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blackopals-world · 1 month

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Can u do a list as to how each grim acts or behaves.

How each Yuus Grim behaves

Part 1

🪡-Tailor!Yuu

Appearance: Grim has a long cream to gray coat. He looks like a very fancy cat breed. His long fur needs constant care and baths.

Personality: Grim lives the life of a social media icon as a pet influencer. He doesn't consider himself a pet though. Because of this he's very even-tempered and tolerates most things. He often has to model new outfits and accessories for cats and he enjoys the attention. He spends time at Pomefiore getting combed, brushed, and pampered as a famous pet. Cater often tries to get pictures with him which causes Grim to hiss at him and send a fireball his way.

How they met: Grim had always seen himself as a born star. So he tried to do so through magic which is why he stalked the halls of NRC. He narrowly avoided becoming Trein's new pet. He was drown to a beautiful ribbon that spilled out of a coffin and chose it the uniform he wanted. After the catastrophe went down Yuu took him in as a model and they started a social media together modeling outfits and making videos.

🩺-Vet!Yuu

Appearance: Grim takes on the appearance of a Savannah cat. His body size is larger with longer legs. He has a habit of hissing when he speaks.

Personality: Grim is more feral with a desire to be the strongest. Grim constantly picks fights and causes arguments. He will only eat raw meat and fish. Grim doesn't like humans at all with Yuu as the single exception. He often swipes at Ace and Deuce as they walk by.

How they met: He heard of Savanaclaw and knew he needed to join the school. Instead of interrupting the entrance ceremony, he ended up being tranquilized and put in a cage. Yuu eventually found him after the event after Crowley put them in charge of the beasts on campus. They come to an agreement that Grim will be free if he becomes their familiar.

🔫-Special Forces!Yuu

Appearance: Grey Norwegian forest cat. One of the biggest cats in the world. He's a big fluffy boy. Built for cold weather.

Personality: This Grim is quiet and intimidating. Well as intimidating as he can be. He wants to learn magic because he wants a challenge. He enjoys games and playing at the board games club. He is pretty calm and even lazy if he isn't challenged enough. Yuu often brings him new things to do like hunting tasks and spying. Grim enjoys snow and will bury himself the moment it gets high enough.

How they met: Yuu can be pretty weird. They sort of snatched Grim up like a stray cat and took him home. Grim was just too fluffy to resist. Grim took it well and revealed he was a walking monster after a few days of brushing and food.

🌊- Marine Biologist!Yuu

Appearance: Grim looks like a Turkish Van. His coat is waterproof, making him a natural swimmer. He is easy to spot with his mostly white coat.

Personality: Grim is often wandering around aimlessly. He will dive into fishing spots to catch fresh fish. Because of Yuu he spends alot of time at the lounge. He has no fear of the twins or Azul for that matter. Often naps at random spots around the Cafe. The customers have started feeding him snacks if he lets them pet him. It is very lucrative for Azul. Grim has taken up surfing with Yuu.

How they met: Grim washed up on shore and was saved by Yuu. They have been inseparable ever since. Grim is incredibly laid back so he keeps Yuu calm when the situation gets tough.

🪶-Harpy!Yuu

Appearance: Grim is a Bengal cat. With a lean and thin body.

Personality: Grim is affectionate and curious. He spends a lot of time at Scarabia. He enjoys hunting pests for fun and exploring everything around him. He also has a habit of stealing things. He loves stealing treasures. He is always running from Jamil.

How they met: Grim was stealing from NRC when he got caught by Yuu. Grim bargained for his lives by giving Yuu the treasure he stole. Afterwards, he decided to take advantage of Yuu and stuck to them for more treasure.

🌷-Gardener!Yuu

Appearance: Scottish Fold with a round head and curled ears.

Personality: Having to deal with their no-nonsense human is no easy task. He helps take care of the garden but he will steal fruits and veggies all the time. When Yuu got mini cows he started working as a barn cat to keep him out of the garden. He's not happy about it. He likes the pies Yuu makes though.

How they met: Grim was drawn to Yuu whether he liked it or not. He was mostly drawn to the silvervine in their pockets. Yuu offered it to him and he decided he liked them. It might have been just the catnip.

🍴-Chef!Yuu

Appearance: Burmese. Big ol' ears. On the chunky side but it's not too bad yet.

Personality: very cheerful and lazy. He enjoys helping Yuu cook but he tends to make a mess. He constantly pulls on Yuu to get more snacks. Grim loves that he gets to laze around and gets belly rubs. He however hates having Ruggie around and taking his place.

How they met: Yuu found him starving outside the school gates and took him in. Ever since Grim has been spoiled rotten.

♨️-Onsen!Yuu

Appearance: Japanese bobtail, low shed, and short hair. Smells like flowers.

Personality: He's nice but he's no lap cat. Grim stands guard at the door of the onsen. He is the mascot of the spa. He gets the best fish and massages daily. He gets protective of the workers and Yuu and will attack anyone who gets out of line.

How they met: Grim saved Yuu when she was getting harassed and as Yuu's hero, he was given a place by her side.

🌙Celestial!Yuu

Appearance: Has pelt formed from stardust. Feels like fur. Feels warmer than the average cat.

Personality: Grim is a silent companion who has helped Yuu raise 3 children. Grim slept next to Silver every night for years and has served as a somewhat unlucky nanny cat for Malleus as well. He's done a good job fetching toys, turning out lights, and being used as a stuffed animal replacement. Not to mention a crocodile's chew toy. He is relieved that the boys are grown up. But the boys still look for him. He hides from them.

How they met: Yuu made Grim hundreds of years ago and he has served as a loving companion and aid. He was firmly against their marriage to Lilia.

🎮-Otaku!Yuu

Appearance: Selkirk Rex. he's not matted thats just his fur. He is just crusty.

Personality: Grim was just looking for a way into the school and convinced Yuu to help him. He just didn't know that Yuu would immediately drag him to the headmaster and demand to keep him. Now he has to tolerate being used for cat memes and being petted by Idia. But if they put one more pineapple on his head they are dead. It's not too bad he gets to Playtest every game Yuu makes and eat snacks with them.

How they met: He was so raggedy. Yuu just wanted to see where this goes.

#tailor!yuu #vet!yuu #special forces!yuu #marine biologist!yuu #harpy!yuu #gardener!yuu #chef!yuu #onsen!yuu #celestial!yuu #otaku!yuu #yuuniverse #twisted wonderland grim #twst grim #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

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beskarandblasters · 2 months

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My Rose, My Pretty Flower

Abby Anderson x F!Reader

Ways to help Palestine

Main Masterlist | Abby Anderson Masterlist

Summary: While traveling to Santa Barbara, you and Abby stop in an abandoned house and hit the jackpot; finding a brand new rose toy.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: canon divergent (no Lev), reader is able-bodied, pretend the rose toy existed before the Outbreak, sex toys, oral sex, fingering, squirting, pet names, no use of y/n

“We should stop soon. It’s getting dark,” you say, stopping and putting a hand on your hip, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“We could hole up in one of these houses,” she says, gesturing to the street of abandoned houses you’re about to turn onto.

You’re almost to Santa Barbara. The grueling, multi-month-long journey is about to wrap up. Only a few days left to go. But for now, you’re tired. Your feet hurt. And you’re pretty sure you could fall asleep standing up.

“Sounds good to me.”

She draws her gun, crouching down, and approaching one of the houses on the corner. It’s a small house, one level. It looked like a cute starter home for a family or a young couple before the Outbreak.

“Stay vigilant,” she says,” slowly opening the door.

There doesn’t seem to be anyone here, nor any infected. And after a sweep through of the house, she confirms that you two are indeed alone.

You pick up a picture frame on the kitchen counter and look at the couple in the photo– a young man and a young woman. You try to not think about their life here, what they were like, where they were on Outbreak Day.

“Ready for bed, baby?” Abby asks, her strong arms wrapping around you.

You set the photo down and lean into her. “Yeah,” you sigh.

“I raided the bathroom and took some stuff,” she says, letting go of you and leading the way to the bedroom.

“Oh yeah? Got anything good?”

“Bandages… dental floss.”

“Not bad.”

“And I found something else… in the nightstand,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed and opening the drawer.

“Oh?”

She holds out a pink box with a rose on it. Under the clear plastic, there’s a rose inside the box, too. And when you take it in your hands see that it’s not just any regular rose– it’s a sex toy. The box reads:

ROSE TOY CLASSIC SUCKING VIBRATOR

-10 Massage Modes -Waterproof -Rechargeable -Easy To Clean

But the most important thing the box says is:

-Comes Fully Charged

“What are you suggesting?” you smirk, handing the box back to her.

“How about you put on a show for me, pretty girl?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you say, kicking off your shoes and pulling your shirt off over your head. You strip yourself nude and get on the bed, reveling in the feeling of lying on something soft and not on the forest floor for once.

You spread your legs as Abby opens the box, turning on the toy to test out the different settings. She gets in between your thighs, lowering her head to hover in front of your pussy. It’s already getting wet but she licks your clit, moaning at you and your taste. After getting you properly lubricated she takes the toy on one of the lowest settings. Your breath hitches in your throat. You’ve never felt something like this before and Abby knows that.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it slow,” she coos, watching your legs flex and your chest heave up and down. “Besides, I want to tease you anyway,” she adds with a smirk.

A shiver runs down your spine. You feel yourself already getting close. But wait, how is that possible?

Almost as if she senses that she turns down the toy to a lower setting, not letting you cum just yet.

“Not so fast,” she says.

You whine in response, your back lifting off the bed.

“I said I wanted to see a show, pretty girl,” she reminds you, bringing her fingers to her mouth. She moistens them for you but doesn’t give them to you just yet. She wants you to cum with just the rose first.

“You’ll get my fingers when you cum, baby,” she says.

But for that, you need more, a higher setting.

“Please,” you whimper, “I need more.”

“Well… Since you asked nicely like such a good girl,” she says, turning up the toy by two settings.

You grip the sheets, squeezing with your might as your orgasm threatens to spill over. It’s one like you’ve never felt before, intense and euphoric. Your cunt clenches around nothing and your core muscles spasm as waves of pleasure wash over you.

“That’s a good girl,” she says, watching your eyes close and your mouth open into a soft O.

She gives you time to ride out your first high before turning down the toy again and sliding in her fingers. Your face feels hot. Stars dance in your vision. That was amazing. And she’s about to do it again, but this one is going to be even more intense.

Her fingers curl against your g-spot, expertly making a come here motion. The toy keeps stimulating your clit, working you up to your second orgasm. You’re already feeling spent but you want this one more than anything. Besides, you’ll have heavenly sleep after this is all done.

“So wet for me, baby,” she says, fingering you faster. Her other hand turns up the toy, letting you get used to a particular setting before turning it up again and again. And finally, you’re at the highest setting. Wetness seeps out of you and runs down your inner thigh. The small bedroom is filled with wet, squelching sounds of your pussy and the strong vibrations of the toy.

“Give it to me, pretty girl.”

And then you cum for the second time. This one was harder and wetter. So wet that Abby gasps and says, “Baby, you squirted.”

She sounds excited, continuously curling her fingers inside you and lowering the toy until it’s turned off. She pulls her fingers from your cunt and lowers her head in between your thighs, lazily lapping up every last drop of your spend.

You close your eyes, letting her take her time until she lies on the bed next to you, pulling you close.

“Go to sleep, baby. You earned it after that.”

“Already on the way,” you yawn.

“Love you,” she whispers.

“Love you, too,” you whisper back, drifting off to sleep in her arms.

The morning light seeps in through the window, hitting your eyelids and slowly waking you up. You rub your eyes and sit up, looking over at Abby sleeping soundly beside you.

You should probably get a move on, taking advantage of all the daylight you can. But in just a few days you’ll be with the Fireflies and it won’t be just the two of you anymore.

So for now, you lie back down and enjoy it being just the two of you for once.

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics & @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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httpsghostie · 9 months

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I luv ur high maintenance s/o💗🫰

Take the cod boys to sephora and swatch every single color on their arms lmao.

Ghost completely flabbergasted, shook, bamboozled when he finds out the price of some of these items lol.

“WHY IS IT $45 for some chalky colors luv ?!?!?!”

“$30 for THAT?!?!?!”

*accidentally got lip plumper on his eyelids* “OH BLOODY JESUS ARSE IT BLOODY FUCKING STINGS GET IT OFF MEE!!!”

141 at sephora

first of all: thank youuu<33 had lots of fun writing this

warnings: none!

✧.* gaz:

"please, baby, I just need an eyeliner." you whined as you two were passing in front of the store, gaz shrugged and went along with you.

"just an eyeliner? mhmm, I know." he said with a smirk, but was happy to see you happy.

you went inside, going straight to where the eyeliners would be and he followed just behind you.

"$25 for a marker?" he widened his eyes and you chuckled. "that's overpriced."

"yeah but it's waterproof!" you said, swatching it on the back of your hand.

"I can give you a permanent marker for less than half of that!" he laughed, looking at all the other products in the aisle. "damn, I didn't think makeup was this expensive."

"it is." you said, knowing well that there were cheaper products. "babe, what do you think about this color?" you asked, holding a liquid lipstick.

"y/n…"

"please, it's just this one." you pouted.

"fine." he laughed, giving you a kiss on the forehead and going with you to check out.

he ended up paying for you, getting all flustered to see you happy.

✧.* ghost:

"I just need to get a few things, I promise, it won't take long!" you dragged simon by the arm and he almost stumbled on the bags he carried.

"love, you just said that at the last store an hour ago." he chuckled.

"last one, I promise!" you mumbled, to which he could only sigh and follow you.

you stopped to see the eyeshadow palettes, swatching the colors on your arm and inspecting them. he just stood there with the bags in his hand, tired of having to be social all day, until his eyes met the price of stuff.

"bloody hell, darling, $50 for twelve colors? what's in them? the cure for cancer?" his eyes widened when you took the palette in your hands. "oh my god, $30 for that? are you kidding me? jesus, love, I'm going bankrupt."

you could only laugh at his reaction and the way his tired eyes followed you around the store as you picked more stuff, not even daring to ask the price of them. when you had finished shopping, you bet he stopped to get some tea on the way back home.

✧.* price:

"is this what you put on my skin that day, sweetheart? we should get this f' you. oh my god this is expensive, did you waste your expensive products on me?"

"I didn't waste them." you laughed, picking up some face masks. "I want you to have smooth skin just like me."

he isn't used to the price of beauty products, but he's also not surprised that they're overpriced. it costs x for you to get your hair products and have the most soft hair ever? swipe his credit card. costs y to get skincare products just so your skin is smooth when he's caressing your face? swipe his credit card.

usually ends up with a gigantic bill, but if you're happy he's happy.

stops by the perfumes when you're not looking to get you a new one, you have no clue how but he ended up getting your favorite.

✧.* soap:

"come here." you called him, grabbing a foundation, snatching his arm and swatching on it to see if it had enough coverage.

"jesus, what is this?" he sniffed, making you laugh.

"foundation." you inspected his arm, watching if the color would oxidate. "hm, I don't like it."

you'd leave him unattended for a minute and he would come back with a hand on his eye, complaining that it was hurting.

"lass, got something in my eye, ow, ow."

"what did you do, johnny?" you tried to wipe it off, but it was glossy and you ended up smearing it even more.

"ow, I put that thing over there-" he pointed to a section of lip plumpers, and you could only take a glance at it before he started to be a lot more dramatic. "-in my eye, ow, help, please."

you could barely breathe at how much you laughed, asking for a makeup wipe to try and get rid of the gloss. he was mumbling some things under his breath, cursing at you playfully for leaving him alone.

when you finally took it off, he still felt like his eye was burning, and you two had to leave the store due to how badly you two were laughing. not to mention that he was left with a swollen eye.

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thedevilrisen · 6 months

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Prompt Celly - Day Three

Trevor Zegras x Y/N

Description: "Is now a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic?" ... "god, here -hold my hand"

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Would be greatly appreciated if you could reblog. I love talking to people so say 'Hi' if you want to. Feel Free to send in requests as well. I'm happy to write for most hockey players.

Warnings: None, I don't think! It should be all fluff and a bit of friendly banter.

-Sincerely thedevilrisen.

"I wasn't being mean-"

"MEAN! TREVOR, you put slime on Jamie's head to wake him up! What part about that isn't mean."

"I-well." he stuttered, smiling.

"How would you feel if I put slime in your hair huh! How 'bout it?" I said smugly, pushing open the door to the apartment block's lobby, sighing at the warmth and holding open the door for my boyfriend of close to 3 years now. We met shortly after he moved to California to play hockey.

Shucking off my waterproof jacket with a sound similar to two pieces sandpaper grinding against each other I draped it over my arm as Trevor walked through the open door behind me, waiting politely so I could straighten out my t-shirt.

Looking up and smiling at him, I offered him my upturned palm which he playfully grabbed and swung around as he pulled me closer so I stood comfortably under his arm.

"All good?" he asked looking down on my small frame.

"All good!" I repeated stretching the 'l' sound in all enthusiastically.

"Ok then, c'mon let's get upstairs I'm starving." he dragged as we started walking toward the elevators.

"What are you going to about that then?" I smiled, nudging his shoulder playfully.

"I'm hoping my beautiful girlfriend will cook me something delicious." He spoke cheekily looking down at me as we approached the lift panel. Pressing the up button and waiting for the lift to come.

The elevator on the left chimed and the doors rolled open smoothly. We walked in onto carpeted floor, I scanned to tag and pressed the button for the 10th floor listening to the methodical beeps and watching the numbers change.

Until with a jolt, the lift stop suddenly and the all the lights but the ones illuminating the buttons cut.

"Trevor. What happened." I tried to ask without a waver in my voice.

"I think the lift just broke." He mumbled, pulling up the flashlight on his phone and clicking the open door button to no avail. "That doesn't work." He spoke quietly to himself walking to the doors, pocketing his phone and trying to pry open the door with his finger. Grunting softly from exertion he turned back to me and look at my tear filled eyes in the dim light emitted from the panel of numbers.

"Is now a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic." I whispered, voice wavering significantly more than I wanted it to.

"I-maybe." He spoke quickly, seeing the water in my eyes start to trickle down my cheek, "god, here- hold my hand." he offered said hand to me and with both of mine gripped onto it for dear life.

"It's all good sweetheart. I'll call Jamie and he can come get us out." He spoke gently. To terrified to speak I just nodded, still gripping his left hand. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and opened opened his contacts, hitting Jamie's name and putting it up to his ear.

"Hey Mate, uhm." with a jolt, and a squeal from me, the lift fired back up and continued its journey up to our floor. "Oh, uh never mind. Can I call you back.. thanks, alright talk later bud."

When the doors opened I tore out of the lift and down the hallway to out apartment, fishing the keys out of my pocket I jammed them into the lock.

Slamming the door open I threw my coat off, kicked off my shoes and moved quickly to the living room sofa where my weighted animal was. With a vice grip on the stuffy and a few deep breaths I locked eyes with a concerned looking Trevor and deadpanned.

"We are taking the stairs from now on."

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yorshie · 8 months

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Burnt Out

Bayverse Leo x Fem reader - part 2

Part 1 Part 3

summary: SFW, After confessing your feelings for the Leader in Blue, he makes a decision that challenges your relationship with all four turtles. (warnings for relationship based arguments, yelling, and an altercation with some drunken men) set in 2023 so turtles are 24-25

I don't like one sided fights, so be prepared for reader not being passive. Also I have not proofed read so wording might get moved just a bit.

tag list: @jackalope-in-a-storm @tmnt-tychou @nessarolla-in-constant-flux

Mikey whistled awkwardly into your ear the whole way to the lair. At one point, you turned your head, about to ask what was wrong, when you caught sight of Leo’s face over Mikey’s shoulder.

His eyes were trained on your hands curled around the straps on the smallest turtle’s backpack.

You glared at him. He glared back.

By the time you were set back on your feet in the lair, your slight headache had fledged fully into a dull pounding that nicked the front of your skull. The ache was bad enough that you immediately turned to find Donnie, decidedly ignoring the others as they filtered into the cavernous space around you.

“Don? Can I get some Tylenol or something?”

He gave you his attention, hands cool as he tilted your head back and looked at your eyes. He hummed, and nodded. “Yea, some Tylenol would probably help. Let’s go get your scrapes cleaned too, while we’re at it.”

You followed him to his corner of the Lair, and almost immediately a hissed argument started in the main room. You raised a brow at the tallest turtle, surprised, but he only grimaced, closed the door to block the sound before dropping into a low stool and nudging you towards his chair.

“Just ignore it, it’s been going on for a couple days now.” That was more worrying than the actual argument, even though you couldn’t tell whose voices were overlapping each other. The turtles never let anything fester, there was no way for anything to fester, with how much they were in each others’ pockets.

“Why are they fighting?” You asked, watching as Donnie lined up the hydrogen peroxide and the cotton balls before leaning to the far side for a pack of waterproof bandaids.

“Hm… well….” He returned to sitting straight, handing you a little bottle that clattered as he passed it over. “I don’t- listen to most of it. I just tune it out as soon as I figure out it’s happening.” He looked down at your hands, avoiding eye contact, and you realized he was lying.

You took the Tylenol dry, swallowing and wincing before handing the bottle back. You let him doctor your hands, rub his thumb across the mark on your cheek, before you caught his grip in your own and asked once more. “Donnie, why were both Raph and Leo in the Ha’shi?”

He winced, but answered when you squeezed his fingers. “They got caught fighting. Most of the time they’ve kept it out on patrols, but this time Dad heard.”

“Great.” You ran your hands through your hair. “And you’ve got no clue what it’s about?” You had a sneaking suspicion, but you wanted to be wrong.

“Hm… yea.” He looked away again, gave you a sheepish smile when you let out a low noise of disbelief. “Listen, you should- you should talk to Leo.”

“I did talk to him.” You argued, the ground swooping below your feet at the gentle command in Donnie’s tone. “I talked, and he talked, and now… there’s nothing to talk about.”

Donnie stuck the tip of his tongue out, the move reading anxious as he pushed the issue. “Yea. Maybe try again?”

You had wanted to avoid this. You had thought, perhaps a bit foolishly, that they would all feel too awkward over the whole thing to say anything, especially if you stayed away long enough to be able to act as if it hadn’t happened. Or that maybe the blue banded turtle would have ordered them not to stick their snouts into the whole clusterfuck.

No such luck, apparently.

You hung your head, sighing roughly in annoyance. “Dee, I can’t. He was very, very clear on all the reasons why… why my interest was a bad idea. It’s not like I went and did a great job hiding it.” You said the last part roughly, amused and self-deprecating all in one, staring at the undone zippered pocket on Donnie’s leg to avoid his too golden eyes.

“No, no you didn’t.” Donnie agreed, soft and full of remorse as he stood. He turned to clean up so you could scrub your eyes in peace. When he turned back around, he faltered, swayed side to side in indecision before opening his arms up for a hug.

You stood to make it less awkward, met him in the middle and wrapped your arms around him as far as you could. “I’m sorry Donnie. I went and ruined things, didn’t I?”

“No, no you didn’t.” He parroted again, tightening his arms around you. “Just… don’t go avoiding us, kay?”

You hummed in agreement, scrubbing your face against him in affection. “Never gonna do that, Dee.”

“Good.” He released you, quickly pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes. “In that case, I really should probably start cleaning up the garage.” He glanced at you. “Leo and Raph are probably finishing up their Ha’shi time, but Mikey’s in the living room if you want to go hang out with him? The garage is a little too dangerous right now.”

“I heard it looks like a war zone in there?” You asked cheekily, taking his cues to return to normal, sticking your hands in your pockets and following him out of the Lab.

“My expertise cataloging may have gotten a little away from me.” He admitted, amused, and ruffled your hair in parting when you both reached the mouth of the tunnel that led to the garage.

“Wish me luck.” You quipped after his retreating shell, not really expecting an answer, but he held up a hand with crossed fingers before he disappeared around the bend.

Once you were alone, your shoulders caved, swinging down and forwards. There was a hitch in your left that no doubt would turn into something nasty the longer you went without icing it.

All you’d have to do is ask Mikey, and he’d fix you up with an ice pack. The thought had you sighing, feet turning automatically for the main room and the tv area, the most likely space to find the smallest turtle brother.

You rubbed your shoulder absentmindedly as you went, cupping the roll of muscle and rubbing back and forth with your fingers. The sound of your blouse shifting across your skin brought you up short, and with a whine you realized you’d forgotten about your coat.

“Great. Just…” You turned again, mind not really caught up on where you were going, annoyance bubbling up, when you crossed the closed doors of the dojo and voices inside caught your attention.

“-look like you ate a whole bag of atomic lemons.”

You stopped, head swinging around at the sound of Raph’s low rumble, and the thought that he’d happily help you find your coat had you reaching for the divider’s edge before the next voice had you pulling back sharply.

“I don’t recall ever asking for your opinion.”

Leo, and where Raph sounded cajoling, the blue banded turtle sounded pissed. In fact, you’d never heard him in that low of an octave, that shade of done with whoever was trying to speak with him.

Raph started in again, words precise and slow, and the hair on the back of your neck stood up straight at the obvious way he was picking a fight. “I mean, most expect me to be the one that growls and loses his temper, sounding more like a beast, but I gotta hand it to ya, brother. You sure know how to-”

“Cut the shit and say your piece, Raphael.” Leo interjected, drawing out the syllables of his brother’s name, and you didn’t have to see into the room to hear how close their voices were to each other, how up in each others’ faces they must be.

Silence for a beat, then Raph spoke up, that careful cajole peeling back to show the rough anger underneath. “You don’t understand how lucky you are, Fearless. We’ve all been dreamin of someone that would put up with our ugly mugs, and you go and-”

“Someone? Or her?” Your eyes bugged at the insinuation leveled in the growl, and fought the instinct to scurry to the side, knowing they’d hear.

The was a long silence that you drowned in, heart beating too fast, too loud, certain a fist would fly -

before Raph huffed, voice so cutting you had to concentrate to hear the amusement underneath. “You think I’m after your girl, Leo?” He let out a vicious laugh that sounded anything but humorous. “You better clean up then, cuz she ain’t really looking like your girl from where I’m standin’.”

You were done. You didn’t need to hear whatever Leo said in response. You turned on your heel and promptly walked away, coat forgotten, shoulder no longer aching, mind a one thought tract to find Mikey and bully him into taking you home.

Goddamn turtles and their goddamn snouts sticking into things that shouldn’t be poked.

You found Mikey exactly where you thought he would be, parked in front of the tv with what no doubt was the game your previous call had pulled him away from. When he heard your footsteps, he turned, easy grin disappearing into wide eyes and a silent question, lips pursed at whatever emotion was on your face.

“Hey, Mike, I need-” You pulled up short, spying your coat on the couch next to him. “What- how…?”

“Raph grabbed it when he went looking for your phone.” Mikey answered, pawing at your coat to hold the mentioned device out towards you, big blue eyes glued on the way your face crumpled, confused on why his words would pull that reaction. “Babes?”

It should be so easy. Take me home. Mikey, take me home. He would, especially with how you couldn’t see him for the tears swallowing up your vision. You heard him toss the controller aside, nothing more than a green and orange blur that took up your vision as he clambered to his feet. You didn’t startle when his warm hands clasped your elbows.

“Hey, hey, you’re ok. Babes, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.” You were scaring him, you knew, and the knowledge was enough for you to rub your eyes roughly, trying to shove everything back in the tightly padlocked little box you’d crushed under heel for a month. A long month of silence…

There was a scuff behind you, a foot sliding across the ground, and it had your shoulders tightening up, the forgotten ache returning with a vengeance along with the reminder that the Lair was the last place you should have a breakdown in.

A hand appeared in the corner of your eye, a towel bundled up in their grip. You didn’t need to follow the arm up to know who it belonged to- the blue toned fabric and vambrace gave him away.

It was rude to leave the proffered towel hanging there. It was rude and it was childish-

You took it from him with a mumbled thanks, certain your voice could cut glass with how sharp the word came out, and you winced reflexively as Leo shifted next to you.

You smoothed out the wrinkled terry cloth, raised your arm up to press the coolness against your shoulder. Your breath sawed out as the cold started to numb the inflamed area.

“Would you like to go lay down?” Leo murmured, and you almost missed the question, too surprised at how soft his voice had gone, not quite a whisper, but definitely closer to how he talked to you before the whole debacle.

It had your face raising up, curiously meeting his gaze despite the ache in your chest the realization caused.

He took you in, head dipping to the side and closer into your space. “C’mon, you can rest for a bit- Raph’s gone to get some pizza.”

You continued to stare at him, eyes tracking between his eyes as if he might explain the complete 180. “Where…” You trailed off, eyes flitting down to his shoulders, his arms, realizing you hadn’t been this close to him for a while. You swallowed, before rising back up to meet him head on once more. “Where am I suppose to rest?”

It was a valid question. Mikey shifted in front of you, and belatedly you realized you had forgotten his presence, caught up in the blue you hadn’t looked at for longer than a few seconds in quite a while.

It’s pathetic. You thought in a flash. A month of ignoring me and all mr. soft eyes has to do is drop one line.

But in the past you’d always rested in the main room, hunkered under some blankets on the couch and giggled while they pulled antics around you. He wasn’t suggesting kicking Mikey out of the shared space, and the couch was right there, so clearly he didn’t mean-

“You can lay down in my room.” Came his answer, eyes slowly moving over you in a gentle perusal that you knew meant he was assessing your mood.

The words settled in you like stones, scraping down your ears as they went, and you went eerily still. Silence followed, and you almost startled to hear the saw of your breath escaping.

Mikey shifted again, not quite leaving your space.

Your eyes narrowed, lips compressed, but you dropped your gaze in favor of palming the towel and muttering your answer to your feet. “Thanks, but no thanks, think I’ll chill with Mike til Raph gets back.”

Leo sighed through closed lips, and the sound had your hackles raising.

“You’re exhausted, and you’re hurt. Just come lay-” His hand reached out, nudged you gently.

In his defense, you didn’t realize you’d react the way you did to the slight touch either, but you all but jerked away from him, taking two steps to the side before swinging around to glare back. “I said no, Leo!” -

Or at least, that’s what you meant to say, but somewhere between your brain and your mouth, your throat changed the words into something else, something meaner.

“You told me no, Leo! You don’t get to tug me around like… like this!”

Leo blinked once, long and slow like he was processing, and you couldn’t care less where Mikey’d gone, eyes locked on your target as you waited for the return volley.

Eventually, his head tilted, and you saw the exact moment he chose the high road, and it made you see red.

“You’ve been through a lot tonight, It’s not me you want to pick a fight with.” He tried to soothe, taking a step closer, swaying towards you. “We can talk after you rest, but I really think you should-”

“Listen?” The word was out before you could catch it, and Leo drew up short like a puppet on strings, his head rearing back. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Mikey slinking backwards, away, but you barreled onwards. “Just sit and listen as you tell me what to do? What’s good for me?” You snorted, so loudly it hurt, and watched Leo’s mouth compress into a tight line at the noise.

“It doesn’t really matter if you listen to me or not, does it?” He lobbed back, and you reeled, expecting the next line like it’d already left his mouth. “You’ll still wind up in trouble, wouldn’t you?”

It’s too dangerous. For you. It’s nothing but trouble, believe me, I don’t want to place you in danger.

Self-sacrificing. The words whispered in your head then, they pissed you off now. You scoffed at him, waving a hand as though to brush off the memory.

“Yea, whatever, I’m not putting up with this.” You told him, shoes clacking against the ground as you skirted him and went for the tunnel that led to the garage. You weren’t quite sure if you were walking home, but you were angry enough that if no one stopped you by the time you got to the hidden door, you would certainly try.

Leo’s arm snagged out, and you danced backwards, out of reach, teeth gritting because you know he let you. He could have easily grabbed you, hell it used to be a game to see how long you could keep away from his hold-

“This isn’t the time for this conversation.” Leo whispered, breaking into your thoughts, taking another step towards you. His eyes rolled skyward when you matched him with a step back. “Please, just- at least let’s go someplace where we have privacy.” He hissed the last word, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was referring to the orange banded blue eyeballs peeking out from behind the couch.

“We already had this conversation.” You reminded him, ten shades of done and tired. The whispered argument from before popped in your head, and before you could corral the words you stuck your whole foot in your mouth. “You think just because you had an- an epiphany, I’ll fall in line?” You snorted again, knowing the sound drove him crazy. “Good luck with that.”

The line had him pausing, brow furrowing as confusion cut through his anger, and you took advantage, all but hopping around him and belting for the tunnel that would lead you out, scooping up your coat and phone and trading the ice pack in their place in one smooth move along the way.

It might have been years of knowing them. It might have been sixth sense. It certainly wasn’t your hearing, he moved as silent as ever, but you twirled on instinct, incensed to find him a step behind you.

Leo pulled back on those invisible strings once more when you all but snapped your teeth at him.

“You better let me have my space, Leo.” You took a step towards him without thinking, and this time it was him who took a half step back. “Back off.”

It was laughable, the thought that you could do anything to him if he pushed into your bubble once more, but that growl started up low in his chest, and you watched as his pupils blew wide, the dark eating up the normally brilliant blue until they were nothing more than light colored rings.

“Back off?” He repeated, growl slurring his words, and you locked your knees as his head swung into your space, shoulders rounding towards you. “But that’s not what you want, is it, princess?”

Ooooo…. That was- that was Raph’s nickname for you, and you stuttered, wondering if that was Leo’s subtle way of letting you know he knew exactly how much shit you were blowing out your ass.

You met him tic for tac, a hairs-breath from his face, blowing purposefully up his nose just to hear that growl hitch up to a higher register. “I told you want I wanted, Blue. You don’t get to throw a fit after you’ve already told me your verdict.”

You wondered if he’d break. You kind of wanted him to, to really yell, to give you some insight to his thoughts beyond what he allowed to filter through the mask. Your heart a fast staccato that almost drowned out whatever growl he was throwing out at your defiance.

He dipped his head to peer down his snout at you, and you weren’t sure what had you more pissed, the way he tried to reel himself in or the words he used. “I am trying to talk to you- if you would just calm down-”

“Oh, I think it’s you who needs to calm down, Leo.” You went to turn, dismissive and all at once feeling the hurt, and his hand snapped out. You thought maybe he was aiming for your arm and misjudged the angle, because instead his fist locked around the fabric of your blouse low on your hip.

“I can’t- be what you want!” He hissed at you, venomous, and you reeled, leaning back, the fabric of your blouse taunt in his fist. “I don’t know how to be human, act human!” He pulled you towards him too roughly, and your shoes squeaked against the polished cement floor. “This is what you’d get, what you’re so- so stupidly foolish to ask for-”

“Leonardo.” Splinter didn’t snap, but he might as well as bellowed at his eldest son. Leo sure acted like he did, hand snapping back fast enough that you almost slipped and fell before he corrected and caught your elbow, touch hauling you straight before it was gone just as quickly.

You refused to look up, conscious that you’d had an audience for the whole fight and it’d done nothing but spur you onwards. Mikey was still perched behind the couch, trying and failing to act like he wasn’t watching a drama. Splinter was at the top of the little stairs that led to his bedroom, cane perched between his two paws, ears swiveled to the side as if he was listening to something else.

Leo was stiff next to you, eyes on the floor, posture polite and hands tightly fisted to his sides. You couldn’t look at him head on, didn’t like the carefully blank face he was presenting.

You blew out a breath, hand pressing to your head for a beat as your headache started back up. “Sorry, Splinter. I got carried away.” Part of you wanted to throw Leo under the bus as well, but you knew he’d likely get his own version of a private talk once you were gone. “I’m just- just gonna go home.” You paused intentionally, then dipped into the bow you had seen Leo make to his sensei over the years. “I apologize.”

“You are always welcome here.” Splinter said softly, as if you weren’t just engaged in a shouting match with his honor child in the living room in front of god and sundry. “But for an old rat’s sake, please allow one of my sons to take you home, if that is what you wish.”

You side eyed Leo, hoping Splinter wasn’t suggesting what you thought he was suggesting.

Then Raph stepped out of the tunnel, pizza boxes stacked in his hands, wide green eyes trailing over Leo, before his gaze flicked to you and you cringed.

Knowing he had seen you lose your cool over Leo was somehow worse than Mikey seeing it, but then again, it was Raph that first weaseled your crush out of you months ago.

Raph arched a brow, tilted his head, then turned to Splinter. “I can take her home, Sensei.”

Splinter nodded. “Good, good.” He gestured at you with one paw. “Let Raphael take you home. Please.”

“Of course,” You said, bopping into a small bow again, and relaxing when Splinter turned his attention to his eldest.

“Leonardo, please, come speak with me.”

“Hai, Sensei.” He answered dutifully, face still carefully blank. He swayed forward like a pendulum, before he caught himself with a near silent scuff of his foot against the ground, and followed his father without a backwards glance.

Raph waited until the two had disappeared into the little room before he looked at you and whistled long and low between his teeth.

“God, just, shut up.” You told him, angry all over again, jamming your arms into your coat and belting for the exit.

Raph chuckled, set the pizzas down on that table, and followed you back out, haphazardly calling to Mikey over his shoulder, “only one of those is yours, numb nuts!”

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse fanfiction #tmnt bayverse fanfic #bayverse leonardo #bayverse leo #bayverse leonardo x reader #bayverse leo x reader #bayverse raphael #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse donatello

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yeoja-dream · 5 months

Note

Could you write an ot7 x reader fic where the reader feels they arent good enough because they're not particularly skinny but not fat and feels they're not that talented compared to the boys? Pretty angsty but some fluff? ❤

God. You sigh inwardly looking at your body for the millionth time in the standing mirror of your bedroom, jeans unbuttoned wide, mocking. The perspiration on your brow from exertion tells the rest of the story.

You had gained weight. Again. As if it wasn't hard enough to be the girlfriend of the seven most talented men on the earth, all muscle and grace. The picture of masculine beauty, and you, textbook mediocrity.

You kick the pants off in anger, hot tears stinging your eyes as you flop back onto your bed. You are going to be late for work. You scolded yourself. Fuck work. You snapped back like the world would come to a screeching halt if one cashier at Francine's was 15 minutes late.

What happened to the diet? Your inner critic asks, voice dripping in bitter sarcasm. They work so hard and you can't even look good for them? People would laugh if they saw you together.

Your phone buzzes, bringing you temporarily out of your shame spiral. You wipe away your now-flowing tears to see the message light up your screen.

Jiminnie ❤️: Good morning everyone ꜀( ˊ̠˂˃ˋ̠ )꜆

You smile somewhat bittersweetly to yourself. Jimin, always the first one up, always the first to tell everyone good morning. You recall, briefly, the day when Tae beat him to the punch and how he pouted the whole day.

Y/N: Morning chim~ Have an amazing day today! ❤️

Jiminnie ❤️: You too!!

Have an amazing day. Well, you could certainly try. You pick yourself off your bed and select a frumpy sweater and a baggy pair of jeans. It was cold, anyway, you told yourself disguising your plummeting self-esteem in faux practicality. You studied your face in the mirror, plain, if not a little pretty, but certainly not superstar-worthy. You swipe on some waterproof mascara and don your sneakers before the self-criticism has a chance to sink in.

Work was awful. You were so swept off your feet with customers, that you had barely had time to glance at your phone in between getting screamed at for not carrying certain sizes or being out of stock. You had slipped to the stock room more than once to put your waterproof mascara to the test. Last double I ever work. You say to yourself, shutting the lights, arming the security, and slipping out the back.

The autumnal night air had a wintery bite to it, you regret not bringing a jacket. It is only now that you have the chance to read your phone, slightly wincing at the piled notifications from the day. Most recently, you read:

Yoongi 😻: Finished working with Namjoon a little while ago. You must be done soon too. It’s cold, so I am going to come and pick you up. Did you eat?

Y/N: How presumptuous, Mr. Min~

Your tone is sardonic, but really, you're glad for the ride as a chill begins seeping into your bones. Before long, you see his black sports car pull up and you waste no time jumping in the front. You had done this routine before.

“Hi,” Yongi says, looking you up and down before leaning in for a kiss.

“Hi,” you say back, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“What? Is that all I get?” He quips in faux hurt. “Oh did you want to make out right now, leave Namjoon to drive?” You tease back before turning to face the man in the back seat. “Hi,” You greet him as well, offering him your hand.

“Don’t let me stop you” Namjoon says with a chuckle, “I just didn’t know you were looking to die today.” He then picks up your hand, placing a gentle kiss on the knuckle. “Hi, baby.” He said with his signature, dimpled smile. The sight of which clenches your heart, the words from your shame spiral this morning coming back full force. You don’t deserve this.

“Where am I dropping you off?” Yoongi asked. “Did you eat? We could get dinner.”

“My place, please. I had a big lunch and I think I’m just going to reheat some leftovers for dinner. You guys go ahead.” You lie, but you were in no mood to be eating food in front of them.

Yoongi looked at you, piercingly as he always does. Just when you think he’s going to call you on your lie,

“Alright.” He says, before putting the car in gear. Your apartment is only 10 minutes away, but Yoongi goes the long way letting you rant about stupid customers and annoying managers. By the time he pulls up, you feel better and you realize, he knew you needed that. A lump forms in your throat at the notion. You offer the pair a kiss, before sliding out of the car as quick as you can go, lest you start crying again. Yoongi waits until you’re inside, safe before pulling off. He always does. You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve them.

Dinner is another mental warzone as you peruse your kitchen, biting commentary from two halves of your inner voice. After what happened this morning you don’t deserve to eat. The boys wouldn’t want me to starve. You’d be so much prettier if you were skinny. Starving isn’t a good way of weight loss anyway. The mental back and forth is exhausting, so you settle on a sandwich and settle on the couch.

TaeTae: You wanna ft? I miss youuuuuu why didn’t you come over today???

The message lights up your phone. You respond by calling him. He picks up right away.

“Y/N!” He exclaims. Even disheveled, he looks amazing. After catching up on the group chat, you learned that the maknae line had the day off and had a “staycation” as they put it while the hyungs were busy away.

“Hi Tae” You giggle back at his enthusiasm. It was infectious, it always was.

“Why didn’t you come over today?? We missed you!” He pouts.

“I am tired, Tae. And I have work early tomorrow and the following day. All doubles.”

“Jeez. I swear you work harder than us!”

You could laugh at the insinuation. They were multinational artists, constantly writing music, performing, dancing, recording music, recording content, and you folded clothes and got screamed at by people 10x richer than you for 12 hours a day. You would hardly call that working harder. You keep the thought to yourself.

“EY YO.” You hear Jungkook's unmistakable voice shout in the background. “IS THAT Y/N?”

“Yes, but I’m talking to her!” Tae says ripping the phone away from his dongsaeng as he flopps down on the couch next to him.

“Hey, I wanna talk too!” He says, yanking the older boy’s arm back so the two of them come into view.

“Hi, kookie.” You say, giving him a small wave.

“Y/N! I’ve been locked in the house all day with these schmucks, can you believe that?” Jungkook says, exasperated.

“Hey!” Tae shouts, offended. “You weren’t complaining about being locked in when me and Jimin brought you pancakes in bed. Or when we did face masks and painted our nails!”

“Yeah, we did our nails, look!” Jungkook says, ignoring the rest of Taehyung’s remarks. On Jungkook's hand, he has nicely painted black nails, on Taehyung a well-manicured clear coat.

“You did an amazing job!” You say giving them a small round of applause.

“We miss you.” The youngest says after a few beats of silence. The sincerity pulls at your heart.

“It's only been a week.” You say sticking your tongue out. “I miss you all too.” That at least was the whole truth.

“Well you’re busy and we’re busy…” Taehyung trailed off. You understood what he was getting at. No matter what you felt for them, there was always going to be miles of difference between you and them. Different leagues, solar systems.

“But don’t be busy this weekend! Saturday~” Jungkook reminds you AGAIN. The boys had been teasing you for weeks about this surprise. You couldn’t forget if you wanted to.

“I have to go to bed.” You half whine, stretching.

“GOOD NIGHT WE LOVE YOU SLEEP WELL” They yell at you in half unison before hanging up.

“I love you too.” You say to no one, before getting up and going to bed.

And so the days passed like that, days rushed off your feet, nights full of loud face times, and spare thoughts dedicated to your inadequacy. Pushing every single worry, every bitter thought down, lest you worry them with your stupid problems. They had plenty on their plate. You were so boring, untalented, plain. They shown brighter than the sun, thousands of beautiful, perfect successful girls would kill to be you. Should be you. You lucked into this position. Just because you were in the right place at the right time. Just because Jin was so friendly. You tricked him. He just introduced you to everyone else because he pitied you. They just pity you. You can’t even be happy around them. You can’t even be fun for them. What do you provide them? It was suffocating. They deserve better. They deserve better. They deserve better.

Friday night you walk home, music blasting through your earbuds, tears running down your face. It was the wind, you say to no one, bitterly wiping them on your sleeve. You finally understood what you had to do. Saturday, when you met up, you’d thank them for everything, and let them find someone worthy. For their own sake. You wouldn’t let them waste any more time on you.

Sleep was fitful and tear-stained that night, the night soon passed, and Saturday morning came.

The group chat through the day was uncharacteristically silent, save for Jimin’s obligatory good morning text. Fuck, you were going to miss that.

In terms of the plans tonight, you had been given instructions to show up at a certain place by 5 pm. Even when inquiring about what you should wear was vague, anything you felt like. You felt like crawling into a ball of self-pity and hiding under the sheets, but still, you pulled yourself together enough to ready yourself for anything. Pulling the place up on Google Maps revealed it to be a warehouse of sorts. Weird. You thought, clipping your earrings in and pulling your shoes on as the Uber blared its horn obnoxiously outside.

You went for something practical, but cute. Tennis skirt with thigh-high socks, a button-down blouse to match, and a puffer jacket. Makeup was light, and minimal. Cry proof, you were going to break up with 7 men you had come to love after all. It was for their own good. You reminded yourself.

The ride itself was as blissfully silent as an Uber ride can be, and not long. Outside of general city limits, there was marginally less attention and fewer chances of a slip-up. Being seen with you was the last thing they could afford.

The Uber pulled away leaving you in front of a large, white warehouse. This was some kind of industrial complex, you noted. Double checking the warehouse number with the number JK had sent to you 2 weeks prior. This was the place.

A feeling of unsettlement crossed your mind now, in the time you had known these men they had never once given you pause to worry, let alone make you feel unsafe. And yet, here you were, alone in a line of massive, empty warehouses. A bit of fear began to prickle under your skin and your scalp. They wouldn’t hurt you, right? Hell, maybe this is the merciful way out. A dark side of you thought.

Without wasting any more time, you stepped forward opening the door and stepping into total blackness.

The temperature was fine, temperate even. The scent of woodland, peat moss, and petrichor was thick in the air. Seconds in the dark felt like hours, panic sets in and you take a step backward, feeling for the door. Before you can grasp the handle, the lights come on all at once, and several voices shout HAPPY ANNIVERSARY at you.

You visibly jump, startled, but then audibly gasp at the scene before you. The warehouse had been decorated, floor to ceiling to resemble an enchanted forest. Large trees stood relatively tall in the vaulted ceiling of the space, their gnarled limbs covered in deep green vegetation, moss hanging from them like beards. Lights and glass baubles hung too, their glittering looking like forest spirits in suspended animation. Impossibly, from somewhere high and unseeable, light streamed down through the tree tops, golden and warm as the real sun. The floor seemed to be made of real, deep green moss that squished slightly under your feet. You noticed that there seemed to be several large stones forming stepping stone paths through the moss and into the fake woods. Feint music and animal chatter could be heard too, bringing the space to life. In front of you sits a large, stone arch, twisted with vines and seemingly weathered with time, though which was a clearing, where sat 7 of the most beautiful men you had seen in your life at a long, beautifully decorated, rich dark wood table.

The boys had dressed themselves in complete congruence with the environment. They each wore long hair of varying lengths some shoulder length, some to the waist, but all done up in a manner of braids, flowers, and gems. Each wore a manner of robes and belts of several different colors, draped and tied perfectly to emphasize their physique. It hits you at once what this all is, and nothing could stop the torrent of tears that spring forth as a result.

“Oh! Wait, those seem like upset tears!” Jin is the first up and rushing over to you. “We were hoping for happy tears not upset tears!”

“God damn it you guys I told you so many times we should say something and that we were going to scare the shit out of her on accident!” Namjoon said in a huff, standing up and making his way over to you. The rest follow behind, all echoing cheer-ups and apologies alike.

You sob openly now into your hands, and even with all 7 of the men you have grown to love surrounding you, you lock your abs and you don’t allow one to pull you into a comforting embrace. Jin is the first to speak again.

“Y/N, what has gotten into you? We just wanted to do something nice and memorable for our 1st anniversary together.” Jin said with a level of love, concern, and sincerity that something in you finally snapped.

“Why. Are. You. Being. So. Fucking. Nice. To. Me.” You ask, demand in between heaving sobs.

“Because we love you!” Jungkook answers first, and everyone answers in the affirmative.

“I. Am. Fucking. Worthless.” You sob again.

“Don’t say that!” Jimin says this time, trying to grab you, hold you. You resist him again.

“First I am so up my own ass I can’t be bothered to remember that it's our anniversary, and you guys go and do something so nice, so beautiful for me. I can’t give you anything. All I do is take. You are all so perfect and beautiful and talented and I am just a plain worthless girl, working a dead-end job, with a shitty flabby body and plain face who tricked you guys into caring for me. I drag you down. We live in different worlds and I am tired of watching you all pretending I’m worth anything more than a cheap fuck.” The words fall out in a blubbering mess, a stream of words, feelings, and sentiments bursting forth after being pent up for a year. You can’t bring yourself to look at anyone in particular, so you study the floor.

“Enough.” The voice rings out so sternly it stops your torrent almost in its place. You look up as Hoseok, who had been standing behind everyone else, pushes his way to the front, standing directly in front of you. His face, normally the definition of sunshine and joy, only held fury.

“First of all.” He began, clipped and stern. “That dead-end job keeps you so busy you hardly have time to eat and shower, so you’d be forgiven for forgetting.”

“But- You begin before Hoseok cuts you off.

“I am not finished. Second, I’m grateful for that dead-end job because it lead us to you. If you hadn’t been working at that boutique, Jin-hyung would never have met you, and I wouldn’t have ever met you in return. Lastly,” He begins, stepping forward another step, holding your face in between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to make eye contact with him. “You can talk shit about anyone you’d like, but you are not ever to speak that way about anyone I love. Not to me, not to any of them. And further, you are not ever, and I do mean ever, to tell me who I am and am not permitted to love.”

At this angle, you search his face, and you find anger, so much anger, but more so you find hurt and love and honesty. Tears well again in your eyes, but this time when Hoseok pulls you into his arms, you don’t resist him. One by one, everyone piles into what is, ostensibly, the cheesiest group hug ever, but you can’t find it in you to care. You cry again for what seems like ages, breathing in the mixing scent of them and allowing yourself, finally, to let them love you.

After your crying stills, you break apart and survey the group, more carefully this time. They had even themed their outfits around it.

“My dream.” you sniffle and gesture to them, then the set behind them. “Our first group date, I told you about a dream I had as a little girl. The enchanted forest and its 7 protectors. You even dressed up as them.” You say in a half laugh. “The dragon,” you said gesturing to Namjoon, “Gumiho,” You say pointing to Jimin, “Hydra,” You say pointing to Yoongi, “Fae King, Werewolf, Griffin, and Phoenix,” You say, pointing to Jin, Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jimin respectively.

“The very same,” Yoongi says with a bow.

“Wow…” You say, breathless. A silence falls on the group before you speak up once again. “I am… sorry.” You start.

“Don’t be!” Various maknae line members clamor to interrupt you.

“Let her finish,” Namjoon says sternly.

“I have been feeling this way for a long time. I think it's been building up from the beginning, actually. I have always felt like you guys were all a billion times more attractive than me, and I started to feel like on top of that, I was talentless and useless in comparison. I never wanted to burden you with my insecure ramblings so I kept them buried and I guess they ate me alive a little. A lot. Truthfully I came here ready to break up with you.”

“What?!” The group of voices collectively reacts.

“No I mean I didn’t want to but I felt super useless and ugly so I thought you were just wasting your time with me I mean I love you all so much and I feel so grateful and lucky to have you but it was for your own good that you found someone else-” You begin spouting off.

Jin takes your hand, interrupting your stream of consciousness “I thought we’d exchange the sweet stuff at dinner but there is no greater time than now. I consider meeting you to be one of the luckiest days of my life. And I know I can speak for everyone and say this past year, you have brought so much joy and intrigue and fun into our lives and we wouldn’t give you up for anything or anyone.”

“Besides.” Yoongi grabs your other hand, giving it a light kiss. “You are a terrible liar. I could see you were suffering from something inside. I know what that's like.”

“AND” Jungkook adds loudly “NOT THAT IT IS ABOUT THIS” he begins loudly, “AND WE VALUE Y/N THE MOST FOR HER KINDNESS, HER CONSIDERATION, HER WORK ETHIC, HER SPUNK-”

“Get to the point.” The group says collectively.

“Y/N to me, to us, you are a work of art. You can’t see yourself the way we do. Your face belongs in a Monet, your body is as if it was sculpted by Michaelangelo himself. Even the little things you do, the way you tie up your hair when you are trying to concentrate when you throw your head back and laugh when something is really funny, when you pace around the apartment when you're on the phone, you are beautiful”

“Aw, kookie…” You clasp your hand around your mouth, before wrapping your arms around him.

“God please no more tears,” Taehyung says, desperately.

You laugh, letting go of Jungkook. “Tae, I don’t think I have any left in my body.”

“Listen, everyone, I can’t promise you this discussion is going to make the voice telling me I’m inadequate to go away. But what I can promise is that I will talk about them. I won’t let them build up so bad.”

“That’s all we would ask of you,” Namjoon says in return. “Besides I’m kind of worried who the hell we’ve been dating this last year if you think we are perfect!”

“Without getting personal,” Jimin pipes in “We are all at least a group of barely functional, workaholic perfectionists who don’t eat enough, don’t sleep enough, and who care far too much what the public thinks of us. And that's just what applies to all of us, forget our individual faults.”

“True…” You concede. “Is it still too late to enjoy whatever this is?” You ask, gesturing toward the table.

“No not at all!” They all scramble away, leading you to the table. You immediately notice that apparently, a meltdown was not in the card for the evening, as lit candelabras were now dripping hot wax onto the table runner. Various foods dotted the table, sat in warming dishes to ensure they didn’t get cold while they waited. It was a variable fragrant smorgasbord, and you were starving.

“I feel a little underdressed…” You admit, looking at them and then at your outfit. “You guys could have at least told me the dress code.” You said, teasing.

“OH SHIT RIGHT.” Jungkook jumps forward, bowing deeply and putting on a commanding tone. “Fae king, get the lady her vestments at once!”

Jin rolls his eyes at the younger’s commanding tone, but reaches under the table and pulls out a large, white box. From which he pulls out a deep green dress with several accessories and piles them into your hands. “If the lady would be so kind to change over there.” He said, gesturing to a tasteful rice paper screen that stood about 30 feet to the side of the table.

“She would.” You say, giving a little curtsey, walking off to change. The dress was form-fitting but in all the best ways. What you didn’t notice before, was that the dress was heavy, dotted with crystals made to look like you were covered in the morning summer dew. Over your shoulders sat a long cape made of leaves, arranged in the gradient from green, to yellow, to orange, to red, to brown. Atop your head, a crown of wildflowers and fruit tree blossoms, and a scepter for you to carry, clear crystalline in its structure, topped by a frosted glass orb from inside which, a dull blue light shown.

“It’s clearly season-themed…” You begin as you step from behind the screen. “But why?” You ask, taking in their expressions.

Your heart rate quickens and you feel the heat rise to your face as the group goes silent, somewhat slack-jawed. Some wear expressions of hunger, and desire, others of pure awe and love, but no doubt you hold all their attention.

“What?!” You ask demandingly, embarrassed.

“You look…” Jimin starts

“Perfect.” Yoongi finishes.

“Thank you” You offer, voice unsure. You somewhat walk over to them feeling awkward, but flattered.

“Queen of the forest.” Taehyung offers.

“Huh?”

“Queen of the forest.” He repeats. “That’s what your dream was missing. We protect the forest, but we still needed a queen.”

The depth of the metaphor forms a lump in your throat. You clear it before speaking. “Well, it’s beautiful. This is all so beautiful. Thank you, I cannot express my gratitude enough.”

“Thank you. For being here. For being you. You are everything we need you to be.” Jimin said with a sweet smile. “Shall we eat?”

And with that, the evening dinner festivities take off. The lot of you spend the evening drinking too much wine and sharing your favorite stories from the year together. At the end of the night, you go back to their place where you can all snuggle in Namjoon’s massive bed, and as the wine takes you to sleep, it occurs to you that maybe, you are right where you are supposed to be.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the request it only took me 4 years, 9 months, and 18 days to complete

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bokettochild · 4 months

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Fenuwhump request for day 3, how about make it about Wild & Legend, where Wild’s the one who’s injured enough to need to bite down on something while Legend it trying to treat him. Maybe they need to get a spear or something out of Wild before using a Fairy. Whump for both of them basically except for Legend it’s emotional whump.

Oh boy, this one was fun! Took me a hot tick (and it's late, whoops!) but it was worth it!

Wordcount: 5,157

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Hemophobia, panic attacks, graphic descriptions of injury and LOTS OF BLOOD

They’ve been wandering for a week.

Normally, that’s expected, only normally they find at least something in their path while they do so. A village, a town, a couple of farmhouses- be they occupied or not, there’s always something. Here though there have only been monsters, and lots of them. He'd think, based off of the abundance of enemies, that it was his own time, or something very close to, except even his era has more in the ways of civilization than this! At least back home, the paths lead to somewhere, and even if homes and villages aren’t prosperous, they’re at least existent!

Legend sighs. Maybe it's the rain, maybe the stiff joints and the sore muscles caused by the heavy downpour of the last two days is the cause of his ire. He's not usually so fussy about where he’s walking, as long as it’s on a path, although this era of Hyrule doesn't seem to have much in the way of those either. He really had wondered if they were in his time though, but the lack of civilization and the sparsity in monster species had convinced him otherwise. Not that there’s a lack of monsters, just that there’s only been three or four main types they’ve run into in the last week, and they’d all been familiar, almost easy to take down, and frankly boring. He’s used to having changing targets, things that challenge him and make him actually try in order to stay alive, but so far most of the monsters they’ve met on this journey, here in this era or in the ones before, have been familiar. Although, the strange black blood does tend to make them more violent, resilient and intelligent, so fighting them isn’t exactly easy either.

Wherever they are, no one else seems to enjoy it either. Time looks most miserable, his armor no doubt incredibly uncomfortable while wet, but saying he’s the most miserable isn’t saying much about the comfort of the rest of them. Twilight slogs through the field, leading Epona beside him and hunching in under his heavy fur hood. Likewise, Four has donned his hood, shivering as he walks along at the center of their group, grumbling softly under his breath about whether rain is or isn’t the worst sort of weather. The consensus so far seems to be that sandstorms are worse, but by a thin margin because they’re incredibly rare in comparison.

Personally, Legend finds hail to be the worst sort of weather, seeing as the chunks can get as large as some stones in his era, but he keeps that to himself. It’s not like Four’s asking for his opinion after all.

“Anything?” Sky calls ahead, his sailcloth pulled over his head and, surprisingly, not soaking up the water. Legend wonders what the thing is made of, maybe he can ask later, or give it a look once they’re somewhere dry. He’d never expected it to be waterproof.

Beside their leader, Warriors shakes his head, water dripping off the ends of the hair that’s now well and truly plastered to his face. The captain had leant Hyrule his scarf, and while seeing him without it is strange enough, seeing his hair as flat and ruined as it is, is even stranger. “Nothing, sorry, Chosen.”

The skyloftian sighs again. They all know, from previous conversation, that rain is very much a new sensation for Sky still, and while he’s apparently past the stage of thinking the sky is falling, something he’s apparently still in the process of teaching his fellow skyloftains back home, he still doesn’t like it at all. Like the vet himself, their chosen hero seems to be wary of storms, and lightning storms for the man, as with himself, are the worst.

Actually, you know, maybe hail isn’t so bad. Maybe lightning storms are worse, especially after Four said that your chances of being struck increase with each time it happens. Or something like that.

“We’ve been walking for days,” Wind whines, a true testament to his frustration, because their youngest hates whining. “How is there still nothing?”

“Because life hates us.” Four drones, “life hates us, and the goddesses are pissed we are still alive.”

Even he stares at the smithy for that one.

“Four,” Warriors pauses in his walking, and most of them follow suit. “Would you like me to carry you?”

The genuine request is shut down very quickly with some foul language that no doubt would earn a very harsh stare if anyone could still see the captain’s face. Good grief, their captain looks like a drowned sheepdog with his bangs hanging that low, he desperately needs a trim (not that Legend’s offering).

“Sumthin’s sure t’come,” Twilight tries, and it’d be assuring if it wasn’t the thirteenth time he’s said that in the last few days. “jist hod in there, sailor.”

“How many times have you said that already?” Sky sighs.

“Thirteen.”

The rancher shoots him a glare and Sky chuckles, adjusting his baldric as he walks, head shaking under the white sailcloth. Strangely, he looks like the pictures of the old priestesses like that, and while Legend’s not in the best of moods, what with his hands and joints burning and aching from the rain, he still smirks a bit at the thought, although he doesn’t speak it. Catching eyes with Hyrule though, face half hidden by blue fabric, he sees a similar sort of smile playing over the traveler’s face, one that glints a bit as it turns on him, as though asking if he sees it too. He grins back, only to wince as his feet stumble some over the uneven ground.

He flounders for a moment, almost catching his balance only to have the muddy earth slip under his newly settled feet and make him trip further. It’s Wild hand, shot out to catch his own, that stops him, and he grips back tightly as he finds his feet again, panting maybe a bit harder than necessary once he has. When he glances up to thank the champion though, he’s met with flat eyes and a blank face, none of their young knight's typical cheer and playfulness present.

“Champ?”

“Watch your step,” it’s not harsh, but the other’s voice is distant as the other withdraws. Wild’s been quiet for a while, since the rain started actually. Usually, bad weather is met with some hair-brained anecdote or story that has Twilight shaking his head and Time cracking secret smiles, but these last couple of days are different for some reason. Legend can’t name why, but he supposes it’s not his place to ask either, seeing as how it’s not like they’re close or anything. Maybe more so than they were before, but not nearly as much as the champion is with Twilight and Time, or Wind is with Warriors.

Oh well, Wild being weird isn’t new either. As long as the young knight doesn’t do anything, it should be fine. Still, he makes a note to keep an eye on the kid, at least until he starts acting like himself again. For now, though, the champion walks- no, marches- along at their center, just in front of him and granting him direct view of set shoulders and a tense jaw. He’s making that same face he does when he’s in a memory, although he’s proven to be more responsive than when he fades out into one of those. Glancing around, the vet wonders if maybe this place reminds their champion of something, or maybe he’s just equally off put by the lack of people, places to stop, and opportunities to warm up by fires or cook. They haven’t been dry in over twenty-four hours after all, and that’s got to have an effect on anyone.

“What the heck is that?” The voice of the captain has all their attention drifting to the front, watching their medic dash hair and water out of his eyes for what’s got to be the thousandth time, peering out into the rain with a squint. The rest of them follow suit, staring out and trying to make out anything against the grey sky and thick curtain of water that pours down around them.

He hears it before he sees it. It’s a strange mechanical whirring noise, steady and unbroken, but very, very unfamiliar. He can’t even tell where it’s coming from for a moment, but then, out of the deluge around them, he sees a faintly pink glow.

Wild, directly in front of him, stiffens, hands flying for sword and shield.

“Cub?”

“Guardian,” the champion bites out, and while that word means nothing to any of them, they all follow his example, arming themselves and crouching low. If the thing, the guardian, is a threat, it isn’t doing anything yet, just wandering around on long, spider-like legs that almost remind him of a tektite, or maybe a gohma.

“Threat?” Time asks, glancing back, as though they aren’t already prepared for that very thing.

Wild nods, sharp, firm, jaw set.

That’s the last thing any of them are able to do either, as a moment later there’s a sharp, alarming beeping that makes some part of his soul scream in response, a red beam cutting through the rain around them, drifting over them briefly before settling on the champion, who’s closest. Harsh blue eyes blow wide at the sight, and the champion’s voice, a soft rasping whisper a moment ago, rises in a shout. “Run!”

They scatter, like so many keese out of a cave, they dart off in all directions, Twilight swinging up into the saddle and catching Four by the belt as he does so, kicking his mare off and away even as the rest of them rely on their own two legs. Some of them slip, some of them fall, but they’re all well accustomed to moving and moving quickly when enemies appear. The important thing is not letting the red beam settle on them. He’s not sure why, but he knows, and he’s ever been one to ignore instinct.

An explosion, not unlike one caused by a beamos, lights up the grey world not far from where they’d all been standing, and Time’s form darts across his vision as the man circles around the creeping monster as it glides on far too many legs towards their quickly fleeing group.

“Cub, weaknesses!” Is shouted over the sound of their feet and the rain, the steady mechanical whirr of the so-called guardian sending his mind screaming in warnings that any normal person would take as a sign to book it out of there. They don’t though, because heroes never run when they should, unless it’s to run towards the thig trying to kill them. They’re a bit dumb like that.

The champion is somewhere on his left, no, right- blue tunic standing out against the grey world, even despite the sheets of rain making it muddled against the cloudy sky and churned up earth. “Eye!” Except the blasted thing is a mechanical monster, so there isn’t an eye. Legend supposes the blinking blue and pink circle on what seems to be the front of it is rather like an eye though, and it doesn’t take much to send an arrow flying towards that point, a whisper of a prayer on his lips that it’ll do some good.

The red beam tracing after Wind disappears, pink and blue lights blinking in and out for a brief moment as the whole creature shakes and shudders, the top part swiveling wildly for a second before turning, slowly, as the lights come on again.

The red beam focuses on him.

Shit.

“Vet, run!”

He does. He didn’t even need the warning, he just breaks into a full sprint the moment he can, boots kicking into use to give him a little extra speed. Pegasus boots aren’t nearly as effective in the rain, or on muddy ground, but it’s better than his normal speed when it’s wet and cold and his joints are aching enough to make walking miserable. Unfortunately, that does require him staying upright, something that’s exceedingly more taxing on his body as a whole.

“Do not take it on!” The champion shouts, and Legend has no clue how the usually rasping voice of the young knight carries so clearly over the drenched field, but he can hear it as clearly as if the champion is right next to him. “Move away! Get as far as you can!”

They rarely warn each other to not take on monsters, usually only in the case of the worst ones, but the utter and complete terror he’d seen on the champion’s face the split second before they’d all darted off had been clue enough that that is the case now. Even if the others didn’t see the champion’s face though, the run. Twilight is already out of sight, Four with him. Time stops to grab ahold of Wind and then they both plunge off into the wetness, Hyrule and Sky taking off in the opposite direction, north and northwest.

Southwards of the strange thing, Legend’s got no chance at following any of them, and the blinking red beam fixed on him is making his steps more and more desperate as he weaves this way and that, desperately trying to throw off its aim as it trundles steadily closer, hardly hurried as the blink of its beam quickens its flash.

In a last-ditch attempt, he throws himself down into the mud the moment he hears the blast fire. The ground in front of him bursts into flames, unaffected by the rain pelting from the sky, but at least he’d escaped. This time.

The sound of another blast charging has him darting up, but the ground and his joints are no aid, making him slip and slide and falter for a moment before he finally gets his feet underneath him and takes off again.

The second shot strikes the ground just a few inches from him as he darts to the side, once more at the last moment.

“Hang on!”

He doesn’t know why Wild’s still around, the rest of the heroes now absent by both sight and sound, but he can hear the other flying through the mud and the muck towards him, arrows pinging harmlessly off of the sides of the giant, multi-legged hell-beast that’s chasing him. For some reason though, its sights remain locked on him, not faltering even for a moment towards the champion whose breathing is becoming more and more shallow by the second, terror painted clearly in its pulses.

The thing is getting closer, he’s losing ground. Instinct says that he’s not outrunning this thing, not even with all his magic poured into his boots to try and speed him along. The moment he runs out is the moment it catches up, and he’s not making great distance anyways. They need a new plan.

He turns around, shield raised.

The champion’s throaty scream rings out at nearly the same pitch as the firing laser.

The blow makes him stumble back, force like nothing he’s faced before, even a lynel, but the mirror shield does its job, sending the horrid blue light rocketing back to its source with a flick of his arm.

The spidery monster stalls, lights blinking and fizzing, top spinning about again, this time for longer than what the arrow had done as the things stops moving long enough for Wild to reach it. The champion’s sword, freshly forged for the second time, swings for the legs, hacking and cutting in a motion he darts to mirror, tackling the twisting limb that’s closest. Two legs hit the ground, still writhing, sending the not-a–beast teetering and then tipping, unbalanced with the loss of two of its eight awful legs. That isn’t enough to stop it though. No, the thing’s glow returns, top spinning again, seeking them, and Wild’s hand catches his wrist before it does, the champion pulling him away.

The red beam follows them as they dart off, and the monster does too, although it’s slowed by the loss of its legs, and a quick shot from the champion’s bow at the last moment has it spinning and fizzing again, stopped in its tracks a moment more and granting them both long enough to gain some ground.

Wild’s hand is a vice on his wrist.

He doesn’t dare pull away.

Their feet slip and slide, and more than once he nearly falls, only for the hand nearly bruising his wrist to pull him up again. An arm wraps round his shoulders to steady and pull him up, Wild’s blue eyes cast all the while towards the thing behind them. There’s fear in those eyes; desperate terror that makes him almost miss the empty coldness from on the road. Makes him miss the wild child streaked with dirt and all too eager with a stupid plan. The ma beside him, soaked to the skin, dirt streaked and desperate, is like a whole different person, but even that doesn’t stop the fact that his brother is there, standing beside him and getting his ass out of danger as best he can rather than darting off as his own mind is likely demanding he do.

Didn’t Wild say his scars came from a guardian? Didn’t he die to these things? Are they going to die?

The mechanical whir picks up again, the steadily increasing beep that he’s quickly learning signifies preparation of a shot is sounding in their ears and they only have so much distance between themselves and the monster that outpaces them without even trying.

“Keep running,” Wild orders, eyes finding his for a moment, startled at the contact, but the other pulls back all the same.

Legend finds his own feet skidding to a stop, already whirling around to ask what the champion’s plan even is, but a harsh “that’s an order!” has him obeying. He's not sure if it’s the firmness, the desperation, or maybe even fear of the champion himself, but his instinct takes the lead to send him stumbling away as quickly as possible.

This is Wild’s monster, he knows it’s weaknesses, he knows how to fight them. This is Wild’s world, he knows what he’s doing, he does. Wild knows what he’s doing, Wild knows what he’s doing Wild knows-

The champion’s grunt of pain, a bit bac scream and the sound of something falling stop him in his tracks.

The champion is wincing, ash floating around him, shield now notably missing as the enemy closes in on the hero who is running and darting with a speed Legend didn’t know he had in him. Running towards him, eyes locking on him, blowing wide and full of terror as they catch on the vet’s frozen form.

The red beam locks onto the running form of his brother.

They don’t have time. Wild doesn’t have a shield any longer and Legend’s not confident he can replicate the parry he’d done before on total accident. Their options are slim, but they have some.

His bow is easy to equip, arrow flying off the string in a second, aim easy to take as the mechanical monster crawls steadily towards them, target never shifting. The single shot does little, save restart their timer, but that at least is something. He fires again.

“What are you doing?”

“Distracting!” Depleting the health, if this thing even has health. He's doing damage though, he knows that much He’s doing damage because they’re out of time for flight, it’s time to fight now.

The champions snarls, a foreign, harsh sound that rips across scarred vocal chords, but he’s not challenged. No, instead, the other darts in, sword ready and already hacking the moment Legend fires off another arrow. The new sword screams against the metal legs of the guardian, but after some heavy, terrible looking blows, yet another twisting, writhing limb falls to the soaked earth, and the spinning head of the not-creature turns to focus instead on the champion. The red beam pulses, already too quick, eye faced away and out of sight of Legend’s bow.

“Wild!”

Resignation is already clear in those eyes as the other hacks away, darting and jumping and flipping about, moving too fast but not fast enough, rough voice still so harsh against his ears. “Run! I’ll hold it off!”

He’s not going to.

“I’ll be fine!” The champion’s voice breaks on the words. He won’t.

The pulsing light is blinking faster than his pounding heart, lights blurring his vision as his feet slide in the dirt, running as bidden. Rather than away, he’s headed towards, but even with sword and shield raised, with all his magic streaming into aiding his stride, he’s not fast enough.

The beam of blue light strikes Wild in the center of his chest, and it’s like time stops for a moment. The scream of his brother rings over the field, no doubt echoing in the ears of their fled brethren. He’s frozen, watching, as the champion falls, as though in slow motion, but then Wild’s body slumps against the earth and the guardian is turning on him this time and time catches up again, returned to normal, ticking on as though he hasn’t just witnessed the stuff of his brother’s nightmares.

And yet Wild still get’s back up.

“Go!” Those eyes are so wide, so pained, so terrified. “Zelda! Run!”

Wild doesn’t know it’s him. Wild doesn’t know it’s him! Oh crud, Wild doesn’t know it’s him! Wild is running, stumbling, one hand to his sodden and bloodied chest and the other clutching tightly to his sword, gaze fixed on the vet with the same sort of desperation that screams and pounds fit to make Legend’s own heart burst.

If Wild takes another shot, there’s no promise he’ll get up again. But Wild isn’t seeing Legend, he’s seeing his princess; his desperate, defenseless princess, and there’s no way in the Dark World that the dutiful knight he knows would let Zelda take the blow of an enemy, even if that means he has to make himself into a living shield.

What to do? The things bearing down on him, target set, lights already blinking in a too quick countdown. He can’t parry the beam back twice in a row, there’s too much distance to use his sword. He can shoot but for how long? How long till it’s on him? How long till he runs out of arrows?

Arrows! Zelda!

He’s not sure, hasn’t time to think, hasn't time to do more than send a prayer heavenward that Hylia did more than curse him with her blood, but then it’s there, shining and bright and light arrows are at the tips of his fingers, bright and warm and pulsing as they fly to his string. He pulls back. The guardian’s light pulses once. He releases.

The thing flies back, rolling and crashing against the wet earth, sparking and fizzing out, twitching and spluttering as the ever-present whine of its core gives out. Legend doesn’t care, he has eyes only for his wavering friend, the brother whose eyes are flickering, and legs are faltering. He tries to quicken his pace, but even as he reaches out his arms, the strain and the mud have them both tumbling down into the muck, the chapion’s breath stuttering with a pained groan as they slide and roll.

He comes out on top, something he alters quickly, pulling himself to the side and upright, knelt over his brother’s sprawled out and boody form. He gags.

The beams effects are immediately obvious, flesh burnt away, bubbling at the edges as blood seeps out from the wound, running thin under the rainwater but in no ways washed away by the downpour. There’s charring already, and where there isn’t is exposed muscle that trembles and spasms, veins pulsing as pained shudders shake the champion.

Shit shit shit, he;s going to be sick, he’s going to be so sick!

“Zel-” the pained whimper has him tearing his eyes away, wide violet finding fluttering blue, holding as one hand lifts, the champion trying to catch hold of him in some way or another.

For a brief second, the image of his uncle, gaping wound leaking blood across the floor and into the sewage drain behind them, flashes in is head. Wild’s eyes are just as glazed over, words fumblinga nd slurring as a hand reaches clumsily for him. He catches it, pushing it down and out of his way, motions a echo of ten years ago when he did the same for the man who raised him. “H-hey-: his voice is shaking, trembling, foreign even to his own ears, “h-hang in there, y-you're- you're gonna be fine.”

He doesn't know how to treat a burn like this. Doesn’t know how to deal with the hole that’s been seared through his brother's chest. He’s no medic, no healer, and his magic may be enough to end but it can do nothing to heal.

“Zel,” his brother wheezes, still fighting his hands, finger slipping easily across soaked skin to grip his own, tight but not tight enough, not as tight as the bruising grip before. “y’gotta keep-” his breath stutters “-keep running. Calam-”

“No,” Wild’s eyes aren’t focused enough to see him shake his head, but he’s not thinking about that right now. “No, no, Wild I am not leaving you like tis i got it, it’s dead, I got it.”

“Zelda-”

“No!” His voice is sharper than the sound of the blast, “Din dang it, Link, I’m not leaving you!”

Wild’s blue eyes flutter open, breath straining, hands fumbling even as he tries once more to push the away, to turn his attention to the smoking hole in the man’s chest, the blood oozing out to turn the mud beneath them faintly pink, blue tunic unrecognizable beneath the crimson flow and spattered earth.”You have-”

“I have to save you!” Not save the world, not save zelda, not save his sister or chase his destiny or leave becasue he is not leaving again! Not again! He’s not wandering off and leaving the champion to bleed out, letting precious life-blood spill down the drains of Hyrule castle as though it’s worth as much as the sewage it flows alongside. He's not taking the sword and the shield, he’s tossing them down and pressing his hands over the gaping would, trying desperately to stop the bleeding even as his vision swims and weak hands fumble against his own.

“Princess!”

He ignores the cry, the scream at the contact of his hands with exposed muscle, with blood that seeps between his fingers and stains them, flows past even despite his efforts to trail over skin and ruined clothes.

He needs to close the wound! He needs to stop the bleeding and close the wound, but the hands reaching for his have become violent, clawing at his wrists and tearing to pull them away, the champion’s scream of agony rattling his heart, his mind, making his vision swim and his own breath falter and catch in a cry he can’t hold back.

He needs the screaming to stop!

He tears his hands away, plunging them into his bag and grabbing the first thing that gives way under his touch. For a moment he stalls, mind flicking through his inventory, praying a potion or fairy hides beneath the mounds of supplies, but he’d used his last one in their last battle and they haen;t seen fairies since Time’s world. He grabs the soft feeling thing, ripping it out of his bag and sparing uit not a single glance before shoving it towards the champion’s outh. “Bite down on this.”

Be it in relief or desperation, his order is obeyed, and sharp teeth close tightly on the old belt, sinking into it and granting blessed silence long enough for his brain to function again.

Blood, he needs to stop the blood.

The blows too close to the heart, there’s no cutting off blood flow, there’s no stopping the blood seeping through except by packing the wound and praying it’s enough. Pack and bind, like Fi taught him. Use any scrap of clean cloth he’s got and hope the blood will stop long enough for someone to find them- or him to find them- or any blessed miracle to grant itself to them and provide a way to end the wound!

His hand flied to his bag again, sorting by touch alone, finding wool socks he’s mostly certain are clean and pressing them to the wound, one hand holding them there een as another stifled scream escapes his brother, the champion’s back bowing forwards, body surging up under his hands to writhe in pain, a motion he only barely responds to, pushing back down again as his other hand paws and grasps wildly for anything, anything at all to stuff into the gaping hole that pours blood, so much blood, red crimson ooze that stains his hands and is warm, far too warm, burning hot against trembling, froze hands.

There’s so much blood. God, why is there so much of it! Why isn’t it stopping? Why cant ke make it stop!

His own sobs ring in his ears beside the agonized cry of his brother. He can’t even feel the grip of the champion’s fingers clawing at his wrist anymore, mind a stuttering and stalling haze as he somehow manages to press another wadded up piece of clothing to the endless stream of red.

Bandages, he manages to process. He needs to bandage them in place, tie the packing in so that it won’t get out, so the wadded-up fabric and wool will catch the blood and stop more from coming out, make it finally stop. Stop staining his hands, stop burning, stop rolling in his stomach and pounding in his heart and clogging in his throat as his breath catches on it, lungs seizing on it, vision lost to red red red.

Somehow, he manages to bind the wound. He doesn't know how had he doesn’t know what with, but he knows that he does and then he’s pulling Wild in, holding close and clinging, rocking slowly as the champion whimpers.

His fingers are red, streaking red across white features as Wild’s screams fade to moans and whimpers, the champion's nails still clawing at his wrists, at his arm, painting them both in more red red red.

He whimpers, body shaking, breath stalling, chest stammering and seizing.

He did it. It’s bound. The blood is stopping. He did it. He didn’t run away, and he didn’t leave. He didn’t leave the blood to flow, flow, flow, dripping into the sewers, staining the stone, painting the dungeons in blood blood blood.

He did it. He did it this time.

He did good.

He stopped the blood.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #lu legend #lu wild #tw hemophobia #tw blood #tw violence #tw panic attacks #tw injury

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oumaheroes · 8 months

Note

Would you write an america and england fluffy drabble?

If domestic counts as fluffy, I sure can indeed

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

Another Man's Trash

From his spot on the rafters, America watched England teeter up the ladder to the attic, a full mug in each hand, and took pleasure in offering him no assistance.

‘Took you long enough,’ he said when England was safely up and crouched under the oddly crooked roof supports. He took the mug England held out to him before it had the potential to become a weapon, ‘I thought you’d died down there.’

‘How kind of you to come and check on me.’

‘After what you’re making me do, you deserve it.’

‘’Making’ you do? I deserve death for asking for your help?’

‘Yes.’

‘Noted.’

England hunkered down a foot away and eyed the section of rafters, or lack of, which America was guarding. There wasn’t much natural light to see by. The attic spaces of England’s huge country manor were partitioned and sectioned off between the different wings, some used as servants’ rooms, others for proper storage. This particular section was one of the more abandoned, quickly and haphazardly boarded, and with were only two, small windows to fight against the dust flecked darkness. The hole which America was sat next to was lighthouse’d by a several flashlights, and he could see more by the light from the room below than he could from the small, round, single paned window above it.

England nodded at the room below, bones on the right side of his face sharp with yellow flashlight. ‘Shouldn’t be too long left.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me? There’s still a huge hole in the floor.’

‘Ceiling.’

‘Whatever.’

‘We’ve done most of it.’

‘Done? The whole thing needs replacing.’ America waved his arm wide, coffee still in hand, and England watched its trajectory with alarm. They’d cleared this area of the attic when they’d first started work, the ancient objects and historical junk which had previously occupied the space piled high or scattered about whatever space up here that remained, but hot coffee through the already abused boards probably wouldn’t end well. ‘This boarding is hundreds of years old, I’m surprised any of it is still weightbearing.’

‘It’s well made.’

‘It was well made, like a billion years ago.’

‘It’s not that old.’ England rolled his eyes at the look America gave him and took a sip of his tea, ‘The whole thing doesn’t need replacing, and the main beams are fine. That bit only rotted because of the leak in the roof.’

America opened his mouth and then closed it again, sensing that arguing this point wouldn’t actually get him out of the damn attic any faster and might, in fact, trap him into helping for a much longer project. It was bad enough that his quick summer stay to the UK had been consumed by this; if England accepted an additional idea that he proposed, there was no way to wiggle out of it peacefully. Instead, America glared up at the spot of roof they’d spent the better part of the last few days fixing and waterproofing.

‘You’re lucky I was visiting. If I hadn’t noticed the stain in the guest room ceiling you’d be fucked.’

‘Hardly.’

‘And you wouldn’t have been able to do this by yourself.’

England made a non-committal noise, ‘I would have been fine.’

‘Sure you would.’

‘I would have. It would have taken longer though, certainly. And I’d rather someone I trust than some random builder who has no idea how old this all is. Far too difficult to explain and it would have been an utter ball ache finding a specialist.’ England turned away, placing his mug down and busying himself with the stack of floorboards waiting patiently for them along one of the beams.

America smiled and shook his head. That was as close of an acknowledgement of thanks or gratitude as he was likely to get. Enough too that England considered him competent.

He tried his coffee, mournfully noting that England had reverted, likely out of habit, to making the instant stuff rather than the proper beans. Either that, or America had torn his way through the good coffee that England kept handy for what he called his ‘overly picky’ guests. ‘How old is this part anyway.’

‘This part of the house?’ England handed him a measuring tape and a board, the wood thick and heavy. They’d need to cut them to size, then add the insulation, then plaster the ceiling- actually no, fuck that. England could deal with the decoration himself, America had already splintered his hands tearing out all of the sodden stuff that was there before. ‘Not that old. I think I had this wing built not long after I found you. Maybe my first trip home afterwards.’

America let out a whistle, ‘Hate to break it to you, but that’s too old.’

‘It’s the youngest part of the house.’ England huffed, ‘I’ve been living here for about two thousand years in one way or another lad, a few hundred years is nothing in the grand scheme of things.’

‘I’m not gonna bother giving that a response.’

America peered down through the hole, cautiously perching on the edge of the rafters to see into the bedroom below. His room of all rooms; he’d had to relocate himself to Canada’s. He was sure his brother wouldn’t mind.

‘Mind yourself.’ England warning, hand twitching as if to grab him when America leant even further forwards, ‘We don’t need an A&E trip on top of everything else.’

‘I’m not gonna fall.’

England tutted and looked away, ‘And haven’t I heard that before.’

‘Stop moaning, you’ll go grey.’

‘You’ll make me go grey.’

‘You’d look more your age, at least.’

‘Piss off.’

‘That’s not a very nice thing to say to- oh.’

‘What?’

In the process of measuring the width of where the first board would go, America’s eye caught on something wedged in the insulation. It must have slipped between the older boards when they became warped by the water, or even lost between them years previously. It was deep in the insulation, not budging when America poked it experimentally with the tip of his finger. Shifting his weight, he reached out further across the hole to tug it free, ignoring England’s muttering to come around the other side and get it like a normal person and the hand he rested on America’s shoulder to steady him.

The object was small and wooden. It looked, of all things, like a thick stick, but as America worked it free it was revealed to be a very short, very crude spear. About half a foot long at most, it was roughly sharpened at both ends with a groove in the middle for a handle.

America turned it over, baffled, ‘What the hell is this?’

‘You tell me. You made it.’

America blinked, ‘Did I?’

‘Hmm.’ England wore a soft smile, ‘I left you alone with a penknife; either that or you took it without me noticing. You brought that to me and pronounced it as a “hunting weapon.”’

‘Huh.’ America rolled the stick in his palm and laughed, ‘You’re a sentimental bastard, you know that?’

‘Shut up.’ England coloured, ‘You would have been devastated if I threw it away.’

‘Uh huh. And that’s the only reason you kept it.’

‘Yes.’ England clicked his fingers and held out his hand, ‘Now give it here and let’s get on with it, it’ll be dinner soon and we need to order something early unless we want to eat at stupid o’clock tonight because by fuck am I cooking after all this.’

America grinned and settled himself more comfortable on his beam, long legs dangling down, ‘And what are you going to do with this very impressive hunting weapon?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Can I have it?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Alfred. Stop talking and give it here.’

America peered down once more, imagining the family room further along the warren of hallways of the manor, ‘Can I put it with Deidre downstairs?’

‘Christ- will you leave that bloody statue alone.’

‘I think Uncle Rhys did a very good job with her.’

‘I think Rhys needs therapy.’

‘Aw. Don’t be mean to her, she’s beautiful.’

‘It’s terrible.’

‘She’ll look good with something to hold. Will make that lump of hers on her chest look more like an arm than a third boob.’ America held the odd stick to his chest in imitation, ‘See?’

‘Fine.’ England threw his hands up and shifted backwards as if to prompt America to do the same. ‘Put it with the statue if you want but stop leaning so far over the edge.’

‘Stop being such a fanny fart, I’m holding the beam.’

‘Yes but that could crack.’

America held on with one hand and sat further forwards, grinning as England swatted at his knee, ‘I thought you said the main beams were fine and strong?’

‘With how your great lumpen weight is swinging from it anything coul-‘

England was interrupted by a sharp, distinct crack of old, dry wood. America froze. A fine sprinkling of dust showered down from the roof, settling onto his knees like snow. They watched each other wide eyed, waiting to see what would happen and America trying not to think about the very heavy slate of the roof not that far from his organs. When nothing immediately collapsed he sat up properly, letting go of the beam slowly as if afraid of spooking it. On the other side of the hole, England buried his head in his hands and groaned.

‘Why. Why.’

America laughed nervously and gently patted the beam. ‘I guess I’m buying dinner?’

England didn’t reply.

‘Cool... cool. Nice.’

#aph england #aph america #hws england #hws america #hetalia #hws #aph #arthur kirkland #alfred f jones #heroes writes #Only the OGs remember Deidre

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writingforatwistedworld · 2 years

Note

Otome au

I’ve had this in my head ever since your AU came out because :) OK Mc still does the side quest and so does the storyline but they always try to take stuff from the villagers or like the side characters( I do this it doesn’t work most the time)🤣

For example mc : i’m gonna take your bread sir(Mc tried to take it but but they can’t) give me my bread

Villager: my bakery is closed you can come back another day:)

Mc : let me take your Bread SIR SIR let me take your bread STOP WALKING AWAY FROM ME SIR!!!??

Can you do Vil,epel, azul how would they react mc like that I thought it would be hilarious!!! please thank you love your stuff<3

THE BREAD! HAIL THE BREAD! EAT THE BREAD! RESPECT THE BREAD! And take the bread away from NPC's. (I hear the murder in the voice of that example NPC XD)

Otome-au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, poison, violence, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, murder, death

Azul Ashengrotto/Vil Schoenheit/Epel Felmier-“I’m gonna take your bread sir… let me take your bread SIR SIR STOP WALKING AWAY FROM ME SIR!!!??”

Here he is sitting, watching you through his mirror, looking at how you talk with those land-dwellers (idk about what you think but bread underwater is a bit hard u know...)

And... could it be that you are hungry?

Because all he is seeing is you jumping like a madman in front of random people (you call them NPC's, right?) wanting their bread if they had one

Ok, imagine this with me, he just woke up, was done with his hair so it was... like it usually was and just put the mirror on like some TV

You following me, right? Well he was staring at it with an open mouth watching how you wanted everyones bread for the first two minutes

And once the shock is gone he is going mad

“ARE THEY NOT FEEDING YOU WELL??!”

Then he remembers that this is not your real body and just some shell so you can experience this world

But then... what are you doing? Is this something in another culture? Is he missing something here?

Poor Octopus is so confused.

Why don't you just take some fish if you want food that badly, they are practically swimming into your hand... oh, yeah, right, you not in water

Let us remember that panicked state he was in before, yes? The three people that he could also see with you in the mirror are now cursed, byproduct of his abilities (don't question it)

But you seem to like bread a lot... should he try to create a waterproof one??!

Cue you looking at your screen confused when they achievement “culinary inspiration-the merpeoples best chef” popped up

Guess you just brought bread onto the plate of fish

But no one dares to steal the recipe. Otherwise they might find themselves at the mercy of an angry outcast of the sea, the mersorcerer himself

Yeah, that garden is growing pretty neat

So... you expect this cold-hearted tyrant king to just ignore what is going on?

My dear friend, he has a magic mirror that can see and show more than any other reflecting surface

He was this close from throwing his own most prized reflective surface out of the window (again)

Life of a mirror can be hard you know? If it isn't easy with competition on the mirror market and if that doesn't kick you out of the business then it's your owner shattering you (and I'm sure a fall from a tower also does the job)

Since you know me you also know what comes next, we build the scene

He just sat there, staring at your body in this world and how it didn't move for about half an hour (you probably went to grab a bite)

He almost screamed when you suddenly jumped up and sprinted to the next baker

Oh I also forgot to mention, you were screaming “BRRREEEAAADDDD” (you doing that. Not me. I'm just an author)

That was rather... u elegant but he can pass this...

Until you go to the next person and repeat the whole “gimme your bread” thingy

I told you, that mirror better learn how to fly and that fast

You want bread? YOU WANT BREAD??! Fine, then you shall get bread

Suddenly someone appears out of nowhere, handing you a basket filled with bread, saying “in the name of the king”

Maybe he will even get so annoyed that he will try to poison his brother yet again but this time with bread (imagine, it was not an apple but bread XD)

But if you thought about giving it to one of the suitors I would advise you to forget that

You know, he has a certain special magic and he might have done something to the bread that would affect them but not you... Just might (nah he has definitely done something to it)

So bread is the way into your heart huh?

Forget his apple carving skills! *sobs* He is going to learn how to bake bread!

The kitchen looked like it was a battlefield after the first time... why was there a knife sticking out of the bowl?

But anyway, he is trying his best

But why did he decide to walk the treacherous path of bread baking?

Well... you were screaming like a madman and telling everyone to give you bread

Oh boy was he happy that the people would forget what happened after you would restart the game or loaded an earlier safe file

Lowkey embarrassed but then it struck him!

If you want bread that badly then he shall make it!

He was so motivated that he totally forgot that this body of yours can't even get hungry

Remember that he is also the poison dealer which would hand the king the poison to finally reach his goals in the plot of the game?

That left over bread which isn't 100% perfect doesn't get thrown away, no

Bread can actually soak up a lot of liquids so just a few drops of this and that... there, his next client should be pleased

Also, might use the power of the oh-so-malicious poisoned bread to make sure Neige doesn't come close, he can't have the main plot ending too fast after all (falling off a cliff hurts)

But in the end he can bake bread like a champion

Just don't take the bread from that basket. That other one is for you. Oh why? Well... he made it for that nice person you met yesterday. Had to take extra measures because of an allergy... want to deliver it with you?

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sweetfire01 · 2 months

Note

hey again! it’s been a while, hehe!

i was rewatching the obey me anime (on youtube) and saw the beach episode and it made me think of the obey me boys taking the little one to the beach

there was also the field trip episode — the one with satan reading that forbidden spell book where he acted like a toddler after reading it — and it also made me think of the little one

just imagine how the poor little one would be — there’d probably be so much humiliation omfg but yeah !!

— anon (🍊)

The problem of leaving my draft: I'm finish it now while it's raining.

Hi tangarine, I didn't watch the field trip episode (or maybe I did, but I don't remember it well) but the beach one was great!

And Little!Mc at the beach with the brothers? It will be so fun for sure! Or at least for them.

After putting you a waterproof diaper and a cute hat on your head to protect your eyes from the sun, they slather you with lots of sunscreen. They know your skin is delicate and you risk burning yourself, but now you can play safely under the umbrella. You can build a big castle together, they teach you how to fill your bucket with sand and tip it over to form towers. Why are you pouting and saying you're not having fun? Oh, it's because you can't get it right, is it? Don't worry, let one of your dads take care of it and you can create lots of little animals with your sand moulds. Look: there's the turtle, the fish, the jellyfish, Lotan… And now that it's finished, it needs to be decorated, right? They accompany you around, obviously while holding your hand, making you collect the most beautiful shells and putting them in the bucket they carry. And when you return, there are a couple of floaties waiting for you. Aren't you excited to play in the water? Obviously by "playing in the water" they mean that area no more than 2 meters away from the shore. They sit down and hold you in their lap. Probably the water doesn't reach above your tummy, but look! A wave is coming! Did you see it? It was so big that the water hit your ribs! Ooh, there's another one coming!

After this humiliating activity has gone on for a while, it's time for your bottle and then a nap. You need to rest if you want to have enough energy to play later! You still have to create a big hole and fill it with water for your toy fish to swim in! And if you behave well, before returning home you can even have a cup of ice cream! Today is a really fun day for you, isn't it?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #age regression #forced age regression

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totally-not-here-for-the-smut · 7 months

Note

M6 reaction to MC squirting?

I told you I wasn't dead so here I am

So welcome to my new

Smuttttt

Headcanons about squirting, obv called

~~~SPLASH♤♧

Julian acts surprised, but given how much care and concentration he put in his fingerwork today, and the ill-concealed smirk on his face, you know that he was so looking forward to see you wet the bed -and himself-. He's delighted at your embarrassment, it comes as a sweet, sexy little vengeance after you tormented him and pulverized his willpower since... well, since you started dating.

Lucio will definitely brag about it. He won't mention your name -he's a gentleman, after all!- but in a matter of days all the night people and partygoers of Vesuvia will know about the count's last success. Nobody knows the one they're talking about it's you, and every time you hear their words you have to keep a straight face and sit with your legs tightly crossed. It's simply your favourite game.

Portia lets out a victorious trill as soon as it happens. She won't brag about it, but will keep going on with her "subtle innuendos" every time there's water around. Of course she is not subtle. Is equally embarassing and sweet.

Nadia isn't surprised. She is clearly the most experienced at this. She smiles at you and cuddles next to you - and to your surprise, she pulls out a couple of towels to clean the mess. She never lets any servants clean up after your activities, she thinks it would be disrespectful to do so, both to them and to the both of you. And seeing her taking care of the cleaning is strangely hot...?

Asra kisses you on your forhead, but you see him with a... vial? To collect it???? "Powerful magic component", he says. Refuses to elaborate. Proceeds to prevent any further question by giving you another orgasm.

Muriel doesn't seem to even notice. Raining out, raining in, what's the difference? Furs are waterproof and the fire is lit anyway. His attitude is pleasantly liberating.

#coming back like a goatman #the arcana game #nadia satrinava smut #the arcana #julian devorak skut #portia devorak smut #count lucio smut #asra alnazar smut #muriel the hermit smut #the arcana smut hc

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bump1nthen1ght · 1 year

Text

Campus Romance

Pairing: Art Teacher!Sex Demon x Writer!Gender Neutral!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1786 words

Summary: You stumble into an art lecture while around your new college campus. Luckily, the hot professor doesn’t seem to mind

Request: UH BELZ HELLOOO???? You can’t give this gay anon a He/They art professor sex demon and not expect them to request a fic??

Anyways- can I humbly request a meet cute fic of Belz with a reader (GN or Male either or) who’s a writer? Maybe they meet on the college campus Belz works at or they meet over the phone cause of Belz’s night job, whatever floats your boat I just want flirty demon pls (/lh)

A/N: For those who haven’t read it, heres the piece where I introduced Belz!

What a perfect first day. No rain coat, no umbrella, an open campus and a downpour of rain. You hold your (hopefully) waterproof binder over your head as you race across a crosswalk, just avoiding getting splashed by a campus gardener.

This is what I get for waking up early. This is a sign from god.

You had meant to peruse around the college today, taking a note of the building you’d soon be teaching out of and the general layout. But the rain has turned everything into a blurry mess and you end up ducking into the nearby arts building. Your future office is technically only one over, but you’d rather not spend that extra 5 minutes and have your jeans get soaked through.

After shaking off like a dog, you begin wandering down the halls trying to find a bathroom, at least to see how much of a mess you must look like. The building is heated, thank gods, but only few of the classrooms are occupied. You’d guess most people decided to ditch or cancel their 8 AMS after seeing the weather outside.

You’re shrugging off your damp sweater when you see a propped open door, a vivacious voice and the sweet smell of incense luring you in. At first you intend only to peek, maybe ask where the nearest restroom is, but what you had expected to be a dull lecture room ended being much more interesting.

Numerous paint cases and student exhibitions line the wall, the tables well loved with paint splatter and pencil scratches. In the center of the room is a giant marble statue of a man in a rather artful pose, surrounded by multiple students and their easels. They all sit hunched over, charcoal smudged on their fingers as they sketch the form in front of them. But what really catches your eye is the lecturer, standing right next to the subject.

“Now, I want you pay special attention to the movement lines of this piece.” They say, running their fingers down the statues upturned arm. Long, black nails trail down the side of the figure, tracing the defined side and the hip bones. “Notice the flow of the Contrapposto stance, how it positions his limbs around the slight twist in his torso. If you want to come and see up close, you may.” The lecturer smirks, “Starting next week we’ll have live models, so this will be the only subject you can get flirty with.” The lecturer slaps the statue’s butt, a general murmur of laughter coming from the students.

The lecturer steps off the stand and brushes back their shaggy hair. Their billowy shirt exposes a lean clavicle and several necklaces. Their blue skin is complimented by the dark red of their boho pants, only adding to their relaxed air. Their gaze wanders around the classroom, observing their students before landing on you, the wet stranger lurking in the corner. You give a wave, hoping it doesn’t look too awkward.

Their eyes go wide at your soaking wet form, briskly walking over. You’re able to catch the small name tag pinned in their shirt.

Belz (He/They)

“Howdy.” They mock salute, eyes wandering down your wet clothes. “My goodness, you’re drenched! Here-” They reach over, grabbing a smock from a nearby hanger, “It’s not much but hopefully it should warm you up some.” Before you can protest they’ve thrown it across your chest, ducking behind you and grabbing onto the laces. You feel the faint brush of their claws as Belz quickly ties up the back, cinching it tight to your waist with a few precise movements. The fabric itself may not be particularly cozy, but you feel a warmth covering your body nonetheless.

“There,” Belz mutters, rubbing some imaginary dust off your shoulder. “And look at that, it fits perfectly.” He mutters, his chuckle at his own little joke just as inviting as the classroom itself. “Now, what can I do for you, stranger?”

“Oh, nothing! I actually was just escaping from the rain when I saw the door open. I guess I just got…drawn in?” You straighten out the front of the smock, realizing now how random this encounter is. “Just thought I’d observe. I hope I’m not intruding.”

“It’s no problem at all, my lessons are for all, as is art itself.” Belz brushes a stray hair back before sticking out their hand. “I’m Belz.”

“____.” You shake their hand, “I-I’m actually a new literature professor, I was supposed to be touring the campus today, but, well….” You gesture outside, an ironic crack of thunder echoing as you do. But Belz isn’t dissuaded by the storm, a big smirk coming across their lips.

“Well, I’m happy to be your welcoming party, Professor ____.” Belz wraps their other palm around the outside of your fist, enfolding your hand in theirs. Their warm palms feel refreshing against your icy skin. “Now, do you like muffins?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess so-”

“Perfect!” Belz keeps your hand in his as he leads you to his desk, a big tray of different muffins sitting right by his laptop.“My mom always said the cure to bad weather is good food, so you may have the pick of the lot. Though my students have probably pilfered the best ones. Can’t let your mind work on an empty stomach, after all.”

Belz sits down in their chair, giving it a little spin before grabbing a chocolate muffin from the basket.

“Thank you! These look delicious.” You grab a banana-nut muffin, shocked by how warm it still was, like it just came out of the pan.

“I get them every morning from that bakery right near campus. It’s to die for, you have to check it out.” Belz takes a big chomp out of their muffin, immediately swooning at the flavor. Their noises are almost..erotic.

You take a bite of your muffin, trying not to think about that. But Belz is right, these muffins are delicious, you can almost forget about your waterlogged jeans.

“So, you’re a banana nut fan, huh? Underrated flavor in my opinion.”

“Agreed. But I think my favorite is blueberry.”

“Hmm, good to know.” Belz laughs, tapping their cheek as their eyes elevator up and down. You take another bite of your muffin, hoping he can’t see your cheeks flush. Instead you look around their desk, multiple knick-knacks and smaller art pieces scattered all around. Right near their laptop is a framed picture, one of those cheesy ones with a photoshop caption from the early 2000’s, of two rats. The caption reads “Benny and Jet <3”

“Are those your pet rats?”

Belz gasps, excitedly nodsing before holding the photo proudly up to his face.

“Yes, these are my babies, the loves of my life, my platonic soulmates. I would’ve brought them to class today, if not for the weather.”

“They’re really cute.” You point towards Benny, who is almost all white except for the brown spot on his hind. “I had a rat that looked like Benny when I was a kid. She was an absolute sweetheart, though my friend would freak out whenever they saw her.”

Belz tuts, “I don’t trust people who disrespect rats. It’s my ultimate judge of character.”

“Well, one of those friends did throw a pudding cup at me a year later, so I’d say it’s pretty accurate.”

You both laugh, Belz throwing his head back. He’s got a pleasant laugh, resonant like a bass guitar. His countenance is infectiously friendly and when he smiles your way, you can't help but feel a little more giddy.

“Well, good to know you have great taste in food and in pets, Professor. Hopefully that good taste rings true elsewhere, hmm?” Belz leans on their palm, giving you another wink.

You find yourself stuttering, rubbing the back of your head as you try to come up with a funny retort, but then-

“Professor? Could I ask for some advice on something?”

Belz stands up with a flourish, their billowing clothes making the motion seem extra elegant. “Well, it seems my people need me.”

“Of course, I’ll let you get back to work.”

Belz places a hand on your shoulder, that flirtatious smile making the contact feel even more electrifying. “Feel free to stay as long as you like, I have a kettle if you’d like some tea to warm you up.”

“Thanks again, but I probably should go and find my office. Be brave and face the rain.”

Belz smile widens, their eyes wandering down before locking you in with a sultry gaze. “Well, feel free to holler if you need anything. And you can stop by my class anytime.”

Belz begins ti walk away, but keeps their hand lingering on your shoulder. Their fingers glide across the back of your shirt, only loosing contact only when they’ve walked too far away.

Goosebumps rise to your skin, and you know it’s not from the wet clothes.

“Who knows, maybe you could be the model next time.” With another sultry wink, they walk away and to their student, immediately shifting into teacher mode as they look over the sketch.

You scurry out the door with a weak goodbye, hoping the cold rain will help your burning blush.

—-

Its your first official day of teaching and you're leaving the lecture hall with a pep in your step. Your students are much more engaged than you thought they would be for a morning class and you have a nice hour break before office hours. A warm lunch waits for you in your mini fridge, though you’re slightly regretting not grabbing those cookies you had back home; You were really craving some sweets.

You’re fiddling with the keys to your office door when you notice a small bag sitting right outside. It might have been mistaken for garbage, if not for the sticky note with your name and a heart stuck to the outside. You pick it up, nudging open the door with your hip as you walk inside, opening the bag with two fingers.

The first thing you see is paper wrapping, the thin kind all bakeries use, and then you the sweetest, most delectable looking blueberry muffin. It’s still warm to the touch, with a tasteful amount of sugar crystals on the top.

You place the muffin down on your desk, noticing the note underneath it. You unfold and read it as you sit down in your office chair.

You’re favorite, hope you’re having a great first day <3

-Belz

The smile that creeps up on you is a giddy one, quickly tesring open ghe muffin and taking a large bit.

Damn, this is delicious.

#my writing #reader insert #gender neutral reader #monster x reader #incubi #succubi #fluff #meet-cute

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