as a parting gift.
Nada: Killed herself after one night, but that wasn’t down to lack of commitment on his part. Again: If anything, he came on far too strong, wanted to be with her and was far too pushy about it.
Calliope: We don’t know how long they were together before they had Orpheus. Could have been a while, could have been only a shortish time. But even if we assumed they had him fairly quickly—they were still together when Orpheus, who was mortal, got married to Eurydice, so even if he got married young, we’re still talking something in the realm of +/- 20 years, and that’s the absolute low-ball-estimate. And while they had started to drift apart (considering what we know from Calliope), they were still on good terms and had no intention of splitting up until the whole Orpheus drama caused a rift they couldn’t mend. Again: That’s not someone who has commitment issues. It’s a relationship breaking down over hurt, stubbornness and grief.
Thessaly: Again, she was the one who left him and caused his dramatic interlude in the rain. Were they ill suited? Yes. Did she feel neglected and went into a strop over it? Yes. Did he not get that she felt neglected? Also yes, but that’s not lack of commitment. That’s his not getting that people aren’t mind readers (must be hard if you’re probably one yourself 🤣) and, by and large, need assurances of love. He doesn’t get that these women don’t understand they have his love; he can’t grasp that line of thinking because it is all so clear to him when he loves someone: They have him, what’s the issue? Is that a not so great way of (not) communicating when you’re having a relationship to someone? Absolutely. Is it a commitment issue though? Absolutely not.
I think Morpheus doesn’t really have commitment issues in romantic relationships—wouldn’t that almost be antithetical to his nature? Rules and responsibilities. Yeah, about that one…
What I do think is that he struggles with the mortifying ordeal of being (not) known by his lovers. Because how could he? He is Dream. That is his problem. Dreams cannot be fully known or understood. He is very eloquent but at the same time a very… confusing communicator. I don’t want to say “bad”, because I feel that’s not getting to the bottom of it. Again, it is the nature of dreams to be confusing and strange, open to (mis)interpretation, hard to grasp and understand. And they also stop being dreams once they become real. All of that is true and hence makes relationships both hard for him and those involved. Is he truly not willing to commit though?
I still find that hard to believe…
#the sandman#sandman#dream of the endless#morpheus#sandman meta#calliope sandman#nada sandman#Alianora sandman#Thessaly#Titania sandman#Killalla of the glow#sandman bookclub#a midsummer night's dream#alianora#calliope#queue
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WHAT A COINCIDENCE!
pairing: idol!wooyoung x female!reader
word count: 1.4k
warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of sex but not really, making out, condoms, pregnancy test, fluff
a/n 💌: the way I said I would post this like last week 😅🔫
now playing 🎧 supernatural by ariana grande
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
You and Wooyoung exchange puzzled looks as you both step into the dance studio. All the members are already there, and they give you both curious glances as you walk in.
"Is everything alright?" you ask, feeling perplexed by their suspicious expressions.
"We should be asking you that," Hongjoong responds with a hint of mystery in his voice.
"What do you mean?" Wooyoung sets down his dance bag and joins the rest of the members. Just as the tension in the room escalates, their backup dancers burst in, ready to learn a new choreography.
"We'll talk about it later," Seonghwa says with a slight smirk.
You shoot Wooyoung a confused look and step aside to observe them dance. Wooyoung always insists on having you there, claiming you're his good luck charm, but you know he just wants to impress you. Nonetheless, you enjoy watching him do what he loves.
As their practice draws to a close, you find yourself feeling a bit uneasy. What did the members need to talk to you and Wooyoung about? Before you can dwell on it further, Wooyoung collapses next to you on the floor and reaches out his arm dramatically as if he's about to faint. You chuckle and reach into your backpack for a water bottle to give him as everyone leaves except Wooyoung and his members.
"My girl is the best," Wooyoung sighs as he sits up to gulp down the water. You can't help but notice a few water droplets trickling down his pretty neck.
"Are you pregnant?" Mingi's sudden question catches both of you off guard, the words hanging in the air like a shocking revelation. Wooyoung's eyes widen, and he starts choking on his water. You quickly stand up and pat him on the back before turning to face the members, your mind reeling with disbelief.
"No! Why would you think that?" you ask in disbelief. The boys exchange glances before looking at Hongjoong, who seems to be hiding something behind his back.
"This fell out of your purse yesterday while you were here..." Wooyoung nearly faints when he sees Hongjoong pull out a pregnancy test. The room falls silent, the tension palpable, as everyone waits for an explanation.
"I can explain," you hastily interject before Wooyoung jumps to conclusions.
"Is that yours? But we've never..." You quickly cover his mouth before he says anything.
"Never what?" Yeosang asks, genuinely confused.
"Had se-" Yunho is quick to cover Mingi's mouth. Yeosang now regrets his life decisions.
Jongho looks at you, puzzled. "Then why do you have a pregnancy test?" he asks.
You took a deep breath before responding, knowing that this was supposed to be a secret. "A female staff member asked me to do her a favor and get her a pregnancy test. She seemed really scared, and I felt bad for her, so I agreed to help. She gave me the money, and I bought it for her. Just to clarify, I am not pregnant, nor do I have any intention of getting pregnant," you explained, hoping to ease the tension. Wooyoung frowned at your words, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and disappointment, but decided to stay silent for the moment. The others nodded slowly as if they were processing your words.
Right on cue, the female staff member walked in nervously, her eyes darting around the room. You discreetly took the pregnancy test from Hongjoong and handed it to her with a polite smile. The members, their curiosity piqued, stay silent out of respect, their eyes staying on the ground.
"Can we go now?" you ask, nodding toward the dance studio door.
"Yes, let's head out," Wooyoung responds, reaching for his black bag in the corner. The rest of the boys also gather their belongings, preparing to shower and unwind for the day.
"Wooyoung, do you have an extra water bottle?" San asks as he notices two spare water bottles in Wooyoung's open bag.
"No, I don't," Wooyoung replies playfully.
"Come on, just one, please," San pleads, tugging at one strap of his open bag while Wooyoung holds onto the other. They engage in a playful tug-of-war over the water bottles. Everything seems to go in slow motion as the bag falls, and a bunch of condoms appear on the floor. You are the first to cover your mouth in surprise. Half the members burst out laughing while the others stood there in shock.
"Liars! You're pregnant," Mingi accuses, pointing toward you and Wooyoung back and forth.
"I swear those are not mine," Wooyoung panics, "Baby, I swear, those are not mine," he says, facing you. You are still in shock with a hand over your mouth. A pregnancy test? Condoms? This looks so wrong.
"Wow, you guys are freaks," San laughs after picking up a condom and reading the size.
"At least they're using protection," Seonghwa shrugs. You are about to explain the misunderstanding before one of the backup dancers walks in.
"Wooyoung, I think I took your bag by accident," the backup dancer explains with a chuckle. He does not seem the least bit bothered that his condoms are on the floor. Wooyoung is quick to exchange the bags and lets out a sigh of relief when he leaves.
"See? I told you they weren't mine," Wooyoung explains, with a look of relief on his face. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you take a moment to let the tension drain away.
"Things keep getting weirder and weirder," Yeosang sighs, his brow furrowed as he exits the dance studio. As the other members follow Yeosang out, it's just you and Wooyoung left in the room.
"Wow, what a crazy coincidence," you say, trying to infuse some humor into the situation as you let out a nervous laugh and a sigh of relief.
"Yeah... who would have thought," Wooyoung says, his brow still slightly furrowed in contemplation.
"Is everything okay?" you ask, with a tinge of worry in your voice. You hope he doesn't think you're being dishonest. The thought of him doubting you is unbearable.
"Can I ask you something?" Wooyoung hesitates before speaking. "Do you not want to have kids?"
"Um, well, not right now," you reply, caught off guard by the sudden turn in the conversation. You'd never really considered it until now. Before meeting Wooyoung, you hadn't pictured yourself having children, but his kind and compassionate nature has made you reconsider everything. Your sweet, sweet Wooyoung. His heart is so big.
"So, you do want kids?" Wooyoung's eyes light up with hope. He's worried about pushing you too hard, but he's relieved to hear your answer.
"Yeah, I think I do. Especially if you're the dad," you say with a shy grin, gently nudging him. He chuckles warmly and takes hold of your hand.
"It would be an honor to be the father of our kids," he says with a genuine smile.
Your heart swells with joy. "Our kids," you say softly.
"Let's head out, pretty," Wooyoung says, planting a soft kiss on your cheek before guiding you out of the room.
As you both drive to his dorm, the two of you excitedly discuss potential baby names, playfully teasing each other along the way. When you arrive at the dorm, the other members are all gathered in front of the TV, engrossed in a soccer game. Wooyoung quickly freshens up and joins them, and you decide to relax and watch Netflix in his room.
An hour later, Wooyoung enters the room and closes the door behind him. He immediately collapses on top of you, causing you to let out a surprised yelp before embracing him.
"I missed you already," Wooyoung whines, squeezing you tightly.
"It's only been an hour," you laugh, feeling grateful for his affection.
"Too long," Wooyoung mumbles, unwilling to let go as he holds you close.
"I can totally picture our future kids being just as affectionate as you," you tease, playfully poking the dot on his lips.
"You think?" Wooyoung giggles, adjusting his position on top of you to catch your gaze.
"Absolutely," you nod and smile up at him. He looks into your eyes for a second before he starts making out with you. You quickly pull away from your compromising position when someone opens the door.
"Mingi, you have terrible timing!" you exclaim as Mingi jokingly yells, "Liars!" before quickly closing the door.
Feeling a little flustered, you seek refuge in Wooyoung's embrace, burying your face in his chest. Wooyoung laughs with you, resting his forehead against yours.
"Should we start making babies now," Wooyoung suggests playfully while wiggling his eyebrows.
"Shut up," you laugh and push him off you (out of love).
You've never felt so happy.
🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷
#wooyoung x reader#wooyoung#wooyoung ateez#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#ateez oneshot#ateez wooyoung#wooyoung x y/n#wooyoung x you
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Keep Moving Forwards, Part 23
Azriel x Reader Fic
Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.
Find other parts here: Master List
To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.
Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.
Word Count: 5K
Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.
Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.
Wandering through the forest in the Night Court in the middle of winter was most certainly not the best idea. As the two of you continued deeper into the woods, you felt the chill of the winter air sinking into your wet clothes, making it feel as though the fabric was melding with your skin. Your teeth clacked together wildly as you trudged up the hill, your toes frozen in your boots, and your hair essentially freezing into place as you sniffled.
With your limbs stiff from the cold, every step felt like you were tripping over yourself. Branches snagged at your feet, you misstepped into holes, and your knees buckled beneath you. Though you caught yourself each time, the knees of your pants were now thoroughly muddy.
Caelum pushed forward ahead, only a few paces in front of you, occasionally looking back to ensure you hadn’t run off or tried to hide. He didn't say anything, and for that, you were grateful. He must have been cold too, and his footing was less sure, but he kept silent about it.
Before either of you spoke, the sun began to set, and Caelum started scrutinizing the surrounding areas more intently. The temperature continued to drop, and soon, even taking steps hurt more than you could bear. "Caelum," you called up to your mate, who was still trampling through the undergrowth. He didn’t turn back. "Caelum!" you shouted more firmly. He finally stopped and glanced over his shoulder at you. "We need to stop and get warm." Your voice was hoarse, as though the chill had permeated your vocal cords.
“I know,” he shot back and continued forward. You didn’t follow, standing there shivering. When he didn’t hear your footsteps, he turned and looked back at you. “Come on,” he ordered.
“No,” you said back.
Caelum growled, “You going to stand out here and freeze?”
You stared back at him, “I want to stop now.”
Caelum brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “We can’t stop out in the open. If we make a fire, anyone can see the smoke from the city.”
“I don’t care,” you shot back.
Caelum glared at you. “You want me to go to prison?”
“I don’t care what happens to you.”
You could see Caelum’s jaw locking and his blood beginning to boil as his stare hardened. Then he released it with a sigh. “There’s a cave somewhere near here. We can stop there. Make a fire.” He turned around and began walking again. You didn’t move. He turned back, staring down the hill at you, “So you’re just going to freeze to death down there?”
You weighed your options. Freezing to death didn’t sound that bad, given whom you would be spending the evening with, but Titania would have alerted someone by now, or at least you hoped. And Kai would be at a healer. If you had any chance of seeing him again, you would have to make concessions.
With a deep breath, you began trudging up the hill, following Caelum into the growing darkness of the forest. The thought of warmth, however fleeting, propelled you forward, step by agonizing step.
Caelum continued silently in front of you, the only sounds besides your footsteps were the occasional sniffling and the crunch of ice beneath your boots. The winter sky faded from pinks to purples as the shadows elongated into the coming night. Finally, after what felt like hours, you arrived at the mouth of a cave. Caelum picked up a large stone and hurled it into the darkness, listening intently as the sound echoed off the stone walls and floor. When no additional noises followed, Caelum turned to you. “Grab some firewood.”
The two of you turned back to the forest and began collecting dry branches and brush, carrying them back to the cave. Caelum picked up one of the longer branches and used his hunting knife to peel back some bark, pressing it into the sap leaking from a nearby pine. He wrapped torn cloth around the end and set it alight using two rocks. When he stood, the torch blazed, and he took a few steps into the cave.
The cave sloped downwards, with loose stones lining the floor, descending for what seemed like forever. Caelum looked back at you, motioning with his head and a grunt for you to carry the collected wood behind him. Scowling at him, you picked up the wood anyway. Caelum stepped further in, the torch illuminating only a bit of the wall and ceiling. Once you were a yard into the cave, Caelum ordered you to drop the wood. It fell with a loud clatter, and you stared at him, crossing your arms.
“Charming,” he said.
You planted yourself on the rocks, still shivering, as Caelum moved some stones to create a small pit and set to work lighting the fire. You curled your knees to your chest, trying to retain body heat, but your whole body shook with chills. Once the fire started, you felt the tantalizing licks of warmth. Caelum warmed his hands by the fire, then stood and began removing his wet clothing. He placed a large branch between two stones, hanging his shirt and pants to dry, then turned to you. You tried not to look at him, at his nakedness, as he stood with so much confidence.
“Well?” he asked. You didn’t respond. “You going to get dry?” He continued. You flicked your eyes up to his face, which had a sneer plastered on it. “You know if you keep those wet clothes on, you’re going to freeze.”
You looked to the fire, its warmth barely touching the parts of you still clothed. As much as you hated his existence, he knew how to survive in the wild and had taught you as much. “Turn around,” you instructed.
Caelum scoffed and rolled his eyes, still facing you. “Turn. Around,” you repeated.
“You really expect me to turn around? We’ve spent the last century together, at least a year of it naked around each other.”
“Turn. Around.”
“Oh, what? Suddenly you’re shy? Seems like you’re more than happy to open your legs for anyone these days. I don’t see why they get to have all the fun.” You swallowed down the angry remark boiling beneath you, staring back at him. “If you won’t take off your clothes yourself, I’ll come over and do it for you,” he threatened.
Knowing he would have no issue ripping your clothes off, you hesitated. He took a step forward, and you immediately reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it off. “Good,” he said, turning back to the fire.
You felt disgusting. Every inch of exposed skin felt dirty as you pulled off the damp cloth from your body. You stripped down to nothing, standing with aching joints from the cold. As you moved closer to the fire to hang your clothes, warmth radiated up your legs and back, and you hungered for more. You sat next to the fire, drawing your legs to your chest, covering yourself from Caelum’s inspecting gaze.
“You have some new scars,” he noted. You didn’t respond. “Pretty nasty one on your side there. Was that from the fall?”
The fire crackled in front of you as you stared into it, the smoke leisurely floating out of the cave, hopefully signaling your presence.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. You still didn’t turn to him. “I’m sorry it all had to happen like this.” A crack of wood snapping in the fire. “If it had been up to me, we would have walked out of that front gate with my pack.” He paused, waiting for your response, then continued, “I even packed you some extra clothes and that blanket you love.”
The red and black quilt you had made during your first winter together, lined with the expensive fleece Caelum had given you as a solstice gift. Knowing it was left behind meant one less piece of comfort for you to return to.
“I had it all planned out,” Caelum continued, his voice smooth and calculated. “I was going to find you in the city, bring you flowers, or something.” The fire crackled, sending sparks into the air. “Then I’d ask you to take a walk with me, spend the day in the city, have a good time. And then you’d come home with me, and we’d travel back. Maybe even stop and see my family.”
You laughed lightly without realizing it.
“What?” Caelum asked, his eyes narrowing.
You raised your brows, still staring into the fire, shaking your head. “Nothing.”
“No, you laughed. Why did you laugh?” he demanded.
You rolled your eyes, pressing your chin into your knees.
“If you think this is so funny, care to enlighten me?” His voice turned stern.
You turned your gaze to him, bile rising in your throat at the sight of his face. “You’re a clueless bastard,” you spat.
He seemed taken aback, not used to your insults. His face hardened, then he took a breath. “Why is that?”
“You thought you could just show up, use that fake charm, and I’d come crawling back with you?” You shook your head. “Is that really what you thought would happen? Do you think I’m that easy?”
“Seems like it isn’t too hard to convince you of things these days,” he finally replied.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Raising his voice, Caelum spat back, “Do you know how hard it is to feel your mate lust after someone else? To smell another male on you and not want to rip them to shreds? Do you know how much self-control it took to not completely slaughter that kid?”
“You stabbed him! You would have killed him if you hadn’t gotten caught!” you screamed.
“Oh no, he’s definitely dead.” Caelum’s smile was sinister. “I stabbed him right in the heart, felt it pop when I crushed the artery.” He laughed. “I just wish I’d had the chance to rip his beating heart out.”
Your lip quivered, hot tears welling in your eyes as you pictured Kai bleeding out in the street, his eyes wide with fear.
“Oh,” Caelum said, tilting his head, “did that strike a chord?”
You gulped, your breath ragged.
“He deserved it. Fucking someone else’s mate,” Caelum said, nudging the fire with a stick, sending embers into the air.
“You are a cruel and foul male. I hope someday you choke on your own blood so you can taste the poison that runs in your veins,” you hissed. “I hope you feel every bit of pain you inflict on others. You’re a predator. You’re vile, evil, and incapable of love.”
Caelum looked at you. “You used to love looking at me,” he whispered. “I used to catch you staring when we were out in the field. You’d smile and look away when I looked back.”
“I was a child,” you shot back.
“No, you knew what you wanted. You’d follow me around all day in those woods. Watching me, hiding from me.” Caelum paused. “Do you remember when I taught you to swim?” Your jaw tightened. “When you found me by the lake, after I’d been out, and asked me to teach you?” Your jaw hardened. “You took off that dress my mother gave you and asked me to turn around, but when you caught me looking, you didn’t tell me to close my eyes. No, you put on a show. Then you got in the lake, walked over to me, and climbed onto my back while I took you out deeper. Do you remember that?”
You tried to push the memory from your mind—the feeling of Caelum’s warm skin, the smell of his hair as you pressed into his shoulder.
“I remember how you wouldn’t let go until I let you rest in front of me, with your arms around my neck while I taught you to float.” He continued, “And you just kept holding on, begging me to keep holding you.”
“Stop it,” you said.
But he didn’t. “You remember how we’d meet every day, even when we stopped swimming? And you still insisted we undress.”
“Stop,” you hissed again.
“See, you can pretend I trapped you or that you don’t love me. But I know deep inside, you’re still the Y/N who would’ve done anything to get me out of my clothes.”
“That isn’t love.”
Caelum's head tilted quizzically sideways. “And you would know what love is?” he asked, his voice laced with mockery. “Because it seems to me like you’ve never really known love before me. I mean, come on, your mother?”
“Don’t talk about her,” you threatened.
“She didn’t love you,” he continued, ignoring your warning. “She raised you in a whorehouse.”
You growled at him, but he pressed on. “You were conceived because someone paid her to fuck her and then she couldn’t even remember who it was because she fucked all the way up and down Velaris.”
“Shut up,” you hissed.
“And then she had you, and instead of raising you, she pawned you off on others while she fucked, and fucked, and fucked, and snorted shit off the street.”
“Stop!” you screamed over and over, but he wouldn’t stop.
“Even still, she didn’t give two shits about you. She left you in the fucking woods to die so she could go back to her old life.”
“Shut up!” you screamed, tears streaming down your cheeks.
“She didn’t fucking want you!” he screamed back, his chest heaving. You rocked back and forth, your ears covered under your palms as you cried. “She left you to die because she didn’t love you!” Caelum stared at you, his gaze intense. “You didn’t know love until you met me.”
You tried to block out his voice, but it seeped through. “You used to cry yourself to sleep every night, and I would come in and let you sleep on my chest until you fell asleep. Hours. I would spend hours doing that. Running my fingers over your back, holding you. And even after you fell asleep, I would stay until I knew you wouldn’t have nightmares.”
Caelum’s gaze was locked on you, unwavering. “Every time we’d go out hunting, I’d bring a bag to pick blackberries for you to bring back, even though every other male would give me shit for it. Because when I’d bring them home, you’d smile. I would do anything for that smile.” He ran his hand through his hair. “And when you wanted to live in a bigger cabin, a place for us, I didn’t ask any questions. I just started building. You know why?” He looked at you, though you didn’t respond. “Because I love you. I do all that shit because I love you so fucking much.” He shook his head, tears welling in his eyes as he pushed them away. “And the day that mating bond snapped, I just—I felt so lucky that someone as wonderful as you was made for me.”
You coughed back a sob, tears streaming down your cheeks and snot dripping over your lips.
“We were made for each other,” he said, scooting closer, the rocks under him tumbling deeper into the cave. “You make me better. Even now, this is all just a challenge to make me better.” As he moved closer, you thought about moving away, but every part of you felt trapped, encased in a war of emotions. He had taken you in with no questions. He had loved you, in however way he could. He tried to make your life better. And yet, you were disgusted by the way he touched you; your skin remembered the bruises he had caused, and the vile poison he spat at you.
But as he closed in on you, wrapping his arm around your shaking body, you felt defeated and did not push back. Caelum pulled you into him, your limbs heavy as he did. He grasped you under your bent legs and pulled you into his lap. The muscled strength of his legs and arms curled around you until he cradled you with his body, his chin resting on the crown of your head as he rocked back and forth with you. “We can make this better,” he whispered. “We’ll have a better life. And we’ll love one another the way we deserve.”
Had you any strength to push back, you would have, but your forehead ached, your shoulders felt as though you had been slammed into concrete, and your whole head swam with uncertainty, grief, anger, regret, yearning, fear, and denial. Nothing in you felt a glimmer of happiness or hope. Part of you wished that the cold would blow out that fire and kill you.
___________________________________________________
Caelum continued to hold you long into the night, staring into the fire while you, facing the mouth of the cave, silently prayed for rescue. But no one came. Neither of you slept. Caelum kept you pulled to him, your combined body heat maintaining a rather comfortable temperature. When the sky began to lighten with the early morning sun, Caelum finally placed you back onto the rocky ground and stood, stretching his muscular arms high above his head. You glanced up at him as he yawned, the sight of his unguarded moment almost surreal.
He checked the clothes nearby, seemingly satisfied with their level of dryness, and tossed yours to you across the fire. The clothes were less wet, but the slight damp made you shiver as you pulled them on. Caelum snuffed out the fire, covering the ashes with rocks to hide any trace you had been there. “Ready to go home?” he asked as you stood near the cave mouth, looking into the forest. You didn’t respond.
Caelum stepped out of the cave, looked up towards the sun to get his bearings, and then turned to walk through the woods. He had an innate sense of direction and, having been raised in a hunting group, he lacked no skills in wayfaring. The air was slightly warmer today, which would be helpful given the climb into the mountains. The morning passed with no conversation, not even Caelum filling the silence with his idle thoughts. You kept your gaze pointed to the ground, trying to get your bearings. As you hiked higher, the temperature began to drop steadily, and your legs ached more with each step up the mountainside.
Caelum didn’t falter in his pace, though you found yourself panting, cold biting wind slicing into your lungs. Finally, after hours of silence, Caelum called back, “There’s a village ahead a mile or so. We’ll stop there. Get some supplies.”
You knew that village; you had passed it on the way into Velaris with Kai and his father. You were only a half a day from your cottage in the woods and a full day from Caelum’s cabin. Knowing where you were, and how to get back to your own home, you felt a rising sense of bravery, quickly followed by dread. If you could get back to your own cabin, you would have the upper hand in knowing the lay of the land. If you could reach Kai’s village, you could find protection. But you would have to act quickly and in secret, and you would have to do it before you reached the next village.
Caelum hadn’t eaten in two days and hadn’t slept. He was bound to be slower, weaker. If he managed to refuel and get supplies, there would be no way you could escape with any chance of making it.
You continued trudging up the path, your mind racing with plans and contingencies. The forest around you was eerily quiet, the only sound the crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional snap of a twig. The cold air bit at your face, your breath visible in the crisp air. You glanced at Caelum, his back turned to you, his posture tense but determined. He was always so sure of himself, so confident in his abilities. But even he couldn’t ignore the exhaustion creeping into his bones. You had to use that to your advantage.
You stumbled slightly, your foot caught under a root, and you fell to the ground, landing heavily on your arms as you cried out in pain. Caelum whipped around. “Get up,” he ordered.
You pulled your foot up, wincing as you did so and pulled your pant leg up around your right ankle. “Something’s wrong,” you said, your voice laced with pain.
“We don’t have time for this, get up,” he insisted.
You tried to stand, shaking slightly, and yelping a bit as you put weight down on your leg, quickly faltering and landing back in the snow with a hiss. Caelum groaned and approached you as you slid onto your rear. He kneeled down in front of you, pulling the leg of your pant up slightly to investigate. You groaned, pushing him back slightly.
“I have to look at it,” he instructed. You looked at his face, tinged with concern, before you pushed your leg out to him. He pulled up your pant leg slightly. You harnessed any sense of strength you had left and pulled your knee up, slamming into his nose with a resounding crunch before kicking him back. He let out a yelp of pain before falling back.
You scrambled to your feet, kicking snow out behind you as you turned and took off into the woods. You could hear him groaning as he called out, “You bitch!” But the pounding in your ears almost drowned it out. You leapt through the woods, jumping over downed trees and skidding across frozen sections of leaves. Caelum wouldn’t be far behind, and the minutes you had to start ahead were invaluable. You hauled yourself over a series of boulders, your muscles straining as the rocks cut into your palms, scuttling your feet up as you crested them, and then jumped down the other side. You did your best to avoid snow patches—tracks were deadly.
You slid between a downed log, too tall to jump over, and pulled up on the other side, your entire left side caked in mud and refuse. You could hear Caelum calling out for you, trampling through the woods behind. He would follow your scent, and he had speed and footing you didn’t, but if he caught you, you didn’t want to consider what would happen next. The bare branches of the trees clawed at your face and clothes, leaving thin, stinging scratches on your exposed skin. Caelum moved with a terrifying combination of speed and power. Each of his strides covered twice the distance of yours, closing the gap with alarming swiftness.
Your mind raced as fast as your feet. You had to find a way to lose him, to outsmart him in these woods, which slowly grew more familiar. You veered sharply to the left, darting down a narrow path between heavily packed underbrush. The forest thickened, the trees growing closer together, their branches intertwining like skeletal fingers. You could hear Caelum’s breathing now, deep and steady, a stark contrast to your own ragged gasps.
You spotted a fallen log up ahead, half-buried in the snow. Desperation fueling you, you dove down behind it, pressing yourself parallel to it and flat against the icy ground. The cold seeped into your clothes, but you barely noticed, only focused on being silent and invisible.
The footsteps slowed, then stopped. You held your breath, every muscle tensed. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional creak of the trees in the wind. You could feel your mate’s presence, a looming shadow just beyond your sight.
Minutes passed like hours. Slowly, you dared to lift your head, peering over the edge of the log. The shadows, that seemed to move on their own, danced along the trees, but revealed nothing but the stark, empty forest. Had he gone? You stayed still a moment longer, straining your ears for any sign of movement.
Then, a whisper of a sound—a crunch of snow underfoot, far too close. Your heart seized in your chest. You bolted upright, abandoning any pretense of stealth. You ran, your legs pumping with a newfound energy born of sheer survival instinct.
You heard the crashing behind you, more frantic than before. Caelum was on your heels, his pace relentless. You could feel his presence like a weight bearing down on you and the trees became a blur as you tore through the forest, every ounce of your will focused solely on your escape.
In the distance, you saw the faint glimmer of a frozen stream. Hope flared within you. If you could reach it, follow it across, you’d be close to the cabin. You were unsure how you had made such good time, but perhaps by sheer will of survival you had crossed miles without realizing. You pushed harder, ignoring the raging burn in your muscles, the freezing air scraping your lungs.
When you reached the creek, your feet slid on the ice as you turned, sharply following its winding path. The cabin was just a few more bends, and you could see through the trees the rickety structure that seemed like a lifeline in the darkness. You sprinted towards it, though the footfalls behind you remained heavy.
As you rounded the bend, a large hand reached out and gripped you by the collar, slamming you into the ground, your head impacting with the ice as you screamed out. Caelum straddled you, as you struggled against him, the blood from his nose pouring down his face in a red stream. “You fucking bitch!” he screamed as he shook your shirt, your head slamming into the ice over and over again. You screamed out in pain, your hands beating against his chest as you tried to grip his face, but no matter how you tried, you couldn’t get a good grip. Caelum continued to bash you into the ice, and you were unable to tell if the cracking beneath was your skull or the ice. Your arm fell to one side as you inched your fingers towards a rock on the bank of the creek, digging your fingers under it and ripping it from its icy confines before bringing it up and smashing it against Caelum’s temple. He dropped your shirt as you slammed it into him again, pushing yourself from beneath him and sliding across the creek. But before you were out of arm's reach, he gripped your ankle and pulled you back. Your fingers tried to grip anything but the ice made it impossible to stop while he hauled you back, gripping you by the base of your hair at the root and hauling you up to face him. “You’re a fucking bitch!” he screamed in your face as he reared his hand up in a fist.
Suddenly, a shadow swooped down from the treetops, and before Caelum could react, a powerful force yanked him off of you, sending him sprawling onto the ice. Your mate scrambled to his feet, his eyes widening as he took in the sight before him.
Standing there was Azriel. Tall, muscular, in his full armor, with his broad bat-like wings stretching out behind him, shielding you. The wings almost seemed to shimmer as the light ran through them.
“That’s enough,” Azriel said, his voice calm but filled with undeniable authority.
Caelum sneered, wiping blood from his lip. “Who the hell are you?”
Azriel stepped forward slightly, his wings folding. “I’m the one who’s going to beat the shit out of you.”
With a roar, Caelum lunged at him, his fists swinging wildly. Azriel sidestepped him easily, his movements fluid and graceful. He countered with a swift punch to Caelum’s ribs, the impact sending a shockwave through your mate's body, and subsequently, a sharp pain down the bond.
Caelum staggered back, clutching his side. He was strong and brutal, but Azriel was faster, more precise—a warrior's calculation. Desperation fueled your mate's next attack. He charged again, throwing a punch aimed at Azriel’s head. This time, the warrior caught Caelum’s fist mid-swing, twisting his arm and forcing him to his knees.
Caelum growled in pain, and you winced as you felt your own arm light up in anguish. But before he could react further, Azriel lifted Caelum by his collar and threw him across the ice. Your mate slid, his back slamming into a tree at the edge of the creek. He lay there for a moment, stunned, the cold seeping into his clothes.
Azriel advanced, his eyes burning with fury. “Stay down,” he commanded.
Caelum, however, was not one to give up easily. He reached for a broken branch, his fingers closing around it. With a snarl, he swung it again at Azriel. The warrior blocked the attack with his forearm, the branch snapping in two, and retaliated with a powerful kick to Caelum’s chest, knocking the wind from him, and it seemed also from you.
Gasping for breath, Caelum’s eyes darted to the dense forest beyond the creek. In a last-ditch effort, he scrambled to his feet and bolted, slipping across the ice. He plunged into the forest, branches whipping against him as he fled.
Azriel watched Caelum flee, his wings unfurling slightly as if preparing to give chase. “Stop!” you wheezed out. Azriel turned to you, his concern immediately shifting. He quickly moved to you, falling to his armored knees as he knelt beside you, gently lifting your head.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft and filled with worry.
You winced and nodded slightly.
Azriel moved to put one arm under your shoulders. As you leaned forward, your midsection screamed in protest, and you yelped in pain. Azriel paused, examining you more closely. The back of your head was matted with blood, and your arms were covered in cuts from the trees. “I know it’s going to hurt,” Azriel said gently, “but I need you to hold onto me.”
You nodded, bracing yourself. Between a cry of pain and a scream, you pulled your arms around his neck, breathing in his scent—a mix of leather, metal, mist and cedar. Azriel held you securely, his grip strong yet careful.
In a moment, the world blurred and twisted around you, and Azriel winnowed you away.
To my readers, deep breaths, the mans has returned: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @rhysandorian
#azriel x reader fic#azriel x reader#azriel x you#acotar#acotar abuse#acotar fanfic#acotar azriel#azriel#azriel fanfiction#azriel fanfic#azriel imagine#azriel fic#azriel angst#azriel x y/n#acotar fanfiction#acotar reader fic#acotar fandom#Keep Moving Forwards Fic#acotar slow burn#azriel slow burn#acotar fic#acotar reader insert#acotar reader imagine
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The Ren Faire Situation
A birth story written in conjunction with @allkindsofpreg
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“Are you 100% sure?” I asked, not hiding the concern in my voice.
You just smiled “I’ve made up my mind, I’m going.”
We had planned for the last few weeks to go to the local ren faire, where you were looking to get dressed up and enjoy the event, whilst taking what was likely to be the last chance to show off your pregnancy enhanced curves in public before the baby comes.
The problem was, the baby was coming… contractions had started this morning, and 3 hours on, they didn’t seem to want to stop.
So here you were, dressed up in your best pirate/wench outfit, pregnancy fuelled bosom looking magnificent, enhanced by the dress, cleavage spilling out of the top and leaving very little to the imagination, your bump – oddly smaller since your belly dropped a few days ago – still prominent behind the flowy fabric. A tie caught between the two, bright and causing the eye to immediately look at the area it highlights.
I’d always known you were a bit of an exhibitionist… hell, our baby was likely conceived when I was railing you on the balcony of a hotel with a crowd cheering you on from below – but I will admit, I kind of wanted you to myself when you gave birth.
But you wanted to make a spectacle of it. Have all those eyes looking at you. You know you could make it look like it was an accident – you could even make the news - “lady gives birth in public” has always been something that got your juices flowing. And here we are – contractions noticeable but not debilitating, and we’re about to walk out the house to walk half a mile down the road to the fair – and who knows what will happen from there.
“Are you ready, my lord?” you ask in a fake old world accent, pulling the skirt of your dress to the side with one hand and holding your stomach with the other, lowering into a polite curtsy. I take a moment to enjoy the birds eye view down your low lacy neckline before offering my arm and helping you to a standing position. In one fluid motion You’re upright and pressed against me, leaning down for a quick kiss.
“My god, you’re sexy,” I murmur against my lips, hands exploring your body beneath the elaborate folds of your gown.
“Mm, just wait ‘til you see me with a head crowning between my legs.” Even the thought makes you shudder with desire as you hike up the fabric to give me better access there.
I chuckle and slide my hand up your thigh, brushing over the fabric of your panties. “We may not make it to the fair if you keep this up,” I say, applying a bit more stimulation and causing you to gasp. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay.”
You know I’m wary about your intentions—and honestly, I make a compelling case—but you’re only going to have one first birthing experience and this is how you want to do it. “Don’t worry, baby, it’ll be fun.” I look doubtful as you display your best pout. “It’ll at least keep me distracted.” As if on cue, your stomach tightens, and in turn you make a point of keeping your stance and expression neutral, the only indication that anything’s happening a slight change in your breathing. “See? I can do this.”
“You can do anything,” I agree, removing my hand so that the hem of your dress falls back to the floor. “Guess we should get going then.”
You hook your arm around mine and, perhaps a bit too eagerly, glide out the door.
The walk to the event was a bit slow going, considering your size, but you make the most of it with seeing various turned heads, and the occasional honk and cheer from passing cars as they see your gravid form walking down the street. You had been doing curb walking for the last few weeks to try and get things moving, and automatically fell into that rhythm, up and down, up and down as one foot landed on the curb and another on the road next to it. The added jiggle factor of your breasts bouncing up and down helped with getting you noticed of course. Let’s just say that as we turned the corner into the site of the faire, you were very flustered – and it wasn’t just due to the exercise. We stopped twice on the way for a breather and to let a contraction build and pass, but thankfully we arrived without incident.
You feel another contraction build up while we’re waiting in line for tickets, but it’s easy to ignore amidst the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Everyone is in costume, many with even more on display than you, and, not to be outdone, You loosen your own tie a bit. I notice and cock an eyebrow at you as you give me a wink—perhaps later I’ll tie you up tighter or perhaps take it off altogether; the possibilities are endless and equally thrilling. We can’t keep our hands off each other and the booth attendant has to toss a piece of popcorn at us after a few gruff coughs to get our attention. She seems equal parts amused and irritated when you request two and a half tickets as you press your hands into the curves of your belly, showing it off.
Once inside, you make a beeline straight for the giant turkey legs, dashing off before I realise, surprisingly spritely for someone in your advanced state of pregnancy considering how much walking you had done already. I soon catch up to you as you join the back of the queue - the turkey legs being one of the most popular things in the area meaning the line was always big.
You were panting a little out of breath, but smiled back at me "You're too slow."
I circle my arms around you and pull you back into an embrace, kissing the top of your head as I feel your chest raising and falling in line with your heavy breathing. We both burst into a giggle as the line slowly starts to work its way down.
As we get to the front, the lady serving the food has a wide grin on her face as you approach.
"Hey there, what can I get you and the bump?"
Entirely straight faced, you respond "Bump? Oh this? I just REALLY like the turkey legs." You emphasised the size of your belly by rubbing your hands up and down it tracing the shape under your dress.
Her face was a picture, completely unsure what to do with herself. She was stammering and clueless what to do next, in worry that she was going to offend you, but the onset of another contraction soon put paid to your charade.
You couldn't do much else than wince and rub your belly, but used it as a convenient excuse to apologise to the lady behind the counter and explain that yes, you were indeed pregnant, and you would really like 2 turkey legs. And no… one was for me - you weren’t going to just pig out on them. The baby obviously didn't like you making fun of the poor lady and gave you a kick in punishment.
I was smirking through this entire exchange but we soon got our food serving, a couple of drinks and headed off to watch a band play. As we got to the showground area, one of the local attendants brought over a chair for you to sit down on, whilst I climbed onto the ground between your legs. We sat down and had a few minutes of relaxation until you started to huff and puff a little, hand rubbing your belly.
"Starting to get noticeable I presume?" I asked. You nodded, leaned forward as much as your belly would let you so you could speak in a whisper close to me and said that when we were in the queue for food it was the first contraction which had taken your breath away. You thought it was because you had just rushed to the queue, and the strenuous activity had been an influence… but right now you're sitting down, doing nothing… and yeah, it’s now very noticeable.
"We can always back out?" I asked… already knowing your answer.
"Not a chance. Did you see how much people are looking at me, looking at the bump? This is going to be EPIC!"
We stay listening to the band longer than expected—they’re quite good, and the baby seems to like it. There are little kicks and twists that seem to coincide with the beat and our amusement begins to attract attention. You’re more than happy to let the other people in the audience touch your belly to feel it too, and pretty soon we’ve got the whole crowd dancing along. With a firm grasp of your hand and waist, I twirl and dip you through several more contractions. Another one starts up just as a song ends and I pull you into me, managing to hide the grimace on your face.
Someone comes up when the upbeat tempo begins again and asks if the little one is still boogieing in there, and you turn to her with what you hope is a smile. Clearly something about your face is off, or maybe it’s my laboured breathing or the way you’re holding your stomach, but she asks if you’re okay as you wave her off.
“Just overdid it, I think. My back and feet are killing me!”
She hums in sympathy and recalls how difficult those last few weeks always are, how you just wish the baby would get here already.
You’re smiling in earnest as you say to her, “It definitely won’t be long now.”
We go to the sword fighting demonstration next, and the people in the front graciously offer us their seats when they see your bump hovering beside them at eye level. You give them a small curtsy that turns into a very ungraceful plop down onto the beach seat. “I’m just never going to get used to balancing with this thing,” you say by way of apology to the people on either side of you, pressing in the fabric of your dress around your stomach to emphasize its impressive size. “Won’t be a problem much longer, though,” you say, giving it an affectionate pat.
I’m chosen from the audience to participate—our entrance made a bit of a scene and did not go unnoticed by the actors—you whoop and holler as they pull me on the stage. They teach me a few moves and then “challenge” me for my affections, seeming to imply that the baby you’re carrying may or may not be mine, as you somehow wind up on the small platform right along with me. I do surprisingly well mimicking the moves showed to me earlier until finally I’m at a standoff. A contraction hits hard and fast and you double over with a surprised yelp and both of us on the stage turn to look at you—to cover up the slip, you make it part of the performance, like you had feigned a labour pain to fluster him, and shout, “Quick, my love, strike while he is distracted!” The actor takes the cue and allows me to land the final blow while the two of us share a passionate kiss (which earns us a fair few whistles and applause from the crowd) before taking a bow (admittedly, you didn’t bend too low) and running off before anyone can question whether you’re really that good of an actor.
The public escapades up until this point and - after that last contraction - knowing it won’t be long until the big finale has you all hot and bothered as you pull me into what you hope is a vacant tent. You wrap a leg around me waist, your hands toying with the ties of my costume. “Got time for a little more swordplay?”
As we slip into the tent we’re giddy, giggling happily, but after a few furtive glances around to make sure we’re alone, we’re quickly getting serious and down to business. Kissing across your cleavage and up your neck has you shuddering in delight as I take a moment to lift your top over your head and expose your underwear clad body to the world. My hands explore your body as I strip you of the bra you were wearing along with tugging down your panties and leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. You’re standing there naked in front of me, glorious in your bountiful pregnant form, as you pull me close and tug down my trousers, bunching them at my feet.
My “sword” is well and truly on display as you’re licking your lips in delight as you manage to find a position you can support your body whilst leaning back against a table, opening your legs in accommodation.
My first thrust was strong, and made you yelp with the unexpected force. One of my hands grasped your hair and pulled your head back exposing your neck further to my kisses as you moaned in delight with my thrusts now slowing to a much more relaxed tempo.
You couldn’t hold that position long with the weight of the baby positioned as it was so you eventually turned and braced yourself against the table with your hands, presenting your ass to me. My knees slid between your legs and pressed lightly to the side, parting your own legs, you bobbed down into a bit of a squat to give even more access.
We scrabbled around in this position for a few thrusts into your waiting pussy but because you were quite low down it was a strain for me to keep thrusting up whilst getting the angle I needed to.
With a quick slap on your behind - resulting in the most magical squeal I’d ever heard - I pulled up a chair and sat on it as you finally lowered yourself on me - giving me free reign to enjoy your breasts and belly as you bounced.
Our groans joined each other as your approaching climax caused you to speed up your actions, my own cum releasing deep into you in a flood as I couldn’t hold back any longer. The resulting sensations tipped you over the edge as your orgasm caused you to yell out with pleasure, lost in the moment of bliss.
The sound you made must have alerted someone passing by as we heard footsteps approaching rapidly. Jumping we both looked at each other as you scampered off with an amazing high speed waddle out of the back door of the tent, as naked as the day you were born - completely oblivious to if there was anyone waiting on the other side.
I grabbed your dress and bra, pulling up my trousers but not fastening them to at least allow me to walk without tripping up. I join you outside to see that thankfully there’s no one there so I hand you over your dress and bra whilst fastening my trousers.
“I’ll need my panties too” you say “you’re dripping out of me down my leg” and that’s when we both realised that in the rush to leave I’d left them in a crumpled heap on the floor.
You shrugged “oh well guess someone will have a nice surprise… and I’ve got to deal with the leak” as you pull the top over your head - not bothering with the bra either, stuffing it tight down and pushing it into my pocket - and glance around the side of the tent in order to get back to the main show area.
We walked around and found somewhere opposite the tent we were at to check on what was happening but no one came out. They’d either dashed out before we got dressed and we missed them, they hadn’t spotted the thing we had left, or were left enjoying them - either way you seemed to be getting a thrill out of what had happened.
The next contraction took you by surprise through as you grasped onto me. I turned my head to see you visibly biting your lip to avoid letting out a scream. Suddenly there was a splash and a puddle formed between your legs. We both knew what that puddle was.
Without the cushion of an amniotic sac, the baby suddenly felt much lower, the contractions much more insistent, and the need to push much more urgent. The groan that emerged from your throat was guttural, instinctual, and you crouched down where you stood, clutching onto my forearms for support.
“Are you pushing?” I asked, slightly whiplashed between the thrills of having sex, nearly getting caught, and now this. “Already?”
You just gave me a squeeze in response, putting all your focus into breathing and controlling you volume until the contraction was over. With my help you stood back up and wrapped your arms around me, both of us still a little shaken.
Even though it came rapidly you were a little more prepared for the next one, able to maintain your standing position while your body worked to bring the baby down. You buried your head into my chest as we swayed together through the worst of it. We were hidden away, tucked in the narrow alley between tents, and any passersby would mistake it for a tender embrace. But we’d have to come out of here eventually if we wanted an audience.
There was a major show going on at the moment—something with jousting and fire and circus performers—and we made our way toward the back of the crowd. The skirt of your dress was large enough that it obscured the worst of your awkward, bow-legged waddle, but it was still a slow process. Your hand never left your belly, as if supporting it from the base would somehow relieve some of the force of the pressure bearing down within it.
Most people’s attention was on the performers, but we did garner a few nervous glances as those closest to us saw your restless shifting form and heard your grunts.
“Are you alright?” asked one of them, who was wearing a ridiculous feathered cap and carrying some sort of wooden instrument, eventually whispered when you were bent over and gasping after a particularly brutal contraction.
You gave him a tight-lipped smile and a strained, “Fine.” They glanced to me for confirmation; I shrugged, but couldn’t quite hide my growing anxiety.
The concerned bard remained undecided, but kept an eye on you, and when you dropped to your knees a few contractions later, determined that it warranted a trip to the medical tent. The bard tried to help you back to your feet, but you had decided that you weren’t going anywhere. You screamed when they tried to lift you, loud enough to stop the production mid-charge, and all eyes in the large stadium turned to gape at you. “I’m- I’m having a baby!” you yell, for the sake of anyone not close enough to see what was happening.
The elaborate ties of your dress were already loosened and askew from our previous activities, so it was easy enough to subtly work the laces and slide the fabric from your upper body. It looked like an accident when the heavy textiles fell dramatically around your kneeling form, exposing your full, heavy breasts and huge belly. I knelt beside you, as if making moves to preserve your modesty, but you lurched forward suddenly onto your hands, the dress falling down your thighs and exposing the rest of you.
The restricting fabric prevented your knees from widening as they needed to, and you begged me to get it the rest of the way off you. I helped you crawl forward a step and as a result your legs were blissfully free, but this position hid the spectacle from your audience.
You grabbed for me and held as you got your feet under you, lowering into a deep squat with your breasts, belly, and pussy facing out toward the crowd. You moved my hands to your inner thighs, forcing them open wider and pulling open your dilated folds, and pushed.
The realisation of what just happened seemed to ripple through the crowd - the immediate people around us either recoiling in shock, or many grabbing their phones and hitting record.
As much as you were incredibly turned on by the attention you were getting, the force of the contraction making you to push out our baby was a significantly more pressing concern. You bellow out, completely uncaring who hears it “this hurts more than anything I’ve ever done… labouring all day… it’s just…” your voice was cut short as you simply howled in pain as your eyes closed and you bore down, desperate to move the blockage between your legs.
As the contraction began to fade and you started to regain your senses your head turned towards me, you had tears in your eyes. “Help me” you managed pitifully.
I managed to lean in close to you so my whispering voice could only be heard by you “how are you feeling? Is this just an act or does it hurt?”
“It fucking hurts…” your reply had tones of desperation in it. The next contraction was quick to pick up and you were soon pushing again, a bulge visible between your wide splayed legs suggesting the head was going to be very big.
“Here here now you poor baby, let’s see if we can help you” came a voice. I looked up, and you managed the same to see an older woman - 60s or older - pushing her way through the crowds and trying to force - unsuccessfully - to make those recording the spectacle on their phones stop and give you a little dignity.
She grunted with exertion as she kneeled down between your legs, her hands reaching down to the bulge, surprisingly chilly against your hot, distended skin. You shivered - I was trying to work out if it was through the ministrations of the lady who walked up touching your sensitive areas, or you had just orgasmed from the attention you were getting.
“I’ve pushed out 8 babies myself and caught 5 grand babies from my daughters” she offered “so these hands are good hands and know what to do.”
“What do I do?” you asked, echoing her words back to her.
She chuckled and gave me a wry smile. “In my experience—and from the looks of it, yours too—whatever your body tells you.”
“Oh god,” you groaned, the pressure bearing down between your hips insisting that you bear down with it. “I need to- I need—“
“Baby’s head’s right there, I think you’re safe to push whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m not ready! It wasn’t supposed to be like this; there’s so many—hnghhh, fuck—people!” Your words dissolved into moans as you yanked desperately against my flared knees, but all that did was pull taut your skin and emphasize just how small your opening was in comparison to the large head bulging behind it.
“That’s it, let it stretch,” the woman soothed, running her fingers along the edges of the modest crown. You pressed yourself into her touch and she hummed in recognition. “Nothing to be self-conscious of here, dear. Do whatever feels good for you; it’s all natural.”
You brought your fingers to your clit and rubbed a few quick circles before the stimulation became too much. You cradled your belly as you pushed, but your hands soon wandered to your breasts, your nipples, and the resulting whines were a mix of pleasure and pain.
“It’s too big!” You wailed between pushes, looking to me in desperation. “It hurts. It’s burning, please, do something.”
I looked to the woman and she shrugged. “She’s the boss.”
I looked warily around at the many pairs of eyes fixed on us, but they faded into the background as soon as I wrapped my body around yours. You took one of my hands in yours and guided the other one between your legs as another shot of pain jolted out from your stomach, up your spine and through your hips. I thumbed gently at your sensitive nub and explored the changes in the folds that I knew so well.
“Help me stretch.” came your plea.
I dipped a finger under your stretched skin, gently tracing the cap of our baby’s head. Another contraction started and you pushed, my fingertips spreading you open even wider than the head. I pulled away quickly at your pained yelp, but it had helped—the head was staying put now, even between pushes.
“It’s stuck, it’s- I’m going to tear!”
“Oh no you don’t,” the woman said, getting her hands in the way between us, taking back up their work with the emerging head. She placed her palm flat against the exposed crown, applying a fairly firm pressure to keep it from coming out even as I continued to stretch painfully around it—prolonging the torture. “Pant. Pant, now,” she instructed.
“Please, I need to push, let me push!” you whined, unable to resist your body’s urges. You bore down again, but she just pressed in harder as you cried out as the two impossible pressures clashed right at the peak of your pain.
I had managed to get myself out of her way and resulted in getting directly behind you. You shoved your hips back, desperate to retreat from her iron grip, and your ass rubbed against my hard cock. You hear me whisper a string of curses and ground harder against my hips—if you had to suffer on the precipice of release, so would I.
You shuddered and relaxed a bit as the contraction waned, and the woman likewise relaxed her grip against you. There were a few gasps as she pulled her hand away and the crowd got an unobstructed view of the massive crowning head.
The view of a couple of flashes from people’s cameras were ingrained in your mind as you sit there, panting, the few moments of respite between contractions giving you little time to pant through and get some energy back before you needed to push again.
You leaned back against me, rubbing my engorged cock between your body and the fabric of my jeans. I let out a little groan as I felt myself approach my own little precipice.
The next contraction ramped up though and more of the same happened again - the desperate need to do nothing else but push, and this random stranger lady pressing back against all your effort.
You lost it as the frustration toppled you, all focus on the pain radiating between your belly and your legs, and this woman who was actively trying to make it harder for you.
“Let me push!” You screamed between gasps of the contraction as she just tutted at you.
“Don’t be a baby dearie” she took it in her stride. “I’ll let you stretch nice and slow so you don’t tear. You have a big one here.”
“Please!” You gasped, “Please… I’ll tear, I just need it out and you’re stopping me.” The last word was a chilling wail.
Despite your obvious discomfort my own sordid desires were being tweaked simply by the amount of effort you were putting in. Your body pressed back into me as you undertook push after push, my cock getting rubbed more and more.
I felt myself release as you wailed out. My cock pulsing and throbbing as each squirt filled my underwear. I felt it run down my leg. I pulled you in close grabbing your hands and crossing them over your chest pulling you tight against me as I hoped that there was no evidence of the leak on my trousers with all the cameras trained on us right now.
My shiver wasn’t missed by you as you look up in my eyes, meeting me with a weary but loving grin, for a few moments you smiled until the smile was replaced by a scowl as once more it was time to push.
Your body twisted and trembled as the war against instinct continued. Your hands grasped at nothing as you sought an outlet for the pent up energy you couldn’t focus into your core—your fingers clawed at my hair, the grass, the fabric of your discarded dress, the tight skin of your stomach.
“Fuck this hurts,” you huffed, more for me than for the onlookers. Then, louder, “Another contraction, already?”
You reached a shaking, tentative hand between your legs, brushing the woman’s aside and winced as your fingers grazed the tender flesh. It bowed and flexed with the force of the contraction alone and you whimpered as your lips peeled slowly back around the widest part of the head.
“Alright, now we’ve got ‘em right where we want ‘em. Give it all you’ve got, honey!” I almost hissed the words trying to keep it quiet enough that only you could hear.
In your opinion, sweeter words had never been spoken and wasted no time putting your chin to your chest and giving a hard shove. In a cruel twist of fate, the baby now seemed content to stay right where it was. You tried again, pushing harder this time, and howled in frustration when it didn’t budge.
“Come on now, girl, push!” came the woman, I had echoed something similar.
“I’m trying, it’s- fuck, it’s really stuck!”
After another two contractions of stalled progress, she finally believed me. “How about we get you on your feet,” she suggested. “Come on now, help her up,” she prompted, but I froze, keeping you tight against me.
“My- I can’t,” I whispered frantically in your ear, and you nodded— you understood.
You waited for the next contraction, took a deep breath, and leaned forward putting everything into the push, making an effort to make sure that the lady’s hands wouldn’t get in the way of this push. Your hips lifted just enough so they were hovering on top of my crotch and you screamed, all the anxious and excited attention fuelling another mighty push as the head shot out the rest of the way with an impressive gush of fluids… which sprayed across the entire front of my trousers, concealing and blending with any other stains that might have been present.
“Fuck,” you gasped, both in surprise and relief, as you got the rest of the way to your feet. Then an agonized, “Fuck!” as the baby spun and the shoulders settled quickly and violently into place against your tortured hole. You bent my knees and braced your palms against your thighs as you started to push again.
The lady beckoned me forward and I dashed around from behind you to kneel in front, hands poised in place just under the dangling head of our baby.
Now at eye level with your pussy, I watched as the shoulders bulged and gravity threatened to pull the heavy child the rest of the way out. “What should I do?” I asked the old woman, though my eyes never left you.
“Catch!” she said with a laugh, and I raised your hands just in time for the baby to slide into my grasp.
Your yell of triumph was magical as the vernix-covered baby slid into my hands, the lady, unexpectedly diving forward to catch you under the arms as you sagged, threatening to collapse with the effort. You were gasping, panting for air, you were shell shocked, but one thing was clear – you had realised you had done it. My god you were grinning.
The lady helped lower you to the ground as I held on for dear life to our baby – a daughter – my eyes weirdly focused on the umbilical cord connecting the small bundle in my hands to your gaped opening.
“Shit” was all I could mutter.
“Shit, indeed” you echoed.
You realised a blanket was suddenly placed over your shoulders as paramedics arrived, covering you up from the gawping onlookers. You’d done it. You had your dream. You’d given birth in front of a crowd. No doubt Youtube and who knows what other sites will be flooded with footage of this tomorrow. At least we know we will have a record of our birth.
The baby was taken from me as her umbilical cord was cut, and she was checked over. I sat next to you in a daze as paramedics helped check you over.
You leaned in close to me as you kissed me and then got very close to my ear, whispering so no one else could hear. “We need to go one better next time. We live stream to the entire internet !”
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00:00 - l.dh
haechan x gn!reader
genre: fluff, established relationship, drabble
warnings: swearing, suggestive, mentions of sex, pet-names (baby, hyuckie)
wc: 0.7k
“happy birthday dear hyuckie, happy birthday to you!”
“hi baby, thank you.” donghyuck’s voice is quiet and slightly raspy. nothing you haven’t heard multiple times before, but not what you’d expected when you’d called your boyfriend at exactly midnight in his current time zone.
“did… did i wake you up?” you frown, and your voice must betray your disbelief if his cute little chuckles over the line are anything to go by.
“maybe, i fell asleep like twenty minutes after i ate dinner.”
“were the guys not with you?” you pout. you’d at least taken some comfort in the fact that he’s surrounded by the rest of the dreamies for the start of his birthday if you can’t be there.
“they’re here.” he says. “our intention was to stay up.”
“and you all fell asleep? that’s actually really fucking funny.” you can’t help the giggles that escape you at the thought of all seven of them crowding in one hotel room to see donghyuck’s birthday in, only to not make it to midnight.
“yeah, i guess we were all pretty tired.”
“wait, does that mean i still got to be the first person to say it?!” you say excitedly. it’s not yet his birthday where you are, but you’d be damned if you were gonna let a silly thing like time zones come between you and making sure your boyfriend started off his day showered in love, albeit virtual.
“uh-huh.” he smiles, leaving out the fact that he’d been planning on answering your call before anyone else could wish him happy birthday anyway. you’d been so cutely adamant that distance wouldn’t stop you from being the first. “i miss you so much.” you almost don’t hear the whisper. if you didn’t know him so well, you’d chalk the voice crack up to him only just waking up.
“i miss you too, baby. twenty-one hours.” you let yourselves sit with the bittersweet feeling for a moment. tears begin to form in your own eyes but you blink them away. “i cannot wait to give you your presents, i think i’ve outdone myself this year!”
“all i need is you.” he elongates the vowels in ‘you’, trying to match your cheery tone.
“ew, stop being so greasy! plus, you love presents and i’m still mad my master plan to have them sent to you was ruined.”
“management did have a point about the shipping time issues, plus this way you can see me open them properly.” he reasons. “i can’t wait to hug you again.”
“just hug me?” you smirk.
“this was supposed to be a cute, innocent birthday call, not phone sex!” he gasps dramatically, sending you both into another fit of giggles.
“okay, okay.” you relent. “i guess the whole point of birthday sex is to do it in person.”
“tease.”
“we did not need to hear that.” another voice chimes in, clearly muffled and far away.
“why are you even on the phone so late?” mark questions, sounding closer than jaemin had. “oh shit dude, happy birthday!”
“is it already midnight?” jisung’s voice is muffled, and then you hear rustling and yells for the other boys to wake up.
“i’ll let you go, have fun with the boys!” you smile.
“no!” hyuck immediately whines.
“it’s okay baby, have a good morning and let me know when you’re boarding and landing, yeah?”
“fine.” he sighs, and you can hear the pout in his voice. the mental image of him, bedhead and traces of sleep, has you mourning the fact that you can’t squish his cheeks or kiss his forehead. yet, you remind yourself. “i’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you as soon as i get back.”
“i’m holding you to that.” you smile, ignoring the fake gagging sounds in the background.
“get some rest too, i know you have work in the morning.”
“i’ll try.” you knew it would be difficult to settle your restless brain but he was right, you did have work, plus the stuff you’d planned for when he got home that you had managed to keep a surprise. “happy birthday, hyuckie. i love you.”
“i love you too.” you glance down at your phone when the call ends.
twenty-one hours.
#donghyuck x reader#haechan x reader#nct dream x reader#nct 127 x reader#nct x reader#nct imagines#nct scenarios#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#kpop x reader#lee donghyuck x reader
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Water Fight!
Lyana invites the Batch to take part in a water fight on Pabu. Used to combat sims on Kamino, they take this a little too seriously. Thankfully, their new family are around to correct their misunderstanding.
Tags: Gen, No warnings apply, Hunter-centric, slight angst, fluff, happy ending, Hunter thinks he's meant to be training Lyana in combat and as a good uncle he takes this Seriously
Read it on ao3 here.
Or below the cut...
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The hot sun beat down on Hunter’s unarmoured body as he crouched behind a low wall, gripping the brittle blaster tight in his sweating hands, listening intently for any of their pursuers. Lyana crouched beside him, eyes wide, clutching her own blaster close to her body and breathing heavily.
“Did we lose them?”
Her whisper was quiet, but there was a chance it wouldn’t be quiet enough. Some enemies would have scanners trained to pick up on the frequencies of human voices. As Hunter shrugged in response, he made an internal note to teach her battle sign.
She nodded in response, jaw set, eyes serious.
They’d started off together, he, Lyana, Omega, Crosshair and Wrecker, before an ambush had forced them to separate. He cursed himself for not paying better attention, for assuming that the villagers had just been going about their everyday business, sipping cool drinks on their shaded verandas. Oh how wrong he had been.
Now, they were out in the open, cut off from the others, with no idea of the true number of hostiles they were facing.
“Do you remember how to get to the rendezvous point?” Hunter asked lowly. Lyana nodded. “Good. I want you to follow my lead, but remember, if we get attacked and I go down you do not stop for me. You get to the RV. Make sure to use as much cover as you can and try not to run in a straight line, the more obvious your movements are the easier they’ll find it to get a lock on you.”
“Yes, sir.” Lyana gave him a salute so poorly executed that his breath almost hitched. It was a good thing she hadn’t been raised on Kamino, but still, he should probably teach her how to salute properly in any case, it might be a useful skill.
Hunter nodded, satisfied at her words at least, and gestured for her to stay behind him. He didn’t think there were any hostiles nearby, but they were about to break cover and they needed to be careful.
At least, he consoled himself, if Lyana did get hit, the bursts of water wouldn’t hurt in the same way training rounds did.
He had to admit that he’d been surprised when, an hour earlier, Lyana had shown up at their house, informing them that the outside temperature meant that today they’d be having a water fight. Of course, he’d been thinking Lyana should probably be combat trained at some point - there was no guarantee that the Empire wouldn’t show up again, or that her Aunt Phee wouldn’t be followed home by some people she’d pissed off as part of her work - and had started to discuss the possibility with Shep. What he hadn’t been expecting was Lyana to take the decision into her own hands. Still, it was a promising step, and the Bad Batch had wasted no time in figuring out the training weapons and devising a strategy, making sure to explain everything to Lyana and make sure she could fire with… okay it was pretty terrible accuracy and that was something they would desperately need to work on. But there was a one in ten chance she’d hit her target if it was stationary.
Omega had been particularly excited about all this, grinning wildly and bouncing on the balls of her feet, talking to her friend a-mile-a-minute about how happy this made her.
By the time the combat had started, they’d been ready. What they hadn’t counted on, was how numerous their enemies would be.
Hunter and Lyana made their way carefully between the houses, sticking to shady alleyways as much as possible. He made sure to keep his eyes flickering up to rooftops or upper windows - he knew well from Crosshair that people didn’t often expect an attack to come from above. He wouldn’t let this be their downfall.
Thankfully, they made their way to the small plaza without incident. On their way to this rendezvous point, they had been spotted by some locals, who’d grinned at them and gave them a cheery wave - Lyana giving one of her equally cheerful but awful salutes back. Hunter just hoped that they wouldn’t give away details of their movements to the other side.
In the street across from them, Omega snuck into view, pressed into the shadows. Wrecker followed behind her, slightly less well hidden. They both gave Hunter a salute, which he returned. Now they just needed to wait for Crosshair, provided he hadn’t already been taken out.
In the centre of the shaded plaza, a large fountain bubbled. It would be an excellent place to resupply their ammo, but moving to the centre of the plaza would render them more exposed to enemy fire.
With his focus half on the fountain, it took Hunter longer than he should have to realise that the movement behind Wrecker wasn’t Crosshair joining them. Fortunately, Wrecker seemed to notice the extra person at the same time as Hunter did, and threw himself on top of Omega, sending them both tumbling to the ground at the same time as a blast of water went right through where they had been a second earlier. Their assailant didn’t get another chance to fire however, because they were hit by a strong blast of water to the head from above. Hunter grinned. Crosshair.
“Hey, not fair!” Wrecker’s voice rang out across the street and Hunter cursed. Staying hidden and winning this fight was gonna be a lot harder if his brother acted as a homing beacon for the hostiles. Still, they’d survived much worse. They wouldn’t fail this exercise. “I shot you earlier! You can’t get up and keep attacking us.”
“Sure I can,” Phee replied, wiping water out of her eyes. “That’s how water-blaster fights work.”
Even as he gestured for Lyana to stay hidden behind him, Hunter could see Wrecker and Omega shooting each other looks of confusion as they scrambled up off the floor.
“Then how can you tell who wins?” Omega asked, frowning. He noted with a burst of pride that her blaster was still trained on Phee.
“It’s not about winning,” Shep replied, emerging to stand in the sun next to Phee. “It’s about cooling down during a hot day, getting yourself and the other team as drenched as possible.”
Hunter was pretty sure Omega and Wrecker’s dubious looks matched his own.
“Look,” Phee said. “If y’all would be happier treating this like another battle, I ain’t stopping you. But, in my opinion, this way’s more fun.”
It was at that moment, Lyana sprang up towards her father, yelling and firing her water-blaster at him. Too late to grab her, all Hunter could do was provide extra fire at Shep, while Crosshair automatically did the same to Phee. Hopefully, their covering fire would allow Lyana to make her escape without getting hit.
All too soon, they were all out of ammo.
Spluttering, Shep dropped his blaster and wiped water from his eyes, but instead of giving in, he grinned and scooped Lyana up into his arms, before spinning her round and dumping her into the fountain. He laughed uproariously as she emerged, completely drenched, yelling incoherently at her dad, splashing waves at him from where she sat in the pool of water.
When she turned towards Hunter, he could see she was grinning too.
Oh. Okay. If the rules didn’t really matter then.
Hunter broke cover and raced towards Omega, sweeping her up before she knew what was happening, and dropping her into the fountain beside her friend.
“Hey!” she shouted, but in the second between her yell and Wrecker barrelling into him with a cry of “Traitor!”, he could tell she wasn’t really mad at him. He didn’t bother bracing himself, and instead let Wrecker push him into the pool of water beside them, laughing as he surfaced, pulling back his wet hair from where it stuck to his face.
All too soon, Omega and Lyana were on him, scooping water up and throwing it at him, cursing his betrayal. It was all Hunter could do but howl with laughter as Omega tried to duck his head under the water and he succeeded in doing the same to her.
Of course, there would come a time where Lyana did need to learn how to defend herself, but, for now, in his happiness, Hunter couldn’t find himself much caring.
For now, life was good.
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FIVE SONGS I'M INTO RIGHT NOW ✧˖°.
I got tagged by @hylfystt to list five songs I'm into right now! As I wanted to wait until I listened to the new Bad Omens album (because I knew the songs would rotate rent free in my head) I can update accordingly. ✨
ANYTHING > HUMAN - Bad Omens & Erra
This life was all it had to be. Designed, but not for you an me. I never needed you to be anything more than human.
IT'S GOOD. IT'S SEXY. BEST SONG OF THE ALBUM. It's sooo industrial and I love it.
celestina [hushed] - Crywolf & Emalyn.
Hold my life until the beating of your precious heart decides to kill. I'll bleed for you, love.
I used this song for my Alaice edit! I love how soft/ethereal this version is. (There is also a new Crywolf album next week and I... am not ready.)
notre dame - Paris Paloma
I rarely go down there, the view's just so beautiful from here and I can see everybody at their worst points. At their worst points.
I had this song pretty much on repeat for the entirety of last week; it has no right to be this longing and this pretty.
And So My Heart Became a Void - Ursine Vulpine & Annaca
Now we're standing in the sunlight and I can't bear the sight of you. Oh, my lover, what's on your mind? You're caught between two ways of life, a way for you to find the light. One day we will reconcile but that will have to wait this time.
The whole Solace EP gives me huge Azem/Emet vibes (or, really, Azem/Any Ancient) but this song in particular just HITS right. It's love, loss and longing in a way that feels so grandiose and otherworldly, but you can still relate to the intent behind it even if it feels beyond you. I love it.
The End - Halsey
When I met you, I said I would never die. But the joke was always mine 'cause I'm racing against time. And I know it's not the end of the world, but could you pick me up at eight? 'Cause my treatment starts today.
I've been a Halsey fan for years and, as someone who has cared for people with chronic illnesses (mental & physical), as well as battling with my own... yeah. It hits a certain way. If you're going through the same, it feels very cathartic.
Tagging: @mist-touched, @clouds-of-reveries, @redmoonwanderer, @ser-corviknight, @abalathia,
@hazelkjt, @candycryptids, @riftdancing, @clockchimesthirteen, @atupda & you!
If you'd like a chance of being tagged, you can like my permanent interaction call here!
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Hello!!
The crack post saga continues... =D
Warning: long, long post 😊😅
To be very honest though, for today's ep I will be getting serious more than usual, because it was quite significant in the flow of the plot, and also had moments of communication (this emotional constipation is what makes me yearn for Cherry Magic ah) that need to be studied a little closely.
HOWEVER, there will most definitely be crack because this group of friends is (unapologetically) batshit crazy and my brain refuses to not make comments at the most inappropriate times.
Peem: NO ONE SAW ME CUDDLING MY CRUSH TO SLEEP RIGHT?!
The sheer panic in his movements, oh my gods. It should not be as hilarious as it is 😭😂
To be very honest though, I would've panicked a bit in his place too, with friends like those, they'd never let him live it down
Peem is so cute 😭
Nothing to see here, just a guy getting shy over how his prince charming hom-ed him, and they kissed through his hand and cuddled all night hehe
Phum: here he comes again :) *eye twitch*
Peem's expression, how he's still holding his hands as if he has the cup, Kluen's disbelief, and Phum's smug af face-
I'm wheezing 😭🤣
Kluen, I'm kinda starting to like you, but no.
You don't stand half a chance against them and their situationship.
Hope you find another boyfriend to fall in love at first sight with (and leave my boys alone please, they don't need any more complications) <3
Oh, Fang knows too. Of course he does, that's his little brother right there
We all know how protective of his brother he is, there's no way he'd let anybody else take care of him... unless, he knew Phum liked that person
les voila
Poor Tan, his theerak just ignoring him T-T
*looks between them* yeah, pretty much the same pic 👀
And here it is. The root of all his fears.
See, in this camp, almost all of them are paired up in the sense that they usually stick to that person. Even Beer has MIck. But then comes wild card Kluen, who's hogging all of Peem's attention as much as he can and that leaves Phum. Alone.
I will be getting back to this running motif of Phum being alone and how it changes through the ep in later scenes as well
Also, after they went back, both Mick and Beer asked if he really was okay, which made me smile, because maybe, Phum isn't as alone as he thinks himself to be. There are people who care for him, who are concerned, who'll support him, and of course, he always has Fang, his beloved phi
My poor babie Tan 🥺🥺
Also, notice how the shot is taken in such a way that they're the only ones in the frame, and are also standing within one specific part of the wall? (Ignore Kluen's head and hands please). It reflects how they're in their own world with each other, especially Tan
The nosy peeps gang strikes again!
Jokes aside, the synchronised strides, the background music together set the perfect levels of suspense and comedy
Peem, smug: yes! that emotionally constipated dumbass is finally getting out of De Nile
Pun: wait... is my plan actually working? Ah, of course it is
Toey: head empty, no thoughts, but... DOES P'Q ACTUALLY LIKE ME OMG I'LL DIE
Oh gods, FINALLY. I wish them a happily ever after. Sadhu 😌🙏🏼
Pun forgetting all about being quiet when Toey finally confesses is so on character 😭👍🏼
Also... what's even the point of being quiet? Q and Chain have been friends with these idiots since high school, of course they know they're peeking
Toey: *shooketh*
Gays in thai bl and staring off into the distance 😭
This scene was so, so beautiful and also quite important for both Q and Toey
Q knew what was up, more or less, but his confusion stemmed from his knowledge of Toey
Would Toey really go to these lengths? For him?
"Why? Are you the only one who can tease me?" <- Q says this to tell Toey that he might have been angry, but now he understands that Toey didn't really have any bad intentions
Hugs always get bonus points from me, and this was pretty up there
Pun hiding behind Chain is so on point
His friends: you're an idiot so we had no choice but to intervene 😭😭
Matt's (JJ) comedic timing is >>>>>>
Toey and Matt's friendship is also given weight in the series, and I'm happier for it.
Also revenge is sweet ehehe *coughs*
Moving on.
If there's no live singing dedicated to your One True Love, is it even Thai BL??
We Are making generous use of MSP songs 😭👍🏼
This scene.
The apology. It is at this point that they're leaving all the past pain, grief and anger in the past
Q makes sure to tell Toey that yes, he may have loved Milk Frappe Boy, but now, in the present, all his love was for Toey, his lovable annoying mentee
This apology is not only to Toey, or Milk Frappe Boy, but to himself as well, because by causing pain to a person he loves twice, he'd caused himself pain too
The perfect sweet and romantic moment, but also with a teeny bit of teasing, because that's who they are
No joke, I gasped and nearly stopped breathing when he said this
Peem's reply, his soft but kind of hurt voice were just so painful to hear
But it's also this moment that Peem gives Phum a reality check – if he really didn't want to, he wouldn't be doing any of this, and Phum had no business trying to control his life
The conversation outside with Q was significant, but also a diluted reflection of Peem's earlier (in ep. 7) talk with Q
Even a few episodes earlier, Q would have gone ballistic on Phum for treating his bestie like this, but now, he asks Peem how he feels for Phum, tries to understand exactly what their relationship is
It was at this point that he knew, he fucked up
Beer is a godsent. I love him <3
I think Toey says "I asked hia Tan to blow it up for me."
Also, Tiw and his rubber duck floater from MSP anyone? 👀
And, we are back to square one where Phum is left alone again
As I'd said before, this a repeating motif throughout the series, but especially the last two episodes
This is how it has always been in Phum's life: he has been left behind. He does have Fang, but now even Fang has a boyfriend. And while this does not affect his brother's affection towards him in anyway, it does introduce a new strand of lonliness for Phum because 1. no matter what, he loves his brother a lot, and knows how much he loves Tan, so he definitely will try to stay out of their way at least sometimes and 2. he wants a boyfriend too. Further, he wants Peem, but there's a push and pull there, and after what he said, in his mind he had pretty much ruined his chances with his crush
This is the moment Phum starts to hope that maybe, just maybe, his feelings aren't as unrequited as he'd thought.
On the other hand, Peem is the one afraid here. What if the deal is all that's holding them together? What if without it, Phum will have no reason to be as close to him?
Peem, baby, for one, your groups are already merged, and secondly, this guy is head over heels for you, no way he'd stop following you like a lost puppy
(Apparently, it's not Peem's turn with the communal braincell this week 😭)
Here, Phum is technically alone, but he's surrounded with friends, and he's smiling
He isn't left behind here, for once, he's sitting there by choice (to shamelessly ogle his crush, but shh we don't talk about that) with the comforting knowledge that when/if he jumps in, he won't be left out, Kluen be damned
Once the floodgates of affection have been opened to Q, there's no going back <3
(Also, notice how Tan is already asleep on Fang's shoulder? 👀)
FINALLY
I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT SINCE PEEM KICKED PHUM'S BALLS
Jokes apart, this moment is so, so beautiful. The kiss, the soft question "are you ready for my answer now?" (maybe Peem isn't, but hell if he denies this man his kissies).
Everything leading up to this point is also so very delightful
Phum helping them out in the cafe, despite probably having never worked a day in his life, discovering how Peem still kept the roses and finally, finally, the completed painting. This sight, above all, is what convinces Phum that Peem might have feelings for him after all; because which fool would lie about not having completed something that would free them from being a slave to someone? A fool in love, that's who
ALSO,
if they don't get together and have the fluffiest moments in the next ep, I swear to god, hands will be thrown *grumbles* they're already making me wait a whole damn week
Anyways, that's all for this week, see you next ep! (I cannot promise I won't be jumping around and screaming, but then again, this is supposed to be a crack post so-)
And if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊
Here, have a bubble tea and a sandwich 🧋🥪
[If you'd like, here are my previous posts: Ep 8 and Ep 9.]
#we are the series#we are series#we are#watching bls: we are#let's talk bl#phumpeem#qtoey#tanfang#chainpun#thai bl
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hi! i really want to tell you that i love love love your blog. i feel so much joy when i see you've made a long post with your thoughts. i admire the way you engage with things you enjoy! you've genuinely inspired me to get back into reading. i've been struggling with migraines and after some time i started associating reading with suffering. i stumbled upon your blog because of bsd, and i got so fascinated with the way you communicate with the source material that i had a childlike realization: i want to have that too! and i picked up akutagawa, and i'm enjoying myself so much.
i'm never not thinking about the post where you said that the trick to being clever is to stop obsessing over being right. life-changing, really.
sending you so so so much love! p.s. as a russian-speaker it's a delight reading your thoughts on dostoevsky, especially seeing you use diminutives, for some reason. in russian slang we sometimes say, "ты так чувствуешь!" ("you are really feeling!") meaning "you really get it on an emotional level!" and that's what i think every time i read your thoughts on dostoevsky.
I hesitated to answer this ask because I wanted to covet it and hoard it and keep it tucked away where I could revisit it to my greedy heart's content without anyone noticing, but I'd rather you know that this ask was so delightful to receive and absolutely melted me in the best way, so I'm publishing it even though that means submitting to the mortifying ordeal of creating a tag so that I can more easily return to your kind words, and perhaps other, similar asks and posts that are emotional balms.
Also, I am so sorry, I'm sleep-deprived and I was so excited and charmed and delighted by your ask that I lost my mind and wrote you a veritable novel in response. Thus, I've added a readmore and headings (because WOW, I went on tangents, sorry!)
Returning to Reading
I'm so sorry you have migraines; I don't get them often, but I do occasionally get them, and it's some of the worst, least tolerable pain I've ever experienced. So, whatever it's worth, you have my sympathy and admiration, especially since returning to reading when you experience frequent migraines implicates some common triggers. (Never mind how annoying I know it is when you're in too much pain to read as a distraction either.) But I'm delighted you're reframing your relationship with reading separate from suffering, and that you're enjoying the process! I'm also returning to reading, and while I don't have the same challenges, I am also engaging in a process of relearning and recontextualizing reading for myself, so I'm always here to chat about it.
I'm especially thrilled that you picked up Akutagawa; Akutagawa is the author who also coaxed me back into reading literature (as opposed to comics or webnovels). He might still be my favorite even now that I've read several, several other modern Japanese authors.
Akutagawa Adoration Hours
[I apologize; I hyperfocused and wrote an entire multi-paragraph essay on how much I love Akutagawa below... I promise I come back to your ask!]
Akutagawa's literary voice is just so vivid, sharp, and intentional. He compels you to cling to the weight of each word with rich, clever language that cuts to the hearts of matters frankly, bluntly, and sometimes scathingly. But even when his authorial voice is ostensibly irreverent or lacquered with detachment, he cradles his most foolish characters, bundling them with naked affection for their sincerity, vulnerability, and childish conviction. They embody his unadulterated faith, and he reserves for them in the implication the same salvation he's convinced he's too sullied by shame, terror, and self-consciousness to deserve. Akutagawa does not squander the gravity of your attention, and even in brief vignettes in which humans become lice or have had their personhood severed from them by the untenable yet escalating demands of their responsibilities to others, there's humanity in his horror and absurdity, and closure in his ambiguity. I rarely feel as if there's certainty in Akutagawa's narratives, but neither do I feel as if nothing that occurred mattered.
Even when nothing has objectively changed for the characters, Akutagawa sources meaning from the subjective perceptions of the characters, the impact of which is rarely diminished by the objective or observable. Thus, the bleakness, horror, and absurdity of the characters' circumstances are sometimes interminable, but they shelter Akutagawa's fondness and latent certainty that existential meaning is inherent to humanity because of, rather than despite, our fragility, foolishness, and callous disregard for measurable truth.
His contemporaries criticized him for the detachment and perceived stagnancy lent by his polish and technical brilliance, but I've never read any of his stories and not felt an earnestness that persists entirely apart from the explicit narrative, as if someone is reading over my shoulder and murmuring "isn't she brave?" whenever a character is so simple in their sincerity that they become vulnerable to humiliation and abuse. And that's not detachment; that's Akutagawa relentlessly writing hope, love, and compassion into the creases of his own grotesque fear, and in doing so, filling spaces we perceive as empty in ourselves with the faith and devotion he was so certain he lacked.
You Said Childlike In Passing But Chapter 55 of the Tao Te Ching Rewired My Brain and I Was Lost In the Akutagawa Sauce So...
And it's childlike how, even when characters like O-Gin are debased and humiliated, Akutagawa yearns for their salvation enough to smudge the ink at the edges of his precisely rendered language so the silly, ignorant little fools might transcend the boundaries of the narrative that otherwise ruthlessly scorned and punished them for their guilelessness. His need for innocence is itself indicative of the keen sense of violation that prompts a toddler to indignation when his jejune reliance on fairness is first exploited and then provided as cause for exploitation.
Akutagawa was wise enough to know childlike conclusions are the most profound and self-actualizing insights we can have, but too certain of the inevitability of his suffering and too overly prescribed barbiturates to nurture and cherish his own salvific childishness. So, your realization was brilliant for its childlike wisdom, and I think it's both wonderful and meaningful that you then nurtured that wisdom by pursuing the relationship you wanted with the source material.
Being Right vs. Playful Engagement
I'm also so glad that the post about being clever =/= obsessing over being right was sticky and impactful! It's, quite frankly, immensely less fun and more pressure if you're hinging your enjoyment on whether you're right when engaging with media where "right" is subjective and layered, and where you're engaging with a foreign cultural context. I get the impression that centering your engagement on making and assessing the accuracy of predictions also lends itself to biases, defensiveness, disappointment, misplaced resentment based on unmet expectations, and incuriosity; at least more so than engaging with the story playfully and sincerely.
I'm also just extremely biased towards bsd and Asagiri's approach to storytelling; I think he's engaging in a challenging and layered approach to storytelling that is wholly unique to him. (At least, based on my own experiences with referential multimedia titles.) I'm so charmed by how Asagiri throws himself into creative challenges and engages in meaningful and remarkably substantive conversations with the source materials, his own portfolio of interlocking narratives, and his audience. I would kill to chat with him about his processes.
Everyone I'd Encountered Who Seemed Parasocially Obsessed With Dostoevsky Was Right
Before I get into this next babble tangent, I want you to know that your kind words and perspective as a Russian-speaker regarding my Dostoevsky thoughts mean SO much to me; I'm very proud if I'm able to do an ounce of justice to the text in my ramblings, and I'm so excited to know the appropriate phrase for what I'm experiencing right now because I am REALLY feeling.
I was admittedly a little nervous about reading his works with only minimal background, and I went into Crime and Punishment without first consulting any published critiques and analyses (which I sometimes do for foreign classics to bridge gaps in context). But, I was eager to start the story, so I decided to just get into it with the understanding I might need to pause for further research if I felt I was missing too much context to engage with the text meaningfully. But, wow, I was immediately consumed. I struggled to put it down for most of it, and I've been staying up too late and sneakily reading at work; things I haven't done since I was in middle school.
While I know I'm missing context, even with the attentive footnotes (and I absolutely will read so many academic papers on it once I finish these last fifty pages), I was pleasantly surprised by how not only engaging his writing and this translation are but also by how familiar with and connected I feel to the characters and circumstances and emotions and dynamics. He has rendered the human experience and specific flavors of People into such compassionate, teasing, sincere, frank, and sobering characters who I feel like I've had entire conversations with.
I love classic lit, but Dostoevsky is sincerely rekindling a joy I haven't felt in years while reading. Also, his frankness and compassion regarding alcoholism and parentified children and trauma and ennui and guilt and the contradictions we grapple with within ourselves and with who we are to different people are giving me a framework for reflecting on swaths of my trauma and childhood that I've struggled to articulate my thoughts and emotions around for years.
I'm so energized and excited about reading his other works, but, wow, I'm going to miss these characters so much.
Accounting For My Crimes Against the Russian Language
I have very little background in Russian, but I'm passingly familiar because in high school (i) I was obsessed with Russian history, particularly related to the USSR and swaths of imperial Russia (I actually taught the lesson on Ivan IV Vasilyevich in my Western Civ class because my teacher was pregnant and exhausted and I knew the material better than she did); and (ii) I studied Russian with a private tutor in my senior year of high school (very lightly; once a week, only for a year, I met with her and two French language teachers from my school who were also interested in Russian for hour-long lessons and to receive homework assignments).
So, while my experience with the language is shallow at best, I've always loved Russian diminutives. I'm obsessed with the sheer amount of information relayed in someone's name. It's incredible. Of the languages I'm familiar with, none have a comparably satisfying gradient range of (i) affection and (ii) disrespect.
That said, I use diminutives for characters I'm particularly fond of, to show affection, and to teasingly disrespect them since I think it's quite overfamiliar for me to take such liberties.
Also, while I try to check after myself to ensure I'm using them correctly, I have only a surface-level understanding of what I'm doing, and some language forum threads are more helpful than others, so I'm very, very sorry if I use any incorrectly, and I encourage you (and any other Russian speakers and learners) to yell at me if you notice I'm misusing someone's name.
So far, my approach has been to check general searches, forums, and Reddit when I've encountered diminutives in Crime and Punishment, and I'll continue to look up every single name variation in the Dostoevsky novels I'm reading, no matter how long it may take me to realize what I've been scouring for isn't a diminutive at all but instead probably (emphasis on "probably," because no one providing English explanations seemed wholly certain) the same name but spoken in the form native to a separate Slavic language than the languages anyone else in the conversation was using, not that it really seemed to matter, since the same characters within the same conversation each used multiple forms of the same, with only one remark on what was most likely the correct form, which everyone ignored/disregarded, including the remarking character. So if you have context on THAT dynamic, I would love to hear about the etiquette and conventions around language forms among the many different languages and dialects in Eastern Europe.
For reference, the diminutives I've been using re: Crime and Punishment and bsd, with more context:
Raskolnikov is "Rodya" unless he's naughty, in which case I call him "Rodka." Unless he's REALLY naughty, then he's Raskolnikov.
Avdotya is Dunya always; I do feel egregious because she commands grace and gravitas, and I respect her SO much. But I love her dearly and am very warm towards her and everything she does, so I call her Dunya as if she were my sister because if she were, I would treat her better than Rodka right now.
Razumikhin is Dima which may be wildly incorrect, both in form and historical context; the only reason I haven't confirmed it yet is because I had an OC named Dmitri in high school that I was very fond of and referred to affectionately as Dima, and I'm similarly fond of Razumikhin, so I've delayed confirming and correcting myself here, although that's very Rodka-naughty of me, I know.
Fedya is always bsd!Fyodor, and only when he has really wide eyes and is being adorable bunny Fedya. He is Fyodor when he is being nasty or squinting. I call the author by either his last or full name, although I'm sure I've carelessly called him Fyodor before too. I try to maintain some consistency in distinguishing who I'm referencing between the characters and their namesakes.
Tl;dr: I love Russian diminutives. The only other time I've come close to feeling the same amount of immense delight over names-as-love-and-violence is when my work mentor, who is Chinese, was providing me with her preferred titles (laoban ["old boss," old meaning "venerable" rather than indicating age], jiejie ["big sister"]), and my other coworker chimed in to say, "Wouldn't you be da-jiejie ["first/eldest big sister"], since you're the oldest?" If looks could kill.
#bsd#bungou stray dogs#ryunosuke akutagawa#modern japanese literature#crime and punishment#fyodor dostoevsky#no one read this i got way too into it#tipsy dima#there that can be my tag for kind words and things that I will want to revisit when I'm having a bad day because I adored that scene too#also seriously I've had a hellacious few weeks so you really brightened my day#thank you!
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Baked with Love
Summary: Hajime Umemiya frequently visits a local bakery where Y/N, a sweet and caring worker, has captured his heart. Despite his nervousness, Hajime continually finds excuses to see her, often bringing friends who know his true intentions.
Warnings: None
Note: Hi, I started watching the new anime called Windbreaker, so I'm going to be writing for some of these cuties.
The bell above the bakery door chimed softly as Hajime Umemiya pushed it open, the scent of freshly baked bread and pastries wafting out to greet him. He inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet aroma that never failed to lift his spirits. The warm, inviting atmosphere of the bakery was a stark contrast to the bustling streets outside. Soft music played in the background, and the gentle hum of conversation filled the air.
“Man, this place really does have the best treats,” Hajime said, a little too enthusiastically, as he ushered his friends inside. They exchanged knowing glances but said nothing, familiar with the real reason for his frequent visits.
You stood behind the counter, your eyes lighting up as you saw Hajime enter. “Good morning, Hajime! It’s great to see you again,” you greeted warmly, your smile as sweet as the confections you sold.
Hajime’s heart skipped a beat at your words, and he felt a blush creeping up his neck. “Morning, Y/N. Got any new treats today?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
“We do! We just started making these new strawberry tarts. Would you like to try one?” You held up a perfectly golden tart, the strawberries glistening under the soft lights.
“Absolutely! I’ll take one. And, um, the usual for my friends,” Hajime said, his eyes never leaving yours.
As you prepared their order, Hajime couldn’t help but admire the way you moved, so graceful and focused. The way your hands worked, deftly and efficiently, made his heart swell with admiration. He wondered how someone could be so perfect, so effortlessly kind and beautiful.
“You know,” his friend Suo said, nudging him with an elbow, “you should just ask her out already. It’s obvious you like her.”
Hajime shot him a panicked look. “Shh, not so loud!” he whispered urgently. “She’ll hear you!”
Suo chuckled. “Honestly, I think she already knows. Everyone does.”
You returned with their order, setting the tray on the counter with a smile. “Here you go! One strawberry tart for you, Hajime, and the usual for your friends. I hope you all enjoy it.”
“Thanks, Y/N. I’m sure we will,” Hajime replied, his voice softer now. He handed you the money, and as your fingers brushed briefly, he felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him.
As they settled at a table near the window, Hajime took a bite of the tart. The sweet and tangy flavor of the strawberries, perfectly balanced by the flaky crust, was a delight. But even more delightful was watching you as you interacted with other customers, your cheerful demeanor never fading.
“Man, you’ve got it bad,” Haruka teased, biting into his own pastry.
Hajime sighed, his eyes still on you. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
The sun streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the bakery. The combination of sunlight, the smell of freshly baked goods, and your presence made the place feel magical. Hajime knew he couldn’t keep coming here with the same excuse forever. He needed to muster the courage to ask you out, to see if there was a chance you felt the same way about him.
As they were getting ready to leave, Hajime lingered by the counter, waiting for a moment when you weren’t busy. Finally, you turned to him with that same sweet smile.
“Is there something else you need, Hajime?”
He swallowed nervously, his heart pounding. “Actually, Y/N, there is. I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to go out with me sometime? Like, not just here, but… somewhere else?”
Your eyes widened in surprise, and then a radiant smile spread across your face. “I’d love that, Hajime.”
His heart soared, and he felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders. “Really? That’s… that’s awesome. How about this Saturday?”
“Saturday sounds perfect,” you replied, your cheeks tinged with a soft blush.
“Great! I’ll see you then,” Hajime said, grinning from ear to ear.
As he left the bakery, his friends congratulating him and patting him on the back, Hajime felt like he was walking on air.
#fanfic#writing#fandom#anime#fluff#anime writers#cute#hajime umemiya#sakura haruka#windbreaker#anime x reader#fighting anime#hayato suo#togame jo#hajime umemiya x reader#windbreaker anime#writers on tumblr#request are open#requesting#new anime#x reader
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thought of calling you, but you won’t pick up • ttfd
chapter four of the tortured firefighters department
previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter
cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, no descriptions of reader, banter (because i love it), reader is a math and science nerd, chris is here, mentions of food, hints of mental issues, proofread by my bye-lingual ass (let me know if i forgot anything)
You checked your phone again. Last night, Eddie texted that Carla would be joining you and Chris on your small field trip because he forgot he had booked her for the day. You never met the lady, but you were sure it was gonna be fine. With an extra adult ticket in your pocket, you waited.
Fifteen minutes and no sign of them. Maybe you should text Eddie and get Carla’s number? She was probably stuck in traffic, but that information would ease your worries — and you could help her avoid the even worse routes the apps were giving these days. At this pace, you’d wear off the soles of your white Nike Dunk and pull every single thread of your maroon sweater.
You were about to text Eddie when you saw the black Jeep Wrangler parking not a few spots down to your left. No fucking way, you thought as you marched into its direction.
“Let’s go, Chris, we’re gonna be late!” Buck helped the kid out of the car and picked up a small paper bag before closing the door.
“Hey, Chris! Are you excited?” You hugged him and kept your hands on his shoulder, finally looking at the one person you’ve been successfully avoiding. “Thanks for dropping him off, Buckley. Is Carla joining us later?”
“Actually, I’m on babysitting duty today.” He extended you the paper bag. “Peace offering?”
“What is this?”
“The reason why we were late.” He insisted you accept the bag. “C’mon, aren’t you curious?”
“He said you’d like it,” Chris added.
You accepted the gift, peaking it before opening the bag and finding one of your favorite cupcakes from your favorite bakery. The one from the incident that set the whole “we could be friends” situation on fire.
“Can we call it a truce for today?” It was implied, but he was definitely saying this for Chris’ sake.
“Ok, just today. But this doesn’t make things magically disappear, Buckley.”
“Why do you call him Buckley?” Chris asked you, his head tilted in your direction. “I call him Buck!”
“She’s mad at me, little guy.” He took a step closer to you two, probably testing the waters. “Did you get the tickets?”
“Who do you think I am? But give me one second, I can’t enter the museum with food.”
“Take your time. Wanna see if we can get to the museum before Brains, Chris?” And off they went.
You were almost sure Eddie planned this out. Leaving you to babysit his son and his annoying friend, who everyone under the 118 roof knew you were avoiding. One hundred percent intentional, right? And of course he would be late because he drove all the way to Santa Monica to buy your favorite cupcake — someone gave him a tip.
You started to feel a bit sad for ignoring his calls and texts all week long. But you pushed it away while you ate the cupcake and watched the boys walking to the entrance. With your clean hand, you gave Buck the tickets and told them to go ahead and go all the way back after the main hall: it was smart to take advantage of the morning weather on the Nature Gardens outside and explore all the fossils and animals later on.
You were just a few steps behind when you caught up with them in the outdoor gardens. As a newcomer to this whole Chris’ babysitter duty job, you left to Buck to finish the small walk around the main paths. It was a good opportunity to text Eddie and say that, even though you offered to take Chris to the Museum, you were only assigned to take care of one kid, not two. In his best single-father in the middle of a shift style, he texted you a ‘thumbs up’ back. Oh he was so hearing about it later.
The Natural History Museum in Los Angeles was definitely packed with exhibitions that could keep a child and adults entertained. You’d been there once, as soon as you moved to LA, almost a year ago now, and the featured exhibitions were different back then, but still a pretty good curating work after all.
However, the moment Chris saw the Dinosaur Hall and the Dino Lab, you knew it was over for any other exhibitions. And could you blame him? The dinos were pretty badass and Chris was a very curious kid, so he kept asking you all the questions you could’ve imagined — and a few more you weren’t prepared for. You acted like his own private tour guide, proud of spending some time researching and studying about dinosaurs the last few days.
You almost missed all the attention Buck was giving to you while you talked. To be honest, you couldn’t tell who was more focused on you: the kid or the annoying adult.
After all that talking, you for sure were starting to feel a little tired and overwhelmed. Even with short breaks for some water, you still felt like you needed a reset. You signaled to Buck that you’re going to the restroom for a second, he kept reading Chris the charts about butterflies and insects.
You washed your hands and used some of the water on your neck, trying to calm yourself down. How did you go from wanting Buckley’s head on a plate to babysitting with him? Life was fast and unpredictable by the Pacific shore. One lady entered the restroom and stopped by the sink to your right, trying to get rid of the chocolate and ketchup in her hands. You saw her a few minutes ago, when you stopped to grab some water.
“Can I just say you are an adorable couple? And your son is so sweet.” Her tone was sweet and definitely meant well. But she was so wrong about everything.
“Oh, he’s not our kid,” you rushed to explain the situation. “We’re just babysitting for a friend while he’s working.”
“Well, just like my grandparents told me once: sometimes you’ll have a taste of what your life could be with a special person at the moment you least expected.”
You smiled at her through the mirrors. “Did they give you any advice on how to know if it’s the right one?”
“No, but you look like someone who knows how to find that answer.” She threw the paper towels away. “Sorry for being so cryptic. Have fun!”
She left before you could even thank her for… well, the advice. Not that you asked for it, but it did show up in a nice time. Or maybe not. You weren’t sure. Did that truce mean you could let yourself feel everything you were repressing for the past few weeks? Not just regarding Evan Buckley and his lack of manners, but about everything in your life.
After all the dinosaurs and lectures about natural history, you decided to wrap up and move on to the next stop on your list. Buckley helped Chris get down the entry steps and you took the directions back to the parking lot close to the museum.
“Thanks for your services, Buckley. You can just,” you motioned your head to his car. “Ok, Chris. What do you wanna do now?” You opened your Uber app to get a ride to the next destination.
“Not necessary.” Buckley took the phone out of your hands and stored it into his jacket pocket. “I’m also the designated driver for the day.”
“What happened to you getting out of my hair?” You crossed your arms over your chest.
“I thought we were in this together.” He gave you the classic — and a little bit sassy — Buckley smile. He paid for the parking. “C’mon, Chris, we have places to go.”
The three of you walked to his car, but you were still not convinced. It was your idea to babysit Chris for the day, all your plans were picked towards your goal: having a nice and chill day with him. You didn’t need Evan Buckley and all his golden retriever energy to disturb your perfect equation.
While you were hating on him, he made sure Chris was comfortable and safe on the back seat.
“Why are you ruining my plans?” You didn’t move from the driver’s door. Maybe, if you were warned beforehand you’d had to deal with him, you'd grow some patience. But not today, not this fast.
“I’m not. Still your plans with Chris. Tell me where to go next, I’ll drive us.”
“Give me my phone back.”
“Are you letting me be your driver today?” He leaned against the car.
“What choice do I have, Evan?” You rolled your eyes.
“Hey, I’ve told you I’m sorry.” You stepped aside, finally letting him grab the door handle. “Also, none of my friends call me Evan, by the way.”
“And since when am I your friend?”
“Since now. Hurry up, he’s gonna grow impatient and snap at us.”
“He would never do that.”
“Wanna test your theory, future doctor?”
“Not at all.”
He closed the door. You went around the vehicle, still pissed at him for taking your phone from you. You jumped into the car and checked Chris.
“Ok, are we hungry already or can we check out this cool place before that?”
“Pancakes!” Chris shouted from his seat. “Please?”
“Sure! Ok, let me just,” you instinctively reached out for your phone, but it was still being held hostage by Buck. “Phone, please.”
“Here,” he handed it to you, an aux cable attached to it. “Put the address in the GPS, and please play something kid friendly, ok?”
“Excuse me? What do you think I listen to while I’m driving to work?”
“With that sassy attitude of yours? I expect the worst.”
Just to prove him wrong, as soon as you entered the address on the GPS, you blasted one of your personal favorites. “I stay out too late, got nothing in my brain. That's what people say, mm-mm,” you sang.
“That's what people say, mm-mm,” and Chris, in the back seat, joined you.
You were definitely getting under Buck’s skin. The fact that you picked a song Chris knew the words too left him in disadvantage because you were sure he wanted the taste of saying “Told you so” as soon as he proved his point. But he should’ve known better than to provoke you.
“And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate. Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake. I shake it off!” You sang it right by Buck’s ear, dodging his hand because he was trying to get you out of his hair. Well, how does it feel now, Evan?
Your queue was really impressive: it looked like you were up-to-date with what the younger generation was listening to — not that you didn’t enjoy the same songs occasionally, but you never kept your options too narrow. There was just one scary moment where you thought you added an explicit song, but you deleted it in time.
Buck was too busy following the GPS directions. You were stuck with him for the rest of the day, which was a nightmare by itself, and kinda stuck into the endless LA traffic. Chris didn’t notice the animosity between you because you both toned it down — for him, only for one day. Most of it sounded like some friendly banter.
Under the upbeat pop song you were playing, you could hear him singing another tune, barely familiar, but still unrecognizable.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, nothing.” He made a left turn, but kept on singing it. “If you could see it… been here all along… how could you not know baby.”
Without a warning, you typed the name of the song in your library and gave it priority in your queue. His fingers started tapping in the beat, and he started following the lyrics, saying the right words this time.
“If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along. So, why can't you see? You belong with me,” you two sang along together. But you really kept your poker face because you couldn’t give him any reasons to be even more annoying.
“Looks like we’ve arrived,” he announced, breaking the spell of one song.
Buck pointed to the restaurant you found a few months ago. It was located south of Santa Monica, a few blocks from the beach, but with the rooftop seats, you could definitely say you were eating by the beach. You parked not far from the entry, and you rushed upstairs to get one of those special tables, telling Buck to help Chris because you didn’t want to ruin the surprise.
On the very edge of the roof, your favorite table awaited you: closer to the corner, with a huge light blue umbrella over your head, the four seat table had the perfect view and vibes. You pulled a chair for your bag and greeted the waiter. She didn’t get why you were in a rush until she saw Chris on Buck’s back.
“Could you just pick a place with an elevator next time?”
“I thought you were the muscles, Buckley. Hey, Chris, let me help you.” You held him tight, removing him from Buck’s embrace and putting him on the floor. “I had to make sure we had the perfect table.”
Three stores of stairs, in a rush, were justified once you got to see the smile on Chris’ face. You could catch your breath later.
+++
Chris ate way too many pancakes. You’d have to do a lot of explaining to Eddie, but hey, if the kid was happy, how could that be a problem?
You had to cancel the last plan of the day — a trip to another museum — and settle down at an arcade close to the restaurant before ending your babysitting duty. Just buying you enough time to Eddie leave the firehouse and be home. So you were watching Buck and Chris playing some games while you tried to schedule some study breaks between classes and shifts.
“What’s wrong?” Buck sat down to your right. Chris was just in your sight, in case he needed more coins or any help.
“Nothing.” You turned off your phone screen, ignoring your packed schedule.
“It doesn’t look like nothing.” He gave you a little smudge on the shoulder. “C’mon, Brains, talk to me.”
“I’m just a bit tired, it’s fine.”
“You know, you can go home now, I’ll take him to Eddie’s. You look like you need a good night of sleep.”
“To be honest, I can’t go back home now because I’d feel guilty. My brain is all mushy,” you pointed to your head, “and I wouldn’t be able to study or relax. I would rather stay here, where my mind is focused on something else.”
“I know what you mean,” he leaned his body back, his eyes staring something beyond what you could see. “I support you distracting yourself, but this won’t go away just because you’re ignoring it, you know? Are you sure you’re ok?”
Being ok was a concept you weren’t sure about the past few days. You wanted to be ok, to look ok to everyone around you, but it was hard. You were just faking until you made it. The PhD program was starting to wear you off, and even though you loved it, the thoughts of giving up were taking every single inch of your notes and books.
But what would be your excuse to leave it unfinished when numbers, probabilities and hours of understanding the impossible things were half of your life at this point?
“Did I hit my head or something? Do you have a fever? Why are you being nice to me?” You swiftly tried to change subjects.
“We’re on a truce, remember?”
“Maybe we could be on good terms again,” you suggested. “I mean, if you ever eat my cupcakes again, Bobby will need to hire a new firefighter.”
“So we’re good?”
“We’re good.” Your screen lit up with a notification. “Eddie is gonna be stuck with an emergency, but Carla is on her way to the house. Should we just go?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll go get him and then we drop him off.”
“Great.”
Chris black out as soon as Buck started the drive back to the Diaz house. The radio volume was low, and the orange and pink tones of the sunset were being replaced by the dark blue of the night. You found it hard to keep your eyes open for too long, and only noticed you took a nap when Chris was calling for your name, wanting to say goodbye before going inside.
“Thank you for today, Brains!” He hugged you, and it made everything worth it. “Can we do this again soon?”
“We’re gonna chase all the dinosaurs in LA, I promise.” You gave him one last huge and walked back to the car, watching Carla and Buck talking by the front door.
And there you were, back in the car with Evan Buckley. If he wanted to make a comment about how he was right, he let it slide. You connected your phone and entered the address to your house on the GPS. He took your phone from your hands, declaring “Now that everyone in this car is over 18, we can play the good stuff.”
“Are you sure you are old enough? Give me that back, Evan!”
“Hey! I’m driving. And you challenged me. I’m gonna show you what I usually blast in my car.”
You expected anything from Evan Buckley, even the worst genre of music, but nothing prepared you for when you listened to the introduction of ‘You Give Love A Bad Name’ blasting through the speakers.
The playlist had completely changed and moved away from what you played when Chris was in the car. Bruce Springsteen, The Beatles, even a little of Led Zeppelin, just to enjoy some classics you never thought Buck appreciated. But he was more than just a firefighter with a sassy attitude, some wrongs and lots of muscle.
You look around, panicking a little when you notice you’re entering your building’s garage. You were definitely expecting to be dropped off at the front of the building. What the hell was going on?
“What… How did you get the access?”
“So, funny story. Maddie told you about the place, right?” He turned his head to check your reaction. “Well, I was the one that mentioned that a unit was available when I was complaining about my ex neighbor… So yeah, we are neighbors.”
“You’re annoying, you know that, right?”
“I thought Maddie told you.”
Well, she almost did, but she was interrupted by your neighbor himself that night. Shit.
“For how long did you know this?” You pointed to the garage and between you two.
“For a few weeks, when I saw your car after the cupcake incident.”
“I pledge the fifth.” You disconnected your phone from his car. Well, it would only get awkward if you walked to your apartment in complete silence, so you asked, “Wait, so you were texting and calling me from across the hall? You’re unbelievable.”
“What? If I knock on your door, you’ve got a restraining order against me.”
You left the car at the same time, and walked to the elevators.
“I bet I could convince Sergeant Grant to arrest you.”
“You’d make her dreams come true.”
Same elevator, same floor. You took opposite directions: his place was to the left, yours to the right, on the corners of the building, just one unit between you. You waved him goodbye and entered your home. To your right, your kitchen and dinner table. The glass doors to your balcony were opened — your mistake when you left in a hurry that morning — and it felt more like home than you expected.
Under the stairs, your notes and books were scattered. Sundays were for studying and writing the thesis. Your gray couch held the books you were searching the other day, too busy to put them back in the high and long bookshelves you had on the wall. Your television was the least used electronic in the place.
You walked upstairs and threw yourself in the bed. Maybe you should’ve picked up his calls before, but now it wasn’t a problem anymore.
author's note: are we watching the beginning of their friendship? I THINK SO! yes, i love a slow burn, but i swear it's gonna be worth it, ok? hope you're enjoying this series as much as i am. also: i published a blurb, so check the series masterlist bc i kinda loved it, not gonna lie. ALSO, my lovely friend, casey, made a playlist for the series. just check the masterlist! see yall next week!
#evan buckley fanfic#evan buckley#evan buckley x reader#evan buckley x you#9 1 1 abc#9 1 1 fanfiction#evan buck buckely#buck fanfiction#evan buckley imagine#effie writes
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Chuuya pov at double black reunion after 4 years.
“Where is Akutagawa?” Chuuya asks, looking around.
An eerie silence takes over the jolly group. Their calm smiles falter. An instant sense of worry rushes through his mind. Emo boy shouldn’t be a sour subject unless he’s become a traitor.
This is a sort of environment where people will blab shit they think he can’t handle, he remembers the same expression on Mori’s grim face while he said Dazai’s benn sighted two years ago and then offered him a ticket to Paris with an incredibly long mission planned. It was a horrible meeting and he left Japan right after.
“S-senpai’s interrogating a member of the armed detective agency.”
Chuuya blinks, what in the world is the armed detective agency? A detective agency with people walking around with machine guns in their hands? As amusing as that may seem, it’s one of the few organisations with a special ability permit. That much Chuuya remembers from having read.
A foreboding feeling ensnares him, he can hear the drums of war burst in his ears like in the period Japanese movie he watched a few days ago in the flight, it’s because of that bastard.
“I’ll go see him” Chuuya picks up his hanging coat from the chair, he’ll see him, his legs start moving on their own he could be jumping out of the window. Murderous intent is ebbing out of him and he can feel the power this anger begets.
A gentle hand halts him. He looks at Ane-san, “You” -are playing into his hands? Are being an idiot? Shouldn’t go? Fucking kill him when you see him? Not act reckless?
“Should take your hat and call the driver.”
His eyebrows furrow, he was being rude and Ane-san just– “I apologise for my bad manners.” He parrots a phrase he learnt to use very often while training under Kouyou when he was a junior.
She just nods her head slightly while placing the hat on his head, mouthing a go. An unsaid don’t come back miserable falls into his ears. He leaves.
His lips burn with a desire to have a cigarette puckered between them, but he belatedly realises that Hirotsu borrowed his pack and still has it.
The old fags tryin’ to make him quit smoking for a very long time. A hypocrite given his love for cigars.
Chuuya’s too hurried, even if he’s trying to not be. So he doesn't ask anyone for a light.
He reaches the port mafia’s maze-like dungeons, skidding here and there to finally see a furious Akutagawa smashing the small iron door shut.
“Chuuya-san?” Akutagawa says when their eyes meet. Blinking as if in disbelief.
The kid's fist is glaringly red against his pale, almost albinic complexion. Dazai deserves this albeit more. He beat and kicked a helpless orphan into a horrible messed up killing machine. Akutagawa has every right to extract revenge Mafia style.
Somepart of Chuuya, however enraged and disgusted by the bandaged jerkface, still wants him to be okay -not hurt too gravely per say. It is his competitive side, the one that seeks a fair fight against his lifelong rival.
“Welcome back home, I was told you would be joining in the evening. What purpose brings you here?”
Chuuya shrugs, pressing skip on the question.
“Is Dazai locked up in here?” His finger points towards the door with a slight tremor. The name, he hasn't spoken that name in years.
Akutagawa scowls murmuring a slight hum.
“How? Why?” Chuuya asks. The fucker’s too meticulous. He’d never do anything unwillingly even while sleeping.
“We have received a hefty bounty on a weretiger. Dazai got sloppy and got caught in the process.” Akutagawa replied.
Chuuya’s in a daze, Dazai protecting people? Akutagawa reads his astonished expression.
“The weretiger is a member of the armed detective agency.”
Right, Dazai is a member of the armed detective agency.
He doesn't know anything about this agency. He'd been not home for such a long time, avoiding it at times when he could visit back. A foreigner to all soil on Earth. An Earth that crumbles under him, pulls on his command but doesn't accept him.
“Give me a quick debrief.” He orders his subordinate.
Long agonising minutes later he’s lowering his head to stand trot down the narrow fleet of stairs.
He looks up to see Dazai chained to a wall in this dimly lit basement.
Dazai's changed. He’s wearing a beige coat and a bolo tie and he is missing a patch of bandages that used to hide a part of his face.
It's the first time he's looking at both of Dazai’s eyes, captivating him with the brightness they hold.
“You being chained here is like a painting worth a million dollars.”
It's not that much, they aren't that bright at all, in fact they are dim but they aren't hollow like they used to be on most days.
He'd seen only one eye gleam at him with brightness and it was only at the moment Dazai had joked or lied to him.
He feels his throat constrict, irritates at how shaken his resolve of killing Dazai has become already.
Dazai curses under his breath, an overly dramatic horrified expression plastered on his face.
“Still as short as ever I see and hiding a bald patch under this hideous hat are we
Chuuya~”
Yeah he's regained the sentiment, this is it Chuuya Nakahara would grant a suicidal maniac his life’s wish today. Strangulation would be the attributed reason in the post mortem report.
“And you are still obsessed with suicide. It will make the happiest man on earth to strangle you.”
“Yes but you see Chuuya my goal has changed, I now seek a beautiful women to commit double suicide with.”
He clicks his knuckles. There's a lot of things he needs to ask. He’s just waiting till he gets those answers.
“You can fool Akutagawa but you can not fool me. I was your partner after all.” The word partner leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue and he instantly feels the urge to smoke rise. He grits his teeth with an attempt to quash it.
#chuuya nakahara#bsd chuuya#dazai osamu#nakahara chuuya#bsd#soukoku fanfiction#Planning on writing the whole bsd from Chuuya pov#What do you guys think about that?#Pov nc#bunguo stray dogs#bsd dazai#bsd akutagawa ryuunosuke#I wonder if anyone wants a fic like that
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Hi hi 👋 love your writing, pink, winteriron?
thank youuu! I hope you like this!
(now taking prompts for pride month)
Fading Pink
WinterIron, T, 650 - Fluff
~
“Tony.”
“Mhm.”
“Tony. Angel.”
“Mm!”
A low, rumbling laugh makes its way to Tony’s ears as cool fingers trail down his spine.
“Doll face,” that warm voice says, warmer than the sun still soaking into his skin. “Tony, sweetheart, if you don’t wake up already I’m eatin’ your dinner.”
With another grumbled hum Tony finally lifts his head from his crossed arms, blinking sluggishly against the bright golden light.
Ah, right, he’s on a beach, sprawled out on their giant blanket and supposedly working on his tan. He must have fallen asleep at some point after Bucky had headed back into the biggest rental house Tony could talk him into for the trip. Their own little slice of paradise, at least for now.
It's been nearly perfect, but Tony can always find something to complain about.
”You abandoned me,” Tony pouts, narrowing his eyes at the dark shape sitting beside him, casting a shadow over him.
"Someone had t’make us some food," Bucky returns, and Tony can tell he’s grinning by the tilt of his head, “an’ we both know you weren’t gonna move.”
“I’m photo-”
“You are not photosynthesizing,” Bucky interrupts with a huff of laughter, and Tony grumbles as he buries his face in his arms again. “I really will eat your food,” Bucky warns, but he’s absently brushing the hair away from the nape of Tony’s neck.
“Five more minutes,” Tony demands, his voice a petulant whine even as he arches up into the wonderful contrast of Bucky’s cool skin against his.
“Are you tryin’ to roast yourself out here?” Bucky asks with another soft laugh.
“Like a rotisserie chicken,” Tony agrees as he flops over onto his back and stretches lazily. He smirks as Bucky’s eyes drag down his bare chest to stop on the tiny black swim trunks sitting low on his hips. “I hope you appreciate this,” Tony says as he bends one knee up, letting his thighs fall open just a little wider, “I’m only wearing the shorts because you like tan lines.”
“I do like 'em,” Bucky agrees with a thoughtful nod and now his chilled metal fingers are following the path of his eyes, down Tony’s stomach to trail along the waist of his shorts. “But apparently,“ he continues, ”there was th’ alternative of you not wearin’ these. So it’s a real win/lose situation for me.”
Tony laughs, and then laughs harder when Bucky’s fingers dip ticklishly beneath the fabric, pulling it up to inspect the line of his tan. “Now go back to touching my head,“ he demands, shoving lightly at Bucky’s hand without any real intent. ”that felt amazing. So refreshing.”
"‘Cuz I’ve been inside," Bucky says with a roll of his eyes, but reaches up to brush the hair off Tony’s forehead, “in th’ AC, where our dinner is waitin’ on us. C’mon.”
“And leave the sun?“ Tony demands even as he lean up into Bucky’s touch, ”The sun is my new best friend.”
"Well your new best friend burned me,“ Bucky says and Tony laughs at the memory of his skin flushed an angry red before he’d fled inside earlier. ”Stop,“ Bucky complains, poking him in the forehead.
”Sorry, sorry,“ Tony says, still laughing, ”but I told you to start slow, you have to woo the sun.“
”Woo me,“ Bucky grumbles, letting himself be pulled down beside Tony on the sandy blanket.
”Gladly,” Tony says and reels him into a kiss, dragging his thumb along the warm curve of Bucky’s cheek. His sunburn has already healed to just a hint of color, like a lingering blush, and Tony kisses him until the sun has vanished into the water.
“Dinner is still waitin’,“ Bucky points out eventually, but his fingers are still creeping beneath the waist of Tony’s shorts.
”Let it wait,“ Tony says and presses his lips to the fading pink over the bridge of Bucky’s nose.
#my fic#winteriron#starkbucks#bucky/tony#pride month prompts#because the boys deserve a beach vacation#coralreefpool#riot writes#riot takes prompts
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ellie idk what you're intentions w kickoff!gojo and reader's futures are but omg they have the potential to be a celebrity couple? like when gojo is a big shot pro footballer and reader is a big shot filmmaker (coz hell yeah our girl will make it big) and they're still together. ppl (paps) ask them how they got together thinking it's a typical celebrity meet cute but then find out the entire backstory (unless gojo tells everyone about y/n unprompted coz he's gojo and he loves her). in universe fans love them like the rest of us and think they're power couple goals
also in case my rambling didn't make it clear, i love kickoff so much and think about it a little too often. that being said, pls take time to rest and take care of yourself. u deserve the world💕💕💕💕💕💕💕
YESS omg absolutely i love a couple that started off small together but then grew w love n encouragement n now they’re just THAT couple like plsss it’s so sweet :”) like wow we really started from the bottom but we stuck thru it together n now we’re here 🫶🏼💕 COLLEGE SWEETHEARTS THAT MAKE IT BIG
stop 🙈 i have such an obsession watching those NBA videos of basketball players holding their babies while answering sports conference questions after games 😭😭 i feel like that would be kickoff gojo w his n reader’s babies LSKDFJHF n omg i was also daydreaming ab how cute it wld be if reader made a motion picture inspired by their love story ✋🏼😔 IK ITS SO CLICHE BUT LEAVE ME ALONE ITS ADORABLE N SWEET
YOU’RE SO CUTE my love thanks for the ask <333 i am so soft now and am imagining many ideas xD please take care of yourself too and YOU deserve the world my love :”) <33
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