#feel free to say something about it if i overdo

[1800rue]

Keith Kogane X Reader: Fluff Alphabet

gender: gender neutral

type: fluff alphabet by @snk-warriors

acronyms: f/c = favorite color

characters: keith kogane

warnings: maybe out of character keith?

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

He enjoy's any quality time you both spend together. However, you- besides Shiro, are one of the people he's really close with. So he likes to train with you and show you some new moves he could use some criticism on. He also enjoys you showing off some of your moves.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

You understand him better then anyone. That's what made him know you were on the one for him. You can contrl his anger issues and calm him down when he seems to just- go all out- if you know what I mean.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Not the best at comfort, but I headcanon (or is this canon, idk) he struggles through he's on panic attacks. Everyone has them, so there's nothing to be ashamed about. He wants you to be able to go to him when you're down or on the verge of panic attacks. He would try his best to stop you from crying, for example, rubbing your back, whispering in your ear, combing your hair with his fingers, or just holding you when you need him the most.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He just wants you to be happy. If he's with you, there's no other place he's rather be. He's travel hell and back with you if it was possible. He's basically traveled through space for/with you, so hes got that all setted.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Somewhat like Lance, he's a switch between passive and dominant. He likes to hear what you have to say and will never deny any of your ideas, unless there stupid. Then yes, he will have to take charge, but he does like to have others pitch in- sometimes.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He's a hothead. So going into this relationship with him you were bound to run into arguments here and there. He would never actually do anything to physically hurt you, but he may say something and you let it sink in for days until he apologies. He tends to say sorry at first, but leaves and doens't talk to you until he's ready. He doesn't enjoy arguing with you, but sometimes he can't help but raise his voice at you for something stupid.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He had no idea where his life was going until he laid eyes on you and actually got to know you. He felt like he had a place in the world and that would be with you through out everything. Good or bad. He is aware, how can he not be. You make sure he's eating. You make sure he's sleeping properly. That he's not overdoing it training. Taking breaks and having some time with friends and loved ones. He won't admit it in front of the others, but he sheds a tear when you do these small things for him.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

He lies sometimes. And normally, you'll catch him in the lie but before you could question he's already gone. In his room, his lion, or even just out on his own somewhere. He doesn't want to lie to you because he knows youd never lie to him, but everyonee lies about something. You both know you have your personal problems, but you both want to get through those problems together.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

As said in 'G' he wouldn't know where he would be going in life if he hadn't met you. You gave him a purpose to keep fighting. He would want to try new things with you,but he would never forgive himself if he saw you hurt and he could have done something to prevent it. As said in 'H' as well, you both want to help each other overcome personal problems one step at a time.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He mostly gets jealous at Lance when he 'play-flirt' with you. This was also when you both weren't even dating yet. Yup, it was that early he was alreadt getting jealous. "Y/N. It's time for traning, get moving or I'm adding in an extra 10 mintues for the rest of the week!" Lance would notice and tease the half-Galra Paladin about, but he pushes the Cuban away. "Is someone a little bit, oh what's the word? 'Jealous~'?'" "Shut up, Lance." He tends to talk to you about his jealousy, days after the incident had happen.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

You would say he's an amazing kisser, but he says otherwise. He tenses up mid kiss, unsure when to pull away so you're normally dominant when it comes to kissing and making out. The first kiss? He made the first move at a family celebration of yours. That was also the time he confessed his feelings for you.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

-kinda answered already, but I'll add detail- It was your siblings graduation party. You invited Keith and the others, but they didn't want to intrude in your family celebration. However, you were shocked to see Keith by your doorstep. You invited him in and introduced to your family. Of course, your mother asked if you both were dating and you both blushed. You father pulled your mother away and apologized. At the end, everyone was heading home while some slept over. Keith, not wanting to intrdude any longer, pulled you outside to have a small talk with you. How your week was, if your doing okay in school. Until he watched as you were about to walk back into after your father called to help clean-up. As you turned, the Galra grabbed your wrist and turned you back toward him. Gefore you questione, he smashed his lips to yours and you were both shocked. You actully, non-intended, melted into the kiss. Moments later you pulled away for air. Keiith pants, watching you smile softly. "Is there- something you wanted to say, Mullet?" You teased, panting for air as Kaith blushed a deep red. "I-" It was written all over his face. He fell for you. Hard. And you could tell. "I-I love you, Y/N." You giggled as you pushed his bangs back and kissed his forehead, "Took ya' long enough."

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He is flustered when it came to proposing to you. You've been dating for years, he didn't want it to be taken away by a silly question. Howver, through all you've been together, meetings, all the Voltron show bizz, saving the universe, he couldn't find a time to ask you until the end of it all. This was day's after Allura's sacfrice. He found you on your balcony one starry night, looking up into space. The same place you watched the lions leave once more, ready to fight along side new Paladins. His hand was behind his back, gripping a small box as his other covered his mouth as he couched, attemping to get your attention. At first, you both talked and laughed about your pst adventures. You already missed your time as a Voltron Paladin, but in a couple of minutes, you're life was about to change forever. As you were distracted by the shooting star, Keith was able to sneak behind you and bend down on one knee. You called his name before you turned around, almost falling to the floor when you saw him on one knee with a ring box in his hand, revealing a beautful (f/c) gem in the middle of the silver metal. He promised to stay with you until the day he dies. He will never let you do anything on you're own anymore. He will be with you every step of the way. As you cheered 'YES!' and tackled your fiancé to the ground with a hug, All the others watched from the door and Lance snapped a quick picture of his friend getting attacked with kisses and hugs.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Baby/Babe.

When he's cheeky, Sweetheart.

He mostly calls you by any preferred nickname, but those two are his top pick to use for you.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He tries to hide it, but is terribly at it and accidently blurts it out durning an agrument with Lance, causing everyone to literally freeze and drop whatever they had in their hands. He didn't see anybody after that 1 afternoon until the next day. He saw Lance hand two 20's over to Pidge, who snickered at Lance's deadpanned face. Keith being in love is nothing to joke about. If he say's he loves someone, he'll be dead fucking serious. He wouldn't tell anyone if he wasn't.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He's so shy- oml. Not as shy in private though- ahem ahem. Moving on- Keith likes to hold you close while cuddling. His also likes to rub your thigh now and than, catching you off guard sometimes. He tends to hide your relationshp to others, but of he see's another person on you he'l drag you back and leave a kiss to your lips, loud and clear enough for the other perosn to see. He sends them a death glare saying 'touch them, and you die.' Plain and simple.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He respects you so much. If no body worthships the ground you step on, their nothing to him. He does everything he can to make every date night a special one. Little doesn he know, just being with him is special.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Cliché. To make you happy? Just be with you. That's all he needs to do in order to make you really happy. He can be romantic at times, while other times he's got no clue what he's doing at first and lets you to take the wheel. Don't get use to all this power though, because he's a fast learner.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

100% he believes in you. He tells you if you seriously know what your doing, he'll be your number one supporter, trailing behind you. He wants to help to the best of his ability, but if he doesn't think it's a good idea he will step in and ask you to re-think your ideas.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

He would prefer for a certain routine, but he also finds it fun how excited you get when you want to try new things. He's like the black cat in the relationship while your the golden reteriver. Of course, he will never let you do anything that will, or may, get yourself killed.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He'll listen to what you need to say and try his best to give the best advice his can. However, there are sometimes where he doesn't know what to do but ask for some help from Shiro. Give him time and he'll try his best to help you.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

If someone hurts you he's going full Galra. Fangs and claws are out, baby. Better start running, You're so important to him, he wouldn't know what to do without you. He never thought he'd be here, but now that your in his life he's doing everything he can to keep you in it.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

I headcanon he's hands, oher then Lances, are cold and somewhat rough. He laughs at your cute reactions when he stuffs his hands up your shirt, rubbing your bare skin. This leads to a all out tickle fight. Laughter and sceams could be heard from down the halls.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He doesn't hate it, but he would want his personal space once ina while. He also does the same for you. However, other times when you do hug him he may never let you go. You're so warm and cuddly he'll basically use you as a blanket/bed from now on.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Doesn't matter, because he's never going to lose you. If you're away on a mission, that's something else. He'll write to you when he can and smile when he finds you wrote back to him.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He. Will. Kill. For. You. Okay, too extreme. But he will try his best to do anything for you. If you need help, he'll be there in less then 2 seconds.

#voltron #vld #voltron x reader #voltron legendary defender #voltron legendary defender x reader #vld keith #keith kogane #voltron keith #voltron keith kogane #keith x reader #keith kogane x reader #vld keith x reader #x reader #fluff alphabet #voltron fluff alphabet #lance mcclain #pidge gunderson #hunk garrett #takashi shirogane #headcanons #imagines #my writing #rue writes ✏

[hxjikonn]

Hello,

I love your Gear Head Twisted Wonderland.

If you are still taking request, would it be possible to get Vil, Malleus and Leona with a female s/o that is really good at making their life complicated without realising it.

For example, they usually naturally have the right answer or know the right way to do something, but does it the mire complicated way because it cant be that easy.

Hooefully this makes sense. Feel free to get creative with it.

Thank you

A/N: love this prompt, I relate to this so much omfg 😭💀 Thanks so much for this request! I hope you like this and I’m sorry it took me so damn long to write it🥹♥︎

——————————————————————————

Complicated

☆Staring☆: Vil Schoenheit, Malleus Draconia and Leona Kingscholar

Synopsis: Their reaction to Fem!Reader who likes doing things in a more complex way and giving herself more work than she should do.

Warning: Leona’s part has cursing and a lil bit of argument scene in it cuz Leona is stubborn as fuck and so are you. Not proofread. Very long.

Vil Schoenheit

Would be concerned about your health, since you often forget to take care of yourself when working.

This man would share your frustration. He claims it’s like a virus, it affects him as much as it does you.

You’d fuss about how hard the work is going to be and he’d fuss about you GIVING yourself the hard work that isn’t really necessary.

“Where is that girl?” Vil paced around the hallways of NRC looking for you, he heard about the project you were going to do and he knew that there’s no good to come of it since you have a habit of overdoing the work. He asked around and a student pointed out that they saw you in the library.

He went there and found you sitting under a pile of books that seem to tower up so high that if it stood beside you it’d actually be your height. He sighed and walked up to you. “Ahem.” He made his presence know. You looked up and smiled at him “Hi hun!” You greeted him. He loved your smile, it was warm and pure. That smile made him less mad at the things you put yourself through.

“Hi…” he greeted back, he gave you a smile too, how can he be mad when you look so happy working hard like that. “What’s all this?” He asked, motioning to the pile ok thick leather books. “History of potion magic, Encyclopedias, Recipes for potions, and a bunch of other stuff I need to read for my project”

“Potato…do you really gonna read all of these potionology books for one project? I can help you yknow?” Vil stood beside you, hands on his hip as he watched you burry yourself under a heap of hours and effort soon to be wasted. You sighed “Yes I need to” stubbornly you went back to the book in your hand. “Really? Are you certain that you’d rather read than let me help?” He asked

“Vil, I know you wanna help but I wanna do this one on my own, Plus these books might have an easier solution to the project…”you said while reading, he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Darling, There IS an easier solution…” he protested “I’ll teach you, if you really don’t want me to help hands on, at least let me teach it to you instead of all this unneeded complex reading” he added, trying to convince you.

You looked up from your book and open your mouth to say something but he placed a finger hovering above his lip signaling you to not try to argue, “I’ll even give you my notes if you need it. There you’ll find everything you need to know about the project…” he said trying to persuade you even more.

“but Vil…” you mumbled, he sighed “Potato, I love you, but you’re really going to give yourself so much stress that pimples might start spreading through your pretty face…And I will not stand for it. Come now we’re going to Pomfoire and I will tutor you there.” He said packing your bag for you. “Can I at least bring one book?” You asked, he looked at you in disbelief “Do you not trust me?” He stated dramatically

“No of course I do! I just wanna learn quicker so you don’t have to work so hard to teach me…” you said in defense, he crossed his arms still in disbelief, “Please?” You asked again, it took him a few seconds before he broke, “Fine. BUT! only one book, and I get to tell you which one…” he gave you a condition which you gladly agreed to. He sent you to pick up the book in the front desk as he continued to pack your bag.

“She is going to be the cause of MY acne break out, oh by the queen’s name, I’m gonna need tea and face mask for the two of us later…”

He really does care about your well-being, so he does his best in helping you when he sees you’re doing way too much.

And yes that includes the spa appointment, skin care and tea afterwards, he might die if he sees even a single pimple on your face because of stress.

Malleus Draconia

Out of the three he’d be the most chill about it tbh.

He doesn’t understand why you give yourself more work than is needed but sees that you’re dedicated to it so he supports you.

And mayyyyybe casts “little” spells to finish the unnecessary parts of your job and tells you that you’ve already finished it even though he did it.

Still showers you with praise even though his magic did half of the work since he knows you really want to do your job well.

“Tsunotaro…did you see where I put the history of magic papers I printed out earlier, I need to read all of them before I can write notes for the test tomorrow…” you looked for the thick compilation you fished out of the library earlier. Malleus sat by the window and smiled “You’ve already finished it dearest…” he said, he’s well aware that, that is not true but it was white lie, he did it for you.

“Huh?? I did?? I finished my notes?” You said and looked at your notebook, pages already filled with summaries and meanings of the lessons Trein discussed for the past semester. Malleus made sure his spell mimicked your handwriting so you’d be convinced. “See? All done. Good job my love I’m proud of you” he praised and gave you a peck on the cheek

You, still having no recollection of when you wrote all of this, stood there thinking about it. “So…if I already did this, that means I only have to review and then I’m done?” You questioned yourself “That was too essy…” you said in suspicion…Malleus gave you head pats as a form of distraction “Yes well you are a hard worker, no wonder you finished so quickly…” he cooed

“Did I really do this??” You looked up at him in confusion, “Yes my beloved you did. I’ve been watching you pace around, write and read for hours! Look at you, you must be exhausted.” He cradled your face his hands trying to make you forget about the subject. “You’re being really affectionate right now Mal…” you looked up at the horned fae in front of you

“I’m always affectionate” he contradicted your claims, slowly taking the notebook out of your hand and placing it down the table “Yeah I know but right now it’s like 10x more than usual” you pushed on. He was calm outside like usual, but he’s internally trying to come up with an alibi to defend himself without sounding guilty and he’s running out of excuses.

“I miss you.” He blurts out in panic, silence filled the air for a bit until you broke out in a fit of giggles you reached up cup his face and gave him kisses still while laughing “aw, I’m sorry, did I seem like I was ignoring you because of my work?” you asked, he kissed your wrist and nodded, he was celebrating in his head cuz his plan worked.

You weren’t suspicious or working too much AND you’re giving him attention. Mission Accomplished. “Oh alright, I guess I have been too busy, maybe I’d forgotten I already did things…I’ll take a break and spend time with you” you said to your boyfriend who was now smiling brightly

“Thank you for being patient with me…” you told him and gave him a hug “I was told by Lilia that it was a quality of being ‘husband material’ he said hugging you back, you laughed and pulled away to look at him “Wow I have to step up my game to be ‘wife material’ too then huh?” You joked “You don’t need to you’re perfect” you chuckled again at his love struck statement “Sweet talker.” You hit his chest lightly and gave him a kiss before you went to go rest and spend time with him.

He often does it to shorten the time and effort you spend on working so you dont end up sick. But sometimes he does it cuz he wants you to give him attention but he doesn’t want to disturb you

He told himself one day he’d tell you because he feels guilty from time to time, you’ll just have to wait until you graduate and marry him until he does.💀💀

Leona Kingscholar

The MOST IMPATIENT BITCHY person on this list.

He’s basically an overgrown cat, so he’ll annoy the shit out of you if it means you’ll give him attention and stop working.

He hates this habit of yours and doesn’t understand the concept of giving yourself more work than required. He thinks it’s a waste of time and energy

Will literally shred the papers with his claws or push a pile of them off your desk just because he’s annoyed that you’re working and not even paying him any mind

You were trying so hard to focus on the notes your writing because your boyfriend kept yawning in full volume. You knew he just wanted attention but you kept explaining you aren’t done and he was being petty. Not wanting to start an argument you just continued on and ignored him. Or at least your TRYING to

“Hey herbivore, remind me again why ‘ya need to deal with all this crap when you can just oh I don’t know let the teacher teach it to ya ‘cuz yknow? It’s their job” he sarcastically asked knowing exactly what the answer will be. He didn’t get an answer out of you, so he knocked a pile off your desk again. “LEONA! I JUST FINISHED ARRANGING THOSE!” You stood up at the sound of papers hitting the floor

“So? That means ‘yer done with ‘em…” scratches his head, not caring at all. You glared at him but didn’t utter another word as you sat down to pick it all up. “Can ‘ya cut this shit out, you’re doing too much for simple quiz. If you’re gonna be doin’ this much why don’t you just teach the class” he leaned against the wall, his tail impatiently flicking back and forth.

“Why don’t you just shut up.” You snapped. It was uncharacteristic of you to do so, especially because in the relationship you’re the one with more patience. Not this time though. He scoffed, he felt slightly nerve wrecked by your tone but didn’t let that affect him. You arranged it again and took it to your work table where Leona is off limits.

You sat down. Took a deep breath, before picking up the pen to start writing again, but then the ripping of paper flooded your ears. That was it. You turned your head to Leona scratching a bundle of papers under his claw. You marched and snatched it from him harshly. “Out.” You demanded. “What?” He looked at you annoyed.

You only glared at him. You were gonna explode if you said another word. He groaned in boredom “This is stupid. You’re being stupid, you’re doing all this for what? For a quiz? Why?” He snapped as well “Oh I don’t know, maybe because I wanna do good in class. You don’t get it, maybe your able to slack off and no one could give a fuck about it, why? Cuz you’re already the ‘all powerful dorm leader of savanaclaw’ and all that high and mighty shit.” You argued pushing him back

“Meanwhile, I have to do ‘all this crap’ because I need to. I’m not powerful like you are, I don’t have magic, I don’t belong here, I wanna do well so I feel like I fit in…” you rambled, now feeling sorry for yourself, Leona only listened for once “I thought for once, you’d actually be the one to have patience FOR ME this time I need you to be… you’re just being bitchy…” you added looking up at him pained and tired, you sighed and looked down “Just go.” You said walking back to where you were before.

It was silent so you assumed he already left, you continued to work even though you felt awful now. Leona still stood there, he felt bad after he heard you say that and he knew he went too far with his attitude this time so he stayed quiet and waited. You took your work and place it down the carpet so you could have more space, you sat down and started writing again.

His tail still swung back and forth in annoyance but this time it’s because he knows you’re really not gonna give him attention cuz you’re mad. He crawled to you quietly and sat behind you, his large frame enveloping yours, he loosely draped his arms on you waist and rested his head on your shoulder.

You weren’t surprised, you continued to do what you were doing. His tail made soft pats on the wooden floor, it was a sign of anticipation, he was waiting for you to say something to him, thinking his little act of affection was enough of an apology. You didn’t speak for a whole hour. “Herbivore…” he called out. No answer…. “Y/n….” He tried again. Nothing…. “Y’can scold me some more just say somthin’ already…” he pleaded. Still no response, not even a reaction

“ ‘m sorry…” he mumbled quietly his face buried in your hair, “I’m not gonna be an asshole anymore alright? Just quit the silent treatment I hate this more than I hate your overworking thing” he added, you finally gave in to his calls “Shh, Be quiet, I’m almost done” you finally spoke. It was still monotone but it was better than nothing

“Good. We’re gonna nap after this…” he told you and you responded with a hum, he stayed quiet like you asked him to until you finished. After that he whisked you away to your bed and curled up against you like an attention deprived cat “Tell me who the fuck picks on you next time…” he says nuzzling into you, his head on your chest “Why? Cuz that’s your job?” You asked “No, cuz I need to knock some sense into them…” He said, “And yeah, that’s my job…now sleep so you can be less mad at me when you get some rest” he kisses your neck and you laugh a little “Damned overgrown cat” you mumbled earning a low growl and a chuckle from him.

A/N: Another request is doneeee aaaaaaa >< still didn’t proofread ;b Anon I hope you like this cuz I know damn well this took way too long 😭😭😭 still very sorry abt that ily ✌🏻

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland reaction #twst x reader #vil schoenheit x yuu #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingcholar x yuu #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x yuu #malleus draconia

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

Aizawa x class 1-A reader when he finds out reader is also doing vigilante work? I’ve always wondered how he would feels about that

Icl I feel like he would understand tbh like he was probably doing the exact same thing before his career took off. He has a very strong moral standpoint so I figure he would place justice above legality but hes still a teacher and would have to disapprove but he wouldn't be like angry??

I feel like this was portrayed in the anime but it's been a hot minute since I've watched it - what do you think? :D

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 <3

Check out my kinktober!

𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜) - 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐒𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞

Dark circles decorate your eyes as you sit slouched at the desk before class starts. Sleep had eluded you as you spent the night with your parents, helping them feed into their warped, self-indulgent sense of justice by doing vigilante work.

Usually, you'd consider yourself to be at a strong, good moral standpoint, focused on doing good by the people rather than focusing on legality and logistics. But to be quite honest, this self-righteous act of "freeing the people" is starting to become exhausting. It's actually getting on your nerves, really.

You love your parents, but they can be very, exhaustingly eccentric at times, and sometimes outright smug. It's absolutely infuriating. It's so difficult to watch that it hurts, and the more you think about it, the more bitter you begin to feel.

Or maybe this is just the exhaustion talking. Who knows?

It feels like you're just sacrificing little pieces of yourself at this point, giving your body and soul to some 'vigilante work' and your training to persue your career as a hero.

Aizawa is the first to notice the change in your attitude. He is the first to realise that you may be burning out, and he's the first to genuinely worry about you.

As your teacher, and considering the amount of security hazards your class has been subject to in the last year, Aizawa is well within his right to keep tabs on all of you and your home lives. He knows your secret.

After class ends, you're pulled aside by your teacher.

Part of you wants to cry. What is it this time? A failed test? Maybe a lecture on missed homework.

Apparently not. And judging by the look on his face, it's much more serious than a missed assignment. He looks... genuinely concerned, which is an expression you've gotten to see far too many times than you should have to. Wow, you think. The poor guy deserves a break.

"I know what you've been doing every other night, so don't bother trying to lie. I want to say that I'm proud you're taking your hero work so seriously, but don't you think you're overdoing it? Maybe even just a little? You're exhausting yourself, and pretty soon you're going to burn out. Did you even sleep last night?"

Oh, like he can talk about sleep and burnout of all things.

And really, he can. But the brewing bitterness and hostility inside of you is starting to bubble, and you can feel in the back of your throat that a breakdown is imminent. God, don't cry. Please, not now, of all times.

Shiny, salty tears start to collect at your waterline, and the tired teacher lets out a defeated sigh, placing his hand on your shoulder. It's an oddly comforting gesture, really.

"I-... I just want to help... My parents will go out with or without me- and they're not very experienced- so I just worry that if I'm not there, something will happen..."

"Look... The first part of helping is knowing how to best help yourself. Look after yourself, or you might not live long enough to see yourself become the hero you've always wanted to be... Youre a hero, not a martyr - the self sacrifice isn't necessary yet."

Wise words from a man who's seen it all.

He looks disappointed in you, at the very least, but there's a spark of pride in his eye for his tryhard students who do the best they can, and even if you don't see it yet, you will soon enough.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha headcanons #mha fluff #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa x you #aizawa x y/n #platonic aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader fluff #dadzawa

[bookworm551]

The Great War | Part 2 | Neteyam Sully x Omatikaya!reader

Summary: You and Neteyam were childhood friends, always looking out for each other, but when the Sky People returned, neither of you could have anticipated the way it would affect your relationship with one another.

A/N: First off, I just want to say that for everyone who enjoyed the first part, I want to give y’all a lil kiss on the forehead. I definitely got carried away (again), so I split what was going to be part 2 into parts 2 and 3, so I’ll have the next one up real soon. Also, in case you can’t tell, I firmly believe that Neteyam’s love language is physical touch. Hope you enjoy!

6.1k words

Warnings: canon-typical violence, angst

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

It was ten days before you were allowed outside the camp again. Though you had tried to get out sooner, you were under strict orders to rest from Neteyam and (more convincingly) Mo'at. You were bored out of your mind most of the time, but Tuk had been very sweet to visit you in her abundant free time. Kiri had also taken it upon herself to become your designated healer, much to Neteyam's comfort.

He had visited as often as he could. It was sweet, but you couldn't help but feel like he was hovering somewhat over you. He treated you like you were going to shatter if you so much as stood up. You knew he was just being cautious, but you were starting to feel suffocated in the tent.

Now, you had been given the all-clear to travel out into the forest for the first time. Your side still ached if you stretched too far, but for the most part, you felt fine. You still experienced headaches as a result of hitting your head against the crate, but you didn't want to be coddled any more than you already had been, so you didn't say anything about them.

Walking amongst the vibrant plants, you breathed in the fresh forest scent. It was refreshing to be in an open space after lying for so long in the dimness of the healing tent. You had no real destination in mind as you walked about, you just wanted to get out of the village. Besides, Kiri agreed that stretching your legs and being in the sun would do you some good after your days spent inside.

"Don't overdo it," she warned you as you pulled yourself over a large boulder. Your side ached dully, but you ignored it. "You sound like Neteyam," you called out over your shoulder. "I'll be fine." You heard her chuckle behind you. "If something happens to you, he'll skin me alive," she said.

You rolled your eyes. Even Kiri could see the overprotectiveness of her older brother. It was true though; he would be upset if something happened, which was why you didn't tell him you were going out.

"I want to go up," you told your friend as you stared up at the light dappling the leaves overhead. Catching up to you, Kiri followed your gaze at the canopy above. "We can go slow," she conceded. "But you have to tell me if you're hurting. If something happens, you're going to be back in the healing tents for another 2 weeks."

That was incentive enough for you to be mostly honest with her, but it was hard to be completely truthful when admitting you were in pain just made you feel weak. Before you could start climbing, however, a figure emerged from the brush nearby.

"What are you doing?" Neteyam asked as he caught sight of you up on top of the boulder you just climbed. You huffed in mild exasperation. Of course he was here. You had deliberately left while he was out to avoid his concerned objections.

"Getting some fresh air," you stated simply. "Care to join?"

He shot you and Kiri a look of disapproval. "You should not be climbing," he told you sternly. "You could reopen your wound." You sighed at his warning. You were starting to become annoyed by his constant caution. It was just a few days ago he protested the idea of you walking around, so you knew that at every milestone, you were going to hear some sort of resistance from him.

"She is doing fine," Kiri defended you. "I am with her to make sure she doesn't strain herself." Neteyam, you could tell, was still hesitant to let you out of his sight. "I'm just going around to stretch my legs," you said. "You can come, but you can't stop me from going."

He sighed and shook his head, but you were pleased by the small smile that tugged at his lips. Pulling himself up to where you and Kiri were standing, he said, "I don't think I can stop you from doing anything." You smiled back at him. "I'm glad you see the truth," you replied triumphantly.

The three of you pressed on through the foliage together. It wasn't long before Kiri became distracted by the beauty of the forest. You always found her endless wonder endearing. "How did you know we were out here?" You asked Neteyam as Kiri strayed away from the two of you.

"Tuk," he responded simply. You huffed out a sharp breath, peeved at the betrayal of the youngest Sully. He smirked at your reaction. "She didn't mean to tell," he explained. "She was complaining to a friend about how my grandmother made her stay behind to help her instead of going with you, and I just so happened to hear."

"I see," you replied solemnly. "Then I suppose she is forgiven." There was a brief pause, and you could feel his eyes on you. Meeting his gaze, you saw that he looked a little crestfallen. "You do not have to hide these things from me," he told you gently. You glanced away in discomfort. It wasn't that you were trying to hide things from him, but you just wanted a little break from his constant oversight.

"I know you're worried," you began carefully, "but sometimes, it feels like you are too worried. I am strong and healing well." You gestured to the laceration, now a large scab, that traced across the right half of your stomach. His eyes fixed on it for a moment before he blinked hard and looked away. You caught his moment of discomfort and sighed.

The both of you carried on walking in half-awkward silence. You pulled yourself up onto a large fallen log that was obstructing your path and leaped down onto the lower ground, the impact sending a jolt of pain across your stomach, but you managed to stifle your reaction.

"Did that hurt?" Neteyam asked. Okay, maybe you didn't manage as well as you thought.

"Just a little tight," you dismissed. He looked at you with a concerned gaze, evidently not believing you. Taking a deep breath, you turned to face directly in front of him and grabbed his broad shoulders with both hands. You held him for a moment and stared up into his eyes.

"You are too worried," you told him after a heartbeat. "I am not going to break. I need you to trust me when I say I am fine." You looked up at him pleadingly, keeping your hands resting on his shoulders. He gazed down at you softly with a small sigh. He brought his hands up and wrapped them around your forearms.

"I'm sorry," he said gently, rubbing his thumbs softly back and forth across your skin. "You are right, I am worried about you." You smiled faintly and corrected him, "Too worried." He rolled his eyes before nodding. "Alright, too worried," he conceded. "I will stop."

You nodded your head gratefully. "Thank you," you said, dropping your hands from his shoulders. Neteyam smiled at you, then made an exaggerated thinking face. "Well," he began reflectively, "I will never stop worrying about you. How can I not worry about you when you do stupid things all the time?" You rolled your eyes and shoved him playfully. He laughed.

"And you never listen to me!" He continued as you turned and started walking again. "How am I not supposed to worry?" You couldn't help but smile at that. "I do listen to you," you argued, "when you say something worth listening to."

After that day, you noticed Neteyam's overly cautious behavior diminish. Occasionally throughout the week, he would catch you wincing when you stretched your right arm up too quickly, or he would notice how you rubbed your temple when a migraine hit, but respecting the boundary you set, he never said anything.

A few days after your walk in the forest, you were invited by a handful of your tribesmen close to your age to join them in a morning hunt. You were extremely grateful for the chance to get out and do something more than wander around aimlessly with Kiri. For young adult Na'vi, hunting and foraging were sort of social events amongst friends, so you were eager to join.

As the sons of the Olo'eyktan, Neteyam and Lo'ak were also invited to come with the group. Besides the two Sully boys and yourself, there were three more in the party. Getting ready to go out, you could see the look of unease on Neteyam's face, but he said nothing until the rest of the group made their way toward the edge of the ikran rookery.

"Why don't we go on foot?" He asked. Everyone paused and looked at each other, mildly confused. "Why would we do that?" Lo'ak asked the question everyone else was thinking. Neteyam's eyes shifted to you uneasily, and you clenched your jaw, expecting him to call you out in front of the others.

"Isn't your ikran injured?" He asked you. It was a cover, and you knew it, but at least he didn't outright mention your injury as the reason for wanting to hunt on foot. You gave him a warning look. "I checked on her yesterday. Her injuries have healed nicely," you told him, emphasizing every word of your last sentence pointedly.

He understood your passive statement and held your stare. As subtly as possible, you gave him a look that said, Don't you dare. A beat of tense silence passed between you before he looked away and nodded. Taking your eyes off of him, you looked over at Lo'ak. His eyes were awkwardly glancing back and forth between you and his brother, one of his human-like eyebrows raised. He clearly caught the silent conversation you just had, and you felt your ears warm in embarrassment.

Walking into the rookery, you each called out to your ikran. Kazi descended before you, and you gave her an affectionate rub on the crest of her jaw. Her wings had indeed healed nicely in the time since the accident, and you were eager to take to the skies with her again. You could feel Neteyam's eyes on you as you checked the cinching of your saddle, and when you glanced over at him, you could read the apology on his face.

Huffing out a little sigh, you looked away. Sometimes, you wanted to stay mad at him, but he always made it so hard.

You attached your queue to Kazi and mounted onto her back. The six of you took off of the ground and rose over the trees. Feeling the rushing air around you made you realize just how cramped you've felt since your injury, and you couldn't help but give a few whoops of glee.

The sun shone brightly overhead. Even though you loved the feeling of its warmth on your skin, being in the brightness after spending so much time in the dimness of camp caused your head to hurt some. It didn't help that after 2 weeks of resting, your body wasn't so used to the physical demands of flying anymore. The tension in your core and thighs to stay balanced caused your breathing to become labored after a while, which didn't help with the onsetting headache.

Finally, the group swooped down to a clearing in the trees. There, you dismounted with the rest of the group and tried to hide your breathlessness. Taking your bow and a few arrows, you joined the others in descending to the forest floor. Given the time of year, you were all familiar with the migration habits of the deer-like yerik and knew there would be several in this area.

Jumping down from branch to branch gave you a rush of adrenaline you had been missing for so long. While still in the trees, you and your companions laughed and chatted together. Mekar, one of the hunters among you, was talking about the last mission the war party had flown just a few days prior. "Too bad you were taken out by a human," he told you with a laugh. "You could have seen how much damage we did."

His comment burned. It was embarrassing enough having to be on bed rest for so long, but it didn't help that everyone in the clan was aware of it, too. Already peeved by Neteyam's earlier attempt to coddle you, Mekar's words pushed you deeper into your irritation.

"That's not funny," Neteyam told him sharply. Being the son of Toruk Makto, his words held a lot of weight, so his quick reprimand shut down the other hunter. You moved in irritated silence, thinking about how you've been set back by your injury.

One of the worst consequences of your accident was that you were not able to conduct the Uniltaron trial at your designated time. The Dream Quest requires much mental and physical strength, both of which were affected by your injury. You were keenly aware that you and Lo'ak were the only ones in the group who had not completed the trial, though Lo'ak had nearly a full year left before he was eligible.

Your group finally reached the floor of the forest. You felt out of breath, and you could feel your heart beating hard in your chest which was making your head pound. Taking a few steadying breaths, you closed your eyes for a second, trying to ignore your migraine. When you looked up, you could see that your friends had already started to move in one direction, so you quickly sprinted after them.

You all moved in silence, looking for signs of a nearby herd. Lo'ak found it first, a single hoof print in the dirt. You all followed his lead, and soon enough, you could all see a large gathering of yerik through the foliage.

Lo'ak got first rights to the herd. He made a quick, clean kill of a buck, but as expected, the whole herd scattered as it fell. You all shot after the fleeing creatures, but Mekar was the only other hunter to catch one in the haunches, moving in swiftly to make a clean kill with his knife.

As you and the others gathered your arrows, you noticed a chittering noise in the distance, the sound of a forest hen. Perking up, you listened closely and turned in the direction it came from.

"There are forest hens over there," you told your friends, pointing in the direction of the noise. They listened attentively until another chittering noise echoed quietly in the distance. "Yeah," one of the other hunters, Meya, began, "but I would rather stay on the yerik." She pointed at where the herd had run off in the opposite direction of the forest hens.

The rest of the group deliberated until you all agreed on a strategy. Lo'ak and Mekar would take their kills back up to their ikran and try to find more quarry, Meya and the other member of the party, Nazátu, would pursue the herd, and you and Neteyam would go after the forest hens. You would all reconvene back at the top of the canopy by the time of high noon.

You and Neteyam set off in the direction of the forest hens. You were grateful to separate from the others since you felt that you didn't have to hide just how out of shape you were in front of Neteyam. You both kept a brisk pace through the brush, moving as silently as possible.

"You seem to be holding up well," he commented. "I should not have doubted you earlier." You smiled gratefully at him. "My head does hurt a little bit," you admitted. "But otherwise, I feel fine."

It was a half-truth. The whole truth was that your head hurt a lot. The pounding in your head hadn't diminished as you had hoped, but you refused to let it affect your ability to hunt.

You both reverted to careful silence as you stayed alert for the sounds of the hens. There were a few silvery feathers you found on the ground to encourage your tracking, and you carried on quickly in the direction they led to. You were eager to get this hunt over with now that your migraine had settled in deep into your temples.

A flutter through the trees caught your attention, and there a few yards ahead, you finally saw a flock of about 10 fowl-like creatures. Some were on the ground, but a few were walking along some low-hanging branches. Forest hens were bulky and had limited flight capabilities. They could be found scratching at the forest floor or low tree branches to eat any insects they could find.

Coming up beside you, Neteyam motioned at the ones on the ground and then pointed at himself. He was telling you that he would aim for the low ones while you could go for one in the branches. You nodded and notched an arrow. You aimed for the fattest bird you saw, and in sync, both you and Neteyam shot and hit your targets.

In a frantic flurry, the remaining hens took flight higher into the canopy. You managed to reset an arrow on your bow and shoot another one down as it was flying off before it could disappear with the rest of the flock.

Stepping out of your cover, you and Neteyam retrieved your quarry and arrows. "Looks like I'm beating you," you teased. He rolled his eyes at you playfully. "Show off," he muttered, tying his hen onto his hip. "Let's keep after them." You hesitated. Now that you had a prize to bring back, you were anxious to leave. You didn't want to raise any concern from Neteyam, but your migraine was really starting to get out of hand. Though you'd been having bad headaches since your accident, this was by far the worst one.

Despite your pain, you nodded at his suggestion wordlessly. You slung your hens over your shoulders and trekked after your friend. It didn't take you long before you caught up to the flock again. Aiming again, you both shot at the birds, hitting them cleanly.

As before, the rest of the flock scattered. This time, Neteyam got another shot in and took down another hen. He gave you a cheeky smile. "Now we're even," he said triumphantly. You tried to smile back, but your head was pounding painfully, causing you to falter.

He noticed your wince. "Is everything okay?" He asked in concern. You closed your eyes tightly for a moment and nodded. Looking up at him, his gaze was full of worry. You thought about what you had said to him in the forest a few days prior. I need you to trust me when I say I am fine. Well, now, you weren't so fine, and you felt you owed him your honesty.

"My head hurts," you admitted quietly. "It really, really hurts." You ground your teeth in pain. "Like an arrow through my head."

Setting his bow down, Neteyam put one hand at the base of your neck and looked into your eyes with care. "How long has it been hurting like this?" He asked with worry. You thought about it for a second. "It started when we left the village," you confessed, "but it did not get bad until we started tracking the yerik."

You waited for a lecture from him on how you should've told him sooner, but it never came. "Do you get them a lot?" He asked gently. You nodded reluctantly before clarifying, "Usually not this bad, though." He gave a small nod, and you could see all the concerned thoughts in his head, but he didn't say any of them. Instead, he lifted his hand from your shoulder to briefly cradle the side of your head. You leaned into his touch and sighed as the pain pulsed in your temples.

"Let's go," he said softly as he dropped his arm back to his side. "We can try to find Lo'ak and Mekar to let them know we're leaving." You nodded, disappointed in yourself for not being able to withstand the headache. How were you supposed to return to fight if you couldn't even manage an easy morning hunt?

Picking up your kills, the two of you headed back in the direction of where your ikran were waiting. The journey back up to the top seemed longer than you remembered, but maybe that was just the fact that going up is harder than coming down, especially with a raging migraine. Eventually, you found yourself at the top, but neither Lo'ak nor Mekar were anywhere to be found.

"Are you okay to go by yourself?" Neteyam asked. "If we both go, the others will think something has happened." You nodded. "I know, I'll be fine." He didn't look happy to let you go alone, but you took off on Kazi, leaving him behind as he watched your figure disappear over the trees.

When you made it back to the village, you immediately headed over to the healing tents, but to your sore disappointment, neither Mo'at nor Kiri were anywhere to be found. You thought about asking around, but you didn't want anyone to know you were in pain, and your pride won out as usual. You looked in one of the many baskets lying around the tent and found a bitter plant root that you knew would help you fall asleep.

You took and ate it as quickly as you could and washed it down with water. Then, you made your way to where your encampment was situated. You laid down on your sleeping mat, curled into a ball, and held your head until the root took effect, and you drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Waking up, the pain had diminished significantly. You propped yourself upright and drank some water you had stored. Exiting your tent, it didn't take long before you found Neteyam, Lo'ak, and the others from the hunting party sitting together skinning their game. They must have returned not long ago, meaning it was just past high noon.

"Hey," Lo'ak called out as he noticed your approach, "you feeling alright?" You looked at Neteyam sharply. He subtly shook his head, silently telling you that he hadn't told them the reason why you left. "Yeah," you replied casually, "my body just isn't quite used to all the activity yet, so I came back early." Lo'ak nodded understandingly, and the rest of the group seemed to find your excuse acceptable. You shot Neteyam a grateful look, and he smiled softly.

"These are some nice birds," Meya complimented, nodding at the forest hens you and Neteyam had hunted. "Thanks," you replied sincerely, sitting down to clean them. You all worked to prepare your own game, talking and laughing in easy companionship for the rest of the afternoon.

Three days later, you were invited back to participate in the war meetings. You were eager to prove yourself again, and even more so to destroy as many humans as you could. You felt confident in your abilities, especially since you hadn't had even a minor headache since your hunting trip. There were a few reconnaissance missions that you flew with no action, but after gathering enough information, the Olo'eyktan believed it was time for another offensive attack.

You sat and watched as Jake outlined the plan for the next attack on the Sky People's weapons containment center. After a detailed description of the plan, Jake finished up his briefing with a nod and, "Dismissed." You all stood up together, and you started making your way toward Neteyam.

You called out to him to get his attention. He turned towards you, and you jogged to catch up to him. Approaching, you noticed the bizarre look on his face. He seemed startled out of deep thought. You couldn't deny that Jake's plan seemed bold, but you knew that you and the other warriors were more than capable of carrying it out. You opened your mouth to say something, but you noticed that Neteyam was looking past you at someone.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" The voice of the Olo'eyktan was right behind you. You whipped around to face your leader in surprise. "Forgive me," you said respectfully and stepped out of the way to allow him to speak with his son.

"No, no," he said to you, glancing at Neteyam for a moment before looking back at you. "I want to speak with you." You felt your stomach tighten with sudden anxiety. "Oh," was all you could say. You glanced back at Neteyam, but he already had his back turned to you and was walking away.

"Listen," Jake began, "I know you are eager to join the party, and you are a fierce warrior." You felt your stomach sink with his words. It seemed that he could see the anxiety on your face because he sighed and glanced around in discomfort. "I think it's best that you remain behind," he said finally.

You felt your heart drop.

"What?"

Jake sighed again. "I need you to stay behind," he repeated. You shook your head faintly. You felt dazed, and your head started to ache for the first time since the hunt. "I am healed," you insisted urgently. "And my ikran is as well." He looked at you unconvinced. "I am well!" You repeated, gesturing to the fresh scar on your stomach.

Jake shook his head. "Listen," he said in a low voice, "I know what it is like when it feels like your head is going to split apart, okay? I know how it feels, and I know how distracting and debilitating it can be in a moment of action."

You were paralyzed, unable to say anything.

"You are a great fighter," Jake repeated, "but I need you to be all there when we fight. Any other condition and you become a liability to yourself and the others."

You felt like your chest was tightening. "No," you whispered desperately. "I can still fight." Your throat tightened as you fought off tears. Jake looked down at you regretfully. "I'm sorry," he said resolutely, "but I have made up my mind. If you are suffering from migraines, you should stay back."

You looked up at him in confusion. "But how..." you trailed off in the middle of your question and your blood ran cold.

Only one person knew.

The realization hit you like an angstik. He told. He told.

You looked away from the clan leader and stared at where Neteyam was just standing moments ago, trying to process what you'd just heard. How could he do that to you? The pain of Neteyam's betrayal quickly turned into boiling anger that filled your chest. Jake placed a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you, but you felt numb. "I'm sorry, kid," he said, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"Am I dismissed?" you managed to ask finally, not able to look the Olo'eyktan in the eye. "Yes, dismissed," he answered. You turned and walked away. For a moment, you walked aimlessly away from the war council, all your focus was directed at not crying in public, and the effort it took increased the intensity of your headache. The very thing that prevented you from fighting for your people.

With that thought, your hurt, confusion, and anger narrowed in your mind to point at one person: Neteyam. You broke into a brisk sprint towards his family's tent. You didn't think about what you would say to him or what you would do if his other family members were present. You didn't even really have any thoughts, just rage.

You burst into the tent. There he was, looking to be in the middle of packing some of his supplies and speaking to someone. When he looked up at you as you entered, his expression immediately turned to guilt. The sight of him caused tears to refill in your eyes, which just made you angrier.

In a flash, you crossed the floor of the tent and shoved him as hard as you could. He stumbled back but quickly regained his balance. "How could you?" you seethed. You had meant to scream it, but you were afraid that your voice would betray you if you raised it above a whisper. Neteyam raised one arm in front of him between you as a pacifying gesture, his fingertips a hair's breadth from your collarbone.

"Kiri, would you please give us a moment?" he asked the other person in the tent without looking away from you. You gave Kiri's sitting form a quick glance before returning your glare to Neteyam, but it was enough for you to see the startled expression on your friend's face.

"What is going—"

"Now," Neteyam punctuated with force.

Without another word, Kiri hurriedly stood up and walked out. With his sister gone, you smacked his raised arm away from yourself. You were fuming and didn't even know where to start with your anger. "Your father has grounded me from the mission," you told him and pointed an accusatory finger at him, "because of you."

Neteyam clenched his jaw and took a deep breath before speaking. "It is for your safety. If you are not well, you should not be flying during a dangerous miss—"

"I am well," you interrupted angrily. "I am well, and I can fly during a dangerous mission. You had no right to tell him what is not your concern. You have no right to interfere with anything." Your voice was getting louder now, the white-hot anger you felt in your chest burned in the words you spoke.

Neteyam scoffed quietly and looked at you with a scowl that would have chilled you if you hadn't already been so angry with him. "You are not well," he countered in a low, hard voice. "I saw you hunting. You were in so much pain, you couldn't even manage to focus on the trail. How is that supposed to make me feel knowing you wished to return to battle?" He gestured loosely to the entrance of the tent as though the battle was right outside.

"That was one time, Neteyam!" you shouted at him in frustration. "And now I can't join the mission because of a headache I had on a hunt." "But it was not just one time, was it?" he retorted in an accusatory tone. "You have had migraines since your accident, but you have been keeping them secret from everyone."

"No, I should have kept them a secret from everyone," you spat, tears returning to your eyes. "But I was a fool and told you instead. I trusted you." He flinched slightly at your cutting comment, but he didn't back down. "You have become a liability to yourself and the other warriors," he stated matter-of-factly. "I did the right thing and told my father to inform him of your weakness.

Weakness. That stung worse than anything he could've said to you.

Immediately, Neteyam realized what he had said. "No, I did not mean to—"

"Is that how you see me?" You cut him off quietly, voice filled with pain. "Weak?" You felt a single tear overcome all of your effort to withhold it and slide down your cheek. Neteyam shook his head apologetically and took a step toward you, but you took a step back away from him. "That is not true," he insisted gently. "I did not mean to say that."

You wanted to believe him, but memories of his behavior flashed through your mind over the past few weeks, and anger and hurt stirred in your chest. "But it is true," you accused as you glared up at him, wiping the tear off your cheek in anger. "You have been treating me like a helpless child ever since we invaded the Sky People's base."

Neteyam clenched his jaw and looked away from you in frustration. You continued yelling at him. "You have been consumed with a desire to control my every move ever since. I shouldn't wander too far into the forest alone. I shouldn't climb too high into the trees. I shouldn't ride Kazi anymore." With every sentence, you felt your anger and frustration melt into hurt and sadness, and you could feel more hot tears falling from your eyes. "And now I cannot fight anymore. I cannot fight because you think I'm weak!"

"You almost died!" Neteyam shouted.

You started and stood in mute surprise in front of him, all of your anger replaced by pure shock. He had never yelled at you before. After all of the strain that your relationship had been placed under, the snide comments, the frustrated arguments, he had never once raised his voice above an angry reprimand, and honestly, it was frightening.

"You almost died!" he repeated, still shouting. "And I could do nothing! Nothing!" His chest was heaving, and he glared down at you with so much anger and pain, it made you take a step back. He noticed the step, and it seemed to bring him out of his emotional outburst somewhat. He turned away from you and paced a few steps heatedly around the tent. You watched in mute shock.

"I cannot let you go too far into the woods alone or climb too high or ride your ikran because every second you are out of my sight, all I can see is the image of you bleeding out, unconscious, on the ground." You could see the tension in his whole body, his hands balled into fists at his sides as he spoke. He looked over at you after a moment, and you saw the anguish on his face as he recalled the memory. "I thought you were dead," he whispered in a taut voice. "And that was the worst moment of my life."

You were so overwhelmed that you couldn't stand to look at him anymore. Now, amongst the betrayal and anger you had been feeling, guilt stirred in your stomach, leaving the taste of bile in your throat. This was too much. You were feeling too many things to think rationally or come up with an argument. And your head hurt so much.

Neteyam heaved a regretful sigh, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. You had never seen him cry before. He crossed over to you, and even if you had wanted to back away, you felt rooted to the spot. Coming in closely, he grabbed your face with both hands. For one breathless moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead, he just held you and stared at your face longingly.

"I do not think you are weak," Neteyam muttered finally, breaking the tense silence. "But you...you are my weakness. I am sorry I betrayed your trust, but I cannot see you harmed again. I will not allow it."

You didn't say anything. You couldn't say anything. You had reached your emotional limit. Your heart ached as you took in his image. He was strong and stern and beautiful, and you wished again for the millionth time that the war had never come to your home, had never come between you.

You sighed finally and shook your head. "You do not get to decide my fate for me," you said flatly, pulling away from his touch. "You do not have the right." Without waiting for an answer, you walked out of the tent.

Right outside, Kiri, Lo'ak, and Tuk were sitting together. They had obviously been listening to your fight, and the way they scrambled to stand did not make them appear any more innocent. You sighed and turned the other way, not wanting to talk to anybody at the moment. Kiri called your name, but you ignored her and walked away as quickly as you could.

The siblings stood in the darkness for a moment, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. Then, Lo'ak decided to go in and check on his brother. He walked in cautiously and found him with his eyes squeezed shut as he rubbed his forehead in exasperation. Hearing Lo'ak enter, Neteyam looked over at his brother with a burning glare.

"Bro, what did you do?" his younger brother asked with concern. Neteyam let out a deep sigh. After a second, he responded, "The right thing." Lo'ak was unconvinced, and so was Neteyam.

Part 3

#neteyam sully #neteyam angst #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar the way of water #avatar #loak sully #kiri sully #atwow #neteyam x omaticaya!reader

[pray4byron]

Hello :) I saw you were doing Hazbin Hotel matchups and honestly I would be very excited to see who you would assign to me (no pressure ofc!!!) so I hope this request is finding you at a good time ^^

ABOUT ME: Feel free to just call me Zo! I’m AFAB and I use she/her as my pronouns. While not officially diagnosed due to growing up in a household who treated it as taboo something that I couldn’t “catch” I definitely fall under the umbrella of neurodivergence. From past research I’ve found ADHD symptoms relate to most of my experiences.

SEXUALITY/ROMANTIC TYPE: To be frank, I’ve always internally struggled when it came to my sexual and romantic identity. Found myself craving some sort of connection that traversed the likes of just platonic bonds but the couple times when someone showed interest in me I’d clam up and push them away. The couple crushes I did have always happened to develop after I had built rapport with them, after we had grew close. So for the sake of labels and for this matchup I’d definitely like to say I’m demiromantic? In terms of sexuality all I got for you is that I’m not repulsed by it??? All I know for sure is if I like them, we’d have to have been friends or at least know each other. (In terms of gender I’m fine with either or! I’m just curious to see who fits the box el oh el ^^)

PERSONALITY: Oh boy. Ok so to start off with I’m an INTP 5w4😼…. My hog warts house is Slytherin. My temperament is Melancholic (my sub temperament is tied up between Melancholic sanguine and melancholic phlegmatic). I definitely fall under the umbrella of shyness, however I’ve also noticed that depending on my company I tend to emulate the majority of the vibe. A half hearted defense mechanism in order to fit in is what I assume it be. I’m told I’m a very emotionally intelligent person, and my friends prefer to talk to me about issues and problems due to the fact that while I can comfort I can also hold them accountable and give them solid advice. They also make jokes on how I should’ve been a psychologist if I wasn’t actively getting a degree in early education. I’m terrible when it comes to changing topics which just makes it me all the more unintentionally hilarious. I’m always more funny when I’m not actively trying to be, I just have this unknown charisma that activates when i don’t try hard being funny </3. I struggle when it comes to maintaining my relationships and also most of my responsibilities, maybe it’s a numbness for my own priorities but it’s so easy to help other people in their own slumps, that when I’m forced to face my own issues and problems I can’t help but make myself numb to it and push it on the back burner. Not for lack of care, but more of seemingly frozen in place, it’s all so terrifyingly overwhelming that I just don’t even acknowledge it. Scarily good at doing that while also avoiding spieling my own feelings on personal matters that my friends always believe I have my all together. So ironically enough while I’m good at helping my friends communicate I’m terrible when it comes to communicating about myself (yippee⁉️ #imworkingonitiswear ) more or less I’m laid back, However I did used to be more of a doormat, luckily I don’t bend backwards for every little thing that breathes now LMAO. I do have a bit of a competitive streak when it comes to games (cough uno cough) and I definitely have a penchant of using my mind and other mediums as a form of escapism. Which can be ok, but sometimes I overdo it.

LOOKS: Medium length dark brown hair, round hazel eyes. I have a round face, and here in the future I want to get wispy bangs to compliment my face shape :D. Pale but not too pale skin, I have the pear shape body type, in the sense that my hips are wide, and I have somewhat big thighs but other wise I’m relatively flat. I do have a bit of chub when it comes to my midsection. Oh! I’m like 5’5 (maybe a little taller????)

LIKES: My cats Basil and Mugwort (literally my sons). I prefer more morose weather like rain. I quite like fall compared to the other seasons. I used to draw a lot but now I don’t as much, still a joyful hobby nonetheless. Recently bought a couple new books and am getting back into the grove of loving reading once more. I will absolutely demolish croutons of any kind. Currently really into mlp, it’s those TikTok infection slideshows I swear (I redownloaded the game….) I like to ramble about my interests like animation and its evolution, cats (the breeds, the care, the everything), and much much more.

DISLIKES: I hate beans. The taste. The texture. If I see beans in food it’s an immediate ick. I will gag. Overstimulating events, like I can bear with it and grow accustomed to it, but that’s doesn’t mean I’ll like it every single time. I hate being/feeling like a burden. Oh and not really a dislike and more of an annoyance(?) the fact that ritz cheese and cracker packs don’t come with the little red plastic spatula to spread your cheese anymore. I assume because it could prove to be a choking hazard, but still I’m just like 😞

LOVE LANGUAGES: Had to really scroll through my gallery because I did take an online test before!! Physical Touch was my highest (ie im extremely touch starved but am too awkward to initiate </3) Something in me just yearns for some kind of comforting touch, but I always tend to swallow it back and push it away for fear of rejection. After that focus, intellect, acts, and words of affirmation were literally all tied not even 5% behind phys touch. I’m just a kind of mentally paralyzed overthinking insecure(ish) gal, my bad bro 😎 But on a real note the confirmation that I’m being seen and heard will make me melt.

Alright!!! Hopefully my yapping was coherent and not a chore to read through!! I think it’s really cool you’re doing this and I’m mainly curious to see who it is you’d pair with me! Because I have a favorite character in mind who’d jump with joy to see, but that’s just because of bias 😭😭

And if it’s not too much of a bother is it alright to ask not to pair me with angel dust? It’s mainly personal preference so hopefully it’s not too much of a bother :))🫶🫶🫶

hey zo! this was quite the adventure to read through haha, after some deciding, I decided to go with…

Alastor !!

I can see you and Alastor meshing well together due to your craving of a platonic bond (you both may or not have a QPR? idk)

Alastor takes deep appreciation for not only your charisma and wit, but also your ability to read the room and match everyone’s energy, it’s helpful in certain situations with him

He isn’t the most touchy feely person you’ll meet in Hell, but he does make an effort, you’ll both usually have your arms loops while holding hands, or he’ll let you lay your head in his lap while he reads and he’ll rub your scalp

But Alastor isn’t afraid to tell you how it is, he makes sure you know your worth, and that he sees you all too clearly

#reqs closed #x reader #mio’s writing ! ☆ #mio’s matchups ! ☆ #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #x y/n #x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon

[mariemarion]

hey, long time no been here. I'm sleepy, but I have something to say

I will abuse google translator a little cause I originally wrote all this in spanish :p

I haven't had energy the last few months. I am currently in a not very good state of mind so I will allow myself to be somewhat negative below.

I have lost interest in continuing with art, or at least the motivation is at the lowest level it has ever been, my only real reason for continuing is because it feeds my family, my pets and me, its reason enough to keep going , I fervently believe. But this doesn't stop me from feeling like I'm not going anywhere, that I'm stuck. Drawing has never been so exhausting, so tiring. I loved it, it may not be a permanent feeling, but currently I do not feel love for my drawings, for my current style, although I like it I feel that it is not mine, that it is not me, that I am not being sincere.

My dream is to reach that level of skill, like the meme, a rookie artist drawing something super rendered and complex and the senior artist drawing the most simplified style possible, I want to be that senior artist x'D.

How socials are treating and overshadowing artists lately also has a lot to add here, to hell with the numbers, I'm not interested in them, I'm not interested in the algorithm, I don't quite understand what it's about, I don't want to be tied down all the time , I want to come and go freely, that's all, I don't enjoy loggin into networks as i used to be.

Sometimes I would like to go back in time, when I felt free to create, when I was looking for to experiment and had fun. Today just thinking about holding a pencil makes me want to run away to the comfort of my bed or go play with my cats or to want to climb a mount and never coming back. And not to mention the damage I have done to my eyes and my hands, sometimes I can't do anything but overdo everything, and therefore hurting me, I foolishly force myself to accomplish deadlines that I have imposed on myself and that I am aware of its a short time.

I'm in a situation where I can't stop drawing, it's my job, I can't simply take a rest. I practically survive with what I earn (which lately is little), prices for many essentials are going up to the stratosphere and beyond (the price for cat food is so ridiculously expensive that I have started opting for homemade food) I have not been able to save anything, if I stop drawing and taking commissions, I don't know what else I could do, looking for alternatives is also tiring. I just want to sleep.

Apathy, that is my current state.

Fatigue.

Drowsiness.

A bottomless abyss, although when I say it out loud it makes me laugh x'D

Going to therapy has crossed my mind, I know there are issues to resolve, but thinking about the absence of money and next month's expenses somehow overlap everything else.

I think there were more things to add, but I can't think anymore.

I will not abandon art, it is clear to me, but if these last few months have been slow (in terms of making art), they will be even more so in the future, so you better do not miss me too much, you have been warned x'D

ty for reading

#marion talks

[halfusek]

What do you think about that new Bendy game coming out on the 14th?

hard to tell from how little there is

the trailer didnt really captivate me, but i guess its fair how much of a nothing there is considering the game will be free, so i'd expect something like batds - i did enjoy batds for what it was (maybe except for the final "reveal" about the collage which was uh. a giant nothing burger)

seems like this is leaning to the scp / found footage / analog horror territory, which ive gotta say im very sceptical about, at least personally to me they are often executed in an unsatisfying way but who knows maybe the devs who kept delivering a disappointment after a disappointment will surprise me

i do like the design of that thing that you can see clearer in the screenshots, im intriguied by the possibility of meeting a less messed up butcher gang character, and im especially excited about The House

seems like im not the only person reminded of the little barn allison painted on the wall we can see at the beginning of batim's chapter 5, i would love a tie in back to that (cuz it never really was tied back to and thats quite interesting why she'd paint something specific like that)

but i am begging them, i am getting on my knees - stop STOP copy pasting the bendy face png on everything, i promise the house doesnt need to have a giant bendy face, it looks sooooo out of place

speaking of overdoing things, mentions of 414 are starting to get a bit tasteless, especially that the number isn't really meaningful in-universe - yes i know that's henry's assigned subject number - but 414 really started as a joke from one of the developers which was picked up by theorists. that meaning was given by fans and it doesn't seem to have any satisfying origin in-universe. yes henry has the 414 subject number *now*. what does it refer to? there's a few theories (like we used to theorise about it waaay before batdr) but there's nothing that's really clearly stated. if it's just gonna be a number that appears cuz ooooo oooh look its a number you guys like isn't this fun like jiggling car keys in front of a baby that's gonna get old Pretty Fast. but maybe they are planning to give it a meaning, i'd be looking forward to it

i will give them that the game being officially developed by Gent Corporation is kind of funny

it seems like they're trying to alleviate responsibility for Whatever Horrors That Happened Really off of JDS shoulders (and joey's by extension) and put the blame on gent for being The freak evil corporation and im not sure how to feel about that (weeeeeell i do not like this direction the way it is looking now. i would have liked it more if it was executed differently)

my thoughts are that this is going to be a game that will not really answer any questions or will answer questions we didn't/wouldn't have but it will be more or less entertaining while we wait for the main course (the cage)

#halfask #bendy and the ink machine #batim #bendy: secrets of the machine #bsotm..? lol #anyways i just reached the beginning of the year while looking through the bendy tag #i have scheduled like 100 posts #for now #:) #feels like i have loaded a barrel of a gun lmao

[l4long-winded]

iv. the distraction of rising temperature

summary: now that you and sherlock are at a friendlier standing, it's time to explore more of your friendship. or whatever it is (cavill!sherlock x afab!reader)

reflection: i am terribly sorry that this took so long. i just wanted everything to be how i envisioned it and of course, i ended up overdoing it. i have that nasty habit of rereading and editing until i have a singular part. then, i do it all again with the next and the next until it becomes far too much. i intended this series to be shorter, but alas, some things are not meant to be. please enjoy and feedback is always appreciated and encouraged!

warnings: seamstress!reader, conflicted!sherlock, reader has a nickname, flirting, fluff, close proximity, mystery brewing, cursing, longwinded descriptions, overthinking, sherlock is in deep denial, suggestive language, alcohol consumption, enola makes an appearance, off screen character death, somewhat slowburn, enemies to lovers, sherlock observes reader, a fitting with far too many boundaries crossed, sexual tension, victorian era, eventual smut (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 10,023

previously: mr. wright and jane austen

( this work has been cross posted on ao3 )

This is the second time you face the golden 221B in front of you and it’s definitely different than the first time, less animosity, about the same nerves, much more intrigue. After you received your book from Sherlock, he seemingly began to appear frequently around the building and around your shop. Only a couple of days passed by and you could recall seeing his recognizable frame through the window strolling by, through his voyages to and from his flat in which he would say nothing but give a slight nod of his head in acknowledgment. He certainly must know you found the book, but it’s clear he won’t approach unless you do so first out of respect for your boundaries. While his note conveyed his desire to restart fresh, it didn’t mean he would go out of his way to assume what you decided to do. Something about that sustained reverence is what pulled you to his door this afternoon, this being the sole amount of free time you’ve had in these troubling times. You’re steady as you breathe in and out for some extra confidence and to quite possibly shake some traveling nerves (it barely helps).

Once you dictate yourself as ready, you rap onto the door and take a single step backwards when you remember how much space Sherlock takes up on his lonesome. The last time, when he insulted you and disregarded your noise complaint, you felt rather small not just by his words, but by your stature compared to his. He loomed over you and narrowed his eyes in a way that caused you to lose hold of your convictions for just a moment, but the moment was enough for him to gain the upper hand, a shark smelling blood in the water. You’re convinced he’s not going to purposely agitate you this time around, but you also don’t want to accidentally toss him another opportunity. You’re hopeful he’ll be true to his word, not stupid enough to drop your guard. You still barely know anything about each other and strangers took advantage of people all the time.

The door comes open with a haste you’re not prepared for and you can’t help but take a half step back from it in reaction. Your hands capture themselves in front of your abdomen in efforts to balance yourself, as if the pull of the door would suction you inside and awkwardly leave you standing in Sherlock’s flat without invitation. It’s hardly a dramatized action since you feel the air surrounding whip around the rebellious strands of hair framing your face. Except, as you ground yourself and shuffle your feet, the person standing in front of you is very obviously not Sherlock, but a young woman with familiar features. Her eyes widen upon recognition of you, her head turning back to look into Sherlock’s flat for what appears to be answers.

“It’s a woman,” she calls back and it gives you the indication that you probably interrupted the two from some sort of discussion. It would explain her haste and why Sherlock’s marching over in what you surmise is in a mix of impatience and irritation. “Were you expecting a seamstress?” The girl asks as Sherlock gets closer and you can see him pause as he gains a better look at you, your eyes locking onto his despite the young woman sitting in between the two of you. From your peripheral vision, you could see her engaging in careful glances switching back and forth between you and Sherlock, an attempt present to decipher what the correlation to one another is since Sherlock’s offered silence. His gait’s suffered a stop enough for the girl to draw on her inspection and you’re not prepared for her scrutiny while seemingly under his.

“Give us a moment,” he finally utters, his eyebrows pinching together in the process of giving the young woman a simple, yet loaded, look. You may not know what’s going on here, but you’re aware of this look having been on the receiving end of one and having conjured it on your own. She seems to quickly catch on and she backs away with her hands up from the door and floats into the flat without further questions. Sherlock seems grateful for her lack of continued communication as he steps through the frame and shuts the door behind him.

“Excuse my sister… Enola’s fully prepared to insert herself into anyone’s business at any time if she becomes interested in any form.” Ah, his sister. That’s what looked so familiar about her. Well, you probably should have guessed it from how she quickly came to the conclusion that you were a seamstress. You suppose that such observational skills run in the family. That dynamic must be insufferable to be around, but you came from your own version of chaos in a family. There’s hardly room for judgment.

“She’s curious, huh? Sounds like she’s trying to mimic someone we both know.” You’re teasing, of course, teasing with an inkling of truth to your choice of words. To your amusement, you watch in real time as Sherlock exhales and musters a small smile.

“Trust me, she doesn’t want to be like me,” he replies and you ponder what he could possibly mean for a second since Enola’s enthusiasm proved to you in a shortened time frame of just how much she matches Sherlock. Your hesitation to ask about it warrants him to continue speaking. “You’re not at work at this hour?”

Somehow, he’s accounted for your schedule and you’re taken aback for an interlude. He doesn’t budge or comprehend how this information is not common knowledge so you have a feeling he’s not trying to be all knowing or superior. It’s perhaps something that just happens to him whether he’s in control of it or not. “No, I didn’t have too much to do today so I decided to take a break. I actually wanted to speak with you about something, but it seems as if I’ve arrived at a bad time.” You don’t want to interrupt him and his sister and could always return later, but Sherlock waves it off and crosses his arms.

“It’s not a bad time at all. Please,” he presses his arms forward into the air, “continue. I trust you received my informal letter?”

“That I did… Thank you for the book. I love it. I have my own copy back home, but I failed to bring it with me during the move. It’s already helped immensely.” You can’t stop yourself from beaming thinking about it. It’s been something to turn to when your brain’s overloaded or your hands are itching for relief from remaining in the same position for so long.

“I’m glad to hear it. Jane Austen’s work doesn’t get nearly enough attention. I assume it’s because people are too behind to understand.” He shrugs his shoulders because it really is an unfortunate circumstance. While she has some traction, much more than when she was alive, you and Sherlock both know why that traction isn’t grander or why she didn’t become acclaimed until later on. It’s a stark elephant in the hall, but you choose not to address it and shake your head to change the subject.

“Well, as much as I appreciate the gesture, I do hate how you’ve ruined the mystery of your name. I was going with Shoulders Holmes before you had to add your input.” Your hands come up to your hips in a mock scolding. It achieves the desired effect as Sherlock releases his arms from the hold against his chest and he stares at you with levity in his eyes. Him and his damn bluer-than-blue eyes.

“At least you had something to go off. I’ve referred to you as Lily for a while now.” The confession causes your hand to come up and grasp your charm out of habit and you want to release it the second you do, but you endure where you are as you try and study his face. It’s not the most terrible nickname since you enjoyed flowers, but it’s come out of left field.

“Not bad,” you exhale, “but my name is Y/N. Or… if you wish to call me Lily, I wouldn’t be opposed.” You grasp the charm tighter, though you’re not sure why you feel inclined to do so. You shouldn’t care so much what he would think of your name as even if he doesn’t, it’s not something you could change. His validation ought to mean nothing to you, and yet as you stare up at him, you feel relief flood your system as he repeats it to you. Warmth nuzzles across your back and shoulders and you could swear the same comes up to hug the apples of your cheeks, all because Sherlock saying your name is a new experience and sensation you didn’t know you could be so fond of. It eloquently rolls off his tongue and his tone is one of approval.

“So, we’re officially acquaintances, then? No longer mortal enemies who glare at each other from across the stairs?” You can’t help but laugh at the dramatics of the situation. But looking back, glaring at each other or refusing to acknowledge one another did seem to be the pattern you both fell into. You feel sheepish about how you acted, but from his body language, he also seems to be ashamed of his antics. His question was genuine as much as he intended it to sound as if he was joking.

“Correct, officially acquaintances. And I, your new acquaintance, have a proposal for you.” You watch as confusion flits over Sherlock’s face. The lines he does have are there from thinking, you can tell. “I want to help you with your investigation.”

This is not what Sherlock expects. His eyebrows raise in incredulity as he regards you. The movement in his shoulders tells you how he’s restraining himself, but you can’t tell if it’s from celebrating or expressing to you of his surprise. He persists in his stillness, quiet befalling the both of you as you look into the depths of his eyes and he traces them at different points of your facial structure and then different points of your body. Normally, a man gazing this intently at you would cause you to protect yourself and hide away, but you can almost see the cogs shifting inside of Sherlock’s head. He does what most don’t and that’s think before he speaks, analyze before jumping to conclusions that may be wrong. Considering how he’s done that before and it ended with you two disliking each other, you don’t say anything to properly give him his time of contemplation.

“I sense a condition of some sort incoming,” he decides on after a beat and you fidget with your hands because he’s right, you do have a condition. You didn’t come up here for just a friendly chat as you had days to mull over what you wanted to say to him and how you two could move forward from starting off on the wrong foot.

“Right,” you begin, and you know he hears that too often, “I want to help you with your investigation, but only if you come down to my shop and allow me to fit you for something. You don’t have to buy anything, I’m not trying to be bought,” you reassure him, “but I also could use some more business. What I’m implying here is that we could help each other out.”

Sherlock is still again. He doesn’t display to you much besides that recurring restraint. You don’t know how he could possibly read you and you could barely do the same to him, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. You stand taller to appear more confident in this and you wait for him to say something with bated breath. There are a number of ways he can respond and you lean more towards rejection than anything else. You wouldn’t be angry if he refused this altogether, there’s nothing obligating either of you to each other just because you’re now standing on common ground. He wants to say something, you can see it playing at his lips, but it’s difficult to dwell on because suddenly the both of you lightly startle hearing Enola’s voice through the door, “I have places to be, Sherlock!”

The impromptu rushing has you falter. You’re sure he’ll wave you away now, but he doesn’t create any rampant motions. He simply looks at you one last time before he speaks, “I’ll think about it.” That’s all you could ask of him since the task isn’t the most conventional of sorts. It came to fruition because of how you didn’t recognize his gift as a full reason to forgive him for his past behavior. There’s also something particularly sleazy about the idea of Sherlock presenting you with a gift of your liking solely to encourage your succor in his work, a light test behind asking him of this. By how he didn’t immediately leap at the opportunity, you’re guessing his heart was in the right place and cease those questions burdening you, the ones asking of his intentions and morals.

You depart thereafter with a polite dip of your head, one he mirrors before he watches you retreat to the stairs. It’s when you’re out of his sight that he enters his flat once more, his sister sitting comfortably in the chair at his desk. He needs to talk with her about areas being off limits because this is becoming ridiculous at this point.

“It’s about time,” Enola chimes, which in turn leads to Sherlock rolling his eyes. He resumes what he did before you knocked on his door and that’s tending to the map in front of him where Enola marked off new spots for him to travel to. They helped each other from time to time and she would soon be off embarking on another adventure he would wind up worrying over with the dangers of the world in his head. He’s examining the map with a comical magnifying glass, too busy immersing himself back into the work because he doesn’t want his mind to stray to you. Lately, it’s been doing that more than he could handle and such a detriment in focus must be tended to accordingly. While you hold the fabric he’s chased for ages now in your possession, he’s treading lightly since any interaction with you might further cloud his head. This is a phenomenon he’s not used to.

“You could use a new tie,” Enola says, breaking him free of his current task. He attempts to imagine she’s not sitting there to continue, at most shooting her an annoyed glare. Still, he can’t completely ignore her. There’s a reason she said what she said, why she chose those certain words, why she’s lying because she knows he has an impressive tie collection.

“I could’ve sworn I’ve talked with you about eavesdropping.” He doesn’t notice her stand until she reaches for the magnifying glass from him. He stands at his full height and looks down at her, again in agitation as he watches her continue on with his task. It’s like she knows he’s trying to corral his thoughts towards this subject to not stray away against his best wishes.

“I’m just making an observation. If you’re going to a fitting, why not?” Sherlock refrains from scoffing. He didn’t decide to attend yet and here Enola goes acting as if he has a plan set in stone to visit you at your shop. It confirms her eavesdropping, but he doesn’t want to give away any more information than that. Enola cannot know of how much you’re in his head, how he accidentally fell into a repetition of observing you from afar, how he wrote you a note and sent you his copy of Persuasion by Jane Austen. He knows his sister and she will just get the wrong idea. He knows what this may look like to her and that could be farther from the truth.

“... She’s pretty.”

It’s the last thing Sherlock anticipates for Enola to say. While she regularly institutes new ways to catch him off guard, this is not one he could have accounted for easily. His ego alerts him he could have prevented this had he just given more thought to what is lurking through her young mind, but alas, it’s too late for him. She’s said her piece and he now has no choice but to scrutinize it deeper than it needs to be. He doesn’t want to explore anything to do with that factor or anything relating, but Enola’s robbed him of his decorum and magnifying glass, left him a foreboding entity standing at his own desk with nothing to do but think back to how you stood before him just moments ago. You and your imperfect hair pinned to your head save for the defiant strands that love to dangle over your eyes, you and your fluttering lashes that you’re unaware almost whisp to your cheekbones from the length and fan, you and that cheeky smile adorning your lips when you say something teasing or sarcastic.

Enola’s observation is not unprecedented or incorrect. As much as he wants to declare to Enola that you’re indeed unpleasant to look at, he can’t bring himself to do so. You’re attractive, he’s known this already. He didn’t need Enola’s opinion on it. Especially not since such an opinion has led his head to recall the curves within your facial structure, the slope of your neck, how the lily of the valley rests right above your accentuated chest, how the corset cruelly punctuates your hips almost as if they’re beckoning in a pair of hands to rest upon them. These are the thoughts he wishes to avoid. They’re distractions to him and his work, they make his palms feel clammy, his fingers twitch on his desk as he imagines the pair of hands referred to on your hips as his own. This hasn’t happened to him before. He doesn’t know how to approach it or push the less than gentlemanly images beginning to flood his mind.

Thankfully, Enola passes him back his magnifying glass. “Earth to Sherlock,” she says and he’s centering himself back to this reality. He merely gives her a look before he returns to the map. He won’t dare say a thing. Enola’s too much like him and she would know something’s bothering him inside whether his comments were negative, agreeable, or neutral. It’s not worth fanning the flames of her active imagination.

You’re at the front desk busying yourself with checking off commissions and reworking invoices on parchment paper. Mrs. Thomas is there again at a nearby chair resting her feet before she goes home. She’s attended this shop often and you would regard her as a friend by how much you see her if it weren’t for how she’s a paying customer and how her closeness with your father wrote any of her actions off as mourning and pity in your eyes. You don’t want to necessarily see it this way, but it’s difficult not to with how she always seems to smile at you with sympathy lurking in her pupils. As much as you appreciate it, you’re tired of people looking at you with emotion rather than respect since you’re running this shop on your own. Even before, your father may have done a lot, but it’s you who’s created clothing under your former roof with your mother and sister. You don’t think that credit will ever be rightfully handed to you with how everyone cautiously addresses you.

The sad part is that each time it happens, you are hit with the painful reminder of how your father is gone. You’re already constantly thinking of that on your own and it follows you to your work since his last name is plastered on the building and sewed into the tags of the clothing you design. It’s bitter icing on top of the cake for your (his) remaining customers to come in here and talk to you about it or subconsciously bring the fact forth with how they maneuver their facial expressions towards you. Running on fumes is not easy at all and it’s harder with complex emotions involved.

The bell to your front door rings alerting you of a customer walking in. Their steps are heavy on your floorboards and there’s about three taken until you lift your head to view who’s entered your establishment. It’s those broad shoulders you’re sure you could recognize from kilometers away, his face a bit weary as he takes in the area of the shop for the first time inside instead of searching through the window. He walks to you slowly and instead of allowing this awkward gait to greet you at your desk, you round the obstruction and meet him halfway on the path. He pauses in front of you and you’re unable to suppress the grin forming on your features in surprise and disbelief that he came so soon. You thought he would take longer to think about what you offered, perhaps a few days, not mere hours.

“Pardon me,” he begins, “you wouldn’t happen to know where I could possibly be fitted for a tie around here, would you? My sister instructed me how I was in dire need of one.” Much like your own grin is growing by the second, as is his with his emboldened statement feigning cluelessness. You tap your chin in pretend thought as you look up at him, one arm tucking beneath your elbow across your chest.

“Ah, you have a wise sister. You’ve come to the right place. We have a large assortment of ties. Is there anything specific you’re searching for?”

“Whichever you deem best,” he responds almost instantly, his face leaning towards yours in the process for just you alone to hear. It’s a curious endeavor since there’s only you and him and Mrs. Thomas sitting in a chair. It’s then that Mrs. Thomas reminds you both of her presence, “I thought you wanted to commission more than that,” she booms out. She can be loud for an older woman.

You glance back and forth between Mrs. Thomas and Sherlock, then. You didn’t know that they knew each other and by the look on Sherlock’s face that crosses for a split second, he seems alarmed. It quickly passes through and then he’s impassive all over again.

“Yes, you’re right. I wanted to commission a, um…” his eyes scan momentarily, a sign that he’s trying to think fast that you know Mrs. Thomas won’t notice, but you do, “a vest” he decides. “A vest and a suit jacket.”

Not taking the hint that this is more than he’s bargained for, Mrs. Thomas laughs. “Might as well be fitted for the entire suit! Don’t you think so, Ms. Wright?”

Mrs. Thomas holds an unusual expression you haven’t seen before, a genuine and beaming smile that reaches her eyes and erases the sympathy from them that you consistently detect. You’re not sure what she’s doing, but instead of dwelling on her, you pivot to bring your full attention to Sherlock. It’s transparent to you that he’s hiding something, though you feel as if it’s more for Mrs. Thomas then it is for you. Still, you might as well have some fun with his visit. It’s not like you had a line of customers to dawdle on.

“Why, Mrs. Thomas, you are correct,” you can just see how Sherlock narrows his eyes at you in a warning, but despite this, you continue and hook one arm into his, now side by side, “Let’s do an entire fitting and then we can discuss that commission of yours, Mr. Shoulders.”

Sherlock fakes a smile at you, it’s tight lipped and you know this is not what he wanted, but he goes along and waves his goodbye to Mrs. Thomas who is finally standing from her chair to leave. She lingers watching you two disappear into a backroom.

“I did not agree to this,” Sherlock mutters, almost petulantly. It sounds foreign coming from such a deep voice.

“But here I am agreeing… Come on, it’ll be over before you know it. Remove the items on your torso besides the undershirt, please.” You half expect him not to listen, to put his foot down and ask for the tie again, but to your surprise, Sherlock blows a breath out through his nose and then he starts by ridding off his jacket sleeve by sleeve. You feel rather smug by his obedience, but you don’t wish to stop him through this, so you leave him to strip as you said as you go to retrieve your measuring tape and return with fresh paper for your pen and inkwell. When you return, you’re met with Sherlock undoing the current tie sitting at his neck. It slips free and the shirt is as poofy as a falling parachute through the sky.

“Erm… that shirt’s rather… large on you,” you don’t know if that’s the correct word. It seems as if it fits and yet it doesn’t, extra fabric bunching at his arms and waist. You tilt your head examining it and Sherlock takes a glance down to assess what you may mean.

“I’m aware,” he mutters. “I have trouble finding correct sizing and I don’t necessarily make the time to have actual appointments with tailors. Some things fit enough, nothing like a glove.” He shrugs his shoulders and it’s obvious to you he’s reserved himself to this way of dressing. For the most part, he didn’t do a bad job. He dressed elegantly and his other items seemed to fit him accordingly, but the bunched up fabric was for sure going to hinder you in taking his measurements. Because of this, you know what you have to do, and your fingers nervously wind the tape around your hands as you stare at him almost abashedly.

Noticing this, Sherlock looks at you quizzically. “What?”

“Sherlock, do you mind… removing your shirt? It’ll be easier to take your measurements that way, but if you don’t wish to, you aren’t obligated.” You’re already pushing him further out of his comfort zone and how he probably thought this would all go. You can see his hands flex at his sides, quiet as he stares forward and visibly ponders what he should do in this situation. You wouldn’t blame him if he rejected it entirely and put his tie and vest back on, strung his jacket along his arms and walked out of this invasive nature. It shouldn’t be this awkward, it never is with other male clients, but there’s a palpable energy between you that neither of you understand. Each step towards each other in any setting feels like a step too far, but always in the right direction.

He says nothing. You wish you could see past the flesh and skull in his head to truly capture what he may be thinking, but eventually, he whispers, “Very well, then,” and he starts at the cuffs. He unbuttons them gradually, and he glances at you once before he starts to tackle the buttons at his torso. One by one, they come undone, pectoral muscles displayed, a patch of hair on his chest that you had not expected to be there from how clean shaven he keeps his face. From every masculine element about him, it’s something you should’ve probably guessed. That and the swell of muscles in his arms that you didn’t regularly encounter on men around, such that bulge as he slips the white garment off of him completely. He turns away to discard the item with his other clothes, and then he’s left vulnerable standing in front of your full body mirror. He doesn’t look at himself. He keeps his eyes on you, waiting for another direction perhaps.

“Thank you. Let’s start with your arms.” You must carry this out as confidently as humanly possible even with the stature of Sherlock taking you a bit aback. Like a professional, you have him shift his arms out to measure his wingspan, the width of his back rather prominent to you at this moment since he is by no means a small man. You’re timorous as you measure around his biceps, as you catch the scent of his musk and tobacco standing this close by. You alternate between stretching your tape out at his limbs and then moving downward to write off the numbers each time. It’s an intimate affair as much as neither of you would like to admit it, and all that can be heard is the sound of each of your breathing. Not wanting this to be cumbersome, you try and find your voice literally kneeling before him while asking him to adjust his legs. Fortunately (and unfortunately) for you, his trousers are concealing him and it’s less inconvenient on you than when you tended to his torso.

“So, you spoke with Mrs. Thomas about a commission, hm?” You mark off the measurement with your thumbnail and then jot it down.

“Technically,” he admits. It bewilders you further. You stand so you can wrap the tape about his waist, one hand behind his back feeding it through. His warm skin touches your fingers. You’re face to face with his chest and neck here, but you ensure your eyes stay on the tape measure. You’re unaware of how he’s examining the top of your head.

“Technically? What’s technical about it?”

“Well, I wasn’t asking about a commission from you.” This is enough for your head to snap up. Your hands are still firmly on the tape measure around his waist, locking him in position to be this close to you, to be centimeters from this boulder of a man as he stares down at you with sincerity in his eyes. He’s literally so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. Those nerves from earlier are recollecting in your veins holding his steely gaze, but you don’t make any efforts to depart after his confession.

“You were asking… about my father? Why? Did you know him?” You should let go of the tape, but you don’t have the number yet to do so. Letting go just to wrap it back around him would be redundant. This isn’t any better since it’s trapping you practically against him, minimal distance between the two of you that any onlooker would confuse it as some kind of flirtatious bout, his naked torso feeding into the hypothetical guess. You stay where you are, blinking up at Sherlock who shakes his head back and forth.

“I did not. I just noticed that you were here alone so often. It made me question who Mr. Wright was. And so I came up with a bit of deception to tell Mrs. Thomas on her way out one day. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant conversation.” While honesty is easy for him to undergo, he does seem ashamed of his actions. The corner of his lips quirks for a second and it clicks for you that he knew about your father’s passing. And if he knew about your father’s passing, then it had you questioning his motives again. You want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but you hate this kind of subject.

Slowly, you look down to mark the number and then write it onto the pad of paper below. Having that be his last measurement, you detach from him and sigh out in displeasure as you look over the other measurements you’ve taken thus far. “So you got me that book out of pity,” you note, the excitement in your voice drained out from yet another person giving you special treatment you never asked for. “You asked about him because you thought he would help with your investigation since I wouldn’t, didn’t you?” You’re disappointed and you don’t bother to hide it. His cold exterior melting away so abruptly suddenly makes sense now. For a moment, you feel like a fool.

But Sherlock doesn’t allow this to last long. “Yes and no,” he replies and it leaves you puzzled. You stare at him from the side. He’s grabbing his shirt and slipping it back over himself, but he’s still looking at you in the process. “I thought that Mr. Wright may help me with my investigation, yes, but I also wanted to know if you ran this establishment by yourself. I guess a part of me knew that already, but I’ve never been one to carry out without confirmation or evidence.” He leaves the shirt open, the hair on his chest trailing down still very much visible. He conceals more of what makes him a man underneath those professional clothes, the clothes of a proper gentleman and a proper detective, but it’s not any less distracting. “Now, I don’t wish to offend you, but I did not know your father. I had little reaction to the news that Mrs. Thomas broke to me. But I knew you. I didn’t get you that book out of pity. I did it because I misread you.”

He buttons his cuffs somehow without struggling. You’re used to watching men and women alike grapple with said buttons because of the transition between left hand and right hand. You don’t think he’s ambidextrous, but much like other things about him, he’s most likely perfected it in a way where there are less steps, where there is less of a scuffle. You pay attention to this because his words are different from what you’ve experienced during your time in the city with a plethora of people coming to and from your shop. They hold weight because they’re about you, not about anyone else, but you and how you feel. It’s strange to be so known in the eyes of someone you met more than three weeks ago, but it’s also paradoxically freeing to be seen in a light free of that shame that’s haunted you since your arrival.

“I’ll… I’ll bring you that tie.” You settle on, a bit overcome with emotion in this instance from your thoughts bouncing to your father, his passing, the overwhelming “support” everyone’s extended out to you, and how Sherlock has given you what you’ve been craving for a long while now, and that’s validation and transparency. You don’t want to face him with the sting of tears in your eyes so he does appear to be confused as you walk away from him, but in your movement, you take heavy breaths to pull yourself together. It’s only when you feel secure in your features that you move to pull a royal blue tie into your hands. You’re sure it’ll bring out his eyes and he hardly uses color from what you’ve seen in his attire.

Soon, you remerge into the room, and Sherlock’s hands are politely cupping one another behind the small of his back, his shirt now fully buttoned. He’s still not looking in the mirror, the floor his choice of perspective, but with your return, he shifts his eyes up to your face and a thoughtful expression forms. He extends a hand out to you, but you raise your own to stop him.

“May I?”

He falters. You can tell he’s juggling whether he should allow you to or not, but in due time, he lowers his hands back to where they were before behind his back. It’s the slight nod that permits you to walk to him, which you do and you upturn the collar of his now wrinkled shirt for the access necessary. His pupils follow your hands with every movement and they only shut when you lift the fabric over his head to lay it around his neck. You situate both ends and Sherlock involuntarily takes a single half step forward from the light tug, his abdomen brushing against yours. Both of you hear the hitches in your breaths, and you could swear his adam’s apple bobbed from a light gulp, but neither of you choose to comment on it. You busy yourself with maneuvering the tie into its correct loops. You try to ignore how awfully domestic it feels and how your heart thuds harder in your ribcage.

“Your heart’s beating fast,” he says, that matter-of-fact tone as present as the day you met him. You forgot that your chests are pressing together and you rectify it by stepping that half step backwards that Sherlock took forward. He’s sturdy this time and doesn’t budge.

“It’s the temperature here,” you lie. This seems to appease him since he doesn’t say anything else about it, to your relief. You slip the knot upwards, one hand holding the tail, the other not stopping until it reaches his neck. Normally, you’d pull away from the client and have them view themselves in the mirror. Since this is not a normal time, you stay there in that position, your fingers against the cloth against his neck. His pulse is resting right into them and by how his jaw sets, you know he’s aware of what you’ve discovered and what you’re about to say.

“Your pulse is—”

“It’s the temperature here,” he parrots and you can’t even fault him for it because you used the same line. His wit may just hold a candle to yours. The speeding pulse introducing itself with your digits remains this way as you gaze at Sherlock. He doesn’t make any efforts to push you away and you don’t stagger backwards even if you think you should. It’s obvious to the both of you that you’re riddled with nerves and this is not an ordinary encounter nor an ordinary fitting. Eventually, you release the tie and step off to the side to maneuver out of his way. His stare follows you, but he soon removes that to walk to the mirror and view how the tie looks on him.

“Not bad, Lily,” he says.

You hide your smile behind your hand as you meet his eyes in the mirror. You were right, the tie enhances his irises. “Blue’s your color, Shoulders.”

It’s late at night, Sherlock paces the length of his floor, cautious in each step since he did not wish to alert the tenants below of his confusion and distress. Or more so, he did not wish to alert you. He’s refrained from playing his violin at such late hours in consideration of you and it’s well past the time that you’ve arrived home from work. He chose not to discuss the fabric he needs for his investigation and opted for it to occur tomorrow. He didn’t want to put a dent in whatever it was that was going on between the two of you since he usually transformed into a different person in detective mode. He’s been told he’s a pain in the ass to work with and it all has to do with the fact that he’s not a team player whatsoever, but someone who does everything by himself. He plans to get that over with when the time comes in his efforts to not completely scare you off as he has done to others in the past. You’re new to getting along with each other and he would like to keep himself from ruining it, a prophecy he holds in his head as a possibility since he is the reason for his lack of approachability. For once, for reasons he doesn’t understand, he would prefer to maintain a friendly status with you rather than antagonistic, or worse, estranged. Don’t ask him why that would be worse, he won’t answer.

Although he will see you tomorrow and he will most likely receive another piece to aid him moving forward, it didn’t stop him from trying to think about the details of the murder. They’re swarming his head all over again and he’s reliving his arrival at the crime scene to see if there’s anything he missed. This would be easier on his brain if he could just return back to the area, but of course, the police force wouldn’t be too keen on letting him reenter. Many officers hold resentment towards him and his intellect because of spite and envy and they don’t appreciate the proud aspects of Sherlock’s personality. Details stand out to him, almost perfectly outlined in paintings of what others deem as muddled colors. A man like Lestrade may display his appreciation for Sherlock’s talents and inevitable solutions, but there’s always the matter of ego to contest. A man’s ego in the fit of the “game” is fragile, especially when another’s wit and ideas are involved, superiority pouncing on what already is insecurity and vulnerability. Men in positions of power such as these hold, in Sherlock’s eyes, the most amount of emotion because they allow their arrogance and pride to corrupt their performances. While they’re in competition with Sherlock, Sherlock is in competition with himself and therefore it ensures the progression of his self growth, a means to always expand on what is already extraordinary.

But the unnerving fact of all of this despite these truths is how Sherlock’s pride still gets in the way. He stubbornly avoids the veracity of his arrogance because even if he did accept the claims of others in terms of his self-conceit, it doesn’t erase the many accomplishments he’s done up to this point. There are more to be consummated, just like this case in particular that refuses to let him sleep and refuses to let him think about anything else in his life, the basic essentials to survival sometimes neglected as a result. Forgetting to eat and nourish himself is not the ideal way to go about everything and really, nutrients would surely help him think better, but it’s how his brain is wired. It will linger on a subject until he can carve a path to the answer, until he can properly close a case and contribute a difference to the world the best way he can. This is his benefaction. Where others still trace as their purpose, he knows he’s in the thick of his own and this slump will be hurdled over as he’s done to other slumps of yesterday.

A clumsy sort of sound disrupts his current brain’s thought cacophony, knocking out of rhythm drawing his focus to his door. He’s not expecting anyone at this hour, especially not this late, so he’s bewildered to say the least. He stares at the door with intrigue, hopeful he imagined the distorting noise as he did not wish to halt his growing examination and introspection, but soon enough, the knocking continues and he knows it won’t disappear unless he answers the door as the person behind intends the impromptu meeting. He sighs his displeasure, but ultimately adjusts his loosened tie for the sake of etiquette, saunters to the door and brings it open after counting to three in his head. Sherlock’s not sure what he expected or who he assumed would be standing across from him, but it certainly wasn’t your back covered in alabaster lace, soft knots of fabric at each arm dangling from where you’ve adjusted the ties accordingly. He swallows with difficulty, especially noticing how your hair isn’t in its usual condition shapened by various tools and pins. It’s loose and free and no longer haphazardly restrained, bold in movement as you turn your body towards him upon your recognition of the door being open. He swears there’s brilliance in your eyes as they widen at him, light up in a fashion he cannot fathom correctly from how they also appear to be bloodshot, almost as rosy as the tint currently coating your face and chest.

“Sherlock!” You beam, definitely with more excitement he’s ever been confronted with in your presence, “I thought I heard you pacing. I knew I wasn’t the only one in this building who couldn’t sleep.” As you lean towards him, your hands find the left and right sides of his door frame. Your cheek presses into your shoulder as you regard him with commendation in your glowing features, innocently acute joy settling in your smile and the crinkles around your eyes. He doesn’t understand how you could be so happy to see him nor why you’re even standing here before him this late, but he does catch how you’re swaying from one side to the next on his frame he feels an odd surge of resentment suddenly for.

“Pardon my asking, but what are you doing here at this time of night? Is something troubling you?” It would explain the time and lack of warning for this visit, and he almost furrows his brows in preparation for some kind of predicament to heed, but those inclinations soon fly out the window as your palm reaches out to lay on his chest in efforts to appease the situation and dull the severity he’s approximated. He’s aware of how his heart rate picks up at the contact, but it’s hardly a point of contention or even importance because it’s occurred to Sherlock how you’re leaning not for warmth or security, but because you’re off balance. The disturbance of your equilibrium leads him to watch your body language and hear your speech pattern which sounds oddly slurred now that he’s thinking on it.

“No, nothing, nothing is troubling me,” you reassure with a pregnant pause in the air. You knit your eyebrows together as your smile falls into a thin line. “I suppose the apparent absence of company is troubling, but other than that, everything else is swell. It’s just the loneliness.” Your hand comes off his chest to wave off the worry simultaneously as your other hand departs from Sherlock’s door frame. In doing so, you stumble forward and almost fall, but Sherlock’s stature does not allow for that to happen. Seeing that he’s a force in front of you, his arms piston out to hold underneath yours, and under another circumstance possibly coupled with deep embarrassment, you would most likely lean away and apologize. Instead, you linger into his touch, weight shifting into him that is both nothing to Sherlock and yet so critically eminent to him all the same. He can smell something florally sweet coming from you and something so distinct that his conclusion of your visit is strengthened and emboldened by it.

“You’re drunk,” he conjects aloud, having already deciphered it internally. It’s relevant and obvious and sure it took him little time to figure it out, much less than the average person would take, but there’s a small portion of him that feels foolish because for a split second, for a split second he believed you were overjoyed to see him simply because he was him. Your drunken stupor’s seeking another’s companionship and there’s nothing particularly special about it being Sherlock since he was clearly the closest nearby.

“It would seem that way, but nonetheless alone!” You protest and concurrently confirm his thoughts at the same time. “You’re aberrantly strong,” you continue, your hands grasping at his tight forearms without a hint of shame. He almost slips and grins, but he keeps his impassive nature and gestures towards the hall. If he takes a few steps out, he could see your flat’s door from here. There’s not much distance to cover to get you safely back into your home.

“I’ll walk you back to your flat.” Sherlock’s willing to help you back and is fully prepared to do so, but you’re quick to rip your arms from his hold. The motion almost sends you flying backwards which then prompts him to shoot his arms out to further guide and protect, but fortunately, you find your footing and attempt to stand taller, squaring off your shoulders and raising your chin.

“You can’t make me go back there. If I see that damned sewing machine again, I’ll… I’ll put it out of its misery!”

A threat of this sort should not bother Sherlock whatsoever, especially not one threatening an inanimate object that not only he does not use, but one that couldn’t affect him directly no matter its livelihood or destruction. Yet, as he takes in your stance, your folded arms over your chest in your sincerity, drunk or not, he knows you’re not at all bluffing. You’ll break it and your sober-self will experience the consequences of such, your work no longer able to be attended to unless you replace the item. It’ll greatly inconvenience you and you have quotas to fill, clients to attend to, a business to run that he cannot authorize to be blundered due to one night of overindulgence. You work too hard and he couldn’t let you throw that away just because you drank a bit too much in one sitting.

“I suppose I could see what our other neighbors are up to. There’s bound to be someone awake, right? Maybe Mrs. Hudson is having a late night tea,” you ponder audibly with one finger coming up to thoughtfully caress your chin. You solely take one step to venture further into the hall, but Sherlock’s arm captures your waist this time, firmly planting you in your spot in front of his door frame. Before you could kick your feet out and push him away (you do neither, and make no efforts to do so, really), he levels you with his gaze and tilts his head to his flat. He feels your hands lightly grasp his arm in place at your waist. If he didn’t know the context of this situation, he would’ve guessed your arms would then wind about his neck for some kind of intimate dance. This does not happen, his mouth dry from how close this contact is nonetheless. It’s almost as overwhelming as how he had to hold still as you prodded him for measurements earlier in the day, except it’s you who’s in a vulnerable position with an inebriated dilemma and an insufficiency of clothing. Such insufficiency that others would deem improper, and worse, take advantage of, your reputation around bound to be soured due to everyone’s perception of what it meant to be a gentleman and what it meant to be a lady. This behavior is in defiance of that perception and he couldn’t enable you to make a fool of yourself, he wouldn’t forgive himself. He does not trust people.

“I have tea,” he clarifies after he realizes that there was too long of a bout of you two just locking eyes. His arm slowly snakes from where it’s encircled about your waist, but a helpful hand maneuvers to your back to further help you steady yourself. Your smile soon returns and your walking continues, this time into Sherlock’s flat.

“Why didn’t you just say so?”

One arm lays over Sherlock’s broad shoulder, the other reaching out to touch trinkets that Sherlock gingerly pulls you away from. From what he can tell, you’re in awe of what you see the more you two explore the length of his floor. He gently deposits you onto his loveseat to sit down.

“Here you are,” he says and then stands towering over you. You’re gazing up at him with the same admiration and astonishment that you did when you first entered his home and he chooses to ignore it. “Stay here and try not to touch anything. I’ll get the tea brewing.”

He’s reluctant to leave you behind seeing as his work is in disarray, his own form of organization that could easily be misshapen by your currently all-too-curious hands, but he also fears that you’ll do something worth regretting if he doesn’t entertain you and keep your attention in some way.

“Sir, yes, Sir,” you nod, one hand saluting him. “I won’t touch anything.” Normally, he wouldn’t believe someone with sticky fingers under the influence, but it’s different with you. He finds it easier to trust you when you smile at him like that and the amusement from how you then sit on your hands certainly skews his judgment.

Despite the slight nerves urging him to stay here with you, he soon finds his kitchen and pours water into a pot. He drank tea earlier so there’s not any that he can grab for you at this time at his disposal. It’s not much of a hassle placing the pot onto heat, his teapot checked for the proper leaves he would soon pour boiling water into. He wonders what preference you may have, if you favor lavender, or perhaps peppermint, or maybe something simple like black tea. He wonders if you drink some in the early hours of the morning to properly wake up, if you brew some for the sake of having something warm to drink with a fresh muffin for breakfast, if you rely on it to calm your rapidly beating heart in the plight of increasing stress. Sherlock wonders if this what you drink when you’re reading, if it’s what you nurse with cautious sips in the midst of stitching pieces together, if it’s what you turn to when you cannot sleep and you decide that you might as well find some kind of warmth in it with blankets that aren’t doing their job, and dreams that won’t make slumber any more appetizing. He wonders if it’s stopped assisting like it used to and instead of taking distance from it to rebuild its charm and tease tolerance, he wonders if it was easier to turn to wine. If it was easier to drink more and more than to sit with thoughts that won’t dare to leave you alone, if each gulp of the alcohol silenced them and buried them until the consciousness of being alive is nothing but a ghost of a whisper you cannot hear unless you’re left without hobby, task, or another human being. If you become painfully aware of how you have no one but yourself in moments like these. Oh, he wonders, he wonders. He wonders if you’re just like him.

It’s the distant sound of a door opening and closing that stops him from wondering. His head snaps up from staring at the surface of the water and immediately, he attends where he left you. When he sees you’re no longer sitting at his loveseat, he pivots to the front door and then marches over to it. Swinging it open, he glances back and forth to see if you left. Knowing that you’re drunk, you couldn’t have possibly gone far, but you’re nowhere in his sight and the thrill of panic sets into his back. It’s the creaking floorboards in his flat that drive him to step back inside, the door shut behind him as he tries to follow the muffled sound for as long as it carries, which isn’t long. Still, it leads him into his bedroom and he cautiously infiltrates the area only to find his made bed now in disorder with you settled underneath his comforter. Your hair fans out in a halo on his pillow as you bury your head into it, your eyes lazily coming open to meet his gaze.

“I told you not to touch anything,” he says, his voice quiet. It’s lacking sternness, but he can’t really be upset since he brought you into his flat with little control in your hands. He’s taking in your size in comparison to the size of his bed.

“I know, but,” you yawn, your eyes shutting in the process, nose wrinkling, a cushiony soft sigh falling from in between your lips that he equates to the hymns he’s heard inside of churches, “I got tired waiting for you. Your bed’s awfully comfortable. I think I might actually fall asleep.”

He didn’t take long in the kitchen, he knows that. However, he’s been drunk before, he understands how those minutes alone must’ve felt like centuries to your own devices. He should be shooing you out and getting you downstairs to sleep in your bed, but something in him can’t seem to do so. You look so… peaceful. It’s not like he was going to make any use of his bed himself since he planned to think all night, at most falling into his sofa for an hour or two of rest. With how much you’ve been through and how you’re constantly working yourself to the bone, Sherlock’s long acquiesced to having you spend the night here before he’s rationalized it.

“Go ahead. You deserve repose.” Sherlock comes closer to adjust your/his pillow. He doesn’t want you to wake with an uncomfortable kink in your neck or aggravate the impending migraine you’ll certainly wake with. He’s in the middle of fluffing, his wrists above your head, when he feels your hands grasp at them. Your hold is dainty, barely there, but he could feel it scorching him. He restrains himself, from doing what he doesn’t know, as he looks down into the depths of your pleading eyes, as your right thumb maddeningly strokes the sliver of skin unprotected by his shirt’s cuff. He confronts the drought in his mouth again and it travels to his throat the longer you keep your hold on him. An onlooker would surely be apprehensive to this image. His brother would absolutely lose his mind if he knew about Sherlock’s abandonment of propriety with an unmarried, unbetrothed woman laying in his bed. He would absolutely lose his mind if he knew of the thoughts mashing together in Sherlock’s head, one after the other, of how he could climb in and join you.

“Lay with me,” you breathe, almost as if you could hear those pesky fantasies clouding his mind. He grips the pillow tighter as he considers it. The prospect, as much as he wants to deny it, is tempting. Something… something in him wants to accept it. Something in him wants to settle in beside you. It’s that something, whatever the hell it is, that causes him to release the pillow from his tightening vise. He brings his hands to himself, your hold physically easy to depart from, but the willpower to pull away is what he had to muster. He feels out of breath.

“I… I-I have to go get your tea.” He points to the door and thankfully, you don’t say anything else. You just watch as he leaves the room.

What you don’t see is how his back leans into the door after he closes it, a large hand coming up to scrub down the length of his face. He’s not sure what came over him or why he even dared to consider laying with you in such a state. It’s wrong. For many reasons. The main being how you’re not sober and unaware of what you were asking for. This is not something he can do. It’s against everything he stands for. Whatever this is, whatever realm of feelings you’ve awakened within him, they have to stop. It’s unknown, thought manipulating—a distraction. Before you came in, he was busy with work. Work he has to get back to now that you’re taken care of and out of his sight. His hands clench into fists and then stretch out at his sides as he ventures back to the kitchen and pours the hot water into the teapot. He picks out the black tea leaves at the end and stares at the door to his bedroom with a tray in his hands.

He’s ready to tell you how there will be no funny business and how this is purely a friend looking out for a friend, nothing more or less, as he brings the door open… only to find you asleep, one of his pillows firmly in your arms, half of your face pressing into it. He sighs and eventually brings the tray to his bedside table. You’ll need it when you wake up.

Maybe he’ll tell you tomorrow morning.

#henry cavill #henry!sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #enola holmes #l4l.writes #beyond answers #the distraction of rising temperature #henry cavill x reader

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hi! I love your Lords of Chaos writings,(love how you describe Pelle)

I wanted to ask if you could do a necrobutcher x reader(fem)... To be hones anything. But if you want an idea, you could do something where reader is friends with necro, and Eronymous made a party where he invited reader.( I dont really care what kind you do tbh, its just annoying that no one really writes for necro and hellhammer.

If you do, thank you sweets! Have a nice day!

Party and a cold night

warning : drinking, fluff, kissing

Info : Happy that you like my writing (and on Dead as I'm always saying I try to keep the characters as realistic as possible) I could work with your request don't worry a sweet kinda things have fun reading :)

masterlist

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a call he had needed that the band no the group of friends of darkness knew where they would get not only free beer next but also the best music. Black Metal.

The black circle had planned not to terrorize the city this weekend but to do something quiet like a small home concert, a concert that the founder and messenger of the only true music Eruonymous had announced to his friends on the phone. He knew that at a party for all young adults, teenagers and metalheads the best inspiration and music could be heard.

It would be almost like a dark fair because a few artists would also come and with Dead's art and his almost poem-like words, everything would be perfect with Faust's music collection. And in the end they would all wake up drunk with a hangover anyway just to either carry on or go home and make music again the next day.

There was only one or the other. Including the calls from his one and only album cover artist who came across the group by chance with the help of her then chance acquaintance Necrobutcher.

She almost ran him over with her car on her way to a showcase in some music store but now. Now, as her gaze turned out the window towards the street, she could see the light shining on her car, the light that was pointing towards her apartment, the machine that led to the tyo she almost killed.

He was here she hurriedly put black lipstick on her lips and took one last look in the mirror, grabbing her bag before running down the stairs out of her apartment and falling into his arms outside in the cool darkness of the night. The smell of leather and flowers on him was almost cute.

She knew that he liked flowers, unlike the others, he was still "normal" and always helped his mother plant flowers because of the sweet smell. ,,Evening, my love," he greeted her and gave her a gentle kiss before she got on the bike behind him and they both rode through the night towards Euronymous.

The one who was responsible for the fact that they would all soon be ruling the world if you overdo it either way was a thing they both agreed on. Even though all the rumors and incidents had told them both to be careful, the last thing they wanted was to have the police with them.

But that was something they wouldn't worry about now that night she could feel his warmth despite the elder jacket wrapped around his upper body, the light muscles from his training, his motorcycle, the trips they had always taken together and so many more to come.

,,You sweetheart must have missed me, didn't you?" he asked, looking briefly over his shoulder and winking at her before she gave him a kiss on the cheek and he was able to concentrate on the road again.

But his grip on her as they drove around curves he put his hand on her thigh he was gentle warm and tender he loved her she knew it and she loved him they both held each other no matter the time. ,,I miss you every second," she said, smiling before enjoying the cool breeze of the night as the minutes passed and the conversation moved from small talk to new artwork, flowers and date ideas.

One thing she appreciated about him was when he told her exactly what he wanted and didn't hide behind the cool façade like the others. He put a little heart in her eyes and she gave him another kiss, which he returned as they slowed down.

They stopped in front of the shack that served as a house and music studio but like everything, it was the inner values that counted. ,,The incredible castle," he mumbled, getting off the mojo bike before offering her his hand, which she accepted with a grin.

,,Quite incredible," she replied and the two of them walked to the door laughing and banging on it as the doorbell didn't work and they both knew that Euroynmous wouldn't spend money on such a thing. The music was loud and they thought they would have to smash another doorbell to get in.

But luck seemed to be on their side as the door opened and the black-haired band founder stood in front of them with a beer. ,,Guys! Come on in, it's nice that you're here, you're missing Dead's singing, come on in!" he shouted through the music and simply pressed his beer into Necrobutcher's hand and gave the artist a new one and closed the door behind them.

But his two friends could only smile, they didn't know their mutual friend any differently when he was drunk, he was exuberant and in a celebratory mood.

And that's exactly what they did: they drank, celebrated, sang along and had a damn good time together for themselves and with their friends at this amazing party night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@icarus-star

#lords of chaos movie #loc 2018 #lords of chaos 2018 #loc necrobutcher x reader #lords of chaos necrobutcher x reader #jonathan barnwell

[bunnyswritings]

ur blog is soo helpful !!!! ive been looking into writing more lately and this is like a godsend <3 i was wondering if u could do some starter tips?? like stuff to avoid as a new writer :o ps. hope ur having a wonderful week!!!

ahhh, hello!! this is such a sweet message, and thank you, i hope you have a fruitful week ahead too ♡ i'm so glad you're writing more lately- i'll def do my best to provide some starter tips (though i'm really also a starter myself 😅 so i hope you like these, and feel free to let me know what you think!) also, just to put it out there that these are what i found helpful personally / what i think will be helpful, and may / may not resonate with everyone. Also, this topic is soooo broad and there are a million things that can be covered, but for now I'll just keep it short and go with stuff to avoid (or rather, approach differently) as per request. if you / anyone else would like another post for more specific writing tips, feel free to drop it in my ask box!

Some general writing tips — stuff to avoid; little things to not overdo

over-planning

overusing fancy vocabulary

over-describing

over-criticising your work

over-comparing

more details under the cut!

Over-planning — plan the general outline, direction of your plot, message of your story, characters and their rough personalities; yes, do all that well! good planning makes for a good story, but i think it's helpful to remember that sometimes things don't pan out the way we envision them to. and it's important to let certain things go, appropriately of course. if your initial storyline doesn't quite fit the characterisation of the protagonist etc (and vice versa), then perhaps it's time to rethink things — and NOT be too hard-up about it. [tldr: be flexible!]

Overusing bombastic vocabulary — i'm sure you've come across millions of writing advice pieces that aim to spruce up your vocabulary with bombastic phrases. by all means go ahead and pick a few that fit the mood and style of your writing. otherwise, i'd say that sometimes, less is more. throwing in fancy words for the sake of it may not be as helpful as you think. there should be a fine balance between using words that add flavour + help to illustrate nuances and using words to make your piece seem complex. simplicity goes a long way, as i've learnt. but having said that, building up a solid repertoire of vocabulary / good phrases is always helpful, the key thing is using those phrases in the right context. definitely easier said than done, so i suggest reading your favourite author's works couple of times through and pick up their way of using language to their advantage.

Over-describing — narration, descriptive language are great, and can really help to nudge your story in the right direction. it helps set the scene, the mood, and all these are critical in writing... BUT! not the same can be applied to describing actions. not every single action has to be written out explicitly — an example: she walks over to the kitchen, turns around, and opens the refrigerator. she then takes out a canned drink, and places the drink on the countertop... etc — you get the point. some things can be left implied, rather than explicit.

Over-criticising your work — ahh, the age-old piece of advice. i do it all the time, and you probably do too... sometimes, being harsh on yourself and on your work may seem like the only way to better yourself and push your limits, but often times, i personally find that this is counter-productive both on the physical and mental front. it wears you down, it is a nidus for dejection and negative vibes. i think the way i try to get round this is by taking pride in my own work; telling myself that 'this is something i wrote, these are my ideas put into prose, these are my thoughts written on paper'. the caveat here is that avoiding being over-critical of your work DOES NOT and should not mean avoiding proofreading. proofreading is extremely crucial to check for grammatical and structural errors (i recommend doing it once or twice yourself, and if possible, getting a fresh pair of eyes to do the same).

Over-comparing — this ties in nicely with the previous point. take pride in your work! this is something original from you and you only, written in your unique style. having authors/writers whom you look up to is essential in moulding your writing style and habits, but should not be the sole focus when you write. remember that every writer is different, every piece of writing is different; this goes even for pieces with similar plots / tropes / character personalities. nuances, subtleties and underlying messages can come through very differently when written by different people. after all, our life journeys are all personal, which is a factor influencing the way we convey messages across through the written word.

and... that's it for now! i really hope that this helps. honestly, i'm scratching the surface here, and there are lots more i can talk about when i have more braincells >_<

feel free to drop any other requests or questions in my ask if you'd like ♡

#writing tips #writing resources #writing inspo #writing inspiration #writing advice #creative writing #creative writing prompts #writing prompts #prompts #writerscommunity #writeblr #fanfiction prompts #new writer boost #writer #writing dialogue #bunnyswritings #bunnyrequests #bunnyrambles

[silverbladexyz]

Hi love! How are you? How have you been? Sorry for bothering, can I request Chuuya boyfriend headcanons please?

Thank you! Have a nice day/night!! 💞💞

Hiiii I'm alright, just kind of stressed recently because of life :') but I'm surviving! How about you?

The image does not belong to me. It belongs to it's original owner.

TW: Mentions of death, violence, slight suggestiveness. Gender neutral reader

Chuuya boyfriend headcanons

-Let's see... to win Chuuya's love and trust is no easy feat. To start off with, he's a Port Mafia executive, which means that he barely has any time for friendships, let alone love. And to top it all off, he himself has lost too many people in his life, something which made him put up all those walls around himself in fear of losing someone else again

-Be prepared for a lot of denial and internal conflict once he realises his feelings for you. Chuuya is not one that is entirely in tune with his emotions, and to express what he is feeling proves to be an even harder feat for him. He might give shorter and more curt answers back to you, and might even distance himself from you if he's overwhelmed with this foreign feeling called 'love'

-But once you do get into a relationship with him, it is one full of passion and sacrifices. Chuuya's loyalty knows no bounds, and trust me when I say that he will commit everything to you. He holds onto you like you were something that could be blown away from him by a mere breeze, yet he holds you as if you were a fragile treasure, one so hardly acquired and easily lost

-He is quite protective. Desperate to not lose you, he will take extra measures to ensure that you are safe whenever he is not around you. Whether you were another Mafia executive or just a normal civilian, Chuuya will always make sure that another Mafia member was around your area should you run into trouble when he was not there

-It will take Chuuya a while to get used to being in a relationship with you. He's still learning, so he would really appreciate it if you told him what he could improve on or what your opinion on some of his actions in the relationship was. He wants to be the perfect boyfriend for you, and he will try his absolute hardest to learn and make himself someone deserving of your love and attention. Please assure him that he is enough already

-Affection isn't something he is used to as well. Even his friends in the Mafia only did as far as to give him a pat on his shoulder, or even a hug in the rarest of instances. So if you suddenly give him a kiss out of nowhere, or brush your fingers against his lovingly, he will freeze a little bit before slowly reciprocating it. But over time, he does become more comfortable with affection, as long as you don't overdo it

-Now his love language would either be acts of service or quality time. Chuuya isn't the best at words or affection, and he does get you gifts every now and then, but since this relationship is so foreign for him it would take a while for him to use other ways to show his love for you. He would be more than happy to learn how to tell you 'I love you' through actions and thoughts

-Chuuya would definitely be a lot more gentle and vulnerable in a relationship. He trusts you completely, and he isn't one to hide secrets from you as he values honesty. While he may be brash and temperamental, he is also perfectly capable of showing that soft side he locks away in himself, and he shows it to you and you only

-Further on into the relationship, be prepared for Chuuya to tell you everything. His past, his insecurities, his trauma, everything. He doesn't expect you to comfort him or help him, he just wants someone whom he can talk to and not worry about being betrayed or judged. So when you hugged him and assure him of how strong he was and how lucky you were to have him, it's from there on that Chuuya appreciates you the most he has ever appreciated you before

-Chuuya has a few hobbies that he likes to do in his free time, but he is interested in your hobbies as well, and often does them with you as he gets to spend more time with his beloved. His favourite things to do with you include taking you on motorcycle rides, have friendly sparring matches with you, wine-tasting, and even just shopping for exquisite and high-end clothes. He'd involuntarily spoil you since he has a lot of money, but he doesn't mind it if you spoil him too

-Kissing was a whole new experience. He will start off a bit rough and awkward at first, so it is mostly up to you to guide him with small movements of your lips and fleeting touches with your fingertips. Chuuya is surprised at how much he likes to kiss you, and you do note that his kisses do eventually get a bit softer as time goes on

-But if you wanted to make out with him? He's down for it and will mostly take the lead. His hands will grip you firmly but gently on your waist as he dominates the kiss. Spice it up a little by fighting back or by teasingly running your fingers along some more of his sensitive spots on his neck. However, he will get you back for it

-Love him, and he will love you back infinite times more than your love for him. Chuuya Nakahara is but a man; a man who has had everyone leave him; a man who doesn't let his past define who he is. His love for you will forever burn brighter than the flames of passion that consume his very being

So I feel like this was more deeper and serious than all my other posts. Chuuya to me is such a complex and deep character and it gives me a rare sense of thrill to write for him, especially when I get to analyse the other parts of his character that is not explicitly shown or told.

@circinuus @nekokinax @xxsigmakinniexx @xxelfmamaxx @yuugen-benni @ashthemadwriter @lakeside-paradise @catzlivedforbsd @sariel626 @yukitomybeloved @irethepotato @voyagewiththesatan @arisu-chan4646 @chuuyas-beloved

#silverbladexyz #bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader

[shautiecultist]

Flowers

florist!lottie x tattooartist!reader summary: lottie introduces herself to the new tattoo shop owner warnings: none

Lottie was so focused on creating the most stunning arrangements in her flower shop that she hardly paid attention to the world around her. However, she was curious when she noticed a new store next door - a tattoo shop. While it was completely different from her world of flowers, she couldn't resist how intrigued it made her feel.

When she stepped inside, she immediately felt the smell of ink and leather permeated the air, and the sound of metal music playing in the background.

You were working behind the counter when a new customer stepped through the door, taking in the shop with a few quick glances around the room.

She was dressed completely differently from any of your other customers. She was wearing a pink dress decorated with a floral print with an apron covered in some dirt, and her hair was up in a loose ponytail. So it was safe to say that she looked completely out of place in the rough appearance of your tattoo shop.

"Hi. How can I help you?" You say, approaching Lottie, still figuring what someone like her could possibly want in a place like this.

Lottie couldn't help but smile at the sight of you coming to greet her. You were a lot more welcoming than she would've expected from someone who just opened a tattoo shop. And in that moment, she was glad she'd decided to pop over to introduce herself.

"Hi. I'm Lottie. I own the flower shop right next door, and I just wanted to say hello. You know, make sure I'm being a good neighbor," she says with an awkward laugh to ease up how nervous she felt in a place like this.

"Of course," you said, surprised at how forward she was acting. "I just opened today and plan on staying, so we might as well get along, right?"

Lottie laughed, taking in your appearance, which seemed so opposite to her own, from the amount of tattoos you have to the clothes you're wearing. Nonetheless, you two couldn't help but notice how attracted you already feel to each other.

"Yeah, for sure," she said. "I wouldn't want to get in your way or anything. I'm just glad we're next door, in case either of us needs anything. Like supplies or something." She paused for a second, feeling like she might be overdoing it. She could feel her cheeks starting to warm up, since she was never one to flirt, but something about the way you were so nice to her made her want to get to know you better.

"Well, anyways," she chuckled. "I should probably get going."

Lottie stepped out of the tattoo shop, unsure of what to do with this newfound attraction to someone she just met.

At the same time she leaves, you turn around to go back to the counter when you see your friends and colleagues, Van and Nat, looking at you with amused smiles on their faces.

"What?" You say, a blush starting to appear on your cheeks as you know exactly what's about to come.

"Did you get her number?" Van asks.

"Did you ask her out? Did you make a fool of yourself?" Nat adds.

"Did you at least try to flirt with her a bit?" Both of them start laughing louder.

You roll your eyes at their teasing, but deep down, you can't deny that it got to you a bit. There is no denying that she was beautiful, but you could feel there was something more to her than her physical appearance. 

"Come on, who was that? Why are you so red?" Van laughs.

"She's the owner of the flower shop next door. She was just being nice by introducing herself to her new neighbors. Now quit it"

"Oh lighten up. Just go talk to her again. Who knows? You might have a shot." Van says.

"Yeah, and if not, you'll probably get a free flower next time you walk by," Nat adds, giggling.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #my posts

[yxnjinsduality]

✒ Tattoos

𖦹 genre : romance, fluff, idol!Jisung

𖦹 pairing : Han jisung x fem reader

𖦹 warnings : swearing (not a lot though)

𖦹 summary : You're just a girl who does & has tattoos living a care free life. Jisung is just an idol looking to get a secret tattoo, what happens when jisung becomes interested in the girl with tattoos. They say curiosity killed the cat but what if it didn't?

𖦹 a/n : I'm finally writing for my skz bias! I tried to put some of jisung's characteristics but at the same time wanted this to make sense so here we go.

You didn't expect to come in today as you had made plans previously that got cancelled due to an inconvenience. Nonetheless you came into work even though you could've stayed home! You love your job you really do though it might seem like a worthless job to some people being a tattoo artist is everything to you.

Setting up your station like you usually do so that when somebody comes in you're ready to get to work. Taking out the different color inks getting the tattoo bed ready you see what's on the agenda today, any scheduled tattoos and so on.

Most people that come into the shop are just looking for something new to get tattooed on themselves. Though some people really think about what they're gonna get and how they want it to look. You've done some really heartfelt tattoos over time and you must say they were gorgeous and you'd do them 100 times over.

Of course you have tattoos yourself, you wouldn't be a tattoo artist without them! Though your tattoos make people think you're unapproachable and mean, you really aren't you're a sweetheart. You have about 18 tattoos some without meaning some with, let's just say you've explored your options.

You love to tattoo women!! The women always have the best tattoo ideas and they take pain like a champ it always impresses you how the women barely flinch at the feeling. You, yourself know the pain of getting tattoos and mannn does it hurt! Though your smiling and blank face when getting them never shows that.

You like to think how many tattoos will you end up with in the future. You want more but you also don't want to overdo it too much, nothing's wrong with having a body full of tattoos you just can't see yourself having that many. You love doing name tattoos! It's what you specialize in a name can bring such sincerity and love from just being a name.

Hearing the ring of the bell at the door means someone has walked into the tattoo shop where you sit in your chair waiting for the person to be appointed to you. iPad in hand so you can easily look up some ideas in case they don't have any and are ready to draw their ideas down if they do.

Hearing someone walk into your station, looking up your met with a dark haired man who looks to be about his twenties you get up to greet him. "Hi welcome to the shop what can I do for you today", you say with a smile on your face ready to do what you love doing the most. "I don't really have a clue what I want, do you think you would help me out?", the dark haired man asked sitting down on the tattoo bed.

You being who you are accepted to help the man "sure, but let's start with introductions! I'm (your name) hbu?" ,You say to the dark haired man wondering what his name could be, "I'm jisung nice to meet you", he says looking down at you sitting in your chair. Looking up at him swiping through your iPad for tattoo ideas you say "nice to meet you too jisung, so what wouldn't you want for a tattoo?", you ask so that you could narrow down what he might wanna get.

"um no animals, symbols or portraits of people",he says thinking if he might want to add anything else to that list. "Okay got it, are you looking to do something random or something with a meaning?", you ask writing down the things he doesn't want as a tattoo on your notes. "Something meaningful I don't want to get something that I'll regret", he says to you truthfully hoping he can come to a decision soon.

Looking at him you think of some suggestions to make, yea you've done lots of meaningful tattoos but you've never given a suggestion for them, your clients usually have them thought out. "think of something you love, something that means the world to you", you say hoping he thinks of something he loves so you can start sketching.

While he takes his time to think of something you get your setup ready for anyone who decides to get a tattoo asap meaning here and now. You also love doing little unnecessary tattoos like, hearts, smiley faces yk those type of things if they want them you'll do them plus tiny ones like those can be covered by another tattoo in the future no biggy.

"so have you thought of anything?", you ask jisung looking at your different colored ink. "yea actually, just don't treat me differently after I tell you", jisung says which makes you raise an eyebrow in confusion and interest. "Of course not, now tell me so I can get to sketching some ideas", you say looking up at him.

"I'm an idol yk Kpop group, and the 7 boys I'm in a group with are like everything to me their my brothers", jisung says looking at you stars in his eye as he talks about the 7 people he loves. "Okay so I'm going to ask for more details just so I can get more of a perspective of what to sketch", you say genuinely ready to hear what he has to say so you can sketch down some ideas.

"uh sure how much time do I have?", jisung asks looking at you. "You have till 11 at night that's when I get off", you say, you truthfully have all day so anything works for you. "Okay thanks, but don't you have other people you'd have to attend to?", jisung asks in interest wanting to know if he was taking up your time. "Technically I can attend to other people that come in today yes, but there are other people who work here to attend to them it's also Monday one of our less busy days", you say to him reassuring him he had as much time as he wants.

After telling jisung that he begins to tell you details about the 7 people or his brothers and how they impact his life and much more. You listen intently sketching as you do, some people may think you aren't listening to a thing he has to say but really you are it's called multitasking. If you weren't listening you wouldn't have heard him say "sometimes it feels like they were with me since the day I was born", but you did.

An hour later jisung has stopped talking and is now looking up at you seeming as he has a question. "question?", you ask still looking at your sketches, "how long have you been doing this if you don't mind me asking", jisung asks in curiosity.

"I've been doing tattoos since I was 19 I'm 23 now after this year it will be 5 years", you say genuinely thinking of how far you've come in the tattoo industry. "Wow that's amazing, you must love what you do", jisung says smiling at you. Of course you love what you do! You wouldn't be doing it if you didn't what's the fun in that. "Yea I really do", you say thinking about all the tattoos and stuff you've ever done.

"I find you really interesting", jisung says looking at you with much more curiosity now, "Really? Why is that?", you ask curious why an idol or anyone would be interested in you! a tattoo artist. "I just feel there's more to you than just a tattoo artist", he says looking you in the eye, no one has ever said that to at your job or outside of it to be honest you appreciate he thinks of you that way.

"well haven't you heard? curiosity killed the cat", you say in a joking tone laughing while looking at jisung.

"well I guess I'm the cat, but I'm looking to survive", he says laughing.

Part 2?

Do not copy or translate my work with ASKING me first/ all chapters are copyrighted @yxnjinsduality 2024 ©️

#kpop kpop #stray kids #skz stay #tumblr fyp #main page #han jisung #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids jisung

[jelly-and-strawberries]

When you go on a date ft. The Eldarya Boys ♡

Leiftan

– He prefers dates that are intimate, he wants to be able to kiss you and touch you without curious gazes. – He usually gives you something at the start of the date, like a flower or a small trinket that reminded him of you. – Whether you are walking or laying down, he always holds your hand. – If you're cold, he will give you his cape and hold you close to his chest. – When on a date, Leiftan gets greedy and wants your whole attention on him, so poor of those who dare to interrupt your moment together. – He's more of a listener, so he will listen to you talk about anything with genuine interest. – He'll buy you whatever you want, you just have to repay him with kisses.

Ezarel

– Before meeting you, he viewed dates as a waste of time. – Now he wants every night to be date night. – He's okay with going out, staying in, just being with you is special as it is. – He puts dedication to look good for you when you have a date. – His favorite activity to do with you in date nights is going skinny dipping. – He talks a lot about his daily struggles and pranks, but would also ask you questions about yourself just to hear your voice. – Loves when you put on a sundress for going on a date.

Lance

– He doesn't care about dates, since you already see each other everyday. – You practically live with him in his room, bedtalk is like a date, right? – He will go along on a date if it's what you really want, but he'll also tease you for being so needy. – He likes how you stick close to him to not get separated while walking around. – He pays for everything before you even have the chance. – He loves when you get all doll up, but hates caughting others staring at you without any shame. – He tries his best to walk at your pace, since he's taller. – He's not a big talker, but he's all smooth when giving you compliments.

Nevra

– He is not a big fan of dates, or so he says… – You know he's very romantic, but he won't admit it. – He always prepares the best for you and being the 2nd. in command makes it easier for him to spoil you. – He puts his arm around your waist when walking. – Nevra will give you a bouquet of flowers ocasionally, he doesn't want to overdo it. – He prefers sitting in front of you so he can see your pretty face and reactions. – He truly enjoys spending his free time with you on dates, it's energizing and what he needs after a hard day of work.

Valkyon

– He's another one who prefers more intimate settings. – His heart skips a bit when you hold onto his arm while walking/sitting. – He likes dates because he gets to relax and being with you is always fun. – He melts when someone asks you what you are going to do later and he hears you say that you're having a date with your boyfriend. – He would pay everything for you, to be honest, he has more money than he needs to and spending on you makes him feel happy. – Loves when you randomly hug him during the date. – His favorite part of going on a date is seeing your smile.

Mathieu

– He loves going on dates, he gets all excited and can't sleep the day prior. – He takes you to his favorite places in Eldarya, some he found on his own and others are recommendations from Chrome and Koori. – He talks a lot and never fails to make you laugh with his stories. – If you get tired of walking, he'll offer to give you a foot massage. – He'll save money to be able to buy you anything you like, he wants to spoil you. – Mathieu enjoys when you act all clingy during dates and gets to feels the jealous stares of everyone else. – He always gives you big reactions when seeing you all doll up.

I would have loved to see us having a date in NE...

#eldarya #eldarya the origins #eldarya a new era #eldarya new era #eldarya leiftan #eldarya headcanon #eldarya to #eldarya ane #eldarya ezarel #eldarya lance #eldarya nevra #eldarya mathieu #eldarya valkyon

[cryptomiracle]

𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

content: creepypastas with a "crazy" s/o

Genre: one shot, x reader, obsessive reader

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••••••••••••••

WARNINGS!!

Blood

Obsession

Kidnapping

Toxic "relationships"

Swearing

Starvation

Mentions of murder

Mentions of dismemberment

A gun

This will be kinda like a mini series, feel free to request any characters! (I will only be doing one creepypasta at a time, so I don't overdo myself lol)

••••••••••••••

ngl, I wanted this to kinda give off 2014 creepypasta fanfic vibes, hence the name 😭

Ticci toby:

Name: tobias erin rogers

Age: 20

Height: 5'11-6'0

Known information: toby is a sadistic serial killer, he often toys with his victims before killing them, he especially likes to hold his victims captive to torture them, or play mind games with them. He'll keep them for months at a time, only killing them once he gets bored, or tired of taking care of them.

The more he enjoys them, or the more entertaining he finds them, the longer he keeps them alive.

Unless of course he's ordered to kill them.

He often holds more than one person, sometimes kidnapping up to 3 people at a time.

He greatly enjoys, giving his victims "Stockholm syndrome" (Stockholm syndrome is a condition in which hostages develop a psychological bond with their captors) and in this case, that just so happens to be you.

about 8-9 months ago you were hiking in the woods, you went a little too deep in the woods, and saw something you weren't supposed to.. (toby burying a dismembered corpse)

you tried to run, and call for help, you really did.

But he was faster, his strength was almost inhuman, and he knew the woods better than you could ever hope to know.

Unfortunately, he eventually caught you. He knocked you out, and brought you back to his house in the woods, that was basically falling in on itself. hes always liked to take things slow, so he took you to his basement, and chained you to the wall by your ankle, the basement is dimly lit, it has nothing in it but a few shelves, a leaky pipe, and a dirty, blood stained, mattress on the floor.

after a month of only going down there to feed you (he only fed you enough to keep you alive) he eventually started to strike up conversations with you.

He'd start little by little, asking you if you needed anything (other than freedom), to bringing you things like a blanket, or different clothes. Maybe even giving you a little more food than usual..

By the 3rd month he'd start going down there more often, what he does down there depends on how you act.

Let's say to try to escape one too many times, or get too personal when you curse at him (like mentioning his mother)

he'll go down there just to break your spirit.

He'd do it over the course of a few months, just to make sure it really sticks with you.

When he first took you, he put you in that basement with practically nothing, right?

Well, if you act in a way that's not to his liking (rude, crying 24/7, yelling at him etc) he'll take the few things that you do have.

He'll take the bed, he'll cut off any light source down there, he'll take your clothes, he may even shave your head.

He'll stop feeding you as much, or even only feed you once you're at the brink of starvation.

Sometimes he'll go down there with a sandwich, or apple, and just eat it in front of you.

"how bad do you want it?"

He'll say while lightly shaking the food in front of you, like you would do to a dog.

"If you really want it.. beg for it."

Sometimes he'll just come down there to show you pictures and videos of his previous victims.

But, if you act in a way that he deems "good" he'll mainly just go down there to "hang out" with you

he'll bring you things like a note book and crayons, so you can draw together.

He'll talk to you about his day, (you're not allowed to talk back unless it's to compliment him, or criticize someone who pisses him off) or he'll bring a cd player down there so you can listen to his favorite song

After a while of doing that, he'll take the chance to manipulate you.

He'll start going on rants about his horrible childhood, (an attempt to make you sympathize with him) and make you comfort him as he sobs.

Other times he'll brush your hair for you, if you're "good enough" he may even let you take a bath.

with him in the room of course.

If you ever ask to be free, he'll start spewing all these different excuses

"I need you too much to let you go"

"d-do you not want to l-live with me anymore?"

"do I-I not treat you well enough?"

"what, am I not enough for you no-w??"

If you don't answer him, or you don't start apologizing, he'll stop talking to you all together for weeks on end, and only go down there to feed you.

He'll stop letting you bathe, you'll be right back at square one.

He may whisper little things like "you really hurt me, you know that y/n.." to you, just to make you feel bad.

Even though none of it is real, he genuinely feels nothing for you, his only purpose for you is pure entertainment until he can find another source.

toby is a very twisted individual, he fuels off of peoples pain.

He uses people to feed into his ego, and makes them think they need him.

The best case scenario would be for him to just forget about you, and let you starve to death down there.

By the 7-8th month, he'd already broken you.

The heinous amounts of violence, and manipulation he's applied to you, finally "worked".

He has you just how he wants you.

when you wake up it's toby.

When you go to sleep, it's toby.

He's everything you think about, how he feels, what he thinks, how deep your love for him is, how much he loves you, how you would do anything for him.

You would die for toby.

Your love for toby quickly became obsessive, once he made you aware of the lengths he went too just to keep you to himself

he's put so much time and effort into you, after all you've put him through, all the fights, all the escape attempts, he still stayed with you.

He still loved you.

He's so generous and kind to you, sometimes he even unchains you and lets you come upstairs with him

You're not allowed outside though, he tells you there are dangerous things out there, and people who will want to take you away from him.

And you believe him, why would toby ever lie to you?

He has no reason to, he could tell you how much he despised you, and you'd still love him, you're devoted to him, fully.

One day, he told you that he thought you might be lonely while he was gone "hunting", and that he was gonna get you a new friend

You were thinking that he meant a dog, or cat.. you couldn't be more wrong.

It was a rainy afternoon, you knew that because you could see through a tiny window leading out of the basement, you didn't know what time, or day it is because he didn't let you

All you know is that you've been here a while.

You hear the door open up stairs, and you recognize Toby's footsteps, they sound a bit heavier.. like he's carrying something.

You feel a twinge of excitement

you hear that same old creaky door open, and in comes toby.

Carrying an unconscious girl..

You can barely see, but it appears that she has mid length hair, she looks about 5'8, and she's very pretty.

He takes her to the other side of the room, and chains her hands to the wall.

The dim light shines through the window, casting a glow onto her.

She has brown hair, freckles, and tanned skin.

As you analyze her, that's when you notice a bobby pin in her hair.

You brush it off, and quickly forget about it.

At first you were jealous, but your worries were quickly dissipated when he did this, he clearly loved you the most, if she's the one thats almost fully immobilized.

he walked over to you, and kneeled in front of you.

He raised his gloved hand, and placed it on your cheek.

He removed his mouth guard, and lowered his lips down to your other cheek, he gently, and lovingly pressed a kiss into your cheek.

He lips felt cold pressed against your skin, almost as if he were a ghost.

His eyes are so dreamy, almost sirenic.

He let his hand linger on your cheek before he stood up, and walked back upstairs.

You turned your head to the girl, her body lay limp, almost as if she were dead.

you crawled over to her to get a better look, as you got closer you could tell she was covered in sweat, she must have been like you, running away from toby.

You've come to regret that, running away from him.

If only you knew how much he adored you.

Suddenly, her eyes shot open, and her breathing became labored.

She was frantically looking around the room

"it's okay.." you speak

she quickly looks at you

"where am I??" She says, her voice is hoarse, she tries to wiggle her hands out of the cuffs, but to no avail.

"a basement." You aren't rude when you say it, but there is a little sarcasm laced in your tone.

"oh.."

She sighs

After a few minutes of silence, she finally speaks again

"I'm jasmine... You?"

You stare at her for a few seconds before speaking

"y/n.."

She lightly smiles, you did as well.

After a few hours of small talk, you finally go to sleep.

3:58/15:58 am

"wake up"

You were roughly woken up by someone shaking you.

Its dark, so you couldn't tell who it is, but their voice is familiar.

you soon realize that it's jasmine, some how she'd freed herself from her chains.

"we're going to escape" she whispered

although she couldn't see it, confusion was plastered across your face.

You noticed that your ankle feels lighter, like how it feels when toby lets you roam around the cabin.

Before you could fully process what was happening, she had grabbed your arm and started to lead you upstairs.

you nearly trip as she pulls you up the stairs, and slowly opens the door.

the lights weren't on, and by this point your eyes are adjusted to the darkness.

the house looked as beat up as it usually did, the wallpaper was peeling, the floor was creaky, and the ceiling was still moldy.

She suddenly stops, and turns to you.

"We're gonna sneak to the kitchen, you keep watch while I look for a knife."

her tone of voice sounds strained, and desperate.

She starts dragging you again, when you stop dead in your tracks.

"what are you going to do with a knife?"

She turns, and looks at you, almost dumbfounded.

"we're gonna stab that sorry son of a b*tch that kidnapped us!"

Her voice slightly raised, anger was evident in her tone.

"oh.." you muttered, as you two crept through the hall.

You felt fury burn in your throat.

she doesn't know, she doesn't know how loving and kind toby is, how caring and considerate he is.

he's just misunderstood, and you're the only one who really understands him.

You two finally make it to the beat up kitchen, she lets you go, and leaves you at the entrance and starts going through the drawers.

as you lean against the wall, you start to look around the room.

that's when you notice something shiny sticking out from under the couch.

You turn your head to see her turned away from you, quietly rummaging through the shelves, and drawers.

You approach the couch, and kneel down to get a closer look.

It's a gun, a silver gun.

You remembered toby talking about stealing one of his "buddies" favorite guns, as a prank.

This must be where he hid it

You pulled it out, it was quite heavy.

You checked to see if it was loaded, it was..

you flinch as you hear Jasmine speak from behind you

"what'd you find?"

you quickly stand up, gun in hand.

Before she can say anything else, you point the gun right at her temple.

Confusion, and betrayal written on her face.

"I'm sorry, I really am.."

Right as she's about to respond, you pull the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot rings in your ears.

before you know it, her body falls to the ground, blood and brain matter spewing from the gunshot wound.

Silence surrounds you, you can feel your legs go limp as you flop into the couch.

You start to zone out, eyes focused on her dead body.

You drop the gun on the ground

You dont even notice the sound of toby storming through the halls

You lightly flinch when you feel hands roughly grab your shoulders

"WHAT DID YOU DO?"

He yells, his voice quickly draws your attention from jasmine, to him.

You try to speak, but you can't get the words out

"y/n.. what the F*CK did you do."

his voice is stern, he wasn't asking you, at this point he's commanding you to tell him.

"I-.." you hesitate

"she was going to kill you-u and.."

that's when it fully hit you, you had just killed someone.

Someone who thought they were helping you.

You immediately start sobbing, your tears sting as they roll down your cheek.

Toby embraces you, and pats your back as he does.

"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry toby, I'm sorry" you sob into his shoulder, your words are almost intelligible.

"it's okay.. you did it for me didn't you?"

you slightly pull away from the hug, and nod.

"Don't worry, I forgive you."

He whispers, his voice is now comforting, completely different than it was a minute ago, his expression has also changed.

His expression went from a confused, yet rage filled look, to a cheerful smile.

A smile that was a bit off putting, considering the situation.

He pulls you back into the hug, and you two stay like that all night long, until you fall asleep.

The next morning, toby tells you that you two have to bury the body "before it starts stinking up the place" and so you do.

You have her feet, and toby has her hands.

You two lay her body on the ground, you stare at her lifeless eyes, not even realizing that toby was talking to you.

"y/n!" He snaps his fingers in your face.

You quickly look at him

"I'm gonna go get some stuff, I'll be right back okay?"

You simply nod

As he walks off, you walk over to her, and close her eyes.

You can't handle her staring at you anymore.

Soon enough, toby comes back witt two shovels one for you, and one for him.

He hands you one, and you both start digging.

a few hours later

You were finally done, you went over to the body to help toby pick it up, but before you could toby kicked the body into the hole.

you stand beside him, as he shovels the dirt back into the hole.

You feel a cloud of guilt loom over you as you watch the dirt cover up more, and more of her corpse.

Tears start to fall from your eyes once more

As soon as he's done, you feel him wrap an arm around your torso.

You lean your head against his shoulder, and sigh as you wipe the tears from your eyes.

"I love you toby.." you whisper

"I know." he says before pressing a kiss onto your forehead.

I'm so sorry if this seemed rushed at the end, I wanted to get it out asap 🫶🏽

#creepypasta #headcanon #creepypasta headcanon #fanfic #ticci toby #creepypasta ticci toby #creepypasta x reader #x reader #obessive love

[romanestuffsposts]

I have a minor heart issue where I get episodes of a high heart rate and chest tightness. Can you possibly write one where their little has an episode like at home or maybe out with them running errands? 🥺💖

Hi there love! 💜

I really hope that you're fine! And I hope it's not too serious. You're so so strong let me tell you ❤️

I hope you like how i turned it, babe.

Enjoy <3

****

Warnings : episode of chest tighening, high heart rate, angst, comfort, pet names, working daddies, tiredness, daddies take care of you, cuddles, reassurance

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : you're about to prepare you a good lunch when something from earlier is suddenly coming back. Fortunately for you, your Daddies heard you and are here to make sure you're fine, as always.

A/N : I'm so sorry for the late post. I got a bit overwelmed about some things and I didn't had the strengh to keep working on my writing.

I had started writing some request but didn't finished them. But today, I had free times after school and the most important things, I didn't had any homeworks and I have a big week end of four days, starting tomorrow. So i'll have plenty times to rest and get my shit together.

Thank you for your understanding my love, you're all the best! Love you so much

I hope you had a good start to the week and will have wonderful days!

Big kisses,

Romane

Second A/N : i don’t know if how I wrote it in exact same way you have it- probably not but I hope that’s okay!

****

You're comfortably laying on the couch watching your favorite show. You're laying in here since the moment you woke up, you went to say good morning to your Daddies in their office right after you opened an eye.

They have a lot of work and they told you yesterday that they'll be working almost all day so, before jumping on the couch to do nothing you went to them a little good morning.

You could say they were very busy with work so you didn't stay for too long in their office. They kissed you good mornings and asked you if you had a good sleep but nothing more. You didn’t want to be a burden so you quickly excused yourself and left.

Now you're laying on the couch laughing your ass off as your show plays on the screen. But unfortunately for you, its the end of the show so now you don't know what to watch.

You grab the remote and put something else. You don't know what it is, you never heard the name of this movie nor heard about it but that's the first thing you found so you decide to let it there.

As you lie back on the couch, a loud siren suddenly yell from outside making you flinch hard. You feel your heartbeat going faster for a moment as you look at the window where the sound came from. The jump caused you to be on a sitting position now.

You feel your breathing going back to normal and the pain you felt in your chest due to the fear is going away by it's own. You slowly lie back down on the couch, taking some breath to be sure you're fully calm now.

You put your attention back on the screen and the incident is now completly forget as you're mind focus on the tv.

The movie isn’t that bad but you’re still happy when the screen goes black, announcing the end. You get up from the couch and make your way toward the kitchen to grab something to eat since it’s now lunch time. You hesitate at going in your daddies’s office to give them their lunch, maybe they’re hungry too, but you decide to not disturbed them. The last thing you want is to make them grumpy. They’re grown men after all, they can go eat by themselves when they’re feeling hungry.

You grab the bread and start making a little meal while thinking about what you’re gonna do after. Maybe watching another movie ? Or probably not, you already watch a lot of tv and you usually get a headache if you overdo screen time. But drawing sounds good.

You grab the knife and start cutting your piece of bread in two pieces when you feel something weird in your chest. It feels like what happened earlier in the day. The same weird thing you felt earlier in the day

You let go of the knife you were holding causing it to fall on the ground. Your daddies’s attention turn toward the baby monitor in their office who is relied to the one in the living room and kitchen. Since this area of the house is relied to each other

You start panicking and take a hold of the island counter, your chest start to tighten and you feel your chest getting heavier and heavier as if all the weight of the world were sitting and punching your chest.

What is happening ? You were fine two seconds before that. You turn to look at the stairs and decide to go upstairs. Maybe laying in your bed is the best idea, right now.

It’s probably because of the screen, you thought, but when you start to walk, you immediately feel the need to sit down. You can’t bear all the pain and all the uncomfortable feelings you feel inside of you. You let yourself go and drop on your knees in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Bucky’s attention is still glued to the baby monitor while Steve is getting back to work. He keeps telling Bucky to calm down and that you probably just dropped a spoon or a knife you were using but something tells him to stay focus on it a little bit longer and Bucky’s instinct never failed him so this time, just like any others, he listen to it

When he hears you whining and your breath starting to get heavier and shorter, he stands up and walks toward the little things beside their desks. Steve almost rolls his eyes because he didn’t heard what his husband had. He just thinks he’s overreacting because you’re alone downstairs and it doesn’t happen every times.

He suddenly hears you falling and he almost drops the thing in his hand as he lets go of everything and decides to make a quick run to you. He opens the door in one quick movement and it’s like in almost two steps, he’s beside you.

You didn’t know you made that much noise until you see your Daddy running down the stairs and to you. He grabs your face with his hands and tilts it toward his, you sees his lips moving but the only thing you can understand is the panic and the concern in your Daddy’s face.

‘’Little one ?’´ he asks looking into your wide eyes ‘’can you hear me ? Where does it hurt ?’’ He asks but the look on your face tells him that you didn’t heard anything.

He stands up and easily lifts you up, he pulls you closer to him and you wrap your legs around his waist. With one hand, he assures your safety in his arms while with the other, he looks through the kitchen for your medication.

He exhales loudly when he finally find it and analyse it. He sighs a second time but a lot less happy than the first time as he puts the medication on the counter. He rubs your back slowly, he can almost feel your heart beating faster and faster more the seconds pass. ‘’It’s okay, babygirl. You’ll be fine, everything is okay’’ before reassures you, not knowing if your attention is on him again or still away.

‘’I’ll rest you on the counter island a little bit and then you’ll come back in my arms. Are you okay with that ?’’ He gently asks, hid lips against your ear as a small whisper comes out. You whine and shake your head, holding him tighter than before with the little strength left in you.

‘okay, beautiful. We’ll wait a little bit more’’ just as he said that, a blond figure appears from the stairs. Steve looks up and frowns when he sees the scenes before him ‘’what happened ?’’ He asks but gets a silence answer from Bucky.

Your Daddy turns his attention back to you ‘’how do you feel about sitting down for a bit ? I’ll be right in front of you, you can hold my hand the whole time so you can be sure I wonky go anywhere’’ he quietly asks and waits for you to answer.

You think about it and slowly nod your head. He smiles and kisses your temple. He walks toward the counter and wait until it touch your ass, letting you know that it’s the time to let go ‘’I’ll help you sit down. Firstly I’ll unwrap your legs and when I’m sure that you’re ready, I’ll unwrap your arms’’ he tells you so you’re ready and knows what will happen.

You whine but nod your head. He lifts your butt and rests it on the counter, he slides his hands along your legs who are around him and gently unlocks your feet. He brings your legs against the counter before letting go of your toes. He then slides his hands on your arms until it reach your hands behind his neck. He squeezes your hands before unlocking them too. He kisses each one of them and rests them against your laps. Just like he promised, he keeps a hand in yours and turns around to find Steve already walking to him with a glass of water.

Even if Steve weren’t here since the beginning of what happened, he still knows what to do for you and what to do for helping Bucky.

‘’Thank you, Stevie’’ Bucky says, grabbing the glass before turning around to look at you ‘’did you took these this morning ?’’ He asks showing you the medications. You look at it and shake your head. Every effort is hard to make, even one simple movement such as moving your head or your body away from your Daddy

Your Papa stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, he gently rests his chin on your shoulder, his hands gently stroking your belly just like you love it. It’s something who calm you and make you sleepy and your Daddies know that. They help you getting on a deep sleep at night by doing that when you can’t sleep. But this time, it’s to calm your little heart and to show you that he’s here with you and for you.

Your Daddies look at each other after you shook your head and sigh once again ‘’you know what is it for ?’’ Your Papa asks, turning his gaze to you and to the pills on front of you. You shake your head again. Why does they keep asking you question ? You just want to rest.

‘’Baby, look at me’’ your Daddy’s voice get your attention back to him ‘’those ugly things’’ he says showing you the pills with a grimace ‘’are for your own good, baby’’ he says tilting his head. ‘’it’s for your little heart, and we need you to take it because you are our heart and we need you to be okay because we love you. You need your heart to be in a good shape just as much as we need you to be inn a good shape. Do you understand us ?"

You nod your head telling him you understood even though you didn't really understood. Your Daddy looks at your Papa behind you and they both arch an eyebrow "are you sure you really understood, sweetie ?" your Papa asks, his breath lightly tickling your neck. You nod your head again. You're too tired to tell them you didn't understood and having to wait for them to expalin all over again. You don't have the strengh, right now.

Your Daddy chuckles, he knows what you're doing and decides to let it aside today because it's not the time. You're not focus enough to remember what they're saying even if it's important.

"Just take one now. You have to take it every morning after you woke up" he says giving you the pill and the glass of water. You cring and shake your head. It's bad enough that you have to take it every morning but he want to give one to you now ? In the early afternoon ? It's not morning.

"baby it's really important. Take it." he orders putting the pill in your mouth. You grimace and whine looking one last time at your Daddy for mercy, but the look on his face clearly say that every wars you're ready to take against him is a losing battle. Sighing you allow him to bring the cup of water to your mouth and to take a big sip.

You don't swallow it right away because it's not a small pill so you're scared but with the praises and the words of your Daddies are helping you a lot. It help so much that you finally swallow the pill causing your Daddies to yell their proudness at you. "You did it! we're so proud of you, beautiful" your Daddy says with stars in his eyes

"You're so strong! How did you do ? You'll have to teach me because i'm not as strong as you for taking pills" Your Papa says with a shocked face before winking at you.

You blush and look down at your laps, fidgeting with your fingers. They chuckle and you feel your Papa removing his arms from around you making you whine. It felt so good, his arms around you, the warm of his body against yours, the comfort and reassurance he can give you without actually speaking.

Those feelings are quickly replaced by your Papa's arms again as he lifts you up from the counter after he walked around it to stand in front of you. He leaves the kitchen with your Daddy on his heels and starts to walks up the stairs.

You look at your Daddy who shifts his gaze to you when he feels your eyes on him. He smiles brightly at you and brings his hand to your foot. He hold your toes all the way to their bedroom for a good nap time. You giggle at him because h can't stop making funny face to you to high up the mood.

Your Daddy lets go of you when you reach the bed and your Papa gently rests you down in it. Since you were still in your pyjama, you can immediately slide under the cover and wait for the warmth of your Daddies.

While one of your Daddies went to use the bathroom, the other went to turn off the light of the bedroom and light up the night light before crowling in bed beside you. You immediately snuggle closer to him and sigh in contentement when your favorites feelings come back with his arms around you. You close your eyes and wait for your Daddy to come back from the bathroom to snuggle with you too

You need it but you know that they need it too. They had a lot of work the last few days and really deserve to rest.

You smile when two others arms come around you and you don't need anything more to feel ready to fall asleep and rest.

Now that your heart isn't hurting anymore feel good, a whole lot better. It was scary, really scary but it helped you a lot that your Daddies were there for you, they didn't let you alone, they didn't let you down. They accompanied you to the end and always will.

That's something you're positive about. It took a long time to find someone who'll carry you up to the sky and above the cliuds in everything you want to do, even if it seems like a dumb thing, you needed someone like that. And you found it, you not only found someone, you found two people, two gorgious men who'll do anything to see you fly on your own.

"good nap, baby girl" your Daddy kisses the bak of your neck "you handled things so good, just like a big girl. Don't ever forget how proud we are"

"we love you, always and forever"

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