#i did not remember just how bright of a yellow i use for his eyes

[l0vedoe]

Yandere!Lucifer X GN!Reader

Hi! My name is Kay, and it's my first time posting something on Tumblr (I don't know how to use this)

I've been really obsessed with Lucifer and I saw a Yandere!Lucifer fanfic that I loved a lot, but sadly there's no part 2 :( So, I decided I would write MY OWN Yandere!Lucifer fanfic! (Also without a part 2..) Here is the one I got inspired by! So, have fun! <3

Sorry if it's a little weird at first, english is not my first language and I'm still learning it!

Part 2 here!

Words: 3787

Synopsis: Your friends found a ritual that can bring Lucifer to your world and, unfortunately, you accepted to participate.

You were sitting on a pile of cushions with your arms crossed, not believing what you and your friends were doing.

A few days ago, one of your friends, Lesley, had found a ritual that could summon Lucifer, the King of Hell, into the human world. You knew that your group of friends were obsessed with those sobrenatural things, ghosts and anything with horror involved. You liked it too, but among them, you were the only one who didn't enjoy getting directly involved with these things. You liked the trivia, the facts, the stories you heard on the internet, but participate in rituals? Ha! No, certainly no. You were sensible enough to know that you shouldn't be messing with these things, whether you believed in them or not. You weren't scared, you just didn't want to disturb whatever exists out there.

Even though you didn't like the idea, you accepted, not knowing why though. Maybe it was because your friends kept insisting...

And there you were, in a dark room in an abandoned house that Lesley had found so that you all could perform the ritual.

You watched your friends as they prepared everything. One of them was making a large pentagram on the floor, while another was placing six candles around it. As soon as they had finished, the three of them stood inside the pentagram, looking at you as if that was all that was missing - and it was.

"Come on, you agreed to do it, remember?" Lesley says, holding out his hand to you.

"Unfortunately."

You said, standing next to your friends.

Lesley took a needle from his pocket and pierced everyone's finger, letting them each drip their own blood onto the pentagram below. Gab, your friend on your left, held out a lighter so that you could light the candles one by one. As soon as you had finished, you all left the pentagram and the atmosphere became more tense.

This couldn't turn out good.

"Lucifer, lord of the red skies, hear my sublime call, show us your true power and appear in this circle!"

When Lesley finished speaking, silence prevailed in the room... for a long time. Since you came here you believed it wouldn't work, but your friends really believed it would, so they were all very disappointed when they saw that nothing happened.

As soon as you thought to say something, the pentagram glowed in a gold so bright that it didn't seem real. It glowed so brightly that if you looked at it for too long, you would surely lose your sight, so you all looked away until the light ceased, and it did. With your vision still blurred, you turned to face the pentagram again and sighed in shock.

There, in the middle of the pentagram, was a short, blond man with pale skin. His eyes were yellow, his teeth were sharp and there was a red circle on each cheek. His clothing appeared to be of high quality and class, a red shirt covered by a white jacket with veiled details, matching his pants in the same color. His hat was also white, with a red band, a golden crown, an apple and a golden snake. A lot of information in a single hat, to be honest.

The man looked confused and annoyed as, with one hand, he was dusting his clothes.

Not only you, but all your friends looked at the man with admiration and amazement. “It worked..." they all thought.

No one said anything, they were too surprised to be able to formulate a single sentence.

"I knew Lucifer was a fallen angel, but I thought the fall would have affected his appearance?"

You say, analyzing the whole figure of the creature in front of you. He was pretty, you had to say.

Lucifer sighed, looking extremely bored with the situation.

"I thought no one knew the summoning ritual anymore, but it seems I was wrong." he says, looking at everyone in the room. "So...?"

He waits, with a judgmental look on his face.

Lesley wakes up from her thoughts and starts talking frantically.

"Oh, Great Lord Lucifer, King of Hell!" Lesley bows, followed by all her friends too, except you. Lucifer smiles. He liked those nicknames. "We're really, really sorry to bother you. We were just curious about whether this ritual would work or not, we didn't want anything to do with you."

Lucifer rolls his eyes. Of course, he had to have been summoned by a bunch of curious mortals...

"You see, I was taking care of very important things when you summoned me, and I am unable to return to my duties unless one of you makes a deal with me." Lucifer gestured his hand gracefully in the air as he spoke. You had to admit: the real devil was not at all what you expected. You expected a tall, red-skinned, goat-legged creature with long horns and a tail, but this...? It was laughable.

But of course you didn't laugh.

Lucifer turned his gaze on you, giving you goosebumps. His gaze on you was something you had never felt before, and it scared you. He was a shorty man and yet he was making you afraid of what might happen to you if you stepped in the wrong place.

You swallowed.

"I'm waiting!" Lucifer raised his voice, making everyone shiver. "Which one of you is willing to make a deal with me, hm...?"

Lucifer had an amused smile on his face as he analyzed each individual in the room. One shaking his legs, another trying to look away, another thinking about what to do to get rid of the blond man and, finally, you, who even though you were afraid, didn't seem to be letting your guard down. You looked at Lucifer with courage, and Lucifer liked that. He really did. When was the last time he saw someone like you? A long time ago, that's for sure. Most of the humans who ended up meeting Lucifer, willingly or by accident, used to be so scared and afraid that they would sometimes beg Lucifer to let them live with their souls in peace.

Souls... Lucifer never cared, really. Most of his deals didn't involve receiving the souls of humans in return, he had no interest in that, he just asked for anything that came to mind. Most of the time, something very silly. He didn't even like making deals with humans, it’s just time he wastes to satisfy the will of mortals.

Seeing that no one would take the initiative, he decided to do it for them.

"Since you guys won't make up your minds, leave it to me. Eeny-meeny-miney..." Lucifer began to choose, and when you saw that he was going to end up with one of your friends, you interrupted him. "Hm?"

"I'll make a deal with you if that's what it takes for you to leave us alone."

Lucifer smiles. He was loving your attitude.

"Are you crazy? You shouldn't do that! He is going to take your soul!" Lesley tried to warn you, worried about you.

"At least it'll help you not to mess with things like that again."

You say harshly, stepping closer to Lucifer.

So that's what you were afraid of? It was nothing new for Lucifer.

"All right, then. What's your name, dear?" Lucifer says, approaching you.

Everyone was looking at you worried and afraid. You liked your friends, but they were the kind who fucked up and left it to you so you could resolve things. Always.

"What do you want? My soul? Possession of my body?" You ignore the question the blond man made, leaving him a little frustrated, but without showing it.

He laughs.

"No, no, no! I don't care about these things, really!" He puts his hand on his chin and closes his eyes, seeming to think deeply, until he snaps his fingers, thinking of something. "Oh, I know! You're going to dance for me dressed as a duckling!"

You look at him with a mixture of confusion and disgust. Was this really the King of Hell that everyone was so afraid of?! You hold in your laughter.

"All right." You reach out to shake his hand, but he interrupts.

"Don't you know how deals work, darling?" he asks in a mocking tone, amused. "You need to tell me what you want in return."

"Oh, is that so?" you ask and he shakes his head positively. Actually, there was nothing you really wanted, you just wanted him to go away and for you to be able to come home soon. You should never have agreed to take part in that. "Oh, I don't know, man... give me a chocolate cake and we'll be fine."

Lucifer laughs softly. You seemed as bored as he was, and your boredom amused him too much.

He grabs your hand, and you automatically felt your casual clothes change into a yellow jumpsuit with a hood that had a duckling face on it.

You sighed. What a humiliation.

You danced a children's dance that you learned as a child, and you could see how Lucifer was enjoying it, his eyes shining, his cheeks reddening and a smile on his face. He clapped his hands frantically.

When you finished your dance, he sighed, snapped his fingers and your clothes returned to normal. A second later, you were holding a plate with a chocolate cake on it. It looked delicious.

"It was a great deal. I hope I never see you again!" Lucifer said, finally disappearing into a golden dust.

Your friends were wide-eyed and dumbfounded. They gave you a quick lecture on how you could have used that deal to get anything and you decided on a chocolate cake. You could ask for thousands of dollars, you could ask to have whatever you wanted, have as much power as you wanted, and you still decided on a chocolate cake?!

You didn't care, saying goodbye and making your way home while holding your chocolate cake. You were sure to devour it as soon as you sat down on your couch.

~

After that incident, your days went by as normal. You wake up, go to work, come home, go to sleep. Wake up, work, come home, sleep.

It was a routine you got used to, and it was good to be used to things, you weren't the type who liked new things.

However, after a week or so of performing that ritual and summoning Lucifer, you began to feel strange. You felt watched almost all the time, it was uncomfortable even to take a shower and this was something that was really bothering you. You've never been sensitive to these things, what was going on?!

In addition to the feeling of being watched, you also began to see figures out of the corner of your eye and hear voices calling you. You could have sworn you were going crazy, it wasn't normal.

You sent a message to Lesley, telling him what you were feeling. Lesley didn't care much.

Lesley Bff: idk, it must be in your head

Lesley Bff: I felt that way too during my first ritual

Lesley Bff: but you know what?

Lesley Bff: Lucifer could be watching you 👻

You laughed.

You: if he's not back in his hole, I'll send him back there myself

Lesley could be right. You've never taken part in a ritual before, so maybe it affected you more than you expected.

You sigh, smiling at the thought of being anything else. "How silly..."

You head for the kitchen to get some water. Opening the fridge, you take out your jug of water and fill a glass with the liquid, putting the jug away again.

As you bring the glass to your lips, you notice a blond man on the other side of the dining table.

You continue to drink your water.

Wait...

You spit out the water, looking back to the front and no longer seeing the man there.

"I need therapy…" you say, putting a hand to your forehead.

"Everyone needs it, dear." When you hear the familiar voice, you're startled and turn around so fast that you drop your glass on the floor, shattering it. "Wow... Do you get that excited just by seeing me?" The blond smiles debauchedly.

"What the fuck..." that's all you managed to say. "I didn't summon you, damn it! Get the fuck out of here!"

You demand, making the demon in front of you laugh.

"It's that way of yours that made me fall in love with you!" he says, still laughing.

What?

You look Lucifer up and down with disgust. How strange was it to have a religious figure, who you believed existed only in your imagination until a week ago, tell you that he's in love with you? Answer: very. ABSURDLY.

"Dude, I don't want any trouble, just do me a favor and leave."

You say, calmly, but Lucifer didn't seem to hear. His smile remained on his face, it seemed to grow with every detail he appreciated about you. It was as if he was hypnotized. You could notice his pupils dilating and his cheeks starting to turn pink.

He moves closer, making you take a step back to keep your distance.

"I'm afraid I can't…" he said, still smiling, but now without showing his teeth and without looking you in the eye. He was analyzing your body, your baggy white T-shirt, your plaid pajama pants and your matching slippers.

Your posture was as if you were ready to run at any moment. Lucifer noticed, after all, he didn't want you to run from him. Why would you run from him?

He took a step forwards, coming closer again, and that was the exact moment you knew you had to run. You weren't an idiot, you ran, you ran as if your life depended on it and, at that moment, it really did.

As you climb the stairs to the second floor of your house, you enter your bedroom and lock the door. You didn't think it would help much since your enemy was a demon who could easily teleport to where you were, but you still did what was possible at the time.

Trying to think of many ways to make the demon go away and get you out of this, you are interrupted by a voice on the other side of the door.

"Darling, please..." the voice was sly. "I don't want to hurt you, I just want to talk to you..."

You didn't trust him. You couldn't trust him. He was the fucking devil!

You didn't answer, and a silence remained. You tried to look through the keyhole, to make sure he was no longer there and you could finally get out. As soon as you put your hand on the handle to open the door, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You automatically turned round and punched Lucifer in the face.

"Get away from me!" You screamed, and before you could run away again, golden chains wrapped around you, preventing you from moving. "What the...!"

"Look..." Lucifer begins, caressing the cheek you punched. "I just want to talk, that's all."

You didn't want to listen, you were just trying to free yourself from the chains that bound you.

Lucifer continued.

"Your attitude that day captivated me, and I found it so attractive how you didn't show any fear. Not to mention, of course, that your dancing was incredible." he smiled. "I couldn't help myself and started watching you ever since. I couldn't stop thinking about you for a second. I've spent the last few days just watching you from hell. I've watched you sleep, you eat, you work, you shower..."

This last part seemed to have had a different effect on Lucifer.

Until now, you really believed that you could escape him, but as soon as you realized that it was impossible to free yourself from the chains, your body withered. You knew there was nothing you could do.

Even so, indignation and confusion overwhelmed you. What was this guy saying? In love with you? Really?

You looked at Lucifer angrily, while he looked at you as if you were all he wanted.

"I've been so lonely these last few years, and as soon as I started watching you I wanted to be with you even more and more..." he said, hugging himself and looking at random corners as if he was fantasizing about a thousand different things. "So I give you the honor of moving in with me! In hell!"

You widened your eyes. That couldn't be real. It couldn't.

Lucifer, the fallen angel, wanted you to live with him in hell?

You laughed. Of course it was a joke. If you accepted, he would steal your soul and you wouldn't be free for anything else. Yes, that had to be it. It was a way of persuading you, tricking you, so that he could get what he wanted.

You took a deep breath, recovering from your laughter, and kept your eyes on Lucifer's hopeful gaze.

"No!" you said, loud and clear.

You didn't want another deal, you didn't want to go to hell, you didn't want Lucifer! You just wanted to get back to enjoying your holiday peacefully watching whatever was on TV, you didn't want anything new.

Hearing you refuse, Lucifer's expression changed from a smile to disappointment. He couldn't believe it. Why were you turning him down? He was the King of Hell, he could make you powerful like him, give you anything you wanted! What was stopping you from accepting?

"Why?! I can give you anything you want! Power, money, comfort and lots of chocolate cake! Please accept it..." he looked sad, but deep down he hoped you would say yes. "I love you..."

His last words made you even angrier. The devil himself was confessing to you, you no longer feared him.

"But I don't love you! I want to get away from you, your hell and everything that surrounds you! I don't want power, I don't want money, I want you to go away!"

You scream, spitting out the words with hatred, not even caring what the blond guy might feel. You couldn't stand it any longer, the chains were tightening your body with each passing minute, you just wanted to go back to your normal life, without demons, without rituals, without anything weird.

You noticed Lucifer with his head down, quiet, and wondered if now he would accept it and leave you alone. Unfortunately, he wouldn't.

As soon as he raised his face, you noticed his eyes filled with a bright red colour, his horns began to appear from his head and his tail appeared behind him. Clearly, he was very angry, and now you felt genuine fear of what might happen to you now.

He began to smile, a fearsome smile that showed his sharp teeth.

His voice was slightly distorted. The chains squeezed you tighter and tighter.

"I am Lucifer, King of Hell, and it is not you who will change that." he approached, still smiling. "I can do whatever I want, and I want you, and I'm going to have you, whether you like it or not."

With those words, the chains disappear and you fall to the ground in pain. They were already suffocating you.

As soon as you calmed down, you looked up to find Lucifer staring down at you without smiling now. He snapped his fingers, forming a portal beneath the two of you.

Before you could fall, Lucifer caught you. You had your eyes closed, afraid to open them and see what you feared. You only felt Lucifer holding you until he finally stopped on the ground and released you. You open your eyes and realize you're in a spacious room, with a large bed with crisp sheets. The walls were dark, as was the floor. There were several pictures of Lucifer with a beautiful woman and a little girl and lots of rubber duckies scattered around the room.

You looked out of a window to see the red sky on the other side.

You were in hell, alone with the angel who had fallen from heaven, with no idea how to get home.

You despair, your breathing quickens and becomes heavy, cold sweat begins to run down your face. You turn around and find Lucifer taking off his jacket and hat and settling down in the bedroom.

You keep your distance as he starts to approach with that same smile as before, until you slam your back against a wall, making it easier for him, who could now approach you.

He came close, standing inches away. His hand caressed your left cheek, while the other took your right hand, bringing it to his lips so that he could kiss it.

"Let me go…" you plead, your eyes filling with tears.

Lucifer looks at you, smiling even more.

"No." he says, in the same tone you used when you told him that. "I tried to make it as friendly as possible, but you wouldn't co-operate. How could I keep the person I love close if I didn't force you to stay here with me?"

"This is not love...!" you say, without looking at him.

"It's your idea of love that's wrong, darling..." Lucifer's face moves closer to yours, his hand still caressing your cheek. "That love you humans appreciate doesn't exist, it never did. Love where the two live happily ever after only exists when one of the people involved makes it happen. And that's exactly what I am doing right now..."

He kisses the corner of your mouth, and you shiver at the touch of his lips.

Why you? What was so different about you that Lucifer needed it to be you? Since Lesley came with that, you knew it wasn't a good idea to do that ritual, you'd never done such things just because you knew it was never a good idea. You didn't want to mess with whatever was out there because you knew you could end up in trouble, and yet you agreed to take part in that damn ritual...

Look at the state you're in now: being forced to be Lucifer's prisoner.

"Don't worry, it won't be so bad." Lucifer says, now hugging you and putting his face into your chest.

You wanted to cry, scream, punch Lucifer until you couldn't, but you were afraid of what might happen if you did. You remained silent, cried silently, without moving a muscle.

Once again, your friends fucked up with things and you had to deal with it.

Just a quick reminder: This is just a fanfic, I don't like the idea of a yandere in real life. In real life, this is crazy and toxic, I don't support that.

So, if you guys liked it, let me know! You can also ask for me to write something about Lucifer again (I'm not doing other characters yet).

Thanks for reading! <3

#lucifer morningstar #Lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #yandere lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel imagine #gn reader #hazbin hotel x reader

[whiskeyghoul]

She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader] Pt2.

Read part 1 here

Read part 3 here

A/N: OMG I can’t believe how much people enjoyed part 1? Seriously, as I am finishing this part up it has reached over 500 notes, I am shocked and so very thankful for the love. I didn’t expect it. A silly little fic not proof read, totally self indulgent, really this is so wonderful and I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read it and reblog, like or comment on it. I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint. Part 3 is going to be here soon too, which will be the unofficial date.

WC: 1,9K ~

Tags: Fluff, just fluff, Spencer is a flustered mess, Alt!Reader, Goth!Reader, 2 idiots flirting, Reader and Penelope are besties, use of Y/N, Penelope has been playing matchmaker, alluding to a date, crushes.

Warnings: None. 

Your pov.

It was a late Sunday afternoon. You were sitting on Penelope Garcia’s couch, cup of hot tea in hand. Legs curled up on the couch with a colorful blanket over your lap. It clashed just ever so slightly with your dark outfit. The two of you are in complete contrast to each other. Penelope was a ball of color in a bright purple dress with a lemon pattern, large yellow earrings and a blue bolero sweater. Compared to your all black ensemble she was a ray of sunshine. An array of snacks spread out over the coffee table. The aforementioned peppy blonde was sitting next to you on the couch. Deeply engrossed with the romance show playing on the TV. You watched it together every Sunday, when a new episode would come out. Today your mind was somewhere else completely.

“He hasn’t called yet.” You spoke up. Penelope eyed you curiously, “Who?” She asked, her focus gone from the show. Her eyes peered at you with interest from behind the cat eye glasses she had picked out that day. “Doctor Reid.” You turned your head back to the TV casually, trying to not seem bothered. You could hear Penelope hold back a small squeal. It sounded more like a gasp that way. “Oh my god! Are you interested in him? What did he do to impress you? I have been trying to set you up for ages! You have shot down any person I have discussed with you. Always something wrong.” She started rambling, hearing the clink of her glass being put on the coffee table. Her hands grabbed yours, making you look back at her and rolling your eyes. “Firstly: I am not ‘interested’ in him. Secondly: I just thought he would have called by now. Or stopped by at least.” You shrugged noncommittally. You were just a little interested. Thinking back to that meeting.

When Spencer had stepped into the lab earlier that week, courtesy of Penelope, you had found his awkward demeanor endearing. He was hot, that was for sure, and tall, you remembered having to look up at him, Those dark brown eyes pinning you in place. Especially when you had stood so close together. You had wanted to tease him after watching him stumble over his sentences. See him even more flustered. It made you somewhat excited. When you had given him your number you could feel his pulse racing under his skin. He had shown many signs of being interested yet he hadn’t even texted you. It made you rethink the interaction. 

“Well, he couldn’t have stopped by. They got called on a case in Utah so he’s not really in the area right now.” Penelope clarified. Those words put your mind at ease more than you expected them to. “Oh, I guess he can’t really get to the lab then.” You shrugged. Just a little disappointed but feeling relieved that apparently he hadn’t meant to not visit you. Or maybe he had done so on purpose if he would be close. Your earlier relief was replaced by a mild panic again. Trying to convince yourself you weren’t interested in Dr. Reid. Although, he could have texted.

You could practically feel Penelope smirk as you turned your attention back on the TV. Unable to focus but pretending to. “Spence is not one for texting. He probably has been getting to the hotel at ungodly hours and hasn’t had time to call.” it was like she could read your mind. “Don’t do that.” You said with a shudder. “Do what?” Penelope questioned innocently. “Read my mind like that. It’s weird.” You answered, making her laugh. “Just goes to show how well I know you.” She answered with a smile. It was true. She knew you too well you would even argue. The fact both of you were women in a male dominated field, both dressed eccentricly, and both with a passion for cheesy movies and tv shows. It was only a matter of time until you were best friends after your first run in.

“Why did you call?” You asked, trying to continue on without dawdling. “Oh eh, the report, I ehm…” He was quiet for a moment. It crossed your mind that maybe he didn’t need to speak with you, but he wanted to. “Yes?” You urged after a silence had fallen on the other side of the phone line. There was an intake of breath from Spencer, a moment that signaled he might be trying to raise some courage. “I didn’t want to talk about the report.” He finally spoke. It made you smile, your cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “Oh, well then what did you want to talk about?” You added a bit of playfulness in your tone. You pictured him, holding the phone to his ears that were tipped red. His face was probably just as flushed as it had been in the lab. 

Your phone, which was placed on the table, lit up at that moment. The ringtone played at a high volume, making the cure blast through the room. Your eyes quickly flickered to the screen. Caller ID unknown. You picked up the phone, hesitant of the unknown caller, deciding to hang up instead. You had been plagued by telemarketers for the past month and really didn’t want to deal with that right now. If it was important they would call again. And they did, you still had your phone in your hands when it went off again. “Just pick it up! I will keep watch over our show, fill you in later.” Penelope said, motioning her hands for you to get up. You got off the couch, soft blanket falling to the ground as you picked up the phone. Softly padding away to the kitchen to be out of earshot of Penelope. “Y/n speaking.” you answered, waiting to hear from the other end of the line.

“Hey… ehm… is this not the right time? Are you busy?” The voice on the other end of the line made you straighten up slightly in surprise. “Doctor Reid.” You breathe out his name quietly, adding a “Now is a perfectly good time.” to your sentence. Wondering how hearing his voice through the slightly tin-like phone speaker made you feel a little flutter in your stomach. “Good… I didn’t want to bother you. You can just call me Spencer by the way. Doctor sounds too formal. I just introduce myself like that. It’s a habit. I don’t call you Doctor L/n either. So call me Spencer.” He started rambling. A smile spread across your lips, this rambly version was different from how speechless he had been in the lab. You held back a giggle. Apparently you had rendered him speechless in the lab. “Alright, Spencer.” You answered, the humor in your voice apparent. His breath hitched a little on the other side of the line. 

“You didn’t make a bad impression. I gave you my number for a reason.” You told him with a smile, a little giddy as the words ‘he called me pretty’ kept bouncing around your head. “And I am sorry I called without any real reason to… I know it was for talking about the report. Though Morgan tried to convince me it wasn’t.” Spencer answered. You rolled your eyes at that. Ofcourse, this hyper intelligent man would mix up what you were trying to do. “I gave you my number because I wanted you to call me. Not about the report. I just wanted you to call me. About anything.” There was apparently a need to clear up that confusion. It was silent for another moment. “Oh.” It was like realization dawned on him. “So I should have called sooner, right?” His question made you laugh softly, trying not to clue in Penelope on your call.  “Yes, you should have. Or could have at least. I was waiting.” You answered back, smiling at the ground. You fidgeted with one of the large rings on your free hand, twisting the cool metal round with your thumb.

“I ehm- I haven’t been able to focus, on the case that is. Because I keep thinking about the lab. How I probably came off as a mess, I just didn’t know what to say because you looked so… Not that you look bad because you don’t, you looked really nice. Emily says my IQ gets slashed down to 68 when I am around pretty girls. I wanted to make a good impression. I couldn’t find the words though. I usually don’t make great first impressions, because I tend to ramble. Just- I really really hope I didn’t make a bad first impression.” His sentences flowed into each other like word vomit. Nervous, quick, and hardly understandable. Luckily, you were trained in the art of understanding nervous rambles when Penelope would spiral into one from time to time. However he had called you pretty. “Spencer.” You said his name almost like a question. There was a beat of silence. “Yes?” He asked softly, he sounded so nervous.

“I’m sorry I didn’t.” You could almost hear the smile in his voice. The slight uptick in his pitch. You imagined he was still fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater, or was perhaps looking at his shoes with a grin. “You can make it up to me by buying me a coffee when you get back.” The suggestion came naturally, you didn’t even have to think about it. The words left your lips before you could, really. “What do you like?” Spencer asked without hesitation. “Cinnamon latte.” You answered it softly, a little surprised he agreed so readily. A giddy feeling in your stomach. “Alright, cinnamon latte, I’ll remember.” Spencer sounded a little breathy, like he too was feeling giddy at the prospects of having coffee together. Like the idea of taking time to get to know each other at work over a warm beverage was the perfect first date. “What do you like?” You asked in turn, wanting to know what he would usually get. Knowing more about him would feel so domestic and sweet. “Black coffee, usually with tons of sugar.” He had a hint of embarrassment in your voice. A little muffled like he had covered his mouth to hold in the confession of drinking it so sweet. You smiled at his answer. Of course he had a sweet tooth. “Tons of sugar, I’ll remember.” You mirrored his words. 

“Oh! My! God!” You heard Penelope gasp from the living room. Knocking you out of your little phone call bubble with Spencer. “I think I have to go. You better call me tomorrow.” You said it lightheartedly. Just wanting to hear from him again soon. “I will. I’ll call you.” Spencer answered. “Bye Spencer.” “Bye Y/n.” You hung up with a smile, already turning and walking back into the living room. Penelope turned around on the couch to look at you, “They shot Richard!” She looked absolutely shocked as she gave you the news of your favorite character being hurt. You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face though. “Spencer called.” You saw her face form from a shocked to surprise expression, “Oh! My! God!” She sounded a lot happier that time, and you knew you wouldn't hear the end of it.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #Goth reader #self indulgent fic #fanfic writer #tumblr writer #she blinded me with science #part 2 #whiskeyghoul

[rosettyller]

some analysis of this scene from 2x02, because i am going absolutely insane over it:

first up: it's 2 500 BCE. They've known each other for around 1500 years at this point, but they haven't been meeting up very often; it's implied at this point, that they've only met at the Garden, and the Flood, and now here (as well as in Heaven, but there's varying interpretations about how much they each remember of Heaven).

(worth noting that these meetings are all bible-related meetings)

So, they don't know each other very well at all. This is why Aziraphale approaches Crowley so cautiously (apart from the fact that he thinks Crowley's going around murdering goats and soon kids). He doesn't know what happened to Crowley when he Fell, how he changed when he fell in with Lucifer, how God's rejection has warped Crowley's perspective or changed his morals (their meeting at the Flood seemed quite short, not enough time to get a definite picture.)

Aziraphale is still seeing Crowley as demonic, although there's already that thread of doubt - can you really see him trying to talk Hastur or Ligur out of this the way he does Crowley?

Aziraphale clings to the memory of Angel Crowley - Crowley gets quite defensive.

Here, Crowley reinforces that he's changed - personally I don't believe that he did fight in the War, but his views of God's Plan definitely got more extreme than "thats terrible god should get a suggestion box".

But, I also believe that here, Crowley is reinforcing that he is no longer an angel, and therefore no longer has to play by angel rules. He can do what he wants. He's a demon, it's in his job description.

And of course, that he is a demon, and he is Evil, and of course he would kill goats.

(more under the cut, because I just can't stop talking)

This shot is very yellow. Crowley's hair being the season 1 orange rather than red, the yellow walls, all accentuate the colour of Crowley's eyes, highlighting the physical reminder of Crowley's demonic nature.

I couldn't be bothered to gif it, but here, Crowley leans forward into Aziraphale's face. There are two reasons for this:

Get his yellow Demon Eyes right in Aziraphale face, just to hammer home his point.

It's an aggressive action, moving into someone's personal space like that. Saying, I could hurt you, I'm violent and aggressive and dangerous, I killed those goats, the kids are next.

The way the light hits Crowley's eyes in the above shot and the below shot also make them a very bright yellow. (Edit: I think someone pointed out that Crowley is making his eyes glow, but the overall yellowness of the scene serves to highlight this)

Clever wording on Crowley's part, because as we will find out, he faked the destruction of the goats to keep them safe, while making himself sound very evil.

You'll notice the repetition of "blameless"; this makes him seem even more evil, hurting the innocent, but also gives deeper insight into one of Crowley's biggest issues: hurting the innocent. What have they done to deserve this? Nothing.

This ties in quite nicely with what we have seen before of Crowley and free will; he gives people the option to sin. It's their actions that decide whether they end up in Heaven or Hell; they get what they deserve for their actions. He just makes it easier to choose Hell. (see: phone lines being down making people crankier and encouraging them to be horrible to each other, but it still being their choice, setting the holy water bucket above the door, so it's Ligur's choice to come in after Crowley that gets him killed.)

Note also the use of "long":

Aziraphale says to "tell me you want to do this". "Long" has rather stronger connotations than "want", but also rawer, more fundamental. Crowley is reminding Aziraphale that he is a demon, and that he has the traits of a demon, this is what he is now. He longs for violence, for destruction.

Aziraphale looks quite sad here. If you watch the video I linked, his previous conviction that Crowley doesn't want to do it is very strong. He fully believes in Crowley, that all he needs to do is reframe not killing the kids as within the rules of Hell, the way Crowley so often comes to do for Aziraphale ("Then you can't be certain that thwarting me isn't part of the divine plan too. I mean, you're supposed to thwart the wiles of the Evil One at every turn, aren't you?" "If you put it that way, Heaven couldn't actually mind me thwarting you.").

Aziraphale believed Crowley was still good, that the angel he remembered was still in there. But Crowley rejects it - and it hurts. Crowley has become what a demon should be.

Crowley looks quite sorrowful here, too: he already cares for Aziraphale (he fell in love at the Garden), and it hurts to decieve him, to disappoint him, to hurt him.

I would argue that here, Crowley is scared.

He's in shadow, which dims the yellows; his undemonic nature is about to be revealed.

And that is not safe, because Hell does not send rude notes. And here, Crowley is not doing just any temptation, but trying to help Satan win a bet (supposedly). And out of every demon in Hell, Satan is the one you want to piss off the least.

But here, Crowley is scared because Aziraphale could reveal him - because Aziraphale is on God's side, and because it is revealed that Crowley is not nearly as demonic as he makes himself out to be. He's vulnerable. Aziraphale could scorn him, hurt him. But instead:

Aziraphale is incredibly smug. "I knew I was right", he says. "I knew you were still good".

And here is another issue: Aziraphale conflates God/Heaven/angels with good, and demons/Hell with bad.

And Crowley does not see Heaven as good. He doesn't want Aziraphale to see his angelic core past the demonic exterior. He's on his own side.

This, for Aziraphale, confirms that "the angel you knew is not me", is not correct.

And I think, out of the three minisodes, it's this one that does the most for fleshing out Aziraphale and Crowley's frames of mind this series, and why they choose what they choose in ep6.

Aziraphale has been proven right about Crowley's angelic nature, and that he wants to do good, but can't, for fear of Hell's retribution.

And Crowley does not see Heaven as good. He recognises that being an angel again will not allow him the freedom to do good. (as Aziraphale had to try and talk a demon into helping him save the kids from God.)

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #meta #good omens meta #job minisode #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #go meta #good omens analysis #late.meta

[quicktosimp]

Little Teeth

Warnings: Birthing, Jake being a slight perv, and excessive use of the word "fuck", otherwise it's pure fluff

Words: 9k

A/N: Finally got around to finsihing this fic! I have had so much fun writing this. Thank you so much @loaksxhoe, for giving us your headcanons on @pandoraslxna, when you were still an anon. I love you so much Roomie 😘

Jake and Neytiri didn’t take long to have a baby, and then right after Neytiri fell pregnant, we found that Grace’s avatar had also become pregnant. No one knows how, but what we do know is that two little babies will be born soon. Jake and Neytiri had already agreed to take in Grace’s baby, and as their third mate, I will be right there with them, helping along the way with two little ones. The firstborn was little Neteyam, a boy, followed quickly by Grace’s baby, a little girl named Kiri. Life with two infants is exhausting in all the best ways. Even though every moment is spent with one of the two little ones, it couldn’t be more perfect.

And then Neytiri announced she was pregnant. I made plenty of jokes about na’vi contraceptives, but I was elated about there being a new member of our family soon. Now, with a third on the way, things have been put into overdrive. Thankfully, with preparing for the first two, we didn’t need much more, but by Eywa’s grace, would Neytiri please slow down! She’s seven months pregnant, Neteyam strapped to her back, and is bow fishing! I demanded her to either sit down or hand me Neteyam…

“Neytiri love, you are heavily pregnant and carrying Neteyam; please let me take some of the load for you!”

Without seeing her face, I know she’s giving me that glare full of fondness, “I am well aware that I am pregnant, but that does not stop my duties.” she draws her bow, and the beautiful yellow and green feathers fan her cheek.

Rolling my eyes, “Oh wow, I didn’t remember seeing any of the other pregnant women hunting or fishing. I also don’t remember seeing anyone hunting or fishing with their babies strapped to their backs at all. Maybe I’m just blind.” I walk up, and Neteyam notices me. I started to play with the little foot that I could reach, “Let me take Neteyam, and you can have your fun fishing to your heart's content.” I bargain, Neteyam’s little giggles doing wonders for my case. 

With a sigh, Neytiri slowly drops her bow and slides Neteyam off her back. I grab him and cradle him to my chest. His big eyes stare up at me with glee.

“Hello, little mister,” I coo as Neteyam babbles happily, “Have you had fun fishing with Sa’nu?” I asked him, knowing he didn’t understand. But enjoying the attention, he continues to babble excitedly and squeal, communicating with me in a language only he understands. His bright green eyes stare into mine with the love and devotion only a child can hold.

A large hand cups my face, and Neytiri gently leads me to look at her, “You are perfect with our kids, and every day, I fall more and more in love with you,” She lays a gentle kiss on my lips.

I smile into our kiss, bringing our lips to meet again until a tiny hand smacked at my face. I looked at Neteyam; he was disgruntled, like I had ruined his little baby life. 

“It seems our ‘Itan is jealous. He doesn’t like Sa’nu taking all of his Mama’s attention,” Neytiri cooed at our son.

“Ma!” 

Neytiri and I turned our heads to look at Neteyam, surprised and joyful.

“Did he just?” I cut myself off.

“Yes, he did, Syulang. See if he’ll do it again!” She exclaimed, her hand covering her smile.

I look at Neteyam excitedly, “Neteyam, are you saying Mama? Mama!” I emphasized to him.

“Ma! Ma! Ma-ma!” His little fists raised in the air as he chants my name.

“Oh my goodness!” I squeal as tears prick at my eyes, excited to hear and be his first word. I kiss his cheek repeatedly, causing him to erupt in giggles.

“Oh my ‘Itan, you have always been a Sa’nu’s boy, yet you say Mama first,” Neytiri teases him, rubbing her nose against his cheek. 

Happy that the attention is back on him, he throws his head back in giggles as he claps his hands.

“I can’t believe it! Neteyam’s first word!” I gush over him.

“He is blessed,” Neytiri muttered, holding the two of us.

A thought suddenly hit me, “Jake’s going to be so upset. He missed Kiri crawling for the first time, too.”

“Ba, I told our Skxawng that she was going to start moving soon, yet he still went on that hunting trip,” She exclaims, rolling her eyes.

“Still, I feel kinda bad,” I worry, continuing to kiss Neteyam’s cheek, not wanting him to be upset after such a big thing.

“Jake will just have to work harder with this one.” Neytiri rubs her taunt stomach. 

“I cannot wait for this little one to join us,” I bring my hand to her stomach, feeling the little one inside.

Looking at the two of us, Neteyam lays his chubby hand on Neytiri’s stomach, “Your tsmukan prrnen is in there,” I explain softly.

Neteyam softly coos as he holds his hand on his Sa’nu’s belly. Suddenly, Neteyam yanks his hand back before angrily babbling, scawolling at her stomach. 

I looked at Neteyam questioningly as Neytiri laughed, “Our youngest just kicked Neteyam’s hand.”

I can’t stop myself from laughing as well, seeing Neteyam scold his unborn brother, unknown babbles and grizzles leaving him, making him sound like an angry bee. 

“Alright, my little buzzing bee, it’s time for us to go home,” I comment to Neteyam, caressing his cheek bringing his attention back to me, “Enjoy your fishing, my love,” I lay a kiss on Neytiri’s lips.

“Thank you, Yawne, you two enjoy your day,” With that, we go our separate ways.

The walk back to the village was long, as Neytiri likes to fish in more remote areas, but Neteyam and I enjoyed our stroll. I showed him many different plants and rocks. If they were safe, then I’d put them in his little hands as he learns to move them properly. Feel the texture in his hands and mouth as he learns.

Nearing the village, I hear the sound of pa’li and their riders nearby, “Do you hear that, Neteyam? Those are pa’li and their riders. The riders are brave warriors who protect the clan,” I explain diligently. 

Neteyam’s ears flicker, his eyes shifting between me and the sounds he hears. Soon, the pa’li riders show themselves, led by Tsu’tey.

“Oel ngati kameie, Tsu’tey,” I greet friendly, doing the movement the best I could with a squirming Neteyam.

Tsu’tey returns the gesture, “Oel ngati kameie, (Y/N), Neteyam,” Tsu’tey turns his attention to the wiggling baby, “He seems active today,” A grin shows on his face.

“I think he woke up from his nap just in time to see me. Gives his Sa’nu peace and quiet, leaving his Mama with a wiggle butt,” I joke.

Neteyam turns his head to me, “Ma! Ma ma ma-ma.” He babbles on.

“Well, he wasn’t doing that yesterday,” Tsu’tey commented, “Does Neytiri and Jake know that you’re Neteyam’s favorite?” He teases.

“I don’t know if I’m his favorite. It’s just easier for babies to use an ‘M’ sound than the ‘S.’” I shrug off, “But yes, Neytiri was there to hear his words. Unfortunately, I have not yet seen Jake today,” I explain.

Tsu’tey slowly shakes his head, “I swear those two wait for Jake to leave before doing something,” 

I laugh at his reasoning, “Neteyam, I believe it is bad timing. Kiri, on the other hand, I see the look in that girl's eyes. She’s doing it on purpose.” I laugh joyfully.

“Is that why Jake takes her with him everywhere? Now, Jake has always been good at caring for the babies, but I feel like I haven't seen him without Kiri attached to his chest for the past two months.” Tsu’tey asks, picking fun of my mate.

“I believe so. Jake had Kiri for 48 hours straight, with plenty of playtime and cuddling. Now Jake had Kiri on her back, playing with her. The moment that he went to go to the bathroom, she rolled herself over and started crawling!” I exclaimed, telling my favorite story.

“No wonder my brother refuses to let go of her! But now he may do the same with this little one,” Tsu’tey comments, laughing at my mate's plight.

“What will he do when our third is born? He can’t carry them all,” I enjoy the mental image that gives me,

“He will try, that is for sure,” Tsu’tey grins as he looks around, “Where is Neytiri? Surely you are not by yourself?” The grin slowly faded from his face.

“Neytiri is restless. She is bow fishing down by her favorite creak.” I shrug.

“She should still not leave you alone. The animals have been restless lately.” He pursed his lips, “Come here and hop on. I will bring you back to the village.” 

I thought to argue, but I was already tired from the walk, and Neteyam was getting restless, “Thank you, Tsu’tey,” I walked towards him, and he easily picked the two of us up, settling us in front of him.

“Of course, I am glad to be of help,” He responds before he urges his pa’li onward at a slow pace.

Neteyam, interested in the pa’li, reached out and patted the fin atop its head, “Yes, Neteyam, this is a pa’li, Tsu’tey’s pa’li. Tsu’tey is your uncle,” I ramble on to Neteyam.

“Uncle? I am not familiar with that word.” Tsu’tey inquired.

“It is an English word, an honorific; it is what children call the brother of their parents. I explain to him.

“And you are teaching Neteyam to call me that?” His tail swished joyfully.

“Yes, you were a brother to Neytiri first, growing up alongside her. Then you became a brother to Jake and me. We all proved ourselves during the war. You are our brother, and we agreed we like the name and want you to be called that by our kids,” I offered.

“This is a great honor, thank you,” Tsu’tey reaches around, placing a hand on Neteyam’s head.

“It is an honor for us to have you as a brother. I am always thankful to call you brother, and I am honored for my children to grow up with you around.” I explain heartfully.

“I promise to always live up to that name,” He responds dutifully.

“I know you will, Brother,” Looking back, I smile at him.

The rest of the ride back to the village was filled with idle chatter, Neteyam babbling along with us, believing he was adding to the conversation. Tsu’tey and I indulged him; every time he babbled, we would respond to him with wows or agreements, encouraging him to babble more.

Tsu’tey brought us to the village entrance before helping us down, “You two enjoy your day. I will be back later, hopefully with one of your run-away mates,” He explains, turning his pa’li around.

I give a small laugh at his choice of words, “Thank you, Tsu’tey; however, I will enjoy my time with Neteyam. It has been a while since he has had one one-on-one with his Mama,” I explain cheekily. 

“Got it. I will not look for them too hard,” He agrees, matching my grin. 

“Stay safe, Tsu’tey.” I nod before heading to my kelku.

Being mated to the Olo’eyktan meant our kelku was in the center of the village. It was also larger than the average, but that is fine as we will have three kids in under a year. It was decorated with beautiful tapestries, woven garments, and pillows. It had taken some convincing with Neytiri, but she ended up loving the pillows and the many uses they have, especially the one made to wrap around her front, helping hold the babies and letting her rest her arms.

Looking down, I hear Neteyam grizzling, with it being time for a feed and a nap. 

“I know Teyam, Mama’s going,” I soothe, preparing his bottle, another human invention I had to convince Neytiri of. 

Warming his milk, I check it on my wrist before pouring it into his bottle. I walk over to the pillows, situating myself and Neteyam as his whines increase in volume, “Shh, lovey, I got it right here,” I coo, placing the tip in his mouth. 

Neteyam eagerly latches on, suckling the milk into his mouth and swallowing greedily. He rests his arms on his stomach as his eyes grow heavy. I rest Neteyam on a pillow, angling him towards me, as I use my now free hand to rub over his head. He continues to suck at his bottle like it’s his last meal until it’s finished. Sitting him up, I hold him under his chin before patting his back gently, forcing the trapped wind out. After the wind came up, I brought him back to my chest, cradling him close to me as he readied himself for a nap. Smoothing his hair and running a finger over his face, Neteyam’s eyes droop further as sleep calls him. I chuckle softly as I watch him drift to sleep. With nothing else to do, I sit there watching his beautiful face as he rests peacefully, his chest rising and falling with every breath. I can’t help but reflect on everything that brought me here, and despite the losses, I wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. Knowing that I will be here for a while, I grab my last weaving project, another sling, as we’ll need it with the new little one, as they’ll be here any day.

Jake named Neteyam, wanting to honor Neytiri’s side of the family, and with Neteyam being a mini Neytiri, it worked perfectly. Neytiri named Kiri, naming her after her biological mother. I am unsure of who will name the newest one, but thoughts have circled in my head. One particular name stays around, refusing to leave.

“Darling, why must you look at me like that?” I hear Jake as he enters our kelku.

I turn to see him wearing the Olo’eyktan ornaments, with Kiri strapped to his chest, staring at her father without blinking.

“Please, baby girl, just blink,” Jake’s voice turns to pleading.

I laugh quietly at Jake losing a fight with his infant daughter, grabbing his attention.

“Hey, Sweetheart, how has your day been?” Jake asks, lowering his voice when he notices Neteyam sleeping.

I smile at him, bemused, as Kiri has yet to blink, “It’s been good. Got some time with Neteyam, saw Tsu’tey, now what is this about Kiri and not blinking?” I ask, giggling softly.

A groan escaped Jake, “I swear to you, she hasn’t blinked in over five minutes. She just stares at me blankly.” Truth be told, I still haven’t seen Kiri blink yet.

I have to restrain myself from laughing, “Gosh, I love that girl,”

“You say that like she hasn’t been purposely tormenting me,” Jake exaggerated.

“While that may be true, you did miss something important today.” I tease him.

Curiously, Jake’s face furrows as he smiles hesitantly, “And what did I miss?”

“Well, you see, I went to go and force Neytiri to chill out because I found her bow fishing with Neteyam again. After convincing her to hand over to Neteyam, she gave me a quick parting kiss.” I pause for dramatic effect, “Now Neteyam didn’t like that the attention was off of him, and Neytiri pointed out that he didn’t like that his Sa’nu and Mama were getting more attention than him. Apparently, Neteyam needed to get his point across, and he did that by saying ‘Mama,’” I grin triumphantly. 

“Neteyam, Neteyam said his first word? He said, Mama!” Jake’s ears and tail flickered in glee as he fought to keep his voice down. “I can’t believe it!” Jake paused briefly, his tail drooping, “I can’t believe I missed it!” Realizing he missed another milestone. 

I chuckle at his actions; poor Jake kept missing things, “Well, if you want to switch, maybe Neteyam will speak for you when he wakes, and our little miss will finally blink.” I reach my free arm out.

Grumbling, he unwraps Kiri from her sling, and we switch babies; Neteyam snuffles a little before settling in Jake’s arms, while Kiri finally blinks, realizing that she’s with her Mama a gummy smile stretched over her face, two little white spots on top of her gums.

I laugh, realizing that Jake missed something else, “Jake, my love,” I look at him, grinning.

He looks at me, concerned, “What is it this time?” 

“Our daughter has two teeth coming in,” I grin triumphantly.

“What? No way!” He rushes over the best he can with a sleeping Neteyam.

I turn Kiri around, moving her top lip to show the two white spots, “Looks like her fangs are coming in first. Is that normal for na’vi?” I ask while feeling the spots, seeing how far along they are.

“I don’t even know what human baby teeth come in first, let alone na’vi,” He admitted sheepishly.

“I’ll have to ask Neytiri or Mo’at, depending on how long Neytiri decides to stay out. Kiri’s teeth are coming along.” I mention.

Jake feels Kiri’s gums, much to her ire, “I’d probably do it sooner than later. Those teeth aren’t waiting for anyone,” He explains, removing his finger as Kiri goes to chomp down.

I laugh as Jake looks at our daughter fearfully, “Alright, scaredy cat,” I sit up and move towards the door.

I struggle to put on the sling for Kiri, but after successfully trying it, I wave back at Jake before heading back out.

The healing tent, thankfully, isn’t far from our marui, a brisk walk. The longest part of it was when I stopped digging up a plant for Kiri to hold. The plant seemed to react to her presence, but that was a topic for another day.

The healing tent isn't really a tent. It’s underground, beneath the roots of a tree, giving a warm and cozy vibe when you walk in, bringing warmth and peace as the scents of herbs and tinctures brush my nose. Mo’at stands in the middle of the undergrowth, grinding petals into her mortar. 

“Oel ngati kameie, Mo’at,” I call out respectfully. 

Her head swivels to look at me. A soft smile brushes her face as she spots Kiri and I, “Oel ngati kameie. I trust that you two are alright?” She asks, eyeing us for injuries.

“We are fine. Just came to show you Kiri’s new teeth,” I return her smile.

Mo’at’s ears and tail flickered in joy as her face lit up, “Bring her here! I must see,” She quickly abandons her work.

Laughing, I untangle the sling, happily handing over Kiri to her grandmother. Mo’at eagerly took her granddaughter, placing a finger inside Kiri’s mouth, feeling at the emerging teeth. 

“Two little fangs; it seems they’re coming in just fine!” She spoke excitedly, her voice soft to not bother Kiri.

“Jake and I  were wondering, is it normal for na’vi babies' fangs to come in first?” I ask, seeing that Mo’at is happy with the progress.

Removing her finger from Kiri’s mouth, she explains, “Hmm, yes, one or two top fangs come in at a time, then the bottom ones. After that, the front teeth fill in.”

I nod my head, happy with her words, “That’s a little different than what I am used to, but I am glad that everything is normal.”

“Is that not how humans work?” She asks curiously.

“Actually-”

“Sa’nok! Do you know where Jake and (Y/N) are?” I hear Neytiri call.

“I am here, Love!” I called back to her.

“What is the matter ‘Ite?” Mo’at answers as Neytiri comes into sight, Tsu’tey at her side.

“I am in labor; our newest one is early,” She explains calmly as she shuffles her way into the healing tent.

Looking at Tsu’tey, I grab Kiri from Mo’at and hand her to him, “Ready?” I ask him.

“I have been waiting. We knew the day would be soon.” Tsu’tey accepts Kiri from me.

“Jake is at our kelku with Neteyam. If you could, please send him our way, that would be amazing,” I comment as I go through the mental birthing plan. 

“Do not worry. I will send Jake your way and care for the little ones,” He calmly states, noticing my incoming panic. 

“Thank you, Tsu’tey,” I give one last kiss to Kiri’s cheek before turning and joining Neytiri and Mo’at further into the tree roots. 

The deeper underground is only illuminated by the surrounding plants. As I walked down, it became warmer as steam poured upward, and the healing pools were heated, creating the perfect place for birthing. The area brings a natural peace, helping calm me.

Neytiri was already resting in a pool, her garments folded neatly off to the side, as she relaxed with her mother next to her. I sit next to the pool, grabbing Neytiri’s hand and placing it on my face.

“Are you calm now, ‘Ite?” Mo’at asks me.

Sighing, I reply, “Much better now. I’m sorry for panicking,” I mutter to Neytiri.

She laughs softly at me, “Jake was much worse when Neteyam was born. I thought he was going to pass out on me,” Her large thumb caresses my face.

“In our defense, human births are an ordeal. Sometimes it takes several days, and surgery is still needed to remove the baby,” I mumble, eased as I remember na’vi births are relatively simple.

“Several days? That seems excessive,” Mo’at questioned.

“Human births are not easy. It's excruciating. I know my mother was in labor with me for 29 hours before the doctor agreed to remove me surgically.” I explain, grimacing.

“Surgically?” Mo’at mutter aghast.

“Yes, my mother didn’t dilate enough for me to pass through, so instead, they cut open through several layers of flesh and into the womb to remove me.”  I wince at the idea, “The only other option would be to attempt to force me out, which would have either gotten me stuck, most likely killing both of us or my mother would have torn, causing her to bleed out.”

The two women looked at me fearfully, unable to process what I explained to them.

“And this is common for humans?” Mo’at asked softly, slightly pale.

“Yeah, around 1 million births a year are c-sections,” I struggled to remember the average number.

“Would you be at risk for those?” Neytiri asked concernedly.

I look at her earnestly, “Oh, definitely, that’s why Jake and I are so careful because a na’vi baby would be so large that I would be on bed rest from about the 4th month and would need a c-section. Although we do have several human doctors who can perform the surgery, it’s really just the pregnancy that has us concerned.” 

Neytiri goes to speak, but a wince cuts her off. I look down and notice her slit is swollen, symbolizing that her cervix is moving forward slowly. I place my hand into the water, gently rubbing at the side of her slit, trying to help ease the tension building there.

“After hearing that, this seems easy,” She groans.

“Hey, don’t play down your pain. Your body is literally rearranging itself for birth; you get to complain, groan, and moan, and I will personally help you if you threaten Jake, and Jake will as well.” I scold her gently but firmly.

“Threaten? Is that normal for human births? Neytiri’s giggles were infectious.

“Yeah, just the standard things though, ‘You’re never touching me again!’, ‘I’m cutting off your balls and feeding them to the dog!’ you know the normal things.” I comment, remembering some of the things I had heard before.

Mo’at and Neytiri burst into laughter, their giggles echoing to the top of the healing pod.

Jake walked into the birthing room smiling, “It seems I’m missing out.”

“Oh, you know, just threatening humankind by castrating men,” I smile sweetly.

Jake winces, pushing his legs together at the thought, “Babe, I don’t have those anymore, and that’s still terrifying.”

“I still find it odd that human sex are outside the body, males in particular. It literally sways as they move,” Neytiri muses, furrowing her brow.

My head tilts back in laughter, amused by her disgust, “Love, I was terrified when Jake showed me his slit and a giant dick covered in spikes came out! Human genitals are tame compared.”

I quickly shut my mouth, remembering that Mo’at was in the room. I sent her an apologetic look, apologizing for my language. She merely chuckles, shaking her head.

“Now that your mates are here, I will go upstairs. I’ll come back after you are finished together.” With that, she left up the stairs.

Jake takes her spot, kneeling on the other side of the pool, his hand rubbing at Neytiri’s neck, easing her muscles, “How are you feeling?”

“Sore and uncomfortable, this one is ready to leave,” She mutters, and I can feel her inner muscles contracting and moving around.

“I can feel it. Baby wants out now,” I chuckle lightly, realizing something, “All of our kids are eager today: Neteyam’s first word, Kiri’s first teeth, and now baby three is rushing their own birth.”

Neytiri’s face lit up, “Kiri has a fang now?” She asked excitedly.

“Two little teeth are pushing through, two little white spots on her gums,” Jake explains, cupping warm water and trailing it over her shoulders.

“Ahhh, I can not wait to see them,” Her face is aglow.

“And despite Jake having her all day, he still managed to miss them. I spotted her teeth,” I giggle at Jake’s luck.

“Ma Jake, what is with our children and avoiding you,” Neytiri’s laugh brought joy to us as we successfully distracted her.

“I held her all day! There is no way I could have missed that!” Jake whines.

“You also held a staring contest with her and lost,” I pointed out.

“She wouldn’t blink! Five minutes!” He exclaimed.

Neytiri’s head fell back as her laughter rang through the underground. 

“Our ‘Ite will walk all over you when she is older,” Her giggles trail off.

“I can’t fight an eight-month-old baby,” Jake’s pout was evident.

Neytiri and I look at each other, smiling, knowing that our husband was thoroughly whipped for his daughter. 

“Oh!” Neytiri exclaimed.

I press around the sides of her slit, feeling the baby's head was close, “I’m going to start prepping you, Love,” I explain to her.

I wait for her nod of consent before gently rubbing at her slit. The opening is swollen from the moving blood. I press down with easy pressure, moving my fingers from top to bottom, urging her slit to open. A sharp hiss leaves Neytiri’s mouth as she grabs Jake’s hand.

“Easy, it’s okay baby, we got you,” I can hear Jake hold back a wince of his own from her firm grip on his hand.

“Is this where humans would start to threaten their male mate?” Neytiri asked through clenched teeth.

“Yes, Love, this is typically that time,” I send a knowing grin to Jake, excited to hear the explicit that will fall from her mouth. 

Jake gives me a dark look but otherwise doesn’t say anything.

“Jake! You bastard!” She starts off strong, “If I didn’t like it so much, I would cut off your dick and feed it to the Ikran’s!”

With that, I had to duck my head, hiding the smile that couldn’t stop. I focus back on my task, feeling her muscles giving in to my touch. I push a little harder, needing to break the seal that her pregnancy caused.

“Fuck you, Jake! I’m trying your dick to an Ikran and having it take flight!” Her scream was shrill as I broke the seal.

“You’re doing such a good job, Love. The seal’s broken. The worst of it is over.” I coo to her.

“By Eywa, that seal is horrible,” Neytiri mutters breathlessly, the sharp pain of the seal breaking causing her to lose her breath.

Now that her slit is open, I can see the fluid from her womb flow out, tainting the pool in a soft blue glow. I dip my fingers inside, feeling for the baby’s head. Their crown was near but not properly aligned yet. 

“Almost there, Love. Just a couple more minutes, and we can get them out,” I explain softly, my fingers never leaving the baby’s head.

Neytiri chuckles through her groans, “This one is eager, a week early, and not even an hour in labor.”

“Neteyam was average, right? Three hours?” He questions.

I look up at Neytiri’s face, wondering what the answer is, “Yes, three to four hours is average. And I now know why. I can feel this one moving my organs at their whim.” She hisses as the baby moves again.

Their fuzzy head is beneath my fingertips as their crown aligns some more. I shot Jake a pointed look, so I could continue to ease the rest of her slit open. 

“So what are the names we had listed?” He asked lamely.

“Well, for a girl, we all agreed on Mi’niri or Tuktirey,” Neytiri reminded him.

“If she’s named Tuktirey, the kids may have a hard time with her name until they are older,” I warned as I used the warm water to gently ease away the remains of the seal.

“Mhm,” She groaned as more the seal was parted, “I don’t think any of us agreed on a boy name,” Wincing as more of her slit parted.

Noticing that the baby was trying to push itself out early, I placed a bit of pressure on their head, needing to open Neytiri’s slit fully; otherwise, it could hurt both Neytiri and the baby.

“Jake, this is 100% your child,” I mutter, trying to hurry but not wanting to hurt Neytiri anymore.

Sputtering, Jake managed out, “What did I do?”

“Your child likes to finish early,” I muttered blankly.

“I do not finish early!” Jake protested.

“Then why do I always make our, Paskalin cum?” Neytiri joins in.

Using Jake’s bruised ego as a distraction, I finish peeling apart the bottom of Neytiri’s slit, allowing our baby to come out.

“Ready, Tiri? Our baby is ready to come out now,” I explain to her softly, my joy barely contained.

I remove my hand from her slit; instead, I place both my hands outside and around, ready to catch our baby. Neytiri grips onto Jake’s hand, takes a deep breath, and pushes. As she strains, her slit parts wide, showing us the baby’s head.

“You’re doing so good; they’re almost here,” Jake cooed into her ear.

I look and see Neytiri struggling. I pat her hip and say, “Breathe, my love, you need to breathe.” I rub at her hip as she follows my words, “There you go, good job, just breathe,” I praise her.

I watch as her breathing regulates itself and that she’s ready to try again, “Ready, baby? They’re almost here; I can see their head. Just give me another push.” I explain softly, readying myself again.

One more breath, and she started to push, grunting as our baby’s head slowly went past her slit, letting us see their head to the top of their eyes.

“Almost there, Love!” I exclaimed as their head finally popped through, “That their head, good job, Lovie, one more push for the shoulders, and then our baby is here.” 

With that, Neytiri pushed as hard as she could, forcing the shoulders out, and the rest of our baby slid out. I grabbed the baby, bringing its face above the water as I cleaned the membrane off its face. 

Their little face scrunched up as they took their first breath before crying out their displeasure. I coo at them as I finish cleaning them off, looking for any abnormalities or injuries. As I washed them, their slit that hides their internal genitals didn’t have the strength to close and won't for many months. 

I slowly had them over to Neytiri, “Say hello to our son,” I whispered over his cries.

The three of us crowd together, our arms all coiled around each other, each touching one another and our new son. Tears were in all of our eyes as Neytiri brought our son to her teat, and his cries died off as he quickly latched on and began to drink. 

“He’s got a good appetite,” Jake softly chuckled, not wanting to startle the baby.

“He just wants his Sa’nu,” I chuckle back.

Slowly, I reach around and grab Neytiri’s kuru, bringing it forward as Jake goes for our son’s, the bare neural whip, tiny in his large hands. We both look at Neytiri, waiting for her to say something, but her eyes could leave our son's face. He was content where he was, laying snuggly against his Sa’nu, eating his first meal. 

Jake clears his throat, trying to grab her attention. Neytiri is slow to look away but eventually meets his eyes. Recognition faces through her face as she sees the kurus in our grasp.

“Please,” She whispers. 

And we obey slowly; we bring them together, the glowing strands wrapping around each other as Tsaheylu was formed. Slowly, Neytiri’s eyes closed as she relaxed into the bond, feeling everything that our son felt, the first bond being made.

Jake and I looked at each other, knowing that everything we had gone through was worth it for these moments. We slowly brought our faces together, and our lips met softly just over our baby’s head. It was sweet and passionate, full of love.

“I love you two, but do that somewhere else,” Neytiri gripped at us, her eyes remaining closed.

We part quickly, like teens caught by their parents, before we laughed quietly. I go back to finishing my job, cleaning Neytiri, and clamping the umbilical cord, severing one of the internal bonds. 

We all sat there quietly, Jake and I watching our son eat his fill, snuffling as he suckled. By the time he was finished, his little tummy was rounded full from his meal. I reached over and placed my hand on his stomach.

“Look at his tummy, Jake,” I coo, loving the feel of a newborn.

“Our little one is a good eater,” He responds, smiling, his hand rubbing at our son's head. 

“He enjoys your attentions,” Neytiri mumbles, a soft smile on her face. 

“He knows who his parents are,” Jake comments, his voice deep rumbling in a purr. 

A little squeaky sound follows, a little chirping noise that our son is making, the purr of an infant. The continued squeaking purr filled the underground, mixing with Jake’s comforting rumbles. Slowly and slightly reluctantly, Neytiri disconnects from our baby, handing him over to Jake. He grabs him and cradles our son to his chest, their purrs syncing. I grabbed Neytiri’s hand, linking our fingers together. 

We stayed down there for what seemed like hours, simply holding the baby and comforting each other. It was once again my turn with our son. He lay curled with his head resting above my heart. I smoothed a hand down his fuzzy head and down his back before doing it again, memorizing the sanhì that covers his body. This time, he was asleep, so it was quiet in the underground once again.

“Ma Yawne,” Neytiri called, “Jake and I have been discussing, and we agree it’s your turn to choose the name,” Her smile was soft as tears stung my eyes.  

“We’ve both named a child. This time, it's yours,” Jake added as he wrapped an arm around me.

“I-I never-I haven’t.” I stuttered out as tears poured out of my eyes, trailing down and dropping on my son's head.

Neytiri crawled out of the pool, sitting herself next to me. She grabbed my face and placed a gentle kiss on my lips, “You are one of us, Yawntutsyìp; you are our Syulang, never doubt that.” Her voice was full of passion as I leaned into her touch.

I have never doubted they loved me, but being the only human in this relationship comes with hardships and worries—fears of never being enough for them. But this was real and couldn’t be taken back.

Choking back my tears, I look at my son's face again, wondering which name to go with, even though I already knew the answer.

“Lo’ak,” I whispered, “His name is Lo’ak,”

“Like Lo’akur Toruk Makto Amulet, it’s perfect, Yawne,” Her voice wobbled as she held me closer.

I lean up and lay my lips on the underside of her jaw as Jake wraps himself around my other side. 

“I think it’s a perfect name,” But then he whispers quietly enough that Neytiri can’t hear, “It is Lo’ak and not LOAC, right?” 

I refused to respond to that with words. Instead, I leaned to the side and bit his ear.

“Hey! Let go. I was just asking,” Jake whined quietly, trying not to wake Lo’ak.

I continue with my hold on Jake’s ear, laughing as he attempts to get away from my teeth. 

On my other side, I can feel rumbling, Neytiri’s laughter, “Children, I’m mated to two children,” A grin overtook her face.

I quickly let go of Jake’s ear and turned to her, “You love us this way,” I smiled cheekily. 

She said nothing as she kissed my lips before doing the same to a pouting Jake.

And I know that this moment couldn’t be better.

“Ma Syulang, I will be patrolling today. Jake should be back soon, but if I see Tsu’tey, I will send him to help you,” Neytiri rambles as she places her ionar.

I picked up Neteyam before he climbed onto our cooking spot. 

I turned and put on my best smile, “Don’t worry, Love, I’ll be fine until Jake gets back,” With that, Lo’ak started crying; growing in four fangs at once was painful.

Based on Neytiri’s face, I don’t think I did a good job in convincing her I was indeed fine, “I think I will wait for Jake to return before leaving,” She explains as she stops Kiri from putting a random leaf in her mouth, causing her to cry. 

I quickly placed Neteyam into the front of the sling, as Lo’ak was tied to my back, before moving over to Kiri, grabbing her wooden Ikran toy. Showing Kiri the toy, she quieted down, and I went to take her from Neytiri as Neteyam wiggled, becoming frustrated from the lack of mobility. 

“I’ve got them. You go on patrol,” I demand, as Netyeam grabbed a fist full of my hair and yanked.

“Neteyam!” I scolded, a burning, sharp pain radiating through my skull. 

My shout scared the babies, causing all three to tear up and cry. Lo’ak’s cries turned into squeals, even more upset on top of the pain. Neteyam pulled again in his frustration, and I quickly put him down into the gated play area, “Neteyam, that is not okay. I know you’re upset, but you hurt Mama. You’re going to sit in here until you can use gentle hands. Mama loves you, but you can not hurt people,” I scolded softly but firmly. 

I sat down near the gate but left it out of reach; I pulled Lo’ak to my front, setting him next to Kiri as I shooshed them, trying to calm the two of them.

Neytiri walks urgently to my side, “Here, let me take one,” As she goes to grab one of the kids.

“No, Neytiri, I’m the one that scared them. I need to be the one to calm them and reassure them. I will do the same once Neteyam is out of timeout.” I sighed as Kiri’s cries trailed off into sniffles.

“I’m sorry, babies, Mama shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry for scaring you. Mama loves you,” I coo to them, apologizing for my actions. 

I continued to coo and rock them as Neteyam’s time came up. I walked over and stepped over the gate, sitting next to Neteyam. I pulled him into my arms, and he wrapped his chubby baby arms around my neck.

I kiss his head gently, “Neteyam, I love you so much, but you can not hurt people. Can you tell Mama you’re sorry?” I ask him gently.

“Sorry, Mama,” He sniffles, his little fingers clawing in distress.

“You’re forgiven, baby. Mama loves you so much,” I curled Neteyam closer to me as I leaned back against some pillows against the gate. 

“Love Mama,” He grizzles, rubbing his face in my neck.

“Mama loves you too, Teyam,” I whisper, noticing that the three of them are starting to settle down. 

Seeing that Neytiri was still standing there watching us, I used my face to gesture to the blanket nearby. Understanding what I wanted, she grabbed the soft blanket, covering the four of us in the soft fur. 

“Mama loves all of you so much,” I whisper again, kissing each of their heads.

Noticing that the situation was handled, Neytiri blew me a kiss before strapping her quiver on, her bow in hand, “Do you need anything, Yawne?” She asked one last time.

“Thank you, Love, but I’m good,” I whisper as I hear Kiri’s little snores. 

Giving us one last soft look, she left the kelku, leaving me with a snoring baby, a dozing baby, and a grizzly baby. I mentally curse at myself, realizing I should have asked for one of the baby sleeping mats to be placed next to me instead of where I spot it on the other side of the gated area. 

Accepting my fate as a baby bed for the time being, I slouch a bit more, getting myself comfortable. 

“Mama?” Neteyam asked drowsily.

“Yes, baby?” I hum, petting his hair.

“Mama?” He asks again, slower than the last time.

“Mama loves you, Netyeam,” I whisper again.

Slowly, his breathing eases out as he falls into a deep sleep.

Now that two of the three kids were sleeping, I turned to the third baby. Lo’ak was lying there resting, chewing on the strap to the sling, grizzling sleepily as he fights sleep and the pain of the emerging teeth. I kiss his forehead, bringing his attention to me.

“Mama loves you, Lo’ak, just as Mama loves Neteyam, and how Mama loves Kiri. I wish I could take the pain from you and help you rest, just as I wished I could do it for your siblings.” I ramble on, holding eye contact with Lo’ak, “Your Sempu is getting something to help with your teeth from your grandma, but he’s taking a long time, isn’t he? I love your Sempu, too, but he can be such a skxawng sometimes,” I smiled at Lo’ak, and in return, he gave me a watery smile before returning to gnawing on the straps of the sling.

He turned his head left to right, switching sides to alleviate the pressure. Using my not-so-free hand, I place my hand on his head, rubbing his cheek with my thumb, trying to give him the comfort he needs as he grizzles. Feeling something on his face, Lo’ak turns, sucking my finger into his mouth and gnawing on my thumb. He grinds his teeth and gums into my thumb, and I can feel my thumbnail crunching under the strength. I maneuver my thumb out of his mouth, trying not to curse at the pain. Looking at the offended limb, I see cracks in my nail from where he bit.

“You got a strong jaw there, baby. Gotta make sure nothing breakable goes in your mouth,” I laugh at Lo’ak’s disgruntled look, “Now, don’t give me that look. I like my thumb in one piece,” I say, wiggling my thumb, trying to ease the pain. 

Lo’ak’s eyes filled with tears as his new teething toy disappeared. I quickly leave small kisses all over Lo’ak’s face, distracting him from the loss of my thumb. Soft little baby giggles fill the kelku as the onslaught of kisses amuses him.

“Now that’s one of my favorite sounds. My other favorite is when you and Neytiri scream my name,” Jake’s face was stretched in a smirk.

Without looking away from Lo’ak, I calmly mentioned, “If you like us yelling your name, I’ll make sure to tell Neytiri it was you who lost the feathers she gathered for her arrows.” I quickly blow a raspberry on Lo’ak’s face, bringing forth more of his giggles.

“Easy baby, it was just a joke; please don’t sign my death warrant,” I hear him plead as he kneels next to the gated area.

“See, Lo’ak, I told you he’s such a Skxawng,” I explain to Lo’ak, his eyes attentive to me.

“Is this what you do while I’m gone? Teach them propaganda against me?” Jake teases, baffled.

“Yes, I’m staging a coup. Neytiri is my bodyguard, Neteyam is my recruiter, Kiri is my lookout, and Lo’ak is my second. Fear me, Jake Sully, your time is limited.” I drawl.

“Ha! You forgot Mo’at! She won't betray the Olo’eyktan!” Jake exclaimed quietly. 

“She will if her daughter is on my side, idiot,” I snark back at him, a smile threatening to cover my face. 

“Hmm, that is true, but I also have the numbing paste for Lo’ak,” He teases, hanging the bag over my head.

Interested in his father's actions, Lo’ak tries to reach for the bag above us.

“You would stoop so low as to threaten your own son's comfort?” I gasped dramatically. If my hands weren't full, I would place a hand over my heart.

“Anything to keep my lovely mates by my side. Now kiss me,” Jake demands, smiling at me, leaning down.

“You’re such a tease. We should role-play this some night,” I comment, leaning up to meet him. 

“I love that idea. You think Neytiri would be on board?” Jake asks concernedly, stepping over the gate, taking the two sleeping babies from me and cuddling them to his chest.

“Well, first, we would have to explain what role-playing is, but I have heard her say she wished you would command her in bed more often. As long as she knows that it won't change in our day-to-day life, I think she’ll love it,” I reply, explaining what I had heard.

“I hope she likes it,” He smiles, his tale swishing happily behind him.

I sat there thinking for a moment as I rubbed the paste into Lo’ak’s gums, careful not to let his jaws clamp on my finger again, “Gosh, I don’t think we’ve been intimate since before Lo’ak was born. It has been what, ten months now?” I ask Jake, really wondering if it had been that long. 

“324 days, to be exact,” He replied in a snap.

“Babe, have you wanted it that long?” I asked him concernedly.

Jake slowly shakes his head, “It’s alright, I have a working hand. We were all so tired, three babies right back to back. I didn’t want either of you two to feel stressed or pressured, so I kept my mouth shut,” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

Tears sprung to my eyes hearing this, wishing that Jake understood how much this truly meant. I stand to my feet, shifting Lo’ak so he is lying against my chest as he drifts to sleep now that the pain is gone. I cradle Jake's face in my hand as I kiss him passionately, pouring my love for him into the kiss. 

Parting slowly, I rest my forehead against his, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Jake smiles softly, “The first time we met, I was in a wheelchair and got pushed down a hall. The force of the push caused me to hit you, and you fell into my lap. You could have yelled at me, blamed me, and so many others had.” Jake’s voice breaks as he licks his lips, “But instead, you took one look at the situation, and you apologized to me, even though you were the victim too before you hunted down the bastard and broke their nose, before chewing them out in front of everyone around. I knew right then and there that you were the one for me.” Jake rubbed his nose on mine as he couldn’t hold me with the two babies in his arms.

I curl into Jake’s arms the best I can, tears trailing down my face from the mixed emotions swirling inside me. 

“That long? And you didn’t say anything?” I whispered, my voice cracked. 

“You were so pretty and firey, way out of my league. I was just a dumb jarhead stuck in a wheelchair. I was just happy to be in your presence.” Jake wrapped his tail around, laying it on my lap. 

“You were always so much more than that. You were my first friend there, so kind and funny. I always had to stop myself from laughing when you snarked at Grace. You were always so strong and never took any shit. I knew I was falling in love with you, but the day you chose the na’vi over the humans, the day you betrayed your own species for the greater good, I knew I wasn’t going to let you slip away.” I explained to him, kissing him again softly. 

“Who would have thought we were both such simps,” Jake smiled into our kiss.

I giggled a bit, “Neytiri did. If it weren't for her, I doubt any of this would have happened,” I gestured to our kids. 

“That is tru-AHHHHHHHH!!!” Jake screamed, waking the babies and filling the air with their screams.

Panicking, I back away, trying to see what’s wrong.

“Don’t do that!” Jake yelled again.

“Don’t do what?” I scream in return.

Both the babies in Jake’s arms were squealing, terrified of the noise, as they waved their fists in the air. But Lo’ak was quiet. Looking down, I see the culprit of Jake’s pain. Right in Lo’ak’s little mouth lay Jake’s tail, clenched between those strong jaws and little teeth.

“Lo’ak’s biting your tail!” I screamed, trying to pull Jake’s tail out of Lo’ak’s mouth.

“I see that! Now stop pulling!” Jake's teeth were bared in a natural defense to the pain.

“Well then, how would you like to handle this?” I yelled back, barely hearing anything over the screaming babies.

“I don't know! Just do something!” He yells, trying to pull his tail out of Lo’ak’s mouth.

“Stop yelling! You’re scaring the babies!” I screamed back, trying to push on Lo’ak’s jaw to get him to let go.

Lo’ak’s squeaky growls add to the mix of screaming and whiling. Lo’ak does not want his new chew toy taken away, and he learned the last time to not let go.

“Fuck! Lo’ak! Let go!” Jake’s voice started to slip into a growl, fighting the challenge that Lo’ak started.

“I love you, but don’t you dare growl at the baby,” I hissed at him while still trying to pry Lo’ak’s jaw open.

“He started it!” He hissed back.

Kiri, either from fear or simply being done with shit, reached out and sunk her teeth into Jake’s shoulder, her growls adding to the mix.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kiri, let go!” Jake yelled out.

“Da fuck? Why Kiri?” I asked no one in particular. 

“Is everything alright in here,” I hear Tsu’tey call.

Jake and I snap our heads over to him, “NO!” We yell in tandem.

“What is going on?” Tsu’tey’s deep voice asked over the chaos.

“Lo’ak bit Jake’s tail, and Kiri bit his shoulder, and we can’t get them to let go!” I rushed to explain while my hand started to cramp.

“Tsu’tey, seriously, help us get them off!” Jake demanded as nicely as he was able to.

“Have you scruffed them? That usually works,” Tsu’tey asked, baffled.

“Why would we scruff a baby?” I asked, bewildered and slightly hostile. 

“Be-because it calms them and will make them let go?” He answered, questioning us and himself.

“You know what, I don’t care, as long as it gets them off!” Jake hissed again.

Slow Tsu’tey walked over as if we were aggressive animals waiting to ponce. Spotting Kiri first, he slowly moved his hand over the back of her neck, gently rubbing before holding onto the skin there. A confused noise left her as she let go. Quickly, Tsu’tey grabbed her and held her properly. 

“You scruff them,” He explained calmly.

Looking down at Lo’ak, I move my hand from his jaw and copy the same movements that Tsu’tey did, and with a bated breath, Lo’ak let go. Jake grabbed his tail in relief as we all started to soothe the distressed babies. All of us are now mindful of the little teeth in their mouths.

“Brother, I thank you for your help in this, but if Neytiri ever finds out about this, I will personally make sure you and Ninat cannot have children,” Jake murmured while rocking Neteyam.

“No need for that, JakeSully. It is a right of passage in parenthood. Neytiri will be thrilled to see those scars!” Tsu’tey laughed, “Eytukan wore the scars Neytiri and Sylwanin gave him with pride. He would decorate the marks on the day of their birth.”

I look at Jake, bewildered that this is normal here, and based on the look that he gave me, he was thinking the same thing. 

“How-how often does this happen?” I asked tentatively.

“About once or twice a child,” Tsu’tey shrugged like it was no big deal.

“I’m going to tap out of this tradition as a human who is highly susceptible to infections, and I know that those teeth can and will do severe damage to me. For my safety, that isn’t gonna happen,” I deadpan.

I hear them both wince at the thought.

“That may be a good idea,” Tsu’tey, the biggest stickler for traditions, admitted. 

“Fuck!”

All eyes turned to the shouted curse.

“Please tell me-”

“Fuck!” Followed by little giggles.

“We’re so dead,” Jake muttered, all the color draining from his face.

“We have to hide this from Neytiri,” I whispered back.

Neteyam looked at Kiri from across the room, “Fuck!” He shouted at his sister, followed by giggles.

Kiri waved her arms excitedly, “Fuck!” She giggled back.

Tsu’tey slowly stood up, gently passing me Kiri like she was an atomic bomb, “You two seem to have a handle on this. I will take my leave now,” With that, he ran away with his tail between his legs, like a coward. 

“Did we ever finish writing our wills?” I ask, as Neteyam’s responding ‘fuck’ travels through the air.

“The na’vi don’t have wills,” Jake answered, accepting his fate.

“Maybe she’ll kill us quickly,” I whispered hopefully.

“Uck!” Lo’ak shouted his first word.

Slowly, we looked at Lo’ak before looking back at each other, dread filling our souls. Neteyam and Kiri were thrilled at their baby brother joining them. Their laughter and shouts of ‘fuck’ echo through the room, all three of them filled with glee. Not understanding that they were going to be raised by a single mother soon.

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

#avatar #avatar way of water #atwow #lo'ak sully #lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan #lo'ak avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar neteyam #neteyam sully #atwow neteyam #avatar twow #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #kiri te suli kìreysì'ite #kiri sully #neteyam #sully family #jake sully #neytiri sully #jake sully x you #jake sully x reader #avatar 2 #avatar 2022 #jake sully avatar #avatar jake sully #neytiri x y/n #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #neytiri x reader #neytiri #avatar movie #james cameron avatar

[luveline]

Hi don’t know if you’re taking requests (if not please ignore!) just wondering how Halloween would look like in the KBD universe or even a masquerade ball for prince Steve and reader?

thank you for requesting angel ♡ kbd mom!reader, 2k

"I think we should paint her orange," Avery says. 

Steve pushes the wand of his bubbles back into the container, coating it in solution. "What for, honey?" 

"For Halloween! We'll paint her orange and she can be a pumpkin." 

"Oh." 

Steve purses his lips, blowing bubbles over the green grass of the garden. It's alive despite it being late October, mildly crisp underfoot. He can hear leaves crunching under Bethie's boots where she runs around toward the back gate. 

Wren sees the bubbles and giggles wildly. Steve grins. "You like those, sweetheart?" 

"What if we make her green like a witch?" 

"Who, Ave?" 

"Wren." 

"Oh. Well, Wren can't use face paint yet, babe, she's too little," Steve explains, dipping the wand in solution again. "But they're very good ideas. Do you know what you want to be?" 

Avery throws her hands out. She's getting older than he ever imagined her, but she's still so small at the end of the day with delicate little hands and facial expressions cute enough to make a grown man cry. Steve would know, he's cried a ton of times just looking at her. 

"I already told you." 

Steve pretends to remember to spare her feelings as he blows more bubbles. He knows you'll know, and so it's a white lie. Better for everyone. "I remember! You're gonna be awesome." 

She smiles for the first time in ten whole minutes and sits down next to Steve. He offers her the bubbles and the wand, freeing his hands to give her a loving squeeze from either side. "Very good ideas," he repeats, patting her arm.

Bethie comes running with two cupped hands. Steve can picture her find before she shows him, and still he's horrified to see a slug in her palm. It's not big but neither is she, lavishing across the breadth of her hand. 

Ew, Steve thinks. "Wow, Beth! What did you find?" 

"There's snails, too!" she says excitedly, her eyes bright as her attention flickers between the slug and her dad. "They're sleeping, I think. They're stuck to the slide." 

"Beth, listen to me really quickly?" 

"Yeah, dad," she says, nodding. 

"I like that you're being gentle with the slugs, you're being nice, but as soon as you put him down, don't touch your face, okay? In fact, when you put him down, we're gonna go inside and wash our hands." 

Beth looks down at her slug in alarm. "What?" 

"He's not dangerous!" Steve reassures her. "But he might have germs. Germs don't hurt our skin, but they can't go in your mouth, okay? Good girl." 

"He can't hurt my skin?" 

"No, bub. Some bugs can, but not the plain black slugs. How about next time you want to pick one up, you come and get me and we'll pick it up together?" 

Steve doesn't want to kill her fearlessness in this sole area, not when she's usually timid around everything else, but he also doesn't want to kill her full stop. All these random bugs, Steve doesn't know what's what. 

"Okay. I picked this one up because he's got a yellow stripe," she says. Beth speaks in full words and makes sense the majority of the time, but her delivery is clumsy, heavy in places. Steve can still remember her first word. He's a firm believer in taking your time (please. please, let her take her time). 

"You're super brave," he praises.

"Mom says bugs are more 'fraid of us than we are of them." 

"She's right. Think if something this much bigger than you picked you up one day, you'd want them to put you down gently, right?" 

Determination fills her eyes. "Yes." 

She starts to run off but then slows, holding her hand aloft in front of her. 

Closer by, Avery blows bubbles near Wren's soft chair, the youngest baby giggling like a tinkling bell. You and Steve have emphasised to Avery that Wren isn't her responsibility. Look after her as you would your other sisters, but don't feel like being the biggest sister makes you in charge. Avery sort of listened, but now she's planning Halloween costumes in her head, Steve's worried she's putting too much on her little shoulders, as she tends to do. 

"Come here, my big girl," he demands, opening his arms. 

Avery grins and jumps into his lap. Steve groans playfully, happy to be trampled, and just glad she had the foresight to screw the cap on her bubbles before she pounced. 

"Hello. So, do I need to go to the store for this costume?" he asks. 

"Probably."

"Okay. Are you coming with me to choose?" 

"Mom said we're all going after lunch." 

Steve waves her arms back and forth. "I guess we better get ready, then." 

Easier said than done. Steve marches the girls back inside to find you've already dressed Dove and sat her in her chair with her lunch in front of her. Feeding young kids is tough because you're always trying to rotate things to keep their tastes big, but you've given in today to an easy solution; everybody's having pizza subs and halved grapes. So long as they're fed, who minds? 

"Give me the babies!" you say, jumping up from your seat to grab Wren, chair and all, "Hi. Something tells me it's time for a bottle." 

"I'll get them dressed–" 

"Go get yourself dressed. They can eat first." You kiss his cheek. "I put some stuff out for you already." 

"I can do it," he insists. 

"Take a break," you insist back, your tone gentle as velveteen.

His turn to kiss your cheek. "Do you know what Avery wants to be for her costume?" he asks in your ear. 

"She wants to be Belle, she told us weeks ago." He remembers as soon as you say it. "But I don't think finding a costume for her is going to be very easy this close to Halloween." 

Steve doesn't blame either of you for your busy October, but he hates himself watching Avery grow more and more disappointed with every store you drive to. There are no yellow princess dresses to be found, only store brand pinks. Bethie is ecstatic to choose one of those ones and Dove insists on a white fairy costume with sugar paper wings, but Avery's frown grows heartbreaking when it's clear there aren't any Belle dresses to buy. 

"I'm sorry," you're saying, Wren strapped to your chest, Beth and Dove knee to knee in the shopping cart in front of you. "It's my fault, baby, I left it last minute." 

"No, it's my fault," Steve says. 

Avery glares for a while, standing in front of all the dresses. Steve bends down to speak with her. "I'm sorry, Ave. Don't be mad at mom, okay? It's not her fault even when she says it is, she was busy working and I forgot about costumes because I had all that stuff with Wren and the doctors and my glasses and–" He winces. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. So be mad at me if you want, I was supposed to remember, but I'll make it up to you, promise."

"I told you ages ago," she says morosely. 

"I know. You did. I didn't think about them running out of costumes, Avery. Sometimes when you're a grown up you have so much stuff to think of you don't have room for all of it, but that's not fair, huh? Now you don't get the costume you wanted." 

She sighs, but the thing about Avery is that if you understand her point, she runs out of anger, just like her mom. She wants to make up, burying her face in Steve's thigh for a hug. 

"What am I going to be now?" she asks. 

"How about Belle's blue dress, babe?" you suggest. 

"They don't have any Belle costumes!" 

"I know, but we can make one. That's what me and dad did growing up, right?" you ask. 

"All my costumes were homemade," he seconds, "that was the fun part." 

So Avery marches you guys to the normal dresses and together you look for something nice and long enough for her tall stature. It's in the middle of this searching when she gasps, jumping up to grab Steve by the elbows. 

Delighted at being forgiven, he bends down at her whim. "What?" he asks excitedly. 

"Wren can be a bumblebee, like me!" 

"You remember that?" he asks. 

"No, but you have the photo in the car. Do you still have the costume?" 

It's Steve. Of course he kept the costume, he keeps everything, an attic stuffed to bursting with the offcuts of your lives. You giggle from the landing underneath him, the baby in one arm and a spooky drink made special by Dove in the other hand. "I wish you could drink more than milk." 

"Don't poison her!" Steve says, covered in cobwebs and knees white with dust as he climbs down the rickety ladder back onto solid ground. You wolf whistle as he reaches up to close everything safely, and cheer when you see the bee costume in his hand.

"You're the best. Think we should let Avery put it on her?" you ask. 

"Maybe. Think she can be gentle enough?"

Your little girl, so preoccupied with her sister's costume that she forgot about her own? Yes, Avery can be gentle enough. She sews Wren's small arms into the costume's sleeves like she's handling a girl made of glass, and she doesn't attempt to lift her, quick to say, "Dad, can you pick her up for me?" 

Steve lifts her and Wren does her scrunch, legs pulled up high and face a little startled. She's just old enough to giggle, prompting Bethie to join in as she races across the living room rug, the skirts of her dress fluttering against the floor. 

"She looks like a bee!" Dove says, following after, her fairy wings jittering with her movements. 

"She is!" Avery says, buttoning Wren's last button. 

Finally, after an exhausting afternoon (both of energy and your wallets), the four girls are dressed in their Halloween costumes. Avery as Belle in her original blue dress and white apron, not the costume she wanted but clearly her favourite character nonetheless. Bethie wears her pink princess dress and one of Avery's big plastic tiaras, her hair done as you would style your own for date night. Dove twirls in her white fairy dress, silver corset ribbons shiny in the light. Wren gurgles in his arms, her soft wings folded between her and Steve's chest. And you, uncostumed, stand beautiful and tired in the doorway, sparkly eyeshadow in a stripe up your cheek. 

The girls smile at him and their eyes glimmer. 

"Wow," he says, leaning back against the couch. "You guys look amazing." 

"It's about an hour until we're gonna leave," you say, "so please do mommy a favour and watch some TV, okay?" 

You set them up in a line with a bowl of chips each —you can vacuum them clean. Steve cleans as quickly as he can while you wipe your face and put aside some stuff for tonight in case the girls come home hungry, and eventually, eventually, you and Steve make your way to the kitchen table for a quiet minute together. 

"Wren's–" 

"In her bassinet," Steve says. "You're–" 

"Fine." You reach for his hand. "And you're–" 

"Perfect." He rubs the back of your fingers with his thumb. "I've missed you today. I know we were together, but…" 

You slouch into the table, resting your cheek on a placemat and closing your eyes. "Me too, sweetheart." 

He shuffles closer and leans in. "Tired, huh?" he asks gently, pressing similarly soft kisses to your cheek. "Love you," he says. "Don't fall asleep." 

"I'm not. Just resting my eyes." 

He doesn't rub your back, worried it'll send you to sleep. Instead, he kisses all over your face, sloe at first and faster when he realises it'll take a while to cover every inch. You smile and let him do as he pleases, laughing under your breath as he kisses your eyelid, squirming when he pecks under your nose. "Freak," you mumble. 

"That's what I'm being for Halloween."

"What am I gonna be?" you ask.

"Same as every year, I thought. Most beautiful girl this side of the Mississippi river." 

You like the sound of it, pulling your joined hands to your face to nuzzle his knuckles. 

"Or you can be Frankentstein," he suggests. "I'll be the monster." 

"We can just be the two tiredest parents ever." 

"That's not super creative, babe, we kinda do that every day." 

"So I'm not beautiful every day," you say quickly, having set him up. "Knew it." 

"You tricked me." 

"Did not. Make it up to me?" 

"What do you want?" he asks. 

"Just a hug, Stevie." You raise your head to smile at him sleepily. "A really nice hug, please." 

He saves the line about every hug being nice when it's with you and cuddles you, stroking your back for countless minutes, murmuring nothings to you until baby Wren shriek-cries from the living room. Steve soothes her upset, and you start the impossible task of getting everyone in their shoes for a night of trick-or-treating.

#kisses before dinner universe #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #afab!reader #mom!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.58)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your nightmares are a troubling development but the pack won't let you drown. They have different ideas on how to help you. Some more damaging than others.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, Cuddling, scent marking, Nightmares, graphic depiction of fake character death, Discussions of past rape, No explicit depictions of past rape/sexual assault, past domestic-abuse, flashbacks, safe-wording during sex (Sorta), unpleasant sexual encounters, under-negotiated kink, mentioned sex toys, crying during sex, Sad blow jobs, small dick jungkook, allusions to past eating disorders, anxiety, implied self-hate, self-esteem issues, non-verbal main character.

W/c: 12.9k

A/N: this chapter was originally supposed to be a lot longer- but i got too in depth with it and had to split it up. This is easily one of the more heavy chapters of bily (and that's saying something), so please be mindful of the tags! For anyone wanting to skip the super triggering parts in the next chapter i've highlighted a sentence in red font both after the first triggering section and before the very triggering ending.

Special thanks to @imperiussexrex for helping me with jk's part <3 they're the bestest <3

Previous Chapter- Masterlist

"Sleep well, my lovely little spy."

Jin’s eyes flutter open, looking up at the beta who's watching him with a gentle but noticeably tense smile. Jin’s mouth is dry, he could pretend he didn’t hear anything but there would be no use. The truth wouldn’t change.

"Holy shit.” Jin’s whole body is ridged. Ready to run. In panic mode. But Yoongi’s hand settles on his shoulder. It’s the same touch as always and just as gentle and kind as it was both this mourning and 6 years ago. Yoongi has always been a kind soul, regardless of every secret Jin's ever learned to love about him.

Letting himself be known in return feels a little bit more perilous. Jin’s heart thuds against his fingertips. He swallows hard.

Yoongi hums, agreeing with Jin’s assessment. He runs a hand gently through Jin’s hair. Tugging away loose a knot. “Holy shit indeed.”

Everything is fine. In the wake of the dead body, everything in the pack is absolutely fine.

(That’s a lie, everything is definitely not fine, everything is in fact- falling apart. Like a butterfly larva worming its way to crystalize. Carving its way towards both womb and tomb. Something that changes you or destroys you.)

Jin and Yoongi can only hope.

It’s only hope after all. How much damage can it really do?

~-~

Your unraveling starts with the Nightmares.

Tonight, it’s a dark tangle of half-forgotten moments. A movie with all of the scariest scenes copied and pasted. Bright punctures of feelings like blood dripping down your chin and the tang of it in your mouth. Geumjae’s scent in your nose as he shoves your mouth against his skin. All of it. Every unhappy memory that your psyche has locked away for later drags you down like the tide would drag a stone to a watery grave.

Until the moments condense like a figure rising through fog and you’re sitting in that house again. The one with the yellow brocade curtains pulled closed across the windows so that no one sees what happens inside.

You're sitting with Geumjae at the dining room table. The elaborate meal in front of you rises with steam and smells divine calling you like a moth to honey. The cutlery is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. A million dancing tiny versions of you stare back with vacant doll-like eyes.

You remember this meal; you remember what happened to you on this morning. The soreness between your legs reminds you of that horror. You remember how hard you worked after he left in the morning after leaving you in a bloody heap on the bathroom floor. You remember hoping that if you did everything you absolutely could to prepare this meal, He’d be satisfied and he wouldn’t hurt you again.

But avoiding rape is never quite so easy.

It was foolish to hope back then. Geumjae was a man of routine and he required your body every morning and evening without fail. But hoping is so hard to avoid, like an itch under your skin that demands biting nails, a furious sort of wanting. Hope is nothing more than a chain that drags you through the sludge when you think it might be your buoy.

In this nightmare, the other chairs at the table aren’t empty like they usually are. It’s not just you here.

He must have taken a needle and stitched your mouth shut (like he always threatened) because you feel powerless to scream at Namjoon to get away to stay back. You can do nothing more than watch as he leans over and says something to Geumjae that makes him smile. His smile makes him look like Yoongi; who sits at the head of the table and nurses a glass of wine while scowling.

Jin is on Namjoon's other side, hair combed back from his face in a way that makes Seokjin look absurdly pretty. The picture of delicate omega composure. Each of them eats like they haven't in days, shoveling food into their mouths like it’s their last meal.

Jungkook is by your side and asks if you’re going to eat your dinner roll. Puffy and crusty bread that he never would be able to eat in real life. You watch powerlessly as he scarfs it down like he hasn’t ever eaten anything more delicious. Licking his fingers from the crumbs when he finishes.

Tae is dressed in your jewels this time, not Jimin's. The necklace Geumjae gave you for your second anniversary digs into her collar bones as if it was pinned there. Like a butterfly on a piece of cardboard. Glittering with more diamonds than seem possible. Like one of those Instagram filters, every reflection mark turned glittery. Jimin’s suit is like something out of vogue.

One moment you’re looking at the perfectly edible food and the next you’re watching it rot before your very eyes. The meat greying and melting. The salad wilts gooey and spoiled. The fancy porcelain plates writhing with worms and maggots and creepy crawlies that slither out of nowhere. A spider inches its way up your fork.

No one notices. No one realizes that the bites they bring to their lips are poison. Jin licks his lips, the skin already greying and cracking.

Geumjae looks up at you from his plate, grinning all the while. Collar starched white. You haven’t heard his voice in so long but your mind remembers the exact cadence of it in perfect detail.

“What’s wrong princess? Aren’t you going to eat up?

When you look back at them it's already too late. Namjoon’s slumped in his chair staring blankly forward with bloody eyes. When you look Jin’s got his head half gone. Cut away. Wriggly things curl behind what's left of his eye.

Tae’s collarbones are bleeding where the diamond collar sits. Ribbons drip down her bodice. Jimin’s white shirt is slowly blooming red too. Bullet wounds pepper his chest. One on his shoulder and a cluster of them over his heart.

Jungkook slumps over his plate seizing until he’s still. Still the way that dolls are. Dead. Looking at you with wide vacant eyes that go grey with congealing blood.

Yoongi's hands are burning, fire licking up his clothes and he does nothing to put it out. Burning and bubbling and boiling. Skin peeling up like paint beneath the flames.

Hoseok is the only one not at the table.

Across from you, Geumjae smiles again. Baring his teeth in that animal way of his. “What’s wrong princess? I thought you said you loved them- aren’t you going to try and stop it?”

One moment he’s across the table and the next he’s leaning over you, back in that bedroom that was your hellhole less than a year ago. Pulling you by your hips to the end of the bed when you try to twist away. He fumbles with his belt buckle.

The sheets burn against your skin like its rug burn and although you weakly push at his chest. It feels like you're moving in slow motion. Your strength is nothing compared to his. It never was enough in real life anyway.

“No- no I don’t want- please don’t,” you choke. Trying to get him off of you, when he opens his mouth there are maggots there too.

You never did find out what they did with Geumjae’s body. But now you know as the rotting corpse of your dead husband assaults you. Boney hands grab your wrists as the worms drip out, dangle, and wriggle, falling onto your face and-

One of the terrible things about the big nest upstairs is that it’s really easy to get trapped in the middle with no easy way out.

Hobi finds himself in that position when he wakes. It’s the middle of the night, nearly 3 am probably when he’s roused by the familiar ache in his stomach that tells him he needs to pee.

The shades are pulled across the windows keeping the light out, and what little slips through is kept out by a thin curtain that sections off the nest from the rest of the room. Shielding the familiar lumps of packmates buried beneath the nest slumbering away.

It feels good to have all of you sleeping in one space, the instinctual pleasure flutters and builds on the edge of Hobi’s consciousness as he lifts his head. Barely opening his eyes. It feels homey in the way that Namjoon's rut nest hadn't. It's a true nest, Smelling thick and cakey sweet all of your scents drench it now after a few days of you all sleeping here. After finding the dead body, the decision had been unanimous. No more sleeping separately. No more splitting up between the upstairs nest and the remnants of yours downstairs.

Even though it's a new space some things never change. Jimin still sleeps at the edge near the bottom, guarding the nest from the most logical point of vulnerability. Although that might be because of last week.

The pack has made a few other adjustments in terms of safety since you and Hobi found the dead body. Many a moment has hobi walked into a room with Jin and Yoongi only to have them fall silent. But he doesn't have to ask what new precautions they've agreed upon.

They’ve fallen back into the habit of letting each other know when they get to work safely and when they leave, and when to expect them home (the same habit they had just after yoongi left actually) Phone locations are perpetually turned on just in case. But Hobi knows the only time any of them feel truly settled is when they’re all up here.

The nest is big. Big enough for all of you to sleep comfortably, even all sprawled out. But as thoughtful as Yoongi was when he constructed the space he certainly did not think about how hard it would be to leave for a midnight bathroom break given the walls that close in on three sides.

Now, Hobi is trapped and bound by blankets and fancy pillows and the gently sleeping bodies of his pack all around him. The border is high and fluffed. It’s in an alpha's nature to be careful around his packmates and it goes against something very basic in Hobi to even think about disturbing the carefully placed pillows and blankets, the general purposeful disarray of such a cozy nest. Alphas simply don’t fuck with omega nests.

But on the other hand, he’s seriously stuck.

Namjoon, Jimin, and Jin are at the bottom blocking off the most logical point of egress. Jin’s head rests on Jimin's shoulder, dark hair fanning. Yoongi is tangled up with Tae (her hair in these little puffy rollers). And Jungkook’s star fished and spread out by the top edge, right where Hobi was. His fingers rest under his shirt like he’s been rubbing at his stomach. Snoring softly.

Hobi’s heart swells just looking at them.

The only safe avenue of exit where Hobi won’t be climbing over two people is near the bottom left, close to Jin and Namjoon, where you lie on your side, cheek pillowed. Chest rising up and down a little rapidly in the darkness. It’s so dark that Hobi doesn’t see it at first.

Hobi’s so half-asleep that he doesn’t even realize right away that you’re not as undisturbed as the others. That you occasionally twitch like a puppy.

Hobi is no stranger to maneuvering his lithe body around sleeping packmates, muscles straining as he very gently pulls himself over you. Depressing the mattress by your side. His baggy sleep shirt momentarily brushes your face as he shifts over you.

Your reaction is instinctual, one moment asleep and the next awake. Your scent going sour all at once. Exploding in a rush. You push out with your arms, still in the nightmare.

One second Hobi’s on the bed the next he’s stumbling out of it, Barely keeping himself from falling face-first onto the floor. Bare feet slide on the polished wood when he gets them under him. Cursing out a brief “What the fuck?” looking back, ready to be angry at being shoved.

But then he sees that you're sitting up, trembling so hard that your hands can't grip the blanket to get it off of you. Eyes wide and glassy with panic. You blink and blink, lower lip wobbling.

There is a single moment where he just looks at you, but then you let out a small (and admittedly pathetic) chirp.

There is nothing like a chirp that tugs on an alpha’s hindbrain, that drags Hobi's instincts to the forefront like a hook in a fish's mouth. He's honestly surprised that the sound doesn't wake anyone else. Maybe because it's so quiet, so small.

It’s just a dream, just a very bad dream, and your pack is sleeping softly around you. The next thing you feel is Hobi gently crushing you to his chest. Smelling like caramel and boy. Tenderly whipping back your hair from your face. His warm fingertips press against your tender temples dislodging the last bit of you that can't tell if this is real yet.

“Pup? What’s wrong- what happened?"

Hobi looks about as different from Geumjae as anyone possibly could, his jaw slender where Geumjae was wide, eyes bright where his went dark and hooded. Unthreatening and normal brown in the glow.

But just like the dream, you can’t fucking speak.

“Fuck- it was just a dream, whatever it was- it’s not real- I’m-”

You’re shaking and crying and you can’t respond. Your throat is all tight. All of you that is usually happy and gentle is reduced small and scared and quiet. You can't tell where the shadows end and where reality begins. You can only feel his hands. That's the only thing that feels real beyond the terror.

You can't look around; you can't look around at the others- too scared that they'll be dead.

Thank God for the physical nature of Hobi’s job. Herking bags of soil and 30-gallon trees has honestly done him good because it means he can carry you downstairs with a little effort.

Real panic circles his head like a bunch of buzzards, threatening to pick his heart clean. "Hang on- here we go." He turns on each of the lights one by one by leaning into them. Shoulder hitting the plastic, the two of you safer with each click. "See- there isn't anything to be scared of! There's no one here but us."

Hobi is right, Hobi would never lie to you. This kitchen is not the same one from your nightmares. The blinds are blinds and not curtains, drawn to keep out the streetlights not any prying eyes. The old rickety table where the pack has their meals isn't piled with food at all. Only some tangerines in a wooden bowl in the center.

You’re small and shaky in an extra big shirt of Namjoon’s that pools on your thighs when he places you on gently the countertop with a small 'oof'. You're already a little more lucid, eyes darting from the light to the shadows and still trembling faintly. Hobi knows instantly from the stillness that you’re nonverbal. Mouth uncooperative. Your brain is a mix of misplaced adrenaline and cortisol. You smell terrified.

“It’s okay, it’s just a dream, here-” Hobi fills up a yellow plastic cup with water and tips it against your lips. The cold soothes your throat but not to the point that you can speak. You’re unwilling to detangle yourself from him. Real and warm and there now that you’ve got him. hand tangled in the front of his shirt, clinging to him.

He hums as he dabs a cold dishcloth across on your hot cheeks. “You’re okay- I’ve got you.” You lean into his hands, legs parted so that he can stand between them. You look so sad and so small that Hobi’s heart hurts.

You don’t want to speak, really don’t want to but you force yourself anyways. “Don’t remember them- usually- Or wake up in the middle- sorry- M' sorry.”

Your eyes itch, and your face feels all puffy as he continues to dab at it. The cloth is rough and Cold, but hobi's warm where his skin touches yours.

Alive and safe. you barely want to blink incase you miss it.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” Hobi continues to dab at your cheeks, “You get them often?” You shake your head instead of responding and Hobi’s scent goes thick with upset, burning sugar ever so slightly smokey. You sniffle still sort of crying and Hobi does the only thing he can think of.

Maybe it’s just that he’s half asleep himself, or an expression of his alpha protectiveness. The ringing in his ears says protect packmate, provide for packmate, soothe.

Hobi’s scent gland brushes against yours with an electric zing. Pushing you from shaky to boneless nearly instantaneously. He drags his throat and chin across your left shoulder, and then your right.

it takes real effort for him to keep his palms pressed flat against the kitchen counter while he does it but at least it has the desired effect of banishing the last bit of sogginess from your cakey scent. Your instincts purr alphas here, alphas going to keep you safe, keep the shadows at bay.

Your scent goes sweeter and your half-asleep body goes mailable as you lean into him. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, Hobi huffs a soft laugh. It feels sort of nice, having you close like this. He knows how omega's get, Jungkook goes sleepy puppet soft when he's scent marked this close to sleep too.

Yoongi would want Hobi to do this right? Yoongi would want Hobi to comfort his mate. He’d do it himself if he was awake. Hobi’s just being a good packmate. Right?

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as he pulls away. Is it just your imagination or is he a little reluctant?

A startled chirp bursts from your lips, and you clamp your hand back over your mouth. but hobi's laugh echoes loud off the high ceilings, "It's alright pup." You try to speak again but Hobi shushes you, there’s no need for you to push yourself. Not with him. Not right now.

The slant of the light across Hoseok’s face isn’t right. Too grey and yellow from the light in the hall. It’s too late for it to be morning yet and too dark for you to quiet your heartbeat. Hobi can feel it, jackrabbit fast against his throat.

If he's here, that means the nightmare really was only that. A nightmare. Hobi wouldn't be wrapped around you if the rest of the pack were dead. You don't need to go back upstairs and double-check.

Now if you could only stop crying.

“Here,” Hobi starts to pull away and you make a panicked sound, fingers tangling in his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere, let me just get my bag-” You shake while he’s gone, sitting on the countertop, stumbling when you get off of it, knees weak. Holding the edge until he comes and gets you with an arm under your shoulders, transferring you effortlessly to the couch.

When did Hobi get so good at this? You’d be inclined to think this was just another dream (one of those shameful ones that you don’t even mention to Yoongi) but you’re not sure you could have dreamed this up.

“Lights off or on?” You shiver so he goes one by one turning on the overhead lights and then the lamps, the ones under the cabinets in the kitchen too. There’s not a hint of shadow here, no monster that he couldn’t guard you from.

You can still see the light behind your eyes when you close them. Blinking slowly like a cat would. Hobi has his headphones in his hand, not his usual earbuds but the dilapidated black over-the-ear headphones with peeling stickers on the sides that have been his almost as long as Yoongi has (they might have been stolen from the record store- back when Yoongi's rebellious streak ran a little wider).

The second they go around your ears the world dampens and your heartbeat slows.

“I’ve got you.” Hobi mouths, reaching to pull your head to lie against his shoulder, the blue light flicker of his phone screen hurts your eyes as he scrolls through some songs and puts one on. It’s slow and soft, mostly instrumental except for faint vocals. You can’t hear what Hobi says but he pulls you to rest against his side. Settling.

He doesn’t make you talk about the nightmare. Doesn’t make you talk at all. You melt, pressing your face into his shoulder as hard as you can, your shaking relaxing with every word. Every soft hum. It’s working, your trembling is only skin-deep now. In a few minutes, you won't be shaking at all.

“Go to bed,” he asks, even though you can't hear him. Pillowed against him. The songs shift quietly. Your hand somehow gets under Hobi’s shirt and presses against the skin of his hip. Holding it softly so that he doesn’t go anywhere, it feels like a bit of a thank you.

You cling to him and he lets you. You probably can’t hear him but he still repeats, “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

~-~

Yoongi’s never shot up faster in his life, leaving part of himself in the dream. He can feel the panic down the bond as he stumbles. The nest is too empty. Yoongi’s sleep-sluggish brain counts the number of bodies and he goes cold when he counts five and not seven. Pure shuddering terror bleeding down his back like he's just been doused with cold water.

Where are you? Where is Hobi? There is something wrong- something seriously wrong. Yoongi can feel it on the back of his tongue, the taste of your despair acidic. Once a familiar feeling, now lashing him like lightning.

Communicating directly through the mating mark isn’t something that happens often anymore for the two of you. It did when the bond was fresher, but now that it’s settled the connection has dulled. In the way that clothes go worn and comfortable. It’s not usually a stabbing pain like this. Such a visceral feeling that it wakes Yoongi up from it.

Yoongi stumbles to the door following your scent like a man possessed. The way it shifts from the nest. Panicked to not alone. Hobi’s panic too saturates the air. Yours is rainy wet and Hobi’s is burnt and over-sweet, faintly medicinal.

There are sounds on the stairs. Footsteps rouse Hobi just as he’s finally fallen asleep. His neck aches from how he’s been leaned back against the couch And he winces as it cracks.

“Hobi?” Yoongi calls cautiously. At his waist, your fingers tangle loosely in his shirt holding onto him like he’s a lighthouse in a storm, clinging to him even as you sleep. Hobi realizes he’s got a bit of your hair stuck to his lips. Spitting it out.

“Over here.“ Hobi’s jaw pops when he yawns. Yoongi stumbles to you because he can’t stay away when you’re like this. When you need him. You don’t rouse when Yoongi touches you, cupping your cheeks. Eyes feasting on the crusty salt around your eyes, the faint silvery shimmer of dried tear tracks across your cheeks.

“She had a nightmare- couldn’t sleep with the lights off so- thank god you're here I have to pee like so fucking bad-” Hobi says quietly.

Yoongi definitely does not eye the way that your hand stays loosely knotted in the front of his shirt, or note verbally the way that you smell like him. Drenched in hobi's scent and clinging to him.

“Daisy,” Yoongi says, sounding a bit surprised and alot in love, tucking his Hobi’s hair behind his ear. Standing over the two of you looking a little shaken. Yoongi is an expert at moving you softly detangling your hand from Hobi's shirt without waking you and freeing Hobi from his self-imposed prison.

He's still shaken when Hobi comes back from the bathroom. Hobi can’t blame him. You don’t really have the best track record when it comes to disappearing together. First the car crash last month, and now the dead body. It’s understandable why Yoongi’s panicked a bit.

But now he just looks at Hobi. Eyes scanning his face, a small smile beveling the edge of his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Hobi says. The faint murmur of music is barely there, you're still asleep with his headphones on. Hobi had panic made a playlist on his phone after you’d fallen asleep. Putting only the most gentle instrumentals on it.

So what if he’d saved it with a cat emoji and a purple heart? Yoongi can’t possibly know that just by looking at him.

Yoongi doesn’t respond and Hobi tucks his chin, looking down at you, sleeping soundly still. The nightmare must have really tired you out because you're out like a light. His voice goes softer, like the emotion in his throat is constraining his vocal cords.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her panic? That wouldn’t have been kind.”

Yoongi's hand falls onto Hobi's head, rubbing through his hair. the touch feels like a reward. Hobi's not sure what for. “No- it wouldn’t have been Daisy.”

“Like it when you call me that,” Hobi says. Eyelashes flutter as yoongi scratched at the nape of his neck, head bowed. and he can hear the laugh in Yoongi’s voice. Hobi’s not really awake either.

“You don’t have to worry,” Hobi says “I’m not gonna like- freak out and run away if she needs something, like the first time.”

Hobi feels embarrassed about that when he thinks about it. Embarrassed and a little bit fond of the memory every time he sees the train ticket still in his wallet. The top edge is so chewed up that you can hardly tell it’s a ticket anymore.

“Sure,” Yoongi says and Hobi knows he hasn't fooled anyone, least of all your mate. hobi stands up properly, and when his hand falls, yoongi just tugs at his wrist, the callouses on his hands comfortably rough against hobi's skin. “Come on.”

You wake bleary for a handful of seconds when Yoongi puppets you, moving to sprawl out while Hobi discards the back cushions. Yoongi slips Hobi’s headphones off your ears and puts them safely to the side. wordless and publish while yoongi gets one of the blankets to tug it over your form.

Yoongi tuts and doesn't let hobi avoid the same predicament. although it's Infinitely more comfortable than his prior half-crunched position. If Yoongi’s being honest, it sort of looked like Hobi was guarding you. body curled over in a protective stance.

Alpha's are so funny.

Hobi ends up face-to-face with you. His flannel pj set un-buttoned to the middle tugged loose from your tugging earlier. the triangle of his bare chest presses against the bare skin of your collarbone as he shuffles away from the edge of the couch. Your own pj set pulled off one shoulder. Yoongi’s sitting up, his thigh warm against the top of Hobi’s head.

You’re running a fever maybe, worming your way closer to Hobi like you need it. Your nose presses into Hobi’s chest, a little cold at the tip and ticklish. Hobi squirms and Yoongi huffs. Overly fond.

“She does that to me in her sleep too sometimes. Means she likes your scent.” Hobi feels warm, and it’s no secret that his scent fluffs up sweeter, as if encouraging you to enjoy it. You re-settle. falling asleep with your nose tucked into Hobi's sternum.

Fuck you’re both so cute, your hair mixing colors on the pillow- sharing the same one because even being that far apart is too much. Hobi falls asleep with Yoongi combing gentle touches down his back. His favorite way to fall asleep- being touched so casually and consistently. You breathe against his skin, cradled to his chest. Sleeping soundly. Finally soothed.

Hobi watches you until sleep takes him.

~-~

Unfortunately, that’s not the last time you’re woken by a nightmare in the coming weeks

Over the next few days, it seems like more often than not Yoongi and Hobi wake to the scent of your terror in the air. Quieting your little sobs with soothing touches in the bathroom. Blankets are brought into the space so that you can curl up in the bathtub, darkness kept at bay by the overhead lights, its lingering shadow curling underneath the doorway trying to drag you down.

They don’t mind, at least they tell you they don’t mind when it eventually comes time to wake in the morning and your words are barely intact. Soft and rough in a way they haven’t been in months.

For you, it feels infuriating. Your non-verbalness might only be a temporary state but that doesn’t mean that overcoming it isn’t tiring. It’s frustrating. Working so hard each day to speak only to have it wrenched away again at night.

Always.

Always you wake up from your nightmares non-verbal. Guided to somewhere light by Hobi so that your fear of the dark won't rouse the rest of the pack. Soothed back to sleep by his music and some scenting. Waking up sometime after sunrise, struggling but better. A routine.

As for the pack…

“It feels like she’s going backward,” you hear Jin confess one morning while he brushes his teeth in the upstairs bathroom. he sounds afraid (he is afraid after waking up to you gone from the nest yet again for the 5th time this week- and it's only thursday). It's obvious Jin doesn't know you're within earshot but the double doors that lead to the bathroom are wide open.

Hobi sends you a fraught look. You’ve just come back upstairs after spending a few hours in the Living Room. You're only able to risk a few more hours of sleep because the sun is turning the sky all grey-blue.

“Do you think-” What he says next is jumbled by the sound of someone turning on the shower, Jungkook or jimin maybe (the upstairs shower is large enough that honestly- all eight of you might be able to fit given you where willing to risk any soap related injuries).

Namjoon’s answering hum is all dark thunder. jin's proposed solution a mystery. “No, I don’t think that would help.”

Sometimes it’s not just Hobi and Yoongi who wake up with you.

Sometimes it’s Jimin. Holding your shoulder with that firm touch looking like he’s about to snap his teeth at any incoming shadows. Sometimes you wake and he’s already sitting at the edge of the bed watching the stairs and the windows. Shirtless, legs splayed with his handgun balanced across his knees.

Or is it just your imagination? Is that just another dream because you certainly don’t see any weapons when he and Hobi pull you from the bed a few seconds later?

They take shifts. Jin and Namjoon blanket you on both sides, soft rumbles soothing you, their quiet banter a welcome melody in your private nest downstairs. Jungkook the next night- who admittedly just wraps his body around you and goes back to sleep so quick it makes you jealous, curled around your spine while you listen to Tae read you a late-night story.

Tae’s delicate murmur does all the character's voices just right. Her lips are both mystery and familiarity. She always seems to crack open the world with the first line.

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.”

They never make you speak; never treat you like they’re too tired even though you know they are. You can see it on their faces, on Hobi’s eyebags getting greyer by the day. Hobi’s the only one who's there every time a nightmare drags you awake. Even Yoongi doesn’t wake up every time.

(Although you confess it's more because you develop a routine. You and Hobi sleep by the side of the nesting nook, where it’s easy to get out without moving around too much. Close enough to each other that he often wakes smelling like you and you always wake smelling like him).

You try to talk with him about it. Guilt makes your heart feel all stuffy. Is it possible to get a heart cold?

“You know, you could just leave your headphones out-"

“No- don’t worry about it, I’ll just make it up later.”

Always. Always Hobi wakes and plops his headphones on your ears. Sometimes he seems awfully lively, grinning and cracking jokes when you burrow into his chest and wipe your tears on his shirt.

“I am like- among the top 10 worst sponges in history you know?”

Sometimes he wakes you from the nightmares before you’ve had the chance to jerk awake. He recognizes the tell-tale stillness, the quick breaths. He never lets you suffer for long. Waking you with a hand on your shoulder. Allowing you to shove him just a little because he knows you're just reacting to your dream and him bleeding together.

"It's just me- you're okay, I've got you."

Sometimes, you wonder if you’re not the only one who can’t sleep lately.

During the day you spend a lot of time in the nesting pod, catching up on sleep while it's still light outside. dreading the afternoons and evenings when the shadows linger like a looming storm. Alone and safe and quiet.

Occasionally you're joined by noodle, purring up against your stomach. Meowing at you until you lift your arm and he can cuddle close. Sometimes you feel like he knows you’re sadder than you say you are. That when the others aren’t there to watch you, you’re stiller, less mobile than normal. You don't even click away at your phone, half the time you forget to charge it anyway.

Hobi would never tell you- but a few afternoons ago he’d come home to Noodle waiting for him on the front step. He’d lead Hobi inside, little kitty face glaring back at him every few steps. Circling his curled form and yowling when he dared to take a second to take his shoes. off. Panicked and nervous, all but biting on his ankles before he led Hobi into the sunroom. His bushy tail held high.

There he’d meowed woefully at your nesting pod where you slept soundly. So loud that Hobi was worried it would wake you. As if he was trying to say “Aren’t you going to do something?”

Hobi had just quieted the cat with a soft shush and picked him up. Closing the door behind both of them. “Let her sleep nu,” he’d gotten nothing but a tearful meow in response. Some squirming, but no claws. “What do you expect me to do? I’m trying my hardest.”

Noodle keeps his secrets. Hobi’s question goes unanswered by the cat- who’d simply squirmed out of his hold and gone to wait by the door to be let back in. Glaring at Hobi’s retreating figure like he’d been betrayed.

Noodle seems to know something that the pack doesn't. He's sat in your lap during dinner and breakfast every single night this week, especially on the days you’ve slept more.

Hobi continues to try his hardest. He brings home flowers from the shop. He says they’re for Jin but puts them by the nesting pod and no one even bothers to tease him. He makes sure that you don’t fall out of the habit of going on late-night drives. Even though you don’t go back to the beach again quite yet. The memories there are too prescient.

Hobi takes you to the winding mountain road again. Drag racing one night with Jimin, because what good is trying to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before sunrise when you’ll just wake anyway? You might as do something fun until you’d wake up normally.

You leave that night a little more wobbly-legged than Hobi will admit to Namjoon when he asks later. "I'm never getting into a car with you again Minnie- what the fuck."

But sometimes the alphas do use the sunroom when you’re there.

It’s kind of nice to hear them on the other edge of your senses. When you’re dozing and Tae and Jimin want to play video games. their shouts of happiness and false outrage better than their screams of terror.

When Hobi and Jungkook want to do some stretching before they take an afternoon run, their giggles push out the memories of cruel words that ring in your ears. Yoga mats all stretched out and noodle perched on the edge of Hobi's multicolored one. Watching you, tail flicking back and forth.

They'll never know how much they help just by being there.

Or when they work on rearranging Hobi’s plants around. Fitting them into different spots like a jigsaw puzzle and moving them from room to room. He doesn’t mean to be indecisive about it, he’s just trying to find the best home for each of them.

They take the big banana tree upstairs to put it in the nesting room because that honestly has really good light and Hobi’s baby can’t be compromised. They move the monstera there too and switch the string of pearls for three big ferns hanging above your nesting nook. Shifting A big fig tree that honestly looks kinda pretty from the entryway to the corner, hanging part of the way over the small sectional.

A leggy orchid that someone bought Namjoon as a “thank you for not letting me go braindead” present is the wimpiest and smallest of the bunch. Hobi's in the process of rehabilitating it. For now, it sits on the window sill growing a single pathetic leaf.

Hobi tries to spend a lot of time nearby when you’re trying to sleep, he always seems to show up when you're having the hardest time ignoring your thoughts.

They're getting tired of you being a goddamn mess every time. Why can't you just get better? It's pathetic, Hobi is fine. Why are making such a big deal over this? But deep down you know it's not just the dead body that caused all of this.

Things are slow at the flower shop in the fall with only the occasional wedding until the Christmas season starts up. Hobi talks to you about it while he waters his plants and trims up some leaves that are dying. He’s definitely not looking forward to making bows for the whole month of December and wrestling with wreaths. He’d much rather talk to you about his ferns. The big stag leaf one that’s in the corner by the tv. And the big fluffy ones that hang above the nesting pod.

“I know they're messy but If I overwinter them we can hang them back on the porch next year, They looked so nice!”

You hum from the pod, turning your cheek to look up at him. he's got his flannel rolled up to his elbows, a shirt underneath that looks homey and warm. Hobi’s scent grows sweet. “They did look really cool this year, kind of like big green soot sprites.”

“We should watch spirited away again.”

“We should.”

You stretch out in the nesting pod while he fiddles with one of the fronds, pulling off the dead leaves with a crumple. You stretch your curled-up legs, toes brushing the ratan sides of the pod.

“If I was a plant where would you put me?”

“Probably where it’s sunniest.”

You can hear his smile on the words, you hum and go back to sleep while he works. Hobi checks your breathing every few minutes, just to make sure you don’t need to be woken up again.

Hobi never talks about the nightmares and never asks what they’re about. Which is something you’re thankful for as the days go on and they get worse and worse. You don’t know how many more nights you can wake up gasping without telling them what you're dreaming about. That it's the idea of them dying that has you so panicked. not to mention the nightly revision of the worst parts of your abuse.

Yoongi doesn't always let you escape without a bit of interrogation. Badgering you until you tell him that he needs to stop.

Jin’s just as bad, constantly hovering. You found your sleep schedule, an estimated hours of sleep you’ve gotten scrawled on the edge of a newspaper in Namjoon's handwriting. He's a little generous with his calculation- You know you haven't slept 13 hours in the last 4 days. You’d crumpled up the page and thrown it in the garbage.

In the morning you find out their motive behind it. Blinking down at your cereal and at the red raspberries bobbing in the milk. You can't help but get defensive about this; because really when you go non-verbal so often about this- what good would talking do?

“Jin, I’m not going to therapy.”

Jin looks a little bit less like his usually put-together form, button-up shirt a little looser than it might have been a few weeks back. Yoongi rubs down his shoulders as he passes. Work has been keeping Jin later and later- anytime someone asks he says something about a problem child at the home for forgotten pups that needs Jin's full attention.

It's so very like him to suggest therapy.

He pulls his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it into something orderly. Abandoning his usual routine of gel and mouse. “I’m not saying you have to go consistently- just once or twice, you went through something-“ he breaks off when Yoongi taps his hip, shaking his head.

You’re twisting your hands over your lap, again and again. But the word lands even though it was unsaid. Whereas before you and Hobi had a smart retort- now- the word feels less hollow, more heavy.

And Jin's not just talking about the body.

Jin doesn’t want to be frank, but you don’t look the best. Maybe it’s because you’d been so steadily getting better that they hardly remembered what sadness looks like on you. But now it looks like this; you sitting at the island counter, looking at your food, too nauseous to eat. Actually worried you're going to vomit if you try.

Any other morning, Jin would sit by you and coach you through it, would sit and wait for you and move you somewhere safe, somewhere softer to prod. He'd chase this worry with gentle touches. maybe he'd give you a gentle settling if you were feeling like you needed to reach that happy hazy head space to eat.

Any other morning Jin wouldn’t leave you.

But this morning, the clock says that Jin has exactly 20 minutes before he has to leave for work or else he’ll be late and miss the debriefing on the latest string of murders and drug-related reports. including a very well worded anonymous tip. it's important that jin's there for that.

It’s not enough time to drag you to some corner of the house and scent you happy. Or better- scruff you down into omegaspace where you’d be mailable and more agreeable under his touch.

Yoongi's eyes say, go I've got this, and Jin has never been more thankful for lovely enemies and a partner in crime.

But Jin simply does not have enough time to love you as he should. If Jin has to choose between making you feel loved and making you more physically safe he'll choose the latter every single time.

Baby steps. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and criminal empires won’t fall that quickly either.

“They’ll go away, I know they’ll go away because they did last time,” you reaffirm, only half believing it. You and Yoongi don’t talk about when you first moved into this house, but the truth is these nightmares aren’t really anything new for either of you.

At least this time they don’t come with you hurling your guts up every night. At least this time your words return in the middle of the day. At least you feel somewhat human right now.

Jin sends a fraught look in Hoseok ’s direction. Clearly requesting backup. He holds his hands up, straw in his mouth and ice coffee in his hand. “I’ll go if she goes.” Is all he says backing away. Clearly not ready to take Jin’s side with this. Late for work himself.

Jin almost misses when you guys were adversarial, rather than banded together as a unified front.

I never expected the pups to unionize

He sends Namjoon in a text a few hours later, After no less than 3 separate meetings that have him feeling more than a little tired himself.

Joonie (1:18): Really? I’d thought you would have been ready, no plans to destabilize the monarchy up your sleeve?

Jin can’t stop his smile, he’s conscious of who might be watching, so he hides it with his palm. Flirting on the FBI’s time has never felt so good.

What would you recommend?

Joonie (1:23): Spanking and sweets probably.

That at least had made Jin feel a little bit more at ease. But he knows what Namjoon really means, that he’s saying they should talk about this later face to face. Or worse there isn’t an easy solution. Namjoon had warned him that a request for therapy, however gentle and well-worded it was, might not go over well.

But what else can you do when someone won’t accept your concern? When love falls short? For the first time ever Jin is unsure what you need.

Over the next few weeks, you can tell that they’re being overly gentle with you. Treating you with velvet gloves.

Namjoon barks an order at Jungkook and Hobi when they rough house too close to you. jostling you where you stand unsteady in the bathroom. Tae lets loose a sleepy growl when Jungkook back hugs you one morning- something ordinarily innocuous but now makes you flinch hard. hand pressed over your heart to stop its thundering. Both times Jungkook tucks his tail smelling sour at being scolded even though it's really not his fault.

Everyone's instincts are running on high. Your scent is so off these days. Something about it muted and only getting duller. Jin didn't realize until the other day when he tried to find a pillow that smelled like you while nesting and couldn't.

The head of the FBI's largest organized crime task force, brought to sniffles over not being able to find the right pillow. What would Jin's enemies think?

Yoongi had only sighed, and relinquished his shirt to Jin's nesting. At least that was the next best thing.

but it's not only the little things that they're holding off from; it's sex too. You can clearly tell that they want to instigate something when you come upstairs one night after spending a few minutes with Tae in the library room.

Jungkook sat's tight across Namjoon’s lap. Moving his hips in a way that's sensual clinging to the pack alphas bare chest and licking into his mouth like an omega starved.

You know what they want to do- christen the nest in a way, truly break it in and make it smell like the pack.

But they'd stilled at your appearance and you'd made yourself scarce, clearly not ready to be asked to stay (or scarier- asked to leave). When you'd come back after showering the room had smelled of sour unhappy arousal and Jungkook had been pouting on the other side of the nest from Jin and Namjoon.

You hadn't heard the whispered argument. "You're treating her the exact same way you treated me when my seizures went bad."

"That was a different circumstance Koo and you know it."

"Still- it doesn't change the fact that you're making the decision for her instead of making a place that's safe enough for her to decide what she wants."

The idea that Jungkook and the others are holding off for your sake has you feeling even more guilty.

Even Tae- once insatiable, now hardly lifts her head from her computer when you walk into the library room wearing next to nothing. You know it’s just that. Just busyness that she's been spending every available second writing her new story.

But you can’t help but feel odd about it. Half guilty and half extra. Unwelcome.

Neglected isn’t the right word. Neglected is the word that Hobi would use for his orchid or the cactus that he accidentally forgot about outside. Two plants that are equally as finicky, opposites but maybe not in terms of difficulty. One praised for being beautiful, the other coveted for being hard to take care of.

It feels like that a lot of the time, that you're just hard to take care of. you're an adult you shouldn't even need to be taken care of at all.

That night- you toss and turn in the bed. Unable to sleep because you can't help but think about it, your thoughts a rushing torrent of you're such a bother. Maybe they're just trying to let you down easily. Maybe all of the love is a lie. You should try harder, if you try harder to overcome this then maybe they won't ask you to leave.

Sadness has rotted your brain a little, you don't know how to get back, how to stop the spiral. Until your hands are so tight that your nails dig into your palms. Leaving bloody little crescents.

The next day you try to catch up on sleep. In the nesting pod. A dark spot. Out of sight and out of mind, where all broken things go when it's clear they can't be fixed in a way that makes them useful. But it feels like you've only slept a few minutes when you're roused- not from a nightmare, but because someone gets into your nesting pod with you.

You smile in your sleep at the scent of honey, rich and golden. So nice and sweet that it makes you get goosebumps. Jungkook noses at them, dragging his cheek along the hair on your arms, soft and pleasant in that sensory sort of way.

Even though the nesting pod was a gift from Namjoon you'd been clear to Jungkook and Jin that they could use it whenever they wanted to. They're always a little bit more inclined to nest upstairs.

You sleepily hold out your arms for Jungkook, only cracking your eyes a little. You're not prepared for the sight of him in a crop top. blinking as you register it. Your pulse climbing higher. Jungkook doesn't say anything, doesn't say anything at all as he pulls his body along yours, settling mostly on top of you. quiet until you query "Kookie?"

He smells a little like the gym, but more like he'd showered there and then come home. You don't remember what day it is, what his schedule was. But the house is quiet around you, it must be one of his early days then?

His nose rubs smooth little circles along your neck, and when you pull back his eyes are a little glassy. "I miss you," he says, voice cracking a tiny bit. You don't have to ask why he misses you when you're right here. You know and your heart clenches painfully.

you laugh, "you just saw me this morning." but his lower lip wobbles, and you know thats not what he meant. it's frightfully easy to knot your fingers in his hair and pull him down to eye level. "c'm here."

You can tell by the way that Jungkook kisses you that he wants you, his arousal burning skin deep as his tongue laves against your lower lip and his hand slides down your chin to cup your scent gland, fingers pressing over the sensitive skin delicately.

You're so fucking tired.

Jungkook’s sex drive is honestly the highest in the pack, and you know that they usually keep him well tended to. But you also know that because of your predicament, no one’s tended to his needs in the last few days. You can smell it on the edge of his scent. Sweet but overly sweet, like a hovering cloud of settling perfume, unable to settle. Just getting stronger.

It’s not your job, and it shouldn’t be anyone’s job per se, but the idea of turning him down is so displeasing that you won’t even if you’re not really in the mood right now. You're so fucking tired. There isn't room for anything else. you don't have the energy to want this, you don't have the energy to want anything but sleep.

You kiss back, a little gentler than he wants, the soft needy noise he makes against the seam of your mouth tells you just how welcome it is. Your arms are sluggish as they go around his shoulders. He grins happy, and you grin too- because Jungkook’s joy is honestly so infectious. You let him tug you up, tug you out of the nesting pod even though your heart lurches.

This is your use to the pack, isn't it? The youngest omega, the lowest one in the hierarchy. You shouldn't say no and deny Jungkook what he wants. This is the way that he feels free, the way that he makes himself better.

After the pack's sleeping quarters had changed, there’d been a whole debate over where exactly to put the pack's sex toy collection and what to do with their old bedroom on the first floor. The side closet is no longer big enough or in use.

Installing some shelves in the bedroom had been the easiest solution. now they frame either side of the windows, holding Tae's overspill of books at the top and a few display cases. You remember the first day you'd wandered in here in search of your mate and found some suspicious-looking brackets installed along the ceiling studs, sawdust piles sweeper up on the floor.

“It’s totally not a sex dungeon.”

“Babe, you’re making a display for Jungkook’s dildo collection with a built-in sex bench.” At least you can still tease your mate when you're sad like this. Every little semi-normal comment you make feels like seeing the sun during a break from the storm. Even Yoongi's pout is half a smile.

“Just because I want there to be a bench doesn’t mean It’s a sex bench. It could be for like- watching tiktok and stuff. You know Hobi likes to find a spot where he won't bother us.”

“It’s totally a sex bench.”

“Is not.”

Yoongi is too fun to rile up. You'd watched him blush as you and Jungkook had playfully grabbed and swung on the ropes Yoongi was hanging, the heavy thick cotton ones soft to the touch that won’t irritate his loves sensitive skin. testing out the brackets meant for suspension.

Jungkook’s just as giggly and happy when he drags you there now, and your smile is very real pressed to his shoulder. The farthest thing from fake. it might be the first time you've smiled today. Jungkook always makes you feel this way; a little younger, a little bit like you’re sneaking around. That at least feels right.

You're very good at concentrating on the parts of sex that feel good, the parts that you want and not the ones that you don't.

(This morning the others had talked about it with Jungkook. Jimin and Tae had cuddled close to brainstorm. The way they often talk about sex things and pack things. Jimin's snorted honesty still stings.

"I don't know if Yoongi could literally fuck the sadness out of her, but at least it's a suggestion."

Jungkook had felt petulant and whiney, "But why doesn't he just try- if anyone's got a magic just right dick it's him-" Tae had chased Jungkook's disappointment with a kiss.

The truth is; the pack is mostly at a loss with how to help you this time. The most they can do is just stay close and make sure you have everything you need. But lately, not even that has felt like enough. Tae had scrapped her nails down Jungkook's abs, soothing him, with a bit of tingly pain pleasure.

"You're the only one whose bad mood can literally be cured with a good fuck bunny.”)

Yes, Jungkook is trying to make you feel lighter in the only way he knows how right now. But there are different medicines for different hurts for a reason.

Jungkook guides you down to the sex bench, tugging at your shirt a little. Still kissing you. Up close you realize it's actually more of a daybed, styled very attractively with a few throw pillows. One that's more memory foam and sturdy for propping bodies up.

It's no secret how sweet turned on happy Jungkook smells from just a little kissing, just the bare minimum. Jungkook moans- a crocked needy sound, scent pulsing richer in the air. He squirms a little bit, reaching over to one of those shelves. Rummaging in one of the frosted acrylic buckets.

“I’ve had this idea for weeks now that you've taken Joonie’s- fuck- I just- I didn’t know when you’d want to try it but I saw this video online with two omegas and Jin said no but- ha! Here it is!”

You gulp.

The big purple thing is a veritable monster, glittery and double-ended, ridged not like a regular dildo but more like a tentacle. It's about as thick around as your wrist. Namjoon’s a little thicker but still-

it makes fear trickle down your spine, warm and almost bleeding.

Jungkook reads your expression. And the disappointment crests his cheeks, his bunny smile falls, and you feel like you’ve failed already.

At the thought of being filled right now. You feel like you might want to vomit. You try not to have any sort of expression, just a small smile- but fall abysmally short. You’re too tired, too sore, too tight to properly enjoy that.

The idea that your sadness is enough to get in the way of this, what Jungkook so clearly needs is suddenly too much for you to bare. Jungkook needs sex, doesn't he? He needs it to make the seizures feel not quite so damning. He'd told you once- how much he required sex to feel loved. It's his love language right? Isn't this what people always say when they want physical touch?

Who are you to say that your needs are more important than his? You certainly do not love yourself as much as you love him.

Jungkook’s frown is heartbreaking and you easily kiss it away. Making your kisses more eager. You’re a good kisser and a good actor. Your kisses make Jungkook feel all fluttery and hot in the chest, quickly forgetting about the dildo and whatever plans he might have had.

"Just want you- don't want-" words get in the way of kissing, sucking, you mouth at Jungkook's lower lip, making him groan.

Jungkook’s scent gland is a semi-swollen little lump under your teeth as you nibble on it, making him part his legs, grinding up into nothing and letting out a breathless whine. You set yourself across his lap and his big hands quickly fist on your waist pulling you snugly.

You don’t mind this, you really don’t.

It's too routine for you, the first thing that you reach for to avoid saying no. His belt buckle is warm against your palm as you shift so that you can slide to the floor. Pulling your body away from him. he lets out a needy bereft sound. stopping you as you start to tugg at his waistband.

his cheeks are pink, lips red from kisses when you pull back. "I-"

"Let me kiss you here Koo." Let me at least do something. Let me stop feeling so guilty, I know how to fix the guilt even if you don't.

Jungkook catches your chin before you sink to the floor. Jungkook has a hickey on his abs glimmering there just along his hipline. The crop top pulled up to right under his pectorals in a way you know would have the alphas growling and mouthing at his stomach. That's probably how he got the hickey in the first place.

“But you don’t like it.” He says, not quite understanding. Catching your hand as you slide it across his knee.

“I want to try.” You lie, "I-I feel like I’ve lost practice, need to be taught how-” You bat your eyes, looking down and away like you're embarrassed. Just let me do this and make you cum. Just let me get this over with so that we can go back to cuddling and I can feel safer. Jungkook always gets especially cuddly after he's cum too. “I don’t- I don’t do it for the alphas like at all." Your stuttering isn't all faked. You’ve lost practice in a lot of things, but lying clearly isn’t one of them.

“Or Yoongi” Jungkook notes. A little too quickly.

Your heart pulses, Bruised a bit at that. You've never explicitly discussed the abuse you underwent with anyone but Yoongi and Namjoon. You didn't think anyone really noticed how much you don't like giving blowjobs. It's not that you don't want to reciprocate or touch- it's just that once with Geumjae, the choice to reciprocate was taken away from you. The choice to get anything at all was always taken away. It's hard to forget that, to want it again.

You remember his words. He'd always been violent with words before he'd ever gotten violent physically with you. Coercion doesn't feel like it has the same weight compared to that (Hobi would probably argue with you- but his case was different wasn't it?)

"You're so fucking selfish, you could help me in like- 10 minutes but you're choosing not too. We could go back to having a normal fucking evening. I do so much for you and even now when I can't fucking sleep you won't just do this one fucking thing- it's not like I'm asking for much. You're too young, I should have known you wouldn't know how normal relationships function."

It's foolish of you to think that you could be selfish forever. You should get used to this with Jungkook so that it's not so bad with the others later. In case they ever realize how selfish you've been.

“Yeah,” you swallow back a lump in your throat. “But can I? I want to-” You make your eyes wide, biting your tongue hard so that your scent doesn’t go sour.

Jungkook looks like he’s warring with himself for a second but then the hornyness wins out. He pulls his pants down his thighs and you help him, big and muscular as he stands, you on the floor before him. It feels right in a twisted way. See I know my place, see I'm not trying to get away with anything.

Jungkook almost trips when he moves to get a pillow for your knees because he’s not a monster. Namjoon and Jin have taught him well.

Jungkook is not a monster.

If you said no, if you said that you wanted to stop you know he wouldn’t hold it against you. At least not at first, at least not this time. After the 4th or 5th or 10th attempt you know that wouldn't be the case.

Jungkook doesn't even have large enough of a cock for it to feel like a real blowjob. His bunny eyes are wide and eager as you give it a first little kiss. Tentative. You kiss the head again, focusing, dragging your lips up the sides and nuzzling into the skin of his hip, indulging in his scent because at least Jungkook smells nice, smells clean, before you take him into your mouth

Geumjae always smelled a bit like piss. Tasted like it too. At least Jungkook's not like that.

He can be forgiven maybe, for not noticing right away. For not asking if you want this twice. A muted curse falls from his lips instead and he carefully cradles your head. A little startled.

"Fuck- ah-" The muscles of his abdomen tense beneath your touch, startled by the sudden influx of pleasure and the wet tight hot heat of your mouth. "I don't think you need any practice- fuck-"

Omega cock tastes less bitter than alpha cock does. And Jungkook’s dick is honestly so small you can’t even choke on it properly. He doesn’t hit the back of your throat when he rocks it into your mouth. Eking pleasure from the tight seam of your lips.

He doesn’t even hit the back of your throat or engage your gag reflex. So, you wonder why your eyes start watering. One of his hands fists (albeit a little bit too sloppy to be totally gentle) in your hair, using it to keep you stationary while he fucks your mouth. Little rolls of his hips that end in cute, "ah-ah-ah" sounds leaving his lips.

Good, you're doing good. Your nose is buried in his skin. With the little tuft of hair there, Jungkook must have showered at the gym because it doesn't smell like anything. Just breathe.

You know Jungkook doesn't get stimulation to his cock often. The others much prefer to fuck his hole rather than pay attention to it and that works in your favor now because Jungkook's so sensitive. You feel his cock jerk a little, tensing as his abdomen does, flexing up against the pallet of your mouth. Especially when your tongue teases at the head. Finding the ridge of his frenulum and pressing up.

Your lungs sting but you keep your tongue flat, lapping up at the underside, keeping your mouth wet and messy and not swallowing yet. Jungkook's precum tastes a little salty, not as salty as alpha cum would taste like but still not bad. Just a little bit like sweat and a little bit like honey.

Jungkook looks down at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead his lips falling slack in pleasure. Hips twitching up, looking debauched and lovely from it already. Pride swells, even as you have to fight back the urge to gag. Quieting the revulsion in your stomach through force of will alone.

You can do this, you don't have to make a big deal over it-

Jungkook tips his head back, closing his eyes, and you're free to shudder unwatched. "Fuck- just like that- you're so good at it, fuck-" You wonder if you get this same wide-eyed subspace look when you’re sad if that’s why he doesn't notice. Your knees burn, hands tighten. One on his hips the other digging into your thigh.

You hear someone outside in the hall and before you have the chance to even think about pulling off they're opening the door. Jimin almost trips, Clearly not expecting to see you on your knees or Jungkook with his legs splayed and shirt rucked up to show his tummy.

You pop off Jungkook’s cock easily, jaw aching already (you really are out of practice) Jimin’s look is all predatory, alpha pheromones bubbling up. One second startled, the next prowling in your direction like a jungle cat.

“Ah pups, getting into trouble? Pups having a treat?”

Jungkook giggles, spreading his knees wider, fingers stroking down your cheek as you catch your breath. Wiping the spit from your lips. “We’re not done yet,” he huffs. You blink up at Jimin and the touch he drops on your head is everything. Soothing your frantic panting. You push up into it, eager for a casually loving touch.

"Wanna make some trouble with us?"

“maybe, think i'd much rather watch" He teases, jutting his chin at Jungkook and settling down next to him, leaning on his chin to watch you as you're urged back to it. You kiss Jungkook's cock again as the alpha guides him into a kiss. Settling his happy-turned-on pheromones into a thick bubble that bursts.

You lap at Jungkook’s cock head, making it messy. Watching the two of them get distracted by kissing, licking into each other’s mouths. Jungkook's hand falls from your hair in favor of cupping Jimin's thigh.

And you below them, an afterthought.

You ignore the longing in your chest and go back to sucking Jungkook off. After a minute or two, Jimin's hand returns to your head, his knuckles rub against your cheek in lazy circles.

It would feel loving any other time but not right now. Not when you're trying to ignore the voice that whispers in the back of your mind that this is all you're good for. On your knees, mouth open. Finally useful. Finally worth the bother of loving. A voice that doesn’t come from any of them but sounds suspiciously like Geumjae's occupying your thoughts.

Jimin's hands are on your head too, rubbing against your cheek. Wiping away a little bit of spit on the corner of your lips. He clearly thinks you're deep in omegaspace. Interpreting your quiet softness for that sweetness and not this devastation. there is always a moment of quiet before a disaster, an intake of breath where everyone braces for impact.

“My good little princess, making your packmate happy, look at you pup,” Jimin croons. Clearly enjoying the pretty picture that you and Jungkook paint.

If anything, it's hearing that old pet name that makes you break. You're fine until you're not.

You're just so tired.

There is wetness on your face and it’s not spit or slobber or cum just tears. Little sniffles. your first one goes un-noticed by them, but not the second or the third. Jungkook freezes. And suddenly the fingers on your cheeks aren’t pulling you closer to Jungkook’s hips but off. Tilting your face. Jimin's hands quickly push Jungkooks away.

Jimin has stoney eyes, his mouth hard and discerning, lips parting. “Pup?” Jungkook’s already got his hand on your arm bunny eyes the soft opposite to Jimin’s. Jimin effortlessly transfers you from the floor to the couch. "Oh pup."

You wipe at your tears stubbornly. “Just one second, just give me a second and then I can keep going I promise, I’m fine- I’m fine” you keep repeating it, keep saying it but you smell so sour-sad. Your pout wobbles hot tears welling up threatening to spill over renewed.

But in what world would they ever let you cry during sex without pre-negotiating? In what world would they let you cry without comforting you?

“I don’t even know why I’m crying but I can't stop-”

No sooner have the words slipped past your lips are they pulling you up from the floor and into their laps, manhandled and small. You fight it a little. but Jimin crushes you to his chest and you sag. t

Jungkook has never gotten less turned on quicker, a packmate's distress takes so much precedence over this. Pulling up his pants. His pleasure isn't even a thought in the back of his mind. You take precedent.

Jungkook thought you knew that.

He feels helpless, helpless as you scrub angrily at your mouth, he uses his sweatshirt sleeve to wipe the saliva and spit from your mouth, then your tears from your cheeks. "Oh fuck- I'm so sorry- fuck I-"

And oh, you're crying into Jimin's chest now, real tears. Sobbing harder.

Jimin glances up and for a second he looks a little angry. He has every right to be angry at Jungkook for this. He's barely been here for like, a minute and a half. But the anger isn't welcome, you're too close to Jimin's scent gland, flinching when he starts to smell sour. Pulling back, so so so terrified, quivering in his lap.

"I'm sorry alpha, just give me a second and I'll get to you too-"

Now Jimin's angry for a whole new reason, angry at people he can't punish, people who are already dead. Jimin feels his anger in his hands. Struggling to stay gentle on you.

Oh fuck that.

Jimin’s fingers pinch at the back of your neck, scruffing you until your scent mellows out a little. "None of that now." He snaps, sharp shifting from concerned packmate to commanding dom effortlessly. "You'll do no such thing. You're going to stay right here until I tell you I'm done holding you."

Jimin's firmness is exactly what you need. You feel his power in his arms, crushing you, restraining you. Jungkook is not a dom, and that has never been clearer than right now. if he was than you would have never gotten into this predicament. "Can't you be good and do what Alpha asks?"

"Yes Alpha" you sob.

Jungkook looks at you guilty, eyes swimming with tears too. He's always been a sympathetic crier but he doesn’t let them spill. Even if Jimin spies them. His lower lip wobbles as he looks at you. Reaching out to hold you too and then snatching his hands back at the last second. If Jimin's touch is your remedy then Jungkook's is surely poison. “Why didn’t you-”

“I just- I just didn’t want to be bad.” You know what they’re about to say, that saying no wouldn’t have been bad but your brain is all terrified of it.

“M’sorry” Jungkook wants to say that there’s nothing you’ve got to apologize for that it’s him that should, but it’s difficult. It’s so difficult when you’re crying so hard it kinda feels like you might pass out. hyperventilating a little. He can do little more than loop his arms around Jimin's waist and trap you between the two of them, sandwiching you. Applying pressure. Holding you tight. In a way that has you instantly plummeting. Down past subspace, past omegaspace, where everything is dark and bland and nothing. Where you're nothing.

“M’sorry Koo-” He doesn’t trust his wobbly voice to speak as you sob out, “Don’t tell them, don’t tell Namjoon and Jin or Yoongi please- don't want them to worry. It’s not Koo's fault it's mine. I’m fine. m' just feeling off. I’ll be better alpha I promise.”

Luckily there is no one home. No one is home to hear any of this. Jimin has always been perilously unable to deny his girls their silly wishes. And if the idea of Namjoon or Jin knowing has you panicking anew then Jimin will take this secret to the grave.

Jimin soothes you with a happy alpha rumble, feeling exactly the opposite- wishing there was Namjoon or Jin to call for backup. This is clearly not normal crying. Jungkook surely couldn't have put you into subspace but somehow you're dropping. Leaning in to every word that graces Jimin's lips like you need the absolution he brings.

“But you’re already so good for us pup- already so good for saying no even though it was hard. Here. Lie out so we can hold you. Here.” It's what you wanted from the beginning someone close by enough to touch enough to cuddle.

Only this time it feels even less like you deserve it.

You make yourself as small as you can. Jungkook and Jimin alternate, kissing off your cheeks. Until you stop crying and fall asleep. Crying yourself back to sleep. You really were just sleep-deprived.

Jimin's got one arm around your waist, another cradling the back of your head. And only once he's absolutely sure that you are completely asleep does he hiss over the top of your head.

"Jungkook What the hell-"

"I asked, you know I asked. She said she was okay I swear-"

A whispered argument ensues, drawn out until the others come home. Their anger quieting at the sound of them, Yoongi softly calls your name. Mindful of the fact you could be sleeping.

When you wake up around dinner time you're non-verbal and pupish. There are too many people around for Jungkook to be able to pull you to the side and ask, to just talk this out. He watches you close at dinner, watches and waits for a chance to talk to you that won't come. You'll pretend you're asleep tomorrow when he wakes, just to avoid it for a little while longer.

If the others notice anything strange with you at dinner time no one broaches it. Of course, you don't speak at all. Answering their questions with shaken heads and careful nuzzles under Tae’s chin where you sit side by side with her. Your chairs pulled together so that they’re more of a bench. She smells so good- so Rosey that you press your face into her shoulder to avoid the other's eyes.

Never mind the fact that you don't smell like anything at all. Maybe you're dissociating too bad to smell like anything. So disconnected from your emotions that you can't feel them let alone smell like them.

After dinner you take an extra long in the shower so that by the time you exit the bathroom Jin has already scruffed Jungkook sleepy. He looks cute too. Pouting in his sleep, restless.

There's an extra soft nesting space carved out just beside him that he made special for you with a few pillows and his favorite nesting things. It will go unused.

That night, you don't bother trying to sleep.

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 every word helps motivate me to write the next chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Upstairs floor plan:

Chapter playlist:

Noah Kahan - Call your mom

Coldplay - Sparks

nick cave and the bad seeds - O' children

Pine Grove- Need too

#bts x reader #bts poly au #bts omegaverse au #bts a/b/o #bts polyamory au #bts fluff #bts mafia au #bts gang au #bts au #bts #bts werewolf au #bts hurt/comfort #bts angst #bts hybrid fic #bts x reader angst #bts x reader fluff #bts x reader hurt/comfort #min yoongi x reader #park jimin x reader #jung hoseok x reader #kim taehyung x reader #kim seokjin x reader #kim namjoon x reader #bts omegaverse #bts omegaverse fic #bts fanfiction #omegaverse fanfic #omegaverse #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook angst

[project-sonadow]

happy hour drabble # 2

Sonic had been dragging his feet all day. It was Monday again, which meant there wasn't much to do at Speedy's. Count the change, polish his roller skates, clean the fryers. That was his routine. By the end of his shift, it felt like there were lead blocks stuffed in his socks.

One of his coworkers gave him a strange look when he hung up his hat. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," the girl replied. For some reason, her eyes looked sad. "Get some rest tonight, won't you, Arthur? We can't have you calling out; you're our best skater!"

Sonic raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask what she meant by that, she disappeared out the back door. Though her voice was muffled now, he could still make out her last request: "And don't forget to lock up!"

Rolling his eyes, Sonic twirled the keys in between his fingers and shook his head. This wasn't his first rodeo! After switching out his skates for his regular, non-wheeled shoes, he left the restaurant with his laces still untied. The door closed behind him, and he locked it with a soft click.

Shadow was waiting for him in his usual spot. The headlights on Shadow's motorcycle illuminated the dark parking lot with warm yellow light, and its engine filled the air with a weighty hum. Sonic hopped onto the back of the bike in one swift motion, and then wrapped his arms around Shadow’s waist like he'd been waiting to do it all day.

"No detours tonight," Sonic said. "I'm bushed!"

Shadow glanced back over his shoulder and was greeted by a mess of wild brown-and-blue quills. "Fine," he said. "That disaster you call a coat would give us away in an instant. Save your strength so I can fix it before bed."

If Sonic replied, it was drowned out by the sound of the motorcycle's engine as it roared to life. Sonic rested his head against Shadow's shoulder as the dark hedgehog drove them back to their apartment. The cool air felt nice against Sonic's fur as the wind whipped through it.

Soon, they arrived. Shadow parked the motorcycle in front of their apartment building before the two of them got off. Only then, under the bright white streetlights, did Shadow see the red flush on Sonic's cheeks. Without so much as a word, Shadow stepped forward and pressed the back of his hand against Sonic's forehead.

"Uh?" Sonic blinked. "Sh-- Lance? What're you...?"

Shadow dropped his hand from Sonic's forehead. "You're burning up," he said matter-of-factly. Then, he took Sonic's hand. "Come. Let's go inside."

Sonic let Shadow lead him up the stairs as he processed what he'd just said. "Wait," Sonic said as Shadow pushed open the door to their apartment. "I'm sick? But it's Monday!"

"Correct."

After both of them were inside the apartment, Shadow shut the door. Now, Sonic's face was screwed up like he was trying to solve a difficult math problem. "That doesn't make any sense," Sonic was saying. "I wasn't sick last Monday, or last last Monday, or--"

Shadow interrupted, "It's possible our minds aren't the only things that remain intact throughout time."

Sonic frowned, "So, someone's germs from the last loop are making me sick in this one?" He paused to think about that for a second. "That's not good, dude. That means..."

"Any consequences will persist regardless of our current place in time," Shadow finished. He was frowning now, too.

"Great," Sonic said, even though nothing about this was great. "Well, there goes my Plan A."

"And what was that?"

Sonic grinned, "'Run straight at the bad guy and hope for the best'!"

Shadow pursed his lips and sighed. Loudly. With agitation. "That's always your plan."

Sonic opened his mouth to reply, but a sneeze cut off whatever snarky remark he had prepared. His grin faded as he remembered how tired he was. Talk about a buzzkill! Next time he saw Tails, he'd have to ask him to make a shrink ray, so he could fight off germs with his fists.

Shadow shook his head as he watched Sonic's ears droop. "Go. Sit," he said. "I'll take it from here."

Sonic wanted to argue, but Shadow’s stern brown eyes made him feel funny. “Whatever,” Sonic muttered as he averted his gaze. “Just don’t take too long. I can’t promise I’ll stick around if you do!”

In truth, Sonic wasn’t going anywhere. Now that he was free from the constraints of his 9 to 5, and the horrors of capitalism were held back by the immutable strength of their apartment door, he was left with nothing to distract him from his fever. He shuffled into the bathroom and plopped down on the stool, waiting for Shadow to come in with the dye.

He sniffled. His bones hurt. He scratched his head, irritated. This never would’ve happened to world famous superhero, Sonic the Hedgehog. It was only because he was disguised as some random punk that he’d gotten sick.

“I seem to remember your fox friend recounting a tale to the contrary,” Shadow suddenly said. He’d appeared in the doorway, dye in hand. “Something about you and Arabian Nights…?”

Sonic waved his hand. “That was different,” he said.

Shadow popped the lid off a bottle of brown dye. “Oh? Is that so?”

Huffing indignantly, Sonic replied, “Yeah. That time, my worst enemy was a super powerful genie. This time, it’s customers!”

Shadow lowered his head. Sonic could’ve sworn he saw him smile. “Hold still,” Shadow said, his hands freshly gloved up and covered in dye. “I’ll be quick.”

Regardless of the truth of that statement, Sonic was physically, mentally, and emotionally incapable of holding still. He tried. Of course, he didn’t want to squirm around like a worm in the rain. But he couldn’t help it! Just like he couldn’t help but tap his foot against the linoleum, his claws clack-clack-clacking against the tile as he did so. That was, until one of Shadow’s hands moved to the back of Sonic’s left ear, and Sonic froze.

Sonic felt Shadow rub the dye into his fur. He felt his claws brush gently against the softest part of his ear. And Sonic stopped thinking about how lame it was to be sick. He didn’t worry about holding still. His heart fluttered in his chest and his eyes closed, totally focused on how good it felt to have Shadow’s fingers in his fur.

Shadow paused, having noticed the strange shift in Sonic’s behavior. But there was no time for him to lean forward and investigate, because a gentle pressure was now pushing against the palm of his hand, urging him to continue. 

It was Sonic, leaning into Shadow’s touch. 

Shadow nearly choked, but he managed to keep his composure. He isn’t feeling well, Shadow reminded himself. That’s all this was.

And yet, when Shadow resumed styling Sonic’s quills, he wasn’t thinking about covering up all the blue spots anymore. Instead, he focused his attention on just that one spot behind Sonic’s ear. He didn’t know why. Maybe he pitied Sonic. As the Ultimate Lifeform, he would never know how it felt to be ill.

Sonic leaned deeper into Shadow’s touch. His tense shoulders relaxed. His job, their mission, the time loop–none of that mattered anymore. Somewhere inside his chest, next to his heart, a soft rumbling began. Purring.

Sonic was purring.

Abruptly, Shadow stood. He turned away from Sonic, so he didn’t see him blink his eyes open sleepily. 

“Shadow…?”

“That’s all for now,” Shadow said stiffly. “Count yourself lucky. If not for your… illness… you would’ve been sitting there for much longer.”

And then he exited the bathroom, leaving Sonic sitting there as the last of his purrs quietly faded away.

#project writes #sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgheog #happy hour au #hehe :)c

[myosotisa]

mark of an angel - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader

‖  summary: It's hard to convince your tattoo artist boyfriend to allow you to get art done by someone other than him, so this time, you go out of your way to make it a surprise for him.

‖  tags: fluff, like will make you sick to your stomach sweet. reader is described as afab, no pronouns used, nickname is angel (aka the whole fic), established relationship, it gets a little spicy but nothing explicit. it's just really cute and fluffy BYE

‖  word count: 2.6k

Having a tattoo artist for a boyfriend meant it was very, very difficult to mention getting a tattoo and not have him immediately jumping at the bit to do it. Going on and on about how you were the perfect canvas, how much he wanted to exaggerate the beauty already there with whatever art you wanted. Normally it wasn’t an issue – Eddie was an amazing artist with enough practical knowledge to do any style you asked for, even if it wasn’t his preferred method.

It had always gone the same way. You’d mention an idea, maybe even an artist you wanted to get it from, he’d encourage you but also mention he could do the same thing for cheaper (“Just for my angel.”). He’d be able to change every millimeter of it to your liking and touch it up in the comfort of your own home. Between his soft, deep convincing and his wandering hands, you almost always gave in.

Which is why, this time, you didn’t even mention the idea to him. Didn’t even mention that you had an idea or that you had an appointment. In fact, you might’ve actually lied about what you were going to do today. You couldn’t remember if it had even come up. But now you were sporting a fresh sheet of Saniderm above a delicate piece of script on your right hip, hidden beneath the dress you’d worn for the day, and walking into the apartment you shared with Eddie like everything was normal.

“Honey, I’m home!” You call into the door as you open it, not even bothering to check if his keys were on the hook. If he wasn’t back yet, then you’d just get to hear him say the same thing whenever he did get home. But his keys are on the hook and you get further confirmation of his presence by the echo of your call.

“My wife has returned from the war!” Is the dramatic reply that comes from the vague direction of the kitchen, causing an amused snort to leave your nose. “God, I hope she still has all her limbs!”

Toeing your shoes off by the door, you follow the siren song of your humming boyfriend until you catch sight of him. His long, messy waves are spun up into a bun on the back of his head, a few wayward strands tucked behind his ears. His head is tipped forward so he can keep a close eye on the concoction simmering on the stove, his shoulders rolled forward as he focuses on it like if he looks away for even a moment it will either catch on fire or grow legs and run off. His black tank top is well worn and loose, his black-ink covered arms leaning on the counter on either side of the stove. Navy blue sleep pants hang low on his hips that continue for an unbelievably long time on his lanky legs before they pool around his bare feet on the tile. The cherry on top is the bright yellow tartan apron tied around his waist. 

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you press the side of your cheek into his shoulders. “Not your wife,” you remind him cheekily, before your voice drops into a teasing murmur. “And would you still love me even if I hadn't returned with all my limbs?”

“Not my wife yet,” he emphasizes, way too casually for the speed with which it makes your chest burst into excited butterflies. “Second,” he clears his throat in preparation before launching into a high-pitched whine, “would you still love me if I was a worm?” A laugh sputters out of you, turning your head to try to hide it in his back. His voice returns to normal as he shifts, one of his arms draping across yours. “Of course I would still love you if you lost a limb. Actually, have you ever thought about losing an eye? I think you would look really hot with an eye patch.”

You peek around so he can see the obvious pout you give him. “I thought you liked my eyes.”

He turns on you in an instant, dislodging your arms in his haste and nearly sending you both off balance. His hands grip your biceps while his big, wet, brown eyes double in size. “I fucking love your eyes, angel.” He says, as if he can’t believe he had made such a mistake. You can’t help but melt – shrinking inches as you relax in his hold. His face softens an equal amount as his lips part in a smile as sweet as honey. “Like little windows into your soul.” A hand leaves your shoulder to cup your jaw, a calloused thumb smoothing across your cheek as thick lashes brush his own in a slow blink. “I just, y’know,” the smile grows goofy, one shoulder tipping up in a shrug, “I think you’d be a hot pirate is all.”

“Tell you what, hot shot,” the nickname matched with his gaze catching down to your smile causes the tips of his ears to immediately flush pink, to your delight, “You get us a sea faring vessel and learn how to cook without catching shit on fire, then we can talk about getting me an eye patch.”

His jaw drops in obvious offense at the cooking comment. “I can abso– Y’know what just for that, you can’t have any of the– Wait, fuck,” he spins back to the stove, immediately digging into the pot with a wooden spoon to scrape the bottom and make sure it’s not burning. You can’t help but giggle at the irony; him defending his cooking while you distract him enough to potentially mess up said cooking. A glare is leveled over his shoulder, kicking his heel back into your shin to knock you away. “This is fucking sabotage,” his voice is full of false disdain that fades quickly, “I come home – after a hard days work – slaving over a hot stove, being a goddamn domestic goddess – and you dare question my authority.”

“And what authority is that, exactly?” You taunt back, walking backwards away from him. “The authority on finding a way to burn Easy Mac?”

“You little!” He lunges toward you but you move out of the way too quickly, dodging out of his grasp and rocketing down the hallway, giggling all the way. “This isn’t over!”

You push into your shared bedroom and swing the door mostly shut behind you, stripping your dress over your head and throwing it into the hamper beside your dresser. Approaching the full length mirror in the room, you lift the hem of your undershorts to expose the entirety of the Saniderm to the open air. Still irritated around the edges and leaking a bit of ink, is a delicate script of the word ‘angel’, the nickname Eddie has called you since the two of you started dating several years ago.

He’d been calling you angel for a few weeks when you finally got around to asking. “Can I ask why you call me that? I don’t think I really give off an angel vibe.”

“Well, if you’re thinking of an innocent, virginal, white-lingerie angel, then no, you don’t.” You glared at him and he looked endlessly amused by it. “I’m thinking more of the biblical, vengeful, warrior-type angel. Beautiful and smart and will righteously kick your ass.”

“Oh yeah? So you admit I could kick your ass?” You asked, trying to avoid the flattery.

“Fuck yeah,” he choked out in a laugh, like he couldn’t believe you were surprised. “I mean, I would put up a little bit of a fight... But only enough to make it not look like I was letting you because I’m into that.”

“Eddie!” You cried out, laughing through your embarrassment as he threw you a wink and cackled out into the night air.

Now you had the term of endearment permanently etched on your body and you were quite happy with it. Even if, god forbid, you and Eddie broke up, you would still be able to look at it and remember that you were beautiful, smart, and strong. A biblical angel of righteous fury. It made you feel powerful. Divinely feminine.

After taking a few moments to admire your new art, you set back to your task of changing into some comfortable clothes before dinner. Making sure to put on a pair of shorts that were the perfect length to hide the actual tattoo but still have the Saniderm peeking out the bottom as a tease. You layered a big t-shirt over them, pulling on a pair of thick comfy socks to counteract the chilly floors of your apartment, and taking off any of your accessories from the day. Satisfied, you padded back out into the kitchen just as Eddie was putting the finishing touches on your alfredo dinner.

“What would you like to drink with our gourmet meal, madam chef?” You ask while brushing past his back to get at the fridge, preemptively grabbing a beer for him and a wine cooler for you just as he confirms that he does indeed want the beer in your hand. “Do you already have plates and shit or should I grab some?”

“All good, angel, just go sit your pretty ass down on the couch and I will serve you like the queen you are.”

You’re rolling your eyes as you walk away from him and set both of your drinks on the coffee table in front of the couch. “You’re absolutely incorrigible, anyone ever told you that?”

“Only every day,” he confirms with a grin, walking your direction with two steaming bowls and silverware in either hand. He still has his silly little apron over his pajamas and you can’t fight the sickly sweet smile from tilting your mouth as he sets them down in your usual spots on the table before joining you on the couch. “Hello, love.” He murmurs with a purr, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek before reaching to twist open his beer. “How was your day?”

“Pretty good, got done everything I had planned to do.” He raises his bottle in silent cheers to congratulate you before taking a long sip. “How about you, handsome? How was your day?”

Even after all this time, something as simple as calling him handsome still seems to make him trip up. It makes you incredibly weak for him. “Not, uh, not so bad. Messed up my back a bit bending over to tattoo a client today. Didn’t remember my posture lessons.”

“For shame,” you admonish, taking a sip of your own drink as you both face each other on the couch, already almost completely forgetting about your dinner. “Maybe I should withhold a shoulder massage from you, make sure you learn your lesson.”

"You wouldn't dare," he gasps, to which you give a noncommittal shrug. He flops back against the cushions dramatically, moaning loudly. “This is abuse! Abuse, I say!”

You’re quick to set your drink down and lay down on top of him, your braless chest pressing down against his tank top. His hands lower to grip your hips, his eyebrows raising as the tip of his tongue comes out to wet his lips. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” You bat your eyelashes down at him, putting on your best ‘fuck me’ eyes as you rest your hands on his shoulders.

Without warning, he wraps an arm around your waist and uses the grip to flip you, sending you to the cushions with a yelp as he settles on top, the wild pieces of hair falling free from his bun and hanging down between you both. “I’m sure we can think of something,” he says directly into your ear, dipping down to the skin just below to press his lips to it.

“Eddie?” You place your hands up on his shoulders, your voice betraying his effect on you as it wavers. “Our dinner is going to get cold.”

He hums, nose dragging along the side of your neck as he nudges his way down to press a kiss to your collarbone. “I think I found something else I would much rather eat.”

You’re about to admonish him further, explain that he might not be hungry but you are, when the hand that isn’t holding him up skates down your right thigh towards your shorts and brushes the edge of the Saniderm. It takes him a few moments to register what he just touched and the entire time you’re holding your breath. When he finally pushes himself up off of you to lean back on his knees, his eyebrows are drawn together in concern, eyes trained on the plastic stuck to your skin. “Is that…?”

“Yup,” you answer, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“A surprise?” He echoes, fingers twitching like he wants to grab at you again. “Am I allowed to see?”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you fist your hand into his collar to pull him down into a kiss to calm your nerves. He hesitantly returns the affection until you release him and lay back down along the cushions with a satisfied smile. “Go for it, handsome.”

To your surprise, his hands are a bit shaky as he reaches down to push back the hem of your shorts. For his work, he learned how to combat anything that could have made his hands shake, so you’re worried you’ve pushed him too far with this surprise. As he gently lifts the hem, you straighten out your leg, giving him a full view of the newest art etched into your skin.

His eyes almost double in size as he takes in the script, his lips parting in what looks like awe as he ghosts his thumb over the plastic covering between him and your skin. He glances back and forth between the new art and your face for a period of time long enough to make you even more nervous, drawing your lower lip between your teeth. “So? What do you think?”

It seems to make him realize he hasn’t said anything yet. “You got ‘angel’ because…?” His hand turns out in a question as he swallows heavily, glancing back at your face for support.

“I’m your angel,” you offer softly, now a bit unsure. “Right?”

His parted lips stretch into a bright grin that could truly be from the heavens themselves. “My angel,” he repeats back to you, sounding absolutely astounded. “How on Earth did I get so fucking lucky?”

The smile that returns to you is wide enough to make your cheeks hurt. “By being you, Eddie Munson. Just by being you.”

His mouth bends, lips pressing together, he looks like he’s trying to battle off tears. “That’s it, final straw, I’m marrying your sweet ass tomorrow, I can’t wait anymore, it’s over, you’ve killed me.” He ducks down and rubs his face into your stomach, tickling you as you break out into giggles.

“Eddie, stop, that tickles!”

“Nope!” He answers cheerfully, tilting his head back to rest his chin on your belly button. “I’m gonna cover you in kisses, then I’m gonna eat you out until you can’t remember your own name, and then tomorrow we’re gonna go to the courthouse and I’m gonna give you my name instead. Sound like a deal, angel?”

And with the absolute joy in his eyes, the sparkle of life and mischief, you forget all the reasons the two of you had decided to wait. None of them matter when you want nothing more than to spend the rest of your life with your best friend.

“Deal.”

-

-

-

-

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #myos ideas #myo4munson

[ooshu]

just say it

summary: you think mark has fallen out of love. he insists he did not.

notes: swearing, was listening to sza's special oh gosh i just remembered mark liked this song from sos omg?????? will proofread some other time it's literally 2 in the morning here night night

genre: angst because i never write fluff! | word count: 1k -

“mark?” you called the boy who was humming the chorus of coldplay’s yellow. he was sitting in the living room after a cold, quiet dinner you both shared. he seemed to not notice it,

but you know he was doing it on purpose.

“mark.” you repeated his name again, in hopes to finish what is meant to be finished a long time ago. he didn’t budge. his eyes were fixed on the dried tulips that you used to take care of when you come to his apartment. you always scold mark for not watering them often, then now, here we are—they are far from being saved.

just like this one.

“i’m really tired, mark…”

mark suddenly tilted his head at your direction and said, “i’ll fix the bed, baby.”

“no”, you grabbed his wrist by the time he was already walking towards the bedroom. “mark-”

but he swatted your hand away and opened the lights instead. the room still feels the same. it smells like him—his perfume lingered across the room. the bed looks inviting but seemed cold. there sat his green hoodie—your favorite hoodie—on the mattress; almost wrinkled, dryly wrung.

mark opened his closet and brought out two extra pillows. he placed them on the top of the bed. “we always share the duvet, right?”

“stop this, mark.” you tried to protest but he kept crouching to fix the bed. he was smoothing it with his hands, trying to perfect any loose edges and all. he patted the pillows that you used to lay your head onto.

“mark!”

he stopped in his tracks and finally looked at you.

he was already crying.

“i…” you stammered but you cleared your throat to continue. “i know that you feel it, too.”

“bed’s ready, baby.”

“we’re no longer the same, mark.”

“do you want me to turn on the heater?”

there is no way mark is having this conversation, he thought it himself. but good god, you have to.

it was so difficult to witness how the bright smiles turned into faltering ones. the hugs he gives, they seemed like a chore. his eyes spark whenever he goes on a trip with his friends, and never to the plans you ought to make. him coming home and you felt honesty finally left between the two of you. he never smelled sex or an unfamiliar perfume, but these are just the little things that added to the pining, gradual changes, that turned so fucking bittersweet, it felt like it was twisting your guts every single day.

and you have already thought of it: mark has fallen out of love.

“i need to hear it from you so i don’t have to think what i’ve done wrong and whatnot—because i’m so tired; tired of whatever the fuck this is.” you were begging at this point. you heard him sniffling while wiping his tears away. “just say it.”

you reached for his damp hands and squeezed them so firmly. mark looked at you; so helpless, so naive, so vulnerable. he made you like this, mark thought. and he could never forgive himself for ruining you.

“please help me, mark… i just need you to say it.”

“i…” mark started to speak.

you squeezed his hands again, hoping something would finally come out; so desperate, so needy, such pleading, pleading, and endless pleading.

mark looked at you so dearly, with worry on his face; and the sight softened your features. it looked exactly the same when you visited his apartment looking all soaked from the rain. he scolded you for not bringing any umbrella with you. you smiled at the memory and almost nonchalantly, you said:

“help me to help you let me go, mark.”

but mark could not let you go.

every time you tell him that you love him, mark flinches. your love story is nowhere near the perfect fairytale, and uncertainties of the future have consumed mark to convince himself this is not going to last. but every time he pushes you away, you always come back.

why do you always come back? mark seeks answers from god, holding back his cries as he continuously and involuntarily steers himself away from you. what have i done wrong to deserve you; so good, so delicate, so dearly to me? he prays to god as he punishes himself, until the day you waved the white flag finally arrived.

but it would be too cruel, too insufferable, too immensely painful to watch you walk out the door. it would be too painful to feel your scent fading from his green hoodie he always embraces to sleep just because he could not do what his heart wants. the dried tulips, he tried watering them as much as he could, but they were you—so beautiful, so fragile who he wrecked.

so mark pulled you into a kiss; so intense, so desperate, so lovely, and so so apologetic. confusion and yearning consumed you as you deep dive in, but somehow, it spoke volumes—he has set himself free from the demons whispering in his sleep, the nightmares depicting him losing you in a crowd, and the intricate shackles imprisoning his heart.

“i’m sorry for all and for this but i can’t”, mark said as he now stared at your plump lips and back to your searching eyes. “god, i really can’t let you go. i’d be a fucking fool to let you go—not today, not tomorrow, and not in this lifetime or the next.”

you nodded. you understood. and that’s why you kept coming back because there was always your mark that remains despite the despites.

“i love you so much.” he kissed the tips of your fingers and rested your palm on his cheeks, leaning into your touch like a once lost child; so endearing, so passionate, so lovingly.

and you submit to him entirely because you know he's worth it, all of it.

“never ever let me go.”

#nct angst #nct fluff #nct oneshot #nct fanfic #nct imagine #nct fic #nct x reader #nct x you #nct x y/n #nct x gender neutral reader #mark lee #nct mark #nct mark fic #nct mark smut #nct mark angst #nct smut #mark lee angst #mark lee x reader #mark lee x you #mark lee x y/n #mark lee fluff #mark lee fic #mark lee imagine #mark lee oneshot

[yanderecookierunkingdom]

Six becomes Five

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Content warning: Unreality

"Sparkling Joy Cookie! There you are!"

You blinked a few times, your head pounding. You let out a soft groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. "Oh, by the Witches.. Did I drink something bad..?"

"Sparkling Joy Cookie?" The voice asked, concerned.

"One second.."

You pushed yourself up to sit, rubbing your forehead. Blinking a few more times, you opened your eyes to

Red

Purple

Pink

Yellow

Blue

BLUE.

"Shadow Milk Cookie?"

"Hehe, yup!" He grinned at you. "How are you feeling?"

"Ugh, like crap.." You grumbled, pushing yourself upright. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

He pursed his lips as he helped you up. "I think the right term would be an 'hour ago'. Burning Spice Cookie may or may not have hit you too hard during sparring and sent you flying into a tree."

"Ugh, that jerk.." You huffed softly, stumbling as you regained your balance. "Where is he now?"

"He left a few minutes ago." The fellow Primordial smiled. "Said something about a village that needed burning -"

Burning?

"Helping!" He chuckled. "A village needed helping."

You blinked a few times, uncertainty creeping into you. Had Shadow Milk Cookie just said burning? No, your mind had to have been playing tricks on you. There's no way he would say that!

You rubbed your head as you gazed at him.

.. where was his hat? Why was he grinning like that?

"Sparkling Joy Cookie?" He frowned, tilting his head. Too far too far too far.

HIS NECK SHOULDER HAVE SNAPPED.

You rubbed your eyes. "I.. I need a walk. I think my head is messing with me, hehe.."

You smiled in what you hoped was a reassuring way.

Your friend watched you walk away, his face falling as strings unraveled.

You walked through the trees, your wings tucked tight to your back. Your head was still pounding, but it felt like your chest was constricting. And your Soul Jam..

CRACK

as the attack intended to crumble-

You gasped and stumbled, leaning against a tree. You rubbed your eyes before spotting a lake nearby.

Rushing over to it, you kneeled down and scooped some water up and splashed it into your face a few times. Sparing with Burning Spice Cookie never made you feel this bad. Sure, sometimes it he got out of hand, but he never intended to hurt you.

You looked down at the water, and faltered.

A Cookie you didn't know stared back at you, their eyes as wide.

A splash of water made you jolt and fall onto your back. You hissed from the sting of pain and looked up to see Shadow Milk Cookie.

It wasn't him. That's not him.

He grinned down at you.

"Isn't this nice? Don't you want it to stay this way?"

He picked you up and squeezed you tightly, making you hiss. "Shadow Milk Cookie-!"

"Just stay here!" He pleaded, squeezing you tighter.

"-er Cookie!"

"You aren't Shadow Milk Cookie.." You whispered softly, eyes narrowing.

"-ader Cookie!!"

"I am-!"

"You haven't been for a long time."

The strings surrounding you snapped, the world faded and you

f

e

l

l

.

You gasped, and you landed in the arms of Mercurial Knight Cookie, who flew back with you towards Silverbell Cookie and White Lily Cookie. "Wha.. where..?!"

"Sparkling Joy Cookie!" Silverbell Cookie gasped. "You're okay!"

"YOU PESTS!" Shadow Milk Cookie shrieked. "GIVE THEM BACK! THAT'S MY SPARKLING JOY COOKIE!"

"Like crap.." You groaned, getting back onto your feet. You focused on trying to reform your scepter, but instead fell to your knees. "Gah..!"

You gritted your teeth as you looked at the other three Cookies. Mercurial Knight Cookie and Silverbell Cookie looked no better than you, and White Lily Cookie looked on the verge of collapsing herself.

She needed to use the Guardian's power.

Shadow Milk Cookie was taunting her, Pure Vanilla Cookie was telling her to fight..

There was a sudden flash of bright light, and you looked over in surprise.

White Lily Cookie was now standing, but she looked different. She looked like a Faerie Cookie.

"Oooh, finally! I see you've made up your mind!" Shadow Milk Cookie grinned.

"White Lily Cookie...?!" Silverbell Cookie gasped.

"That power...!!!" Mercurial Knight Cookie's gripped his spear.

"The Guardian's power.." You whispered, your eyes wide.

Everyone watched with wide eyes as White Lily Cookie channeled the powers she'd been gifted. Green vines, glowing beautifully whipped out and past a shocked Shadow Milk Cookie. Slowly, they turned to a flurry of white butterflies. Landing on the Silver Tree, it was slowly purified, glowing white vines coming to seal the cracks and pouring darkness.

A butterfly landed on your Soul Jam, and you looked down in surprise, seeing the crack in it heal. You felt better as well, enough to stand up on your feet.

"You... YOU...!!! I gave you only two choices...!!!" Shadow Milk Cookie growled in rage. "How dare you ruin... this moment I've been waiting for for so long..."

You watched with your hands gripped, watching as Shadow Milk Cookie slowly began to fade.

You ignored his calls to you.

As the other three Cookies helped your friends down, you looked over at White Lily Cookie.

"That was amazing, White Lily Cookie," you congratulated her as you walked closer, smiling warmly. She seemed to bloom under your praise. "For a moment there, I thought you were a Primordial just like me."

"Ah! That reminds me!" Pure Vanilla Cookie hurried over to you. "Reader Cookie, are you-"

"Sparkling Joy Cookie," you gently cutted him off. "Call me Sparkling Joy Cookie."

Everyone seemed surprised.

"But.. why?" Strawberry Cookie tilted her head.

You smiled warmly. "Eh, I've.. come to accept it now. I'll never be like them." You smiled at them all, but more specifically Pure Vanilla Cookie. "You guys.. have taught me that."

With a few more check-ins, the group set off to defeat the last of Shadow Milk Cookie's monsters, when his voice rang out not too long after.

"You think you won, don't you?!"

"HUH?!" Wizard Cookie gripped his staff. "How are you still talking?!"

"You may be celebrating your little victory for now... But heed my words! We have finally risen. Do not think that you can hold us back."

His voice, despite echoing, had everyone on edge.

"Foolish Cookies...! You simply have no idea what's waiting for you...! HA HA HA HA HA!"

"Then bring it," you whispered to the air as his voice faded. "Bring it on. I'll seal you again."

For some reason, after you whispered, sadness seemed to hang in the air.

You sat far off on the side, watching the Faerie Cookies celebrate. To honor Elder Faeire Cookie, and to celebrate White Lily Cookie.

It was beautiful to watch.

"Why haven't you joined in?" Pure Vanilla Cookie's voice made you jump. He gently set his staff to the side before sitting next to you.

You gave a small smile. "Eh, parties were never really my thing. But, maybe I'll join in soon."

Silence filled the small space between you two before Pure Vanilla Cookie broke it again. "Did you.. mean it earlier? When you said that you wished for us to call you Sparkling Joy Cookie?"

"Of course I did." You gently grabbed his hand, smiling. "However.. Pure Vanilla Cookie, you can call me whatever you like."

His cheeks turned a soft pink, even more so as your wings reformed, and you rested one over his back.

"Ah! That reminds me!" He looked at you, concerned. "Don't you want me to return the Light of Compassion to you?"

You frowned softly as you thought about it. While you probably should, Shadow Milk Cookie being able to reach Pure Vanilla Cookie unnerved you.

You shook your head. "No, I trust you, and so does it. Until we know that he won't try anything with you."

"But..!"

"Plus, it seems to like you," you pointed out with a smile.

Indeed I do!

Pure Vanilla Cookie chuckled bashfully, turning his head away.

You smiled and pressed your forehead against his, and the smallest hint of a purr rumbled from you. "Plus.. I trust you, Pure Vanilla Cookie. I trust you with all my heart."

He seemed to beam at that and you laughed gently.

As you two continued to talk, none were aware of the Beast stewing in his anger.

taglist: @snail-noodle @average-crk-enjoyer @looking4userthatworks @ori-stole-the-cheese-again @sqiddgie @justalittledumb @ax0lotly @ihatemyselffromthestart-blog @ravenkake @ohnoivefallen @craixe

So.. We've reached the end of the current content for Beast-Yeast! I would really love to continue this series, but doing filler constantly sounds boring.. but what do you guys think?

(Also, yes, this is another update right after the last one. I was very inspired today.)

#tw unreality #series: six becomes five #yandere shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie x reader #cosmos constellations

[sluttyminghao]

everlasting love | k.mg

♡ pairing: kim mingyu x afab!reader ♡ w.c.: 3k ♡ genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff ♡ this fic contains: domestic!mingyu, shy to confident reader, mingyu takes you to a dog park, friends to lovers trope, mingyu gets horny over a thong, unprotected sex (reader is stated to be on the pill), big dick mingyu, mentions of reader passing out after orgasm, mingyu sucks on readers tits ♡ synopsis: mingyu wants you to know how much he loves you after dropping hints for years, and takes you on a date you'll never forget, and maybe you'll also figure out you love him too. ♡ a/n: part of the svthub spring series! you can find all the other wonderful fics here, take a read and stroll through the garden!

“Mingyu, why are we at a dog park? Neither of us even has a dog.”

“Because we can pat the dogs that are here, silly! It’s a great way to kill an hour or so.”

You chuckle and watch as he runs in front of you, before squatting down in front of the first dog approaching him. It’s small in stature and black in colour and looks like a toy poodle at first glance. As you walk closer and bend down beside him so the dog can sniff your hand, you can hear him talking to the dog in a cutesy voice that has you cringing externally, but melting internally.

For as long as you had been friends with Mingyu, which if you remembered correctly was about 7 years, there had always been a small part of you that had fallen head over heels for the tall, tanned man. You kept it buried down inside you as deep as it would go, and promised yourself it would never, ever come up.

You just hoped that it wasn't obvious in any aspect, because you were sure you’d shrivel into a ball if he knew your true feelings.

“Over here! There’s a whole bunch of dogs wanting their bellies rubbed!” Mingyu’s voice floats into your consciousness and you quickly stand and jog over to where he was now laying stomach down on the grass, rubbing the belly of a dalmatian. You wanted to scold him for rolling in the grass in a white shirt and light-coloured jeans, but he looked so cute that you didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“Quick! Take my picture!”

Mingyu’s excited voice makes your heart skip a beat as you pull out your phone and snap a couple of pictures, which you were sure he’d upload to his Instagram later. Mentally, you were kicking yourself for having your feelings for him bubble up like a boiling pot on a stove. It’s not like he would like you back anyway, he could have literally anyone he wanted.

But little did you know, the only person he wanted was you.

From the moment he laid eyes on you all those years ago, he couldn't picture his life without you in it. Every night, he dreamed about every inch of you, how the perfume you use makes his heart race and how he wants nothing more than to push you against a mattress and make love to you.

The only thing stopping him from confessing was that he didn't want to ruin your friendship. It was the best thing in his life and if you rejected him, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

“Oh, look at how pretty these flowers are!”

Mingyu is drawn immediately to your voice, his head snapping up and abandoning his spot on the ground with the dogs to find you crouched over some shrubs a few feet away. He’s not sure what kind of flowers they are, but you seem pretty invested in them.

“What are they?”

“They’re called Zinnias, I love how bright they are… they’re my favourite flowers.” You ramble, letting your hand brush over the petals of a bright yellow zinnia gently. Mingyu watches as you observe each flower, take some photos and a couple of selfies before finally standing up and looping your arm through his.

He feels his heart jump into his throat at the sudden closeness of you, but brushes it off as you lead him to walk along the path full of different flowers and shrubs. Mingyu observes you strolling and watches as you stop to pick some daisies, peonies, and other various types of flowers. He thinks it’s so cute.

“We should make flower crowns!” You squeal with excitement as you place the various flowers into a container and place them in your backpack, slinging it back over your shoulder and sliding your hand into Mingyu’s again. You give him a reassuring squeeze and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven, but is quickly dragged back to Earth when he almost runs into his car.

How did you guys get back to his car so quickly? He swears you were still in the park 30 seconds ago.

You giggle at his clumsiness and climb into the passenger seat, eagerly waiting for him to hop into the driver's side. He follows suit and turns the key in the ignition with ease, before driving slowly out of the car park and out onto the busy streets.

“So, do you want to go out for dinner or just do something at home?” Mingyu asks, diverting his attention to you as he slows the car to a stop at a red light. You hum and rest your head in the palm of your hand mulling over the options. Mingyu was a very good cook, so it wasn't a hard decision to make, but you still wanted him to think it was a hard decision.

“Can we just go back to your place and have some ramen? I’ve been craving it for literal weeks and no one cooks it like you do.” The grin on your face makes him melt inside as he nods and makes a U-turn to head to his apartment, hoping he’s got all the ingredients to make you the best ramen ever.

As soon as he turns into his driveway, you’re already taking off your seatbelt and skipping inside, either to change into his clothes or start getting ingredients ready for the ramen. He’s kind of hoping it’s the former, but he’d be happy with either scenario considering how domestic they both were.

He walks inside and closes the door with a soft thud, placing his keys on the hook and toeing his shoes off onto the doormat. As he walks further into his apartment, he notices you’ve already turned the heater on, the tv is set up with Netflix, and your pants are on the floor. He grins and picks them up off the floor, placing them over the back of the couch before attempting to find where you had gone to.

When he walks into the kitchen, he feels as if his jaw might fall off.

You’re standing in the middle of the kitchen, grabbing all the ingredients you would both need. His eyes can't help but gaze over your body, widening when he notices you’re not wearing any pants at all. He thought that maybe you had changed into a pair of his sweats, but no, you’re standing there in only your pink thong and jumper.

He feels his cock twitch.

“Uhh…” His voice makes you stop and turn to face him, grinning from ear to ear. You take quick steps over to him and pull him by his forearm to come into the kitchen and help prepare the ramen. You knew what you were doing, teasing him by exposing basically everything from the waist down, but you couldn’t hide your feelings for him much longer, especially after today.

“Come on, let’s make some ramen!” Your voice grows whiny and he feels his cock twitch again, wondering how you would sound with his cock sheathed deeply inside you. He shakes his head and grabs one of the ramen packets, emptying it into the pot of water and turning the stove on.

You move to sit on the countertop, legs slightly spread so he can see the small wet spot that's begun to form on your thong. He doesn't pay much attention at first, focusing on placing all the ingredients in the pot and then going to grab the salt and pepper from the cupboard.

As he turns around from the cupboard, he almost drops the salt and pepper shakers at the sight of you; legs spread and jumper riding up your midriff, exposing a small sliver of your abdomen. He swallows harshly at the sight of the damp spot on your underwear and has to place the shakers on the counter before turning to properly face you.

“I… uh…you look really good right now,” his stutters have your confidence growing, and as a boost of confidence shoots through you, you feel the need to remove your jumper, exposing your matching lacy bra.

“I think you would look pretty good too if you removed your shirt and pants, we could match.” A giggle escapes your throat as you see the flush cover his cheeks and ears, hands quickly going to remove his shirt and tossing it to the side. Without a second to waste, he’s also removing his pants and leaving him in his boxers with a half-hard erection.

You lick your lips and spread your legs further, inviting him to come stand between them. He obliges and lets his hands hang loosely over your hips, his lips brushing yours only slightly enough to have goosebumps covering your skin. Everything feels so close, yet so far. What happens now?

“I love you, Mingyu.”

The words have his eyes widening, and even though your words are sentimental, you feel his cock twitch against your thigh. His eyes dart to where the ramen is slowly cooking away on the stove, knowing he doesn't have very long before the noodles will be ready.

“I love you too.”

He presses his lips delicately to yours and feels your arms sling over his shoulders. You can feel his rapid heartbeat against your chest, and it makes you feel so good knowing that you’ve made him feel this way. Every single touch he gives you, every slight graze along your skin, has it burning a trail that doesn't leave your mind.

You can feel yourself getting soaked by the second, Mingyu’s magic lips working deftly against your own and his tongue licking along the seams of your mouth. You can tell he’s holding himself back, and you need to let him know that it’s okay to let go.

“M-Mingyu-” your voice comes out breathily and has him groaning into your mouth before he’s reluctantly pulling away. At this point, he has a raging hard on and the wet spot on your panties has doubled. He stares at you, pupils black with lust and a small smirk on his lips, his fabric-covered cock pressing against your panty-clad cunt, only soaking you more.

“The noodles, Gyu, we need to move them off the stove,” you giggle, one of his hands reluctantly pulling away from your supple skin to fiddle with the nobs before eventually turning off the stove. Without a word coming from him, he turns back to face you and easily picks you up off the countertop, swiftly moving you to the couch you had set up earlier.

“I need to fuck you, but I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry about it.”

His eyes gleam with want and he feverishly presses his lips back to yours again, his hands moving to your back to fiddle with the clips of your bra. He removes it within a few moments with relative ease, sliding the straps off your shoulders and exposing your nipples to the cool air. 

He licks his lips at the sight of them pebbling up and immediately ducks his head down to wrap his lips around one of them, one of his hands teasing the other. His tongue feels rough against your skin and only drives you crazy. Your hands are in his dark locks, tugging against them as if your life depends on it.

“So fucking beautiful, can't believe I waited this long to confess and see this,” Mingyu mumbles against your skin, feeling his cock strain impossibly harder against the fabric of his boxers. He knows he probably has a pre cum stain on the front, but he could not give a shit with how good you look and feel.

With his mouth still wrapped around your tit, he reaches a free hand down to mindlessly rub your clit through your thong. Your grip on his hair tightens as he circles the bundle of nerves quickly, and your stomach begins to bundle up in pleasure.

“Mingyu…I ne-need you to fuck me.”

You don't have to ask him twice. Before you can say another word, he’s pulling off your nipple and practically ripping your panties in half. As you open your mouth to complain about your favourite thong being ruined, he shimmies his boxers down and exposes his girthy cock to you.

Your jaw drops open at the sight of him. You knew he had to be big, given his tall stature, but he was bigger than you had imagined. His girth was also much larger than you had been used to in the past, and while it slightly scared you, you also couldn't help but be extremely turned on at the same time.

“Have you got lube?” He asks, and you point to a small cupboard in your room where you kept all sorts of goodies like lube and your toys. He chuckles as he paws through the cupboard, and you roll your eyes, knowing he’s still a child at heart even though he’s about 30 seconds away from sheathing himself inside of you.

Moments later he comes back with a black lube bottle and pours a small amount onto his palm, before chucking the bottle next to you on the couch and pumping himself slowly with the lube, a low groan bubbling from his chest. You feel a new wave of arousal flood your body at the sight of him. How had you not jumped his bones years ago?

“Are you ready?” He asks, adjusting his body so that he’s hovering over you, while your legs are wrapped around his waist. You nod and let your lips press to his hungrily again as he begins to slide the fat head of his cock into your entrance. You whine at the sting and feel tears well up in your eyes. 

Even though he’s hardly pushed half of his cock into you, you can already tell he’s a very attentive lover. He kisses away your tears as he thrusts his hips further into you, holding you as close as he physically can while he sheaths the rest of his girthy cock inside you. Once he’s bottomed out, you both let out a sigh of relief and he peppers your face with kisses, praises flowing from his lips with every kiss.

After a few moments, you squeeze around his cock and he groans, before beginning to move slowly. He can feel your walls pulsating around him, and he’s certain he won’t last long if you keep it up. He plants his arms on each side of your head and starts thrusting a little faster, cock twitching when your boobs begin to bounce a little with each push inside of you.

“F-fuck…god, mingyu!” Your voice is like heaven to his ears as your mind turns to mush, any coherent thoughts you had flying out the window with how well he’s fucking you. Your moans and whimpers are sending him over the edge, and as his orgasm begins to peak, his hips start an extreme pace, groans and whimpers filling the room and your sweat colliding with each other. 

Your own orgasm isn't far behind Mingyu’s, and you feel yourself toppling over the edge with a loud cry when he lets the rough pad of his thumb bump roughly against your clit, rubbing harshly until your thighs clench around his hips and your back arches off the couch while stars dance across your vision.

It takes a while for you to come down from your high, and you don’t even realize that Mingyu has already gotten up and started cleaning you up with some tissues and wipes. You have a stupid smile on your face as you look down to see Mingyu sliding a pair of his sweats up your thighs, which he mirrors when he realizes you’ve come back to earth.

“Hi, darling, are you feeling okay?” The pet name has your cheeks burning but you nod regardless, reaching a hand out to comb through his hair softly. He leans into your touch, sighing softly at the contact, before he’s standing up and grabbing a shirt and placing it over your head, moving your arms to get them into the arm holes.

“So, I figured what we could do tonight is eat ramen, watch shitty television series and make flower crowns with those zinnias and other flowers you picked earlier, how does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect, Mingyu.”

“And you know, I actually did a bit of research on the zinnia flowers, and they actually have an interesting meaning.”

You quirk your brow, not even knowing that zinnias, let alone flowers, had meanings behind them. You urge him to go on, and he quickly pulls out his phone to show you what he had found through his research. You find yourself tearing up at the meaning behind them and bury your head in his shoulder.

“The meaning I like the most is that it stands for everlasting love and affection, but also for endurance and daily remembrance. So, from now on and every year on this day, I am going to bring you a bouquet of zinnias to remind you of my everlasting love for you.”

#svthub #svthub.collab #sluttyhao fics #kpop smut #seventeen smut #mingyu smut #sluttyhao collabs

[grocerystorelist]

the body of christ – matty healy

brash and rogue, you don't know what to do with how you feel about the new priest in town. so, you find yourself in the confessional booth... aka priest!au

minors dni. dom/sub undertones, oral fixation, oral sex, unprotected sex, the man hasn't kissed anyone in a decade let him live!! wc: 3.2k

The church is dark when you approach the confessional booth, the heels of your boots ringing out and echoing throughout the cavernous room. You wonder if he hears you. A single lamp is turned on next to the booth, yellow beams dancing across the shifting fabric. You can hear Matty shuffling around inside, the shiny tips of his shoes barely visible beneath the black hanging.

It’s been a week since he kissed you, all teeth and tongue on the bench outside of his apartment, an insistent hand burning a path around your waist.

“I’ve come to confess, Father.” You smirk to yourself, crossing your ankles and shifting on the wooden seat to sit on your hands. There’s something girlish about the way you’re sitting, and you remember when your parents used to make you frequent this very booth several years ago. Then your confessions were about swiping your best friend’s eyeshadow palette, worried hands picking at your bright blue nail polish as you pleaded for forgiveness from an elderly priest. Now, the darkness of the booth no longer scares you.

“I’ve been having all of these thoughts… fantasies, if you will.” You strain your ears to your left, hoping to hear a gasp, a reaction from Matty. “I think about him all the time, and I don’t know what to do because he just won’t let himself.” A low ache settles itself between your legs, and you know that he can hear your legs cross and uncross themselves as you try to relieve yourself. As you smooth your black skirt down your thighs, you finally hear a shaky breath through the tiny window.

“I wanted him right there on a bench a few nights ago but he stopped himself after kissing me.” Your mind flashes back to the witty back and forths of that night, dangerously toeing the line of inappropriate.

“It was dark and quiet and the only thing I could hear was his heart pounding against mine.” Your cunt throbs, filled with the image of you climbing on top of him on the bench. “I tried to get off when I got home, but nothing worked.” A beat.

“What did you do?” He breathes out. In disbelief, you manage to say through the haze, “I touched myself. I touched– I was so desperate for anything. “ The wood of the confessional booth creaks as you continue.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of him bending me over, the way his fingers looked wrapped around the bottle that night.” A thunk emanates from beside you, a groan resonating throughout the booth as you squirm. “I wanted his head between my thighs, I wanted to get down on my knees in front of that bench as he fucking ran his mouth.”

“Have you-” Matty starts, hesitating. You interject before he can continue. 

“I’ve never had anyone before.” You run your tongue over your bottom lip. “But I want him.”

“Stop.”

“What? Father-”

“Kneel.” You wait until he repeats himself, sliding off the bench and settling yourself on the floor. “Kneel.” Hands clasped, you close your eyes, waiting for his next directive. In the few moments of silence, your mind wanders before you ground yourself, feeling the grain of the wood through the knees of your tights.

Suddenly, the curtain is ripped open, velvet whipping inches away from your face. You blink through the spots in your eyes to adjust to the light filtering through the stained glass. Dust motes float in a haze around Matty’s head, and you swear you see a halo for a moment. Lips barely parted, his chin is tilted up, considering you as he looks down his nose.

His eyes bore through you, brown irises giving way to widening black pupils. You rise on your knees, breathing shallowly and staring up at him, waiting for him to cut through the thick soup of tension between you two. Matty’s hand rises and his eyes flick to it, as if he can’t believe he’s reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

The heat of his palm reaches you first, and you instinctively stretch to reach his hand, brushing your reddened cheek to his cool fingers. Matty’s fingers twitch away, only to return to your bottom lip, thumb collecting your sticky red lipgloss. He pushes in further and you take the chance to suck on his finger, gently tonguing at the intrusion. The rest of his fingers come to rest on your jaw, curling around the back of your neck.

He drops to the floor of the confessional and mirrors you on your knees, eyes scanning over your flushed face. Matty slowly pulls his thumb out of your now open mouth, where it joins the rest of his fingers on the side of your face, the glistening digit smearing spit over your cheekbone.

You don’t know who leans in first, but suddenly his lips are on your lips, and you’re gasping wetly as his hand travels down to rest on your hip, pressing you into him. He kisses and kisses and kisses you, a decade of desire being unleashed in the span of a few seconds. You grip onto Matty’s black shirt, running one hand through the gel that holds his curls in place. Delight blooms in your mind, and you grin as you kiss him. A sharp tug has Matty moaning into your mouth, tongue running over your bottom lip before you let him in.

You let out a giggle, realizing you’re the first person he’s kissed in ten years if you don’t count all the hands he kisses in blessing. Matty pulls back, a questioning look on his face, and you take in the string of spit that stretches between your mouths, the rise and fall of his chest, the shadow of the veins on his forearms. Now that you have him, you want to devour him.

He asks first, though. Matty’s hands slide down the back of your skirt, toying with the hem and tracing circles on your sheer black tights.

“Let me taste you,” he tips your head up, pressing a firm kiss to your lips as your head spins. You nod emphatically as you pull away, getting to your feet to sit back on the bench of the confessional. Matty rises too, and you look up at him as he undoes the top button of his black shirt, yanking his white collar out of the lapel and discarding it behind him. It hits the wood of a faraway pew, echoing through the silence. 

All you hear is the blood in your ears as Matty gets back on the floor and hooks one hand underneath each knee to drag you to the edge of the bench. You feel your cunt throb with anticipation. He flips your skirt up, sucking in a breath at the visible lace of your underwear. Matty’s hands slide beneath the waistband of your skirt, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps as he fumbles for the elastic of your tights. He hasn’t looked up at you in a minute, transfixed by how the pale skin of his hands looks against the black of your tights.

You lift your hips to help Matty pull your tights off, his hands running reverently down you. They stop at your knees, grasping the meat of your thighs, digging in and pushing your legs apart to bare the damp red lace of your underwear.

“Did you wear this just for me?” Matty rasps out, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. You whimper your confession, hands falling behind you as you struggle to keep yourself upright, his kisses nearing the lace covering you. He licks at the fabric, contributing to the growing dark spot on the fabric between your legs. Your hips jump, and he presses down with a hand on your hip, silently telling you to stay in place.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. All wet for me.” His breath ghosts over you as he hooks his fingers on your underwear, slowly tugging down. “Is this what you looked like after I kissed you the other night?”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out before he pulls them off, balling them up and stuffing them in his pocket. Matty finds your clit with an assured finger, rubbing circles. He bites down into the flesh of your left thigh, tongue soon following to soothe over the spot. Through the daze of the headrush, you see purple blooming as he traces his tongue toward where his finger is focused.

He attaches his lips to your clit, sucking and lapping at it with the same fervor as he had kissed you earlier. Matty eats you like a man starved, like it’s water in a desert, like you’re the sweetest fruit and all he wants is to consume you.

“Matty-” you moan. He slips his tongue into you, nose bumping your clit as he traces your walls. You grind into his face as he brings one of your legs over his shoulder, pulling you closer to him. 

“So sweet making those sounds for me, love,” he says, withdrawing from your cunt to grin devilishly up at you. Matty’s hair is unruly and all over the place, chin glistening with you. He looks like he’s found heaven on his knees, and he brings a hand up to swipe your juices off his face. With a smirk, he brings the hand up to your lips, pushing two fingers in. You take them down to the knuckle, laving around them, and you see Matty reach for the front of his trousers, palming himself.

“Such a good girl for me,” Matty groans, pulling his fingers out of your mouth. “Going to make you come so hard you forget your name, your prayers” He reattaches his lips to your clit and brings his soaked fingers to your fluttering hole, slowly thrusting one in. 

The fire in your lower belly is rapidly building, the waves of pleasure reaching new heights as he carefully stretches you around another finger. “Matty, shit, fuck,” you whine, rolling your hips. He diligently laps at you, and the euphoria hits you, trembling on the bench. You feel yourself spasming around Matty’s tongue as he continues to lick you through the ecstasy, legs splayed out for him. 

Eventually, you push him away, bringing your thighs together and grinning dopily down to him. Matty is disheveled, his face covered in your juices. The hard line of his pants practically reaches out to you. I did that to him, you think, sticky and sweaty on the bench. Matty comes up to kiss you on the lips, peppering your face with soft devotion as he tugs your skirt down over the evidence of his worship.

The two of you sit together in silence for several minutes, the rise and fall of your chests perfectly synchronized.

“Good first?” Matty mumbles into your hair, playing and twisting your locks. You twist to look at him, an incredulous look on your face.

“You’re one to talk!” Your mouth drops open, laughing at the incredulity of his question. “You haven’t had sex in ten years.” Matty’s face drops momentarily before he runs his hand sheepishly through his hair.

“You’d probably never believe it, but back in the day I used to be quite a catch.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “That’s why they sent me to seminary. The girls couldn’t get enough of me.” You hide your face in his neck so he doesn’t see your reaction, eyes crinkling and mouth widening at the thought of a Matty your age being the talk of the town parties. 

Shaking your head, you stand up and push through the curtain, waiting for him to follow you. He emerges from the darkness of the booth like an angel, pushing back the sleeves of his shirt where they’ve started to fall down his forearms.

Matty presses a chaste kiss to your nose as his arms bracket you against the confessional. You tilt your head up to capture his lips, pulling him closer as he trails kisses down your neck. You let him for a moment before you slip out around him, spinning on your heel and smoothing your skirt down. Matty looks dangerous now, not understanding why you’re pulling him away from the booth — his eyes tell you he would take you right over a pew if you let him.

“The rectory,” you say, taking his hand in yours. Matty walks with purpose, his strides long, and you struggle to keep up with him.

“Can my poor girl walk after what I just gave her?” You roll your eyes at the endearment, focusing on putting one leg in front of the other. One wobble and you would answer his question, which you aren’t allowing tonight.

A few minutes later you lie on his soft white sheets, legs parted as you lazily slip your fingers through your folds. Matty stands at the corner of the bed as he pulls his dress shirt out of its tuck, nimble hands unbuttoning and sliding the garment from his shoulders. 

“Didn’t know priests could be so fit,” you giggle. “Is there a priest gym?” Matty throws his head back in a laugh.

“The dress code is cassocks, and it’s just rows and rows of priests on weight machines.” He jokes. “It’s practice for lifting babies out of water.” You pull a serious face, nodding solemnly. 

“I hope I’m not intruding on your priest gym time tonight.” Instead of riffing off you, Matty decides to lift you up, spinning to land you on his lap. The rough fabric of his pants zaps the nerves in your clit, and you unwittingly grind down, making contact with his length. The air in the room is charged once again, ions waiting to be aligned to carry the spark between you both.

In one move, Matty kisses you square on the mouth and rolls you over. He towers over you, eyes zeroing in on your dripping cunt. You grasp for his belt buckle, yanking it out of the loops and throwing it into a far corner. His hands replace your own as he tugs his pants down first, revealing his tight black boxers.

Your mouth waters at the sight, but your reaching hands are gently stopped as Matty breathes a question. “Condom?” He raises an eyebrow, and you frantically shake your head no. “On the pill,” you briefly explain. Matty’s eyes darken as he slides his boxers down. His cock slaps against his stomach, red and weeping.

He circles his hand around it, stroking and tugging. “You look like a wet dream,” Matty says reverently, sliding down the bed to position himself over you.

Your hand joins him on his cock, and together you guide him to your soaked entrance. He swipes through the mess, coating himself in your cum. Torturously slowly, he finally presses into you.

“So tight love, you feel so good.” You grasp at his forearms, fixating on the curl dangling from his forehead. Matty’s abs flex under your fingers as he slowly pushes into your cunt, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His pants throw a hot spear of need through you, and he stills as he bottoms out. He’s bigger than anything you could’ve imagined. Matty stills between your legs, the two of you suspended in a tableau of sacrilege. 

“Move, please,” you whisper, hugging him close as the pressure subsides into pleasure. Matty draws out slowly, and you feel every ridge dragging within you. Pleasure runs up your spine, and you whimper as words leave you, hoping he can tell you want, you need more. 

He slowly rocks back into you, hips setting an agonizing pace. You feel so hazy, and you have no idea how to make your mouth work and tell him to give it to you faster, harder. Your head lolls backward, eyes blurry with desire.

“Ask me,” he says, and you shake your head, not understanding. He reaches up to his own forehead, down where the two of you are connected, then to his left and right shoulders. 

“Oh-” you gasp, reaching up with both hands to take hold of Matty’s fist. You press a kiss to his knuckles.

“Bless me father, for I have sinned.” Matty moans, his thrusts finding a new vigor. He drills into your cunt, kissing spots in you that have stars exploding behind your eyes.

Bending down, Matty laves over your tits, sucking your left nipple into his mouth as he rubs at your clit. He rolls your nipple between his teeth, spit pooling on your chest. His mouth leaves your breast only to be replaced by a hand expertly tugging and twisting at your nipple. 

You spread the spit from your tits, pressing down on your lower belly at the hard bulge of him inside you. And shit – you feel him, tightening your body’s grip on his cock.

“Do you like that, love, me filling you up so well?” Matty groans, dragging his hand down, interlacing your fingers and covering your hand with his. He pushes down to feel his dick in you, watching himself thrust in and out as the head pokes at your belly.

You mewl, digging your heels into his lower back, letting him roll further into you, cock hitting places so deep in you you didn’t realize they existed. 

“Where do you want me?” Matty asks with a hoarse voice. You lock eyes with him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “In me.” He swallows the rest of your sentence with a kiss, tongue fucking into your mouth in time with the buck of his hips.

“Taking me so well,” his hips set a frantic pace. Your eyes roll back in your head, spots dancing across your vision. “Come for me, love.” You fight the sensation off, wanting to come with him. Matty’s hand burns circles around your clit as he thrusts mercilessly, filling you over and over. 

With the first clench of your walls around his cock he twitches, a low grunt slipping out of his mouth as he hoists your hip up with one hand and somehow hits deeper. You think you might die if you don’t come soon. Hurtling towards the edge, you light up on the inside as you convulse underneath Matty. Eventually, you topple over, arching up into his chest as his cock begins to pulse inside you.

Sticky warmth fills you, and he fucks you through the last waves of his own orgasm. “You’re fucking perfect,” he moans, one hand next to your head as his hips still. His cock softens in you, but neither of you makes any move to shift.

You smile blearily up at him, and he dips his head to press a sweaty kiss to your forehead. His bed suddenly seems all the more inviting, and you both nearly drift off before you start to feel your cum dripping out around him.

Matty shakes some sense in himself to get the both of you cleaned up, and you wince when he slips out of you. The sudden emptiness colors your vision as you clench around nothing. He pads back to the bed with a washcloth, gingerly wiping your folds of cum and throwing the square into his laundry. He slips on a pair of boxers before handing you a matching pair, tugging a faded navy shirt over your head and gathering your hair to pull through the neck.

You feel as if you’re about to burst from the tenderness as you gaze at Matty curled towards you, perfect mirrors of each other. 

“Stay,” he whispers, kissing you.

“I will.” You close your eyes, hands reaching out to intertwine with his.

#ok well hi guys! im leila nice 2 meet u all this is one hell of an introduction #fleabag if they fucked in the confessional instead of him being scared off #tell me if u like pls #sorry for the end being abrupt i kind of got sick of it #matty healy #matty healy smut #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #the 1975 #priest au #fics

[wavesmp3]

[kmg] morning at the edge of time

pairing: mingyu (svt) x reader genre: friends to lovers + hinted fwb + angst + mainly just a mess of a flash fic wc: 2.2.k warnings: perhaps a little swearing but other than that none!

when you wake up that morning, you say some lame joke. he laughs, and a siren goes off in the distance. you listen to that over him. 

it doesn’t take long to pack his things up. in fact, it takes so much less time than you had both planned. you still have an hour before you have to be at the station. 

he zips up the final piece of luggage, an old brown duffel bag that’s filled to the brim. the one you have to tug by the front pocket to get it to close all the way. you fight back something bitter coming up in your throat. it’s one of the same bags he brought on his way here. you remember watching him leave then too.  

“so,” he says finally, standing up from the zipped duffle bag and shoving his hands in his pockets. a boyish little habit that makes you feel like you’re both still 20, finding your footing in this brand new and bright place, holding onto each other and begging the other not to miss home too much. when did you stop missing home? when did he start? “do we have a little time on that schedule of yours for coffee?”

he gestures to the legal pad behind you, a bright yellow paper with your scribbled schedule made in a stressed hurry the night before. a joke, you realize belatedly once you register the sound from between his lips as a laugh. you feel so suddenly exhausted with it hanging in the air. you shrug, “i guess.”

he grins. and you remember being 13 with him by your side. you ignore the shaky feeling in the corner of your eyes. 

–

the train ride is so long, you think an hour in. how many more? you almost ask before remembering how he’s asleep. you stare at him. there are lines across his forehead and around his eyes that weren’t there a couple years ago. last year you found a gray hair right behind his left ear. you look for that sitting here. 

he wakes up just as your finger finds it. 

he squints and yawns at the same time. not even registering your hand shoved in his hair, your face two breaths from him. “morning.” 

he jumps in his seat. your fingers lose the hair. 

“what are you doing?” he asks, voice muddled by the sleep. you know this voice. you used to wake up next to it every morning. there’s a lump in your throat suddenly that chokes down every other emotion you would rather be feeling. 

“i was looking for your gray hair.” 

he perks up. “do i still have it?” 

you want to smile at this. the way he embraces this old age, with open arms and a big bear hug. the way mingyu does with everything. fearless and expectant. like he’s been waiting for it, for you. there was a time when you were the one in his embrace. you want to smile at it, him. but you don’t. or maybe, it’s that you can’t. 

you nod. “i think it’s grown a bit actually.” 

he hums, absently, craning his neck to see something you don’t care to see. “i’m gonna use the bathroom. meet in the dining car?” 

you nod, he leaves, and for the first time since stepping on this train you can fucking breathe. 

—

“doesn’t it feel like the train ride gets longer each time you go back?” he asks. 

you squint at him, picking at a potato before shoving it in your mouth. “not really.”

he shakes his head. “that’s cause you never go.”

and you know he doesn’t mean it with malice, but it’s a stab either way. you scoff. home is many things. it’s where you were born. where your parents live. where you met mingyu. home is many things. but it’s mainly just a tiny town full of memories and people you’d rather forget. 

“i’m sorry,” he offers half-heartedly, noticing your silence a second too late. 

you try your best to shake it off. you don’t want to ruin this day. 

instead you say, “we should get dessert.”

he smiles, big and wide. all teeth showcased right in front of you. somehow, it breaks your heart.

—

“my parents sent me this a while back.” mingyu says, showing you the screen of his phone. 

it’s a picture of when you both were young. 10 or maybe 8 years old. sitting together at the beach, covered in sand and smiling. “i remember that day.” you mutter to him, taking the phone from his hand and staring at the photo. “you made a sand castle, and let me stomp on it.”

“gosh,” mingyu starts with a fake sigh, “you’ve always been an asshole huh?”

you roll your eyes, pushing his phone back towards him. “it was a shit castle anyways.”

—

you and mingyu’s family have been friends since his family moved to town. you must’ve been 4 the first time you met him. you don’t really remember that evening. but you do remember riding your first amusement park ride with him. 

“i know mom,” mingyu says into his phone. you watch the end of his call. he picks at the collar of his shirt. you recognize it as the one his dad gave him for his birthday last year. you wonder if he did that on purpose. he hangs up the phone and gives you a look. 

“hey,” he quips, snapping his fingers in your face, “where are you?”

he knows you so well. “was just thinking.”

“about?” 

you push your chin out a bit, glancing at the scenery running past the window beside you. “i can’t believe it’s been 2 years since i moved from home and joined you in the city.”

“it’s been 6 years for me.”

“i know.” you say, understanding the gravity. the city has this way of pushing you in. like a trap you step into knowingly. “when you moved here for school, i…”

your eyes move back to his face. he tilts his head, waiting for you. “you what?”

you inhale, reaching for the napkin in your lap and folding the corners in. “i don’t know, i just never imagined that i’d also move.

he scrunches his entire face. “be honest, did you miss me so much that you moved just to be closer to me?”

you take the napkin in your lap and throw it in his face. he catches it snickering. “but seriously,” you start, exhaling and watching him fold the napkin back up and place it on the table, “i don’t know if i would’ve moved if you hadn’t done it before me.”

“and now look at you,” his lips curl upwards, “you love the city.”

you match the motion. “i love the city.” more than you ever thought you would.

“how long do you think you’ll stay there?”

he asks it casually, but the question makes your heart stop. it makes this bile that’s been sitting in your gut ever since mingyu told you for the first time that he was thinking about moving back home rise up again and burn the back of your throat. 

you cough. “forever hopefully.”

he gives you this look. this raised brow and side eye look that says you don’t mean that. that mocks you and means to tell you: you have no idea what you’re talking about. eventually, you’ll do what you’ve done our entire lives and follow me back home too. 

“i mean it.” you say steadily. he doesn’t flinch. neither do you. 

“home is different now, you know–”

you scoff. how many times can you and him have the same conversation.”

“–minghao doesn’t even really come into town that much anymore and–”

“stop it, mingyu.”

he bites the inside of his cheek. “why won’t you even try?”

—

you don’t like to think about minghao. the three years you spent loving someone who just up and left. you don’t like to think about him because there’s a part of you that isn’t sure if you ever really got over him.

—

“it’s just time.” mingyu says, voice soft and quiet. “i think it’s just time for me to go back home.”

the train rattles a bit. you stop your shoulders from shaking. “why?”

he just shakes his head and sighs. “it just feels right.”

the words are like a splinter, wedging itself into the pad of your index finger. 

“i’m sorry.” he tells you. 

you go to the bathroom and pretend not to hear it.

—

you stare at your face in the mirror. you never liked the long train rides; there’s a grayness evident in your face. and it makes you think about mingyu’s gray hair that’s grown longer. it makes you think about the first time found it. 

shortly, after you had moved to the city, you and mingyu’s friendship had taken a different form. nights spent laughing turned to something deeper, something blurry and messy. a kiss, a confession, a night spent together. you’ve always loved mingyu. he had been your best friend for so many years. and so it just felt so natural that your friendship would take such a shape. it didn’t feel awkward or hard or forced. it just felt like you loved him and it felt comfortable and honestly, just a tiny bit, it–

it felt like home. 

—

the first thing he says when you retake your seat across from him is: “do you think you’ll ever forgive me for moving back?”

you rest your elbows on the table, hold up your chin with your hands, and stare at him. his eyes look so brown. inhaling, you say, “eventually.” 

he chuckles lightly. “we had some good times together in the city.”

you smile, and it feels like a breath of fresh air. “we really did.”

“and our friendship has nothing to do with distance.”

“i know.” you shrug slightly. “i’m just going to miss doing life with you by my side.”

he frowns, ever so slightly. “you know i’ll always lov-”

the train screeches, masking his voice, his confession with a sound so unpleasant and yet somehow better. you know what he has to say. you don’t want to hear it.

you stare at your finger, where his words pierced your skin. you don’t see the small stick of wood anymore. it’s been sucked in. bitterly, you think, there will always be a piece of you inside me.

—

the train stops in your town eventually. you both grab his bags and head out onto the platform. 

you sit on a bench just outside waiting for his parents to pick you guys up. it’s colder up here than it is in the city. it nips and bites at the bits of your skin that’s exposed. mingyu pulls out a scarf from one of his bags and wraps it around your shoulders. 

you recognize the color of it and the pattern. you gave this scarf to him 8 years ago. you can’t believe he still has it. you can’t believe he lugged it with him to the city. you can’t believe he lugged it back. 

you look at him, really look at him, and realize how terrified you are. you’ve spent so much of your life with mingyu. you don’t want to remember what life looks like without him. 

“you’re my best friend in the whole world.” you tell him, placing a hand over his. 

the wind picks up, picking and poking at your eyes. you feel a tear fall down your cheek. 

you know he’s sad to say goodbye to you and to the city, but you also know that more than that, he’s happy. excited to be back home and closer to his friends and family. you can see it in his eyes. you can see it in his gray hair sticking up with the wind. 

“i’m just not ready to come back yet otherwise i would.”

he looks at you, like he really pities you. you hate it. “you did come back with me.”

you shake your head. “otherwise, i would stay.” 

he pulls you into a hug. you relish in the warmth. you’ve been in this position many times before. but never like this. you aren’t in college anymore. you know you’ll never be this close to him again. and maybe that’s what makes this all so painful. maybe that’s why when you pull away from the hug you catch a glint of something sharp in his hand. you look down at your torso and see your entire body carved open, with his hands digging inside, searching for the words you stole from him. maybe it wasn’t a splinter. maybe it wasn’t an accident. but why won’t he let you have that at least? why does he have to leave and take every trace of him with him?

a car pulls up. mingyu’s father. you recognize the paint job on it. you both stand. he faces you facing him.

“are you happy?” you ask him. 

he smiles, wrinkles appearing all over his face. “i can’t wait. 

you help him and his father pack everything into the car. you say hi to his mother. she asks you to stay for dinner; you tell her how you have to get back to the city. 

you say your final goodbye to mingyu. and watch his dad’s car pull away. you don’t know when you’ll see him next. and it’s only once the car is entirely out of view, do you realize you’re still wearing the scarf you gifted him. you take one last inhale of your hometown and board the train back

#mingyu fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #mingyu scenarios #mingyu fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #mingyu x reader #mingyu angst #seventeen angst #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt fanfic #svt smut #seventeen imagines #mingyu imagines #mine #morning at the edge of time #ohoh return of the flash fic !

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, unhealthy/abusive households (dottore--locked in closet, mistreatment/verbal abuse | reader--implied toxic stepfather & equally toxic mother who constantly believes him over reader, the slap scene from prev chapter), minor character deaths.

notes: the segment sheet is DONE, this was a rlly fun chapter to write! i enjoyed exploring both of their backgrounds ehehe

THE FAMILY JEWELS

Dottore did not dream. 

He used to dream before he was forced to abandon his original body but even then dreams were sparse and short. If he was lucky, sometimes he dreamt of answers--his mind always on his research even while resting. If he was unlucky, he would dream of fire, red and orange and yellow flames too close to his eyes; he would dream of the day he had received the scars that marred half of his face and his hands. 

But now he was sitting in an unfamiliar home, reminiscent of the estate in northern Fontaine where the Delta segment was focusing on his research. It had to be a dream. He remembered laying down in his bed, he remembered feeling his soulmate’s exhaustion. He had been back in his estate in northern Snezhnaya and now he was here.

It had to be a dream but Dottore didn’t dream so it must be something else.

But what?

He didn’t have time to dwell on the issue, he found himself moving, standing up from wherever he had been sitting and confusion began to itch at him, realizing that something was wrong. He was shorter--stood barely taller than the couch he had been sitting on--and he had no control over his actions. 

He tried to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass of an ebony cabinet that seemed to be storing some sort of antiques but he couldn’t make out his features. His features? Something felt wrong. His hands moved down on their own, smoothing down the cloth draped across his body--loose fitting, softer than anything he owned, it only reached his knees. 

A dress?

There was a strange feeling bubbling in his chest--excitement but it wasn’t his own. He was pacing back and forth and as he turned on his foot for the fifth time, he caught his reflection in the mirror: bright eyes glowing with anticipation, a wide smile. It was a girl, a young one at that--no older than seven. Something warm and heavy stirred, this was of his own.

This was her. His soulmate. He knew it.

Dottore suddenly felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to wake himself up. He tried searching for something to read, he tried yelling, he tried blinking repeatedly--tactics that he had used all of those years ago when he found himself dreaming of the unpleasant years he spent back in his village but none of them were successful this time. His body wouldn’t cooperate… or he supposed it was her body, not his.

This was not ideal, he thought to himself as she continued to pace around. He had somehow managed to let himself get attached to the faceless being on the opposite side of the thread, however minimally that attachment may have been, he did not want to put a face to them because he did not want to risk this attachment becoming any stronger. He had to focus on severing the thread, freeing them both of the shackles that this bond placed on them. 

There wasn’t much he could do, he realized. There were no tricks that he could use to wake himself up, he just had to wait this out, watch whatever was going on from behind the eyes of his soulmate. Exasperated, he resigned himself to his fate, instead trying to make the most of the situation and figure out where exactly she might be.

Not to find her, he told himself. 

Or, it was to find her, he corrected, but only so that he could send Lambda off to keep an eye on her. He was the only one that Dottore could trust to make sure that she stayed alive without forming any sort of attachment to her and without even making himself known to her. All of the others would take advantage of the opportunity but Lambda would do what was necessary--he was livid enough over this whole situation and how it has been affecting their research. He would make sure that their soulmate stayed alive and unharmed long enough for Dottore to figure out how to sever the thread. 

“Moooother,” the words left his lips, but the voice was young and happy, a soft singsong of a call that trailed into a gentle giggle. Innocent, sweet, untainted. “I’ve been waiting forever.” 

Dottore felt another emotion that was not his own, this one more familiar to him--a growing anxiety, a creeping sense of doubt as the girl began to look around. He could feel her lips twisting into a frown, the excitement dying as she left the room to go look up and down the halls. Dottore tried to push away her growing distress, instead focusing on the windows that she was passing by as she ran up and down the halls. 

Rolling hills in the distance, snow dusting the thick grass, the skies were clear and there weren’t many trees in sight. Dottore’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, it was very reminiscent of the labs he had set up on the Fontaine border. 

Was she from the Fontaine countryside?

He would call Lambda back from Sumeru to send him to check it out, and order Delta to take his place in Sumeru with Theta. Theta would be livid but Dottore didn’t particularly care about how Theta felt. He had only barely been able to replicate all of the lost research before the deadline Dottore had set for him and Dottore had a feeling that Lambda had done the majority of the work because he had been furious over his research being interrupted. 

Unfortunately for him, it would be interrupted again. 

But where in the Fontaine countryside? Dottore tried to figure it out, irritation growing as she came to a stop in one of the hallways, no window in sight. It had to be somewhere in central or eastern Fontaine--if it were western Fontaine, there would be no snow powdered across the grass, the heat from Sumeru and Natlan melting it before it even touched the earth.

Northeastern Fontaine or north-central Fontaine. It would be easier if he could sic Rho on the job. He would be able to track her down with a general location--they’d have her whereabouts in a matter of a week… but he couldn’t trust Rho to not tell the Gamma segment, and if the Gamma segment knew, he would tell the Iota segment, and the Iota segment finding out was how this whole mess started in the first place. 

“Miss Elyna!” she called and Dottore was moving--or she was, he corrected again--this time down a new hall, lips tugging down into a pout as she tugged down a cloak from a hook. Dottore winced as she pulled too hard, tumbling down to the ground. He could feel the hardwood floors scraping against her elbows. It hurt more than it should’ve, he had gone through worse but he supposed he was feeling what she was feeling, severity and all. Dottore wanted to roll his eyes when he felt her eyes water up, sniffling. 

“They left me,” she said to herself, voice wobbly as she pushed herself to her feet and pulled on the cloak. It was too big for her, dragging against the floor as she made her way to the door. 

Pleased, Dottore realized she was going to go outside, which would give him a better chance of figuring out where along the Fontaine countryside she was living. As soon as she pushed open the door, brisk air met his face. Her nose wrinkled, drawing her hands up into the sleeves of her cloak as she began to make her way out of the house.

The town seemed to be up a rather large hill, a mile or so away from where the estate was situated. She was of noble birth, that much was obvious, only the aristocrats of Fontaine could afford such a large estate with that much property. 

Dottore frowned as he caught something in the distance--dark clouds rolling over the town that she was making her way to, too fast to be just the average storm. Even further in the distance was a sight he could barely make out: a mountain range, large, ragged peaks that were very, very familiar. 

Dottore felt uncomfortable. Again. The storm was not of a natural cause--it was one of the harsh winter blizzards that should have buried Snezhnaya’s capital city, deflected by the Tsaritsa to batter Fontaine instead. His soulmate remained blissfully ignorant of the coming danger, bounding up the hill in the direction of the village, at a pace too slow to beat the imminent storm. He could feel the air around them getting colder, the wind picking up. He could feel the first snowflake sting her cheek, bitter and sharp.

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach--he couldn’t tell if it was his or hers. It was hers, he realized, because she was now looking around nervously, realizing that the storm was about to come down on her and she was too far from the estate to make it back there and she was too far from the town to make it to one of the houses on the outskirts. 

Snezhnayan blizzards were dangerous. They never lasted for too long, especially the ones that were deflected to the south, but they came on fast and they were harsh--the winds were wicked and the snow came down half as ice. 

“Mother!” she called, voice loud, and panicked. Dottore’s heart was racing--or he supposed it was hers, now that the severity of the situation was finally beginning to set in on her. “Mother!”

Fool, he thought to himself, you’re going to fall. His chest felt tight--this was his own, not hers, he recognized--as instead of trying to run back to the estate, she kept going up the large hill, intent on finding her parents rather than trying to get back to safety.

Just as he expected, it only took one strong wind for the girl to trip over the too-long cloak and go tumbling down the hill. She was shrieking but the wind was drowning her cries and Dottore couldn’t do anything but watch, watch through her eyes as she tumbled down the hill, nails clawing against the dirt as she tried to slow the fall. 

Dottore did not do well with these sorts of movements. He felt woozy, light-headed--or maybe it was her feeling it, or maybe it was both of them, Dottore really couldn’t tell. By the time she came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, she could barely even stand up. The wind sent her tumbling down each time she tried to rise, and the snow was coming down hard, whipping around her so that she could barely even see a few steps in front of her and Dottore was suddenly back in northern Snezhnaya, four hundred years prior.

Beta, Dottore thought to himself and he felt sick and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the dizziness or because of the reminder of his first segment and its destruction. He willed himself to wake up to no avail, and he couldn’t even shut his eyes because he was forced to watch through hers as she tumbled to the ground over and over again, trying to make her way blindly through the storm. 

You’re going to get yourself lost, Dottore wanted to spit out, livid, stop moving. But his soulmate was terrified and frenzied, shrieking even though no one could hear her, sobbing for her mother, trying to cover her face with her cloak but she kept getting knocked to the ground, taking facefuls of mud and snow. It was hard to remember that it was the past--that this had already happened years ago as he lived through it himself through her, as he felt her fear and her pain and her panic.

He hated this. 

He hated the lack of control. He hated being forced into this situation. He hated having no choice in what was going on. 

He hated having a soulmate

And he hated even more that there was the chance that she was also dreaming of his past and he had no way of knowing what she could be seeing.

You were sitting by a window. You blinked, brows furrowing softly as you tried to figure out what had happened and how you had got there. The room was unfamiliar--the furniture was a pale wood instead of the ebony dressers that decorated your room and it was small, it seemed to be some sort of living room but it was barely even the size of your bedroom.

You wanted to stand up but you couldn’t and you weren’t entirely sure why. You frowned, trying to push yourself off the windowsill you were sitting at but your body wouldn’t cooperate, locked in place. You felt a bit panicked over it but you couldn’t feel panicked, you didn’t know how to describe it. It was a muted feeling, suppressed--what was more intense was the odd sense of longing tugging at your gut, the weight heavy on your chest. 

Your gaze moved on its own from inside the house to back out the window. You couldn’t help but notice how the window was bolted from the outside--less like trying to keep people out of the house and more like trying to keep someone in. You felt uncomfortable suddenly, but again, it was a muted feeling, one that you couldn’t seem to feel strongly no matter how much you felt like you should.

There were kids outside, across the dirt street, lounging in the lush grass. They were smiling, happy, making the same motions you would when you pulled at your string and you felt even more alone, sad--you felt sad and you didn’t even know why.

You looked away, down to your lap, and then you felt confused because you realized, slowly, that you were not in your own body. You were wearing a pair of loose shorts--a thick rough material that felt icky against your skin, you were used to the soft silks and cottons that you usually wore. Your legs were stick thin, the bones protruding through the skin. Your knees and shins were bruised and scratched up and your hands were small but rough and calloused.

What…?

“Zandik,” you heard an unfamiliar voice call. Your head turned, but you weren’t controlling it. Again, you felt alarmed, and again, you couldn’t really feel alarmed. Instead, there was an anxiety pooling, one that you weren’t in charge of. You looked to the side--a woman was standing there, tall with pale blue eyes and dark hair. “Why are you watching them?”

“You never let me go outside,” The words were leaving your lips but the voice was not your own, it was that of a boy--a young one at that--quiet and vulnerable, loneliness echoing in his tone. “Why can’t I go outside? I want to explore. The other kids go exploring all the time, I see them.”

“Zandik, come away from there,” the woman ignored his pleas, pressed together tight as she watched him--you? you thought to yourself, confused at the whole situation. “You’re going to make them uncomfortable. We don’t need more rumors going around.”

“I want to go outside and explore,” the boy was adamant, his words edging on desperate. “I hate being stuck in here all day, I want to go out. I want to explore. Why don’t you let me out?” 

“You know why, Zandik,” the woman had not one ounce of sympathy for the boy and the hurt that you might have felt personally at the harshness, he felt tenfold. You could feel yourself sniffling--he was sniffling, you corrected, his lip wobbling and his vision going blurry. 

“I don’t get it,” he said, voice cracking, the telltale sign of a meltdown in most kids but he seemed to be controlling himself, somehow. You had never seen a kid mature enough to hold back their tears and wails. “I don’t get it, you keep telling me they don’t want me outside because of my soulmate but that’s not fair. I’ll get my mark soon, why are they being so mean? I just want to go out and explore.”

Oh, you realized suddenly as you finally began to feel tears track down your cheeks and as the boy finally let himself cry. This was your soulmate when they were younger. 

You had heard rumors of this, you read about it in some of the books in the palace’s libraries. There were certain half-stages or rare effects of the bond that soulmates could experience, some called them mutations, others called them extra blessings. There were rumors of people not being able to see certain colors until they met their soulmates, rumors that some had two different eye colors--one of their own and the other to match their soulmates, and then there were dreams. Dreams were a frequent mutation, be it seeing each other’s past through the dreams or it being a shared space for them to talk to each other in. 

You assumed this was the former. 

And suddenly you were angry. The woman, who must be his mother or caretaker, was watching him coldly even as he cried. She made no attempt to console him, no attempt to calm him down or reassure him, not even a single word or action of comfort. She watched him cry with empty eyes, unmoved by the tears. It was hard to only be able to watch--you wanted to scream at the woman, you wanted to slap her, you wanted to comfort the crying boy, but all you could do was watch it happen from his eyes, feel his distress.

“It has been over five years Zandik,” the woman said, tone void of any sort of empathy for him. “No one has gone this long without receiving their mark. It is a bad omen for the village, you are a bad omen--they say the divine have cursed you. They do not want you around and if you continue testing your father’s patience, he will stop advocating for more time with the village elders. Do you understand?” 

He was crying, hard, and you could feel him shaking his head. “I don’t understand. I do-”

The glass behind you shattered and the boy didn’t have any time to react before a rock flew past him into their house, shards of glass cutting through the skin of his cheek and his arm--shallow cuts, but you could feel the warm, thick liquid dripping down his cheek. He had stopped crying suddenly, stunned by the sudden pain and the loud sound of the glass breaking. 

The woman was staring down at the rock in the middle of their small living room, making no move to get a wet rag to help Zandik clean up. You could hear the kids laughing as they ran away--evil little demons, you thought to yourself, personally aggrieved by the situation.

“What was that noise?” 

A new voice--male, deep, and Zandik was forced out of the state of shock, heart-racing and nerves returning, this time way more intense as he looked at the woman, “Moth-” he began, voice dripping with anxiety but he didn’t even have time to finish the word before a man had made his way into the room. 

He was tall, taller than your father was with wavy blue, fair skin and sharp red eyes. He was intimidating, you weren’t even really there and you could feel your nerves beginning to heighten… or maybe it was just Zandik’s emotions forcing themselves onto you, you couldn’t tell at this point. But the man, his father, was livid, his lips were twisting in an ugly sort of fury as he stared at the broken window.

You thought he would storm outside, yell at the kids who had thrown the rock into their home and hurt his son but instead, he was moving toward Zandik. Your stomach dropped as you felt yourself--him--trying to scramble away, unintelligible, panicked babbles spilling from his lips but his father’s legs were longer, strides too big for him to escape. 

He leaned down, a large hand wrapping around Zandik’s thin bicep and you winced at the bruising grip he had on him as he yanked him to his feet so hard that the boy went stumbling. “How many times do I have to tell you-” his father started to spit out, cutting himself off as he dragged Zandik through the small room and toward the hall. 

“Zakai,” his mother began, following Zandik and his father, exasperated and maybe even a bit nervous.

“Stay out of this,” his father said roughly, turning down another, smaller hall that led to a single door at the end of it. 

“No,” Zandik was panicking, desperately trying to rip himself out of his father’s grip. “No, I don’t want to go in the dark room. I don't want to go in there.”

He went ignored, flinching as his father yanked open the door and a sharp pain flew up your back as he pushed Zandik into the room--the closet, you corrected, horrified. It was a small space with no windows and barely enough room to sit comfortably, and his back hit the wall hard before he crumbled to the ground.

“This is for your own good,” his father told him. “It’s hard enough convincing them to let you remain in the village as it is. If you continue to give them reasons to want you gone, I’ll have no choice but to concede.” 

“I didn’t even do anything,” Zandik choked over his words, you could barely make out his father’s face now from how much his vision was blurred with tears. “I was just sitting there.”

“They don’t even want to look at you, boy,” his father hissed, grabbing Zandik’s cheeks and squeezing them together hard. “They see you a monster, do you understand? The same type that rose from the damned lands and razed our villages  to the ground--those cursed people had no mark either, you know? Are you like them? A monster? Cursed? Are you? Answer me!”

“I’m not!” Zandik shouted, pulling his face from his father’s hands. “I’m not!”

“Then prove it,” his father snapped before slamming the door in his face, drowning the small, enclosed room in darkness and leaving Zandik in there alone. 

In an instant, the scene warped--another dizzying sensation that had Dottore sick to his stomach. Gone was the ferocious wind and the snow pummeling his soulmate’s small body, gone was the panic and the fear. Instead, it was replaced with beams of sun warm against his face, a bubbling excitement that was overwhelming any sort of irritation he might have had. 

She was older now. He caught sight of her reflection through the window that she was running past--still young but probably closer in age to the Iota or Gamma segment. She looked happy, she felt happy. It was a far cry from what she had been feeling before and it was giving Dottore whiplash as he tried to figure out what exactly was going on. 

She was clutching something to her chest--a flower, purple hydrangea--and there was a hop in her step. From what he could tell, she was making her way to her family’s estate from the town. There was nothing in her field of vision that could give him any hints as to narrow down where she might be.

But it was warmer, and he remembered how the mountain range encasing Snezhnaya’s capital had been visible in the distance when she had been walking to the town. It had to be a town along the Snezhnayan border--central Fontaine, most likely, considering the positioning of the mountain range and the warm weather. Central and western Fontaine frequently dealt with waves of heat drawn in by Sumeru’s desert and Natlan’s fields of magma while northeastern Fontaine rarely ever got warm, surrounded by the mountain ranges of eastern Snezhnaya and northern Mondstadt on both sides, it was pretty much a pool of cold air… and he couldn’t see any mountain ranges to the south, so it had to be central Fontaine.

But central Fontaine was large and he had no way of knowing where exactly the town could be. It was somewhere up by the Snezhnayan border in the western sector of central Fontaine, yes, but dozens of towns could match that description, more than that even. Fontaine was littered with small towns in its countryside, even without adding in the city’s population, Fontaine was the most populous of the seven nations. 

Lambda’s issue, Dottore told himself as she finally got to the front doors of her family estate, pushing it open and stepping inside. He had more important things to worry about than her location, he had narrowed it down far enough that Lambda would be able to figure it out.

“Mother!” she called loudly, making her way down the halls. Dottore could feel how happy she was--it was strange. He had felt her happy a million times before but now it was as if he were feeling it himself. It wasn’t that distinct muted feeling he had learned to decipher from his own and locked away. It felt like it was his, it felt like he was happy and he wasn’t sure he had ever felt like that before.

He didn’t like it. He felt warm, at home in a way that he usually only did in his labs and even though he knew, realistically, that these were not feelings of his own, he didn’t like the way it was affecting him. 

“Moooother,” his soulmate repeated, louder this time, but it lacked the singsong lilt it had years prior before the storm. “Moth-”

“What is it?” an unfamiliar voice asked, sharp and cold, interrupting her call. Dottore felt the change in mood instantly, the giddiness replaced by hurt, smile fading for just a second, and Dottore felt livid, murderous, but even that was displaced because he was feeling her own emotions more strongly than his own. 

His soulmate turned to face the other direction, where walking down the side hall toward her was a taller woman that looked just like her, although her eyes were sharper and her lips were pulled down. 

She shifted uncomfortably on her feet and Dottore could tell that she was bothered by the woman--who he assumed was her mother--and her coldness. 

Despite the discomfort, she still managed to smile again, “I made a friend down in town,” she said, excited. “His family owns the flower shop. He gave me a flower.”

Irritation pricked at the back of his mind, he pushed it away.

“That’s nice,” she did not sound interested. He could feel his soulmate’s smile falter again--the irritation grew, developing into subtle anger. “You were supposed to be back for lunch.”

“He was really nice,” his soulmate continued, perturbed but trying not to let it show. Dottore wanted to roll his eyes, he had no desire to hear about a childhood crush. “And guess what? You’ll never believe it! His soulmate, she’s up in the north too.”

Dottore felt her mother’s change in demeanor instantly. His soulmate remained oblivious, giddy, and excited. He didn’t have to look in the reflection to know that her eyes were shining and her smile was wide, he could practically picture it on his own. He felt tight, having a bad feeling about what was going to happen next.

“How do you know that?” her mother asked, icy. 

Blissfully ignorant, his soulmate looked down at the flower she was holding tight to her chest. “We talked about it, he said he was going to go north to find her one day and I asked to come with and-”

Her head snapped to the side, hard, and a painful, stinging sensation spread across Dottore’s face. At once, Dottore felt a wave of emotions all at once--only one was his own and that was rage, rage at being slapped, at her being slapped--but more predominantly, he could feel her shock and he could feel her distress. He was reminded of the day all of those years ago when he had gone to meet Pantalone for the first time when he had been cut off mid-sentence by a slap on her end. 

Her mother grabbed her face hard, squeezing her cheeks together, and Dottore was livid--he wanted to rip his face out of her grip, grab her by the throat, and force her off but he couldn’t, he couldn’t control anything because he was stuck in his soulmate’s body, watching it all happen from behind her eyes. 

The worst part was that he didn’t even know if he was angry because it felt as if he had been the one slapped, or if he was angry that she had been slapped.

“How many times must I tell you?” her mother spit out. “No one can know. No one, you and I, your father and Miss Elyna, they’re the only ones to know of your thread. To everyone else, you have no soulmate. How many times must I tell you?”

Dottore was taken aback. So taken aback, that he didn’t even register his soulmate’s response—something along the lines of a stuttered ‘but he was nice, I trust him’, but it only infuriated her mother even more.

To everyone else, you have no soulmate. 

Why? 

Were they able to figure out who he was through the words? No. That wasn’t possible, this was right after the beginning of the second stage. She hadn’t received any words from him at this point. 

Then it had to be something else. His location? Was Fontaine so anti-Snezhnaya already? 

They had expected it considering their archon’s stance on Celestia but how was it even possible? The Hydro Archon should have no way of knowing the plans of the Fatui but Dottore wasn’t sure what else would turn the deity against them like that.

… unless there was a spy. But even then, they should know that if that was the case, Arlecchino had implanted one of her spiders into Fontaine’s court.

Dottore was frustrated as he was forcibly ripped from his thoughts, drawn back into the situation at hand. Her mother was still going on, and his soulmate was still quiet, but she was crying now, silent tears spilling over her cheeks.

“… and your stepfather was right. Ever since he came into our lives, ever since the twins were born, you have taken every chance to act out or put our family at risk. Getting yourself lost in that storm after you told him you didn’t want to join us in town, refusing to show up for your siblings’ birthday, constantly talking back, and now this-”

“It’s not true,” she hiccuped, trying to pull away from her mother only to fail. “I wanted to go to their birthday, he never told me where it was, and I wanted to go to the town but he left me, and-”

“Enough!” her mother shouted and his soulmate flinched. “The lying is getting out of hand, all of this is getting out of hand. Do you understand how much risk you just put our family in? Your siblings?”

“I didn’t mean-“

“I will handle this,” her mother spit out, voice dripping with venom, “but this is the last time. The next time you act out of line, you will be living with your father indefinitely.” 

She left her standing there, alone, and the happiness from before was gone, leaving her as cold and empty as Dottore felt normally. Her flower lay limp at her feet, and she made no move to pick it up. 

Dottore didn’t like it.

She didn’t move for a long time, not until another figure came into the room—another woman, with dark hair and kind gray eyes, who let out a sigh when she saw her standing there alone, tears still tracking down her face.

“She doesn’t mean it, little one,” the older woman sighed, patting his soulmate’s head gently as she kneeled to pick up her flower, placing it back in her hands. “She loves you, she’s just scared.”

Dottore wasn’t so sure about that. Resentful and angry, he wasn’t sure he had ever felt such a visceral desire to kill since his days as a Fatui recruit when he was volatile and ready to snap at any given moment. He hated how a person he didn’t even know managed to draw out all of the worst aspects of himself, the aspects that he had killed and carefully tucked away a very long time ago.

“I don’t understand,” she sniffled, rubbing her eyes. “I hate it here. She’s so mean, and she always believes him over me, and he hates me because of father, and he’s always trying to leave me out and he tells her that it’s my fault, and she believes him.”

“Love is blind,” the woman murmured softly. Dottore wished he could roll his eyes. “Your mother never thought she’d find her soulmate… now that she has-”

“It’s not fair,” his soulmate interrupted, shaking her head and turning to face the woman. “Miss Elyna, he’s a liar. He’s a liar and he hates me. I didn’t even do anything wrong. And I have no friends because of my stupid soulmate and I finally make a friend and I’m not allowed to, and I always get in trouble when I don’t even do anything. I want to live with father. I hate it here.”

Dottore thought he should be offended--stupid soulmate, he thought to himself, irritated, but he couldn’t be offended because he was intrigued, trying to piece together what exactly she meant by the fact that she had no friends because of him. He was clueless as to Fontaine’s stance on those that never received a mark… and if that was the issue and she had to pretend she didn’t have one…

“You cannot go live with your father,” the woman, Elyna, sighed. “You are bad enough at hiding your bond here in the countryside, your father is still living in the city. You will have all eyes of the court on you once you’re there, and if you slip up once…”

Confirmation that it was Fontaine, he already knew it but it was good to have it confirmed—only Snezhnaya and Fontaine had courts. 

“It’s not fair,” she was melting down, shrieking. Dottore could barely even see through her eyes because they were blurred with big tears. “It’s not fair, I don’t want to hide it. I don’t want to. Do you know how mean people are because they think I don’t have a soulmate? They call me cursed, they say Celestia rejected me.” 

“Are you like them? A monster? Cursed? Answer me!”

Dottore felt cold but more than that, he felt something heavy in his chest. He didn’t know what it was, he didn’t want to know, so as always, he pushed it away. Instead, he found humor in the situation because he thought it was all ironic—he was persecuted for not having a soulmate, and she had to pretend she didn’t have one to avoid persecution. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, he spat at Celestia’s wicked sense of humor. 

“… hate me either way, so I might as well-”

“Enough,” Elyna hissed. “You can’t speak like that. It is not a matter of hate, it’s a matter of freedom and imprisonment, life and death. Your father sent a letter warning your mother that Her Excellency was becoming even more extreme in her position on Snezhnaya, you have to be careful.” 

There had to be a spy, Dottore realized. Someone leaking information from the higher levels of the Fatui to other nations—this had to have been nearly a decade ago. How had they gone so long without knowing?

He would have to bring it up to Pantalone, he would be able to work with Pulcinella and Arlecchino to weed out the rat.

“He lies to her,” his soulmate cried harder after being scolded. Elyna wrapped her arms around her and Dottore felt uncomfortable, claustrophobic. He wanted to yank away but his soulmate appeared to have no intention of doing that. “Who lies to their soulmate? If he loved her, he would love me. I didn’t do anything wrong, I was nice to him.”

“Hush now,” Elyna said gently. “You-”

“No, it’s not fair. None of this is fair. Soulmates are supposed to be good and he’s not. He ruined my life, and my soulmate is ruining my life, and none of it is fair. I have no friends, I just want friends, and now mother is going to ruin that too. And if father cared about me, he’d want me to live with him but instead, he makes me live here with them.”

“It’s safer-”

“I don’t care,” she shouted.

My soulmate is ruining my life, he echoed in his head. 

Bitterly, he thought, well that goes for both of us but at the same time, that heavy feeling returned and this time, he couldn’t bring himself to push it away. 

You were running. He was running. Your heart was racing, beating outside your chest as you slammed into a tree, stumbling past it to continue in whatever direction you were running in. It was so hot, it felt like the air around you was suffocating you; it felt like your mouth was stuffed with cotton. You couldn’t tell what was going on--you felt panicked, frantic, as if you were fighting for your life against an invisible enemy.

Invisible. 

As soon as the word crossed your mind, an explosion rocked the earth beneath you, sending you flying ten feet forward, slipping on wet, mossy rocks, and rolling down a steep hill. You hurt, your whole body ached, branches dug into your skin, rocks scraped against your face--ordinarily, you would have given up, the pain too much for you to handle, but somehow he kept going. 

You felt him push himself to his feet, you could feel blood tracking down his arm and the side of his face, but he didn’t cry nor did he falter. Wheezing for air and eyes wide and wild, he continued.

Something large was behind him, large and metal with a glowing orange and gold orb in the center of its head--a ruin guard, you realized, horrified. You had heard there were a lot in southern Fontaine, on Sumeru’s border, but they couldn’t traverse the mountain ranges and vast rivers and lakes that littered central Fontaine, freeing the north of their destruction. 

But you had studied them. You had studied ruin machines for a long, long time once you began receiving words from your soulmate and had access to the palace’s extensive library. You received odd words like chaos cores and circuits and bolts and oculi that you learned were associated with the old, destructive technology. There wasn’t much information on them and you thought that in itself was telling. The Hydro Archon censored any material that could be interpreted as fostering dissent against her rule, or the heavens, expunging the history that she didn’t like. 

You wondered what exactly was it about the ruin guards that she wanted to prevent the masses from learning.

Zandik gasped as the ground beneath him trembled again--the ruin guard had caught up already, heavy steps tracking after him. You could hear a whirring noise behind him and you knew it was going to let out another blast of energy in his direction. Your throat felt swollen with anxiety, or you supposed that was his anxiety, but he was focused ahead. You could see a village in the distance, in a small clearing of the dense forest he was running through.

He didn’t cry for help, he didn’t scream, and you remembered the last dream of his life. You wondered if he didn’t call for help because he knew no one would answer and you felt sick. 

The explosion didn’t hit close to him this time, veering off into a tree, and Zandik spared a glance behind him to see the ruin guard falter as it skidded on wet rocks, the same ones that Zandik had slipped down. He let out a shaky breath and you could feel his relief as he made a break for the village. 

The ruin guard did not stray too far behind. 

When he got to the village, the people were oblivious. Some spared him looks, mostly of irritation and distaste, but most ignored his presence. 

Zandik made no effort to warn them of the imminent danger and a part of you hesitated, uncomfortable, a foreboding feeling bearing down on you as you realized what might be about to happen. 

He kept sprinting through the small village, past a small bakery, and right through a crowd of people who cursed him for his interruption. He was running somewhere specifically, or to someone, you realized as he set his eyes on a woman you recognized from before: his mother. 

She looked angry but more than that, she seemed distressed, grabbing Zandik’s forearms as he nearly crashed into her at full speed.

“Where have you been? Your father and I-”

“We have to go inside,” Zandik said, voice little over a wheeze. “We have to-”

He didn’t have a chance to give any further explanation because at once, there was a massive explosion, one that shook the ground beneath the entire town as the ruin guard finally set its target on the villagers. 

Zandik turned his head, eyes wide, and you wished he would look away because you felt sick to your stomach at the gory scene before you. The blood, the fire, the screaming--every single one of your senses felt overwhelmed as catastrophe met the peaceful town, ravaging the unexpecting villagers.

But as much as you felt sick, you realized, slowly, that Zandik did not feel that same horror that you did. You wondered if he was in shock… you wondered if it were something else. He stared in the direction of the destruction, lips parted, unable to draw his gaze from the ruin guard as it prepared itself for another attack, energy swirling around the orange and gold orb. People were running, calling desperately for family members and friends, trying to hide behind houses and wells to escape the onslaught. There was blood. There was so much blood and so much death, and it was readying to attack again.

But he felt no guilt. No fear. No shame.

There was only satisfaction… awe. It was subtle, bubbling beneath the surface, but it churned your stomach. You told yourself that you didn’t know the whole story, that you didn’t know the extent to which the villagers had put him through hell--you hadn’t even scratched the surface with that previous event in his life you had dreamed of but-

“Zandik, Zandik,” it was his mother screaming, tearing him from his trance as he watched the ruin guard and forcing you from your thoughts. She was shaking him violently, fear stretched across her face. “What happened? What did you do? What did you do, Zandik?” 

“It followed me,” his voice sounded hollow, void of any sort of emotion. “I went exploring.”

“You brought it back here?” his mother was on the verge of tears and Zandik remained unmoved, standing there limp as she continued to rattle him around. “You stupid boy, they’ll kill you. They’ll kill you.” 

“Not if it kills them first,” you wondered if he intended to say that because you felt a jolt of surprise that was not your own. 

His mother stared at him, horrified, but she jolted as a figure grabbed her arm.

His father.

There was an unreadable expression on his face. “Inside,” he said, voice brusque and cold. He grabbed Zandik by the arm, dragging him inside after his mother and slamming the door behind them. 

He felt empty. You didn’t like it. It made you uncomfortable, it made you sad. You didn’t think anyone should feel like this, much less your soulmate. Even as his father let go of his arm, Zandik just stood there, gaze trained out the window much like how he was years earlier, watching the kids lay out in the grass--except this time, he was watching as they ran for their lives, screaming for their mother and father, hurt and bleeding. 

You didn’t know how long he stood there watching the horrors outside. Eventually, they managed to destroy the ruin guard, and as the sun set in the distance, they began to collect the dead and the wounded. Every now and then, you could hear his parents shouting at each other: “They’ll have him burned! We have to do something!” and “They already thought of him as one of the heretics from the cursed land. There’s nothing left we can do for him without us meeting the same fate.”

Zandik didn’t react to any of it--there was a vacuum where his emotions should have been, a cavity where his heart should have been. He felt cold and numb and you couldn’t tell if it was because he was in shock over what had happened and what he had caused, or if it was because he truly did not care. 

It seemed like an eternity when the shouting finally began again, you could see the torches lit outside, the crowd of survivors in front of his home. They were angry, bloodthirsty, out for vengeance, and still, Zandik remained apathetic, standing in the same spot. 

“Bring the boy out, Zakai,” the man at the head of the crowd called loudly. “You can’t protect him anymore.”

Neither his father nor mother responded but the words broke his stupor. Finally, he turned to face his parents and you could feel a bit of anxiety start to pool in his stomach as if he were finally realizing what was about to happen.

You were starting to realize it too and you wanted to throw up. 

“The Celestial gods have turned their backs on us for harboring a heretic. We have faced famine, drought, plague, and now this, all within the ten years that abomination has resided here. Our wives, elderly, children were slaughtered because he brought that monster from the cursed lands to our homes. If we don’t do something about it, it will happen again and again and again until we’ve atoned.”

“Zakai,” his mother whispered, shaking her head.

No way, you thought to yourself, horrified, as his father refused to meet her gaze, looking away from both Zandik and his wife. You could feel Zandik’s stomach drop and you could feel the fear begin to settle in his stomach.

“Zakai, you can’t,” his mother said desperately. “It was an accident, they’ll-”

“Enough,” his father responded quietly, and finally he looked at Zandik, only for a moment before he made his way to the door. “There’s nothing else we can do for him. It’s time to let go.”

When you woke up, you knew you had dreamed of your soulmate. You could remember the pain, the shock, the loneliness, and that terrifying sort of satisfaction he felt after he had accidentally led the ruin guard back to his village but you couldn’t remember anything that mattered and it made you want to cry. 

Cursed, they called him, you could remember that but not his name, not the place he had been living, not the faces of the people that had been in the dream, not even his face--you couldn’t remember any of it. It felt like a distant blur, something you could picture but all of the distinct features were smeared into something you couldn’t recognize and you were frustrated. 

Two and a half years. You had two and a half years and then you’d finally be able to get some answers out of him. 

You stared at your forearm, waiting to see if his word would change, wondering if he had dreamt about you too. 

Dottore was livid. He bit back a string of vile curses as he paced around his bedroom. He had dreamt of her. He knew it. He could remember it—he could remember her fear, he could remember her anger, he could remember her desperation. He could still picture the vague memory of her smile, and the way she felt as everything came crashing down around her, but he couldn’t remember anything of importance.

He knew he had figured out where she was. He knew it. But every time he tried to think back on it and remember, he was met with a frustratingly blank slate, an answer that was on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t figure out.

The gods were fucking with him—again—and he was sick and tired of it. He could picture them laughing at him, mocking his situation, jeering at his failure. 

He tried to take steady breaths. He tried to calm himself down. None of it worked. He felt like he was in his late twenties again, unable to control his wild emotions and bouts of anger after being cast out from the Akademiya. 

He braced his hands on the edge of his desk, leaning over it as he shut his eyes and tried to settle down, counting slowly—an old tactic he had used back when he had first been brought into the Fatui. It worked, albeit slowly, but it cleared his head enough so that he could think.

What could he remember? 

A winter storm. A warm summer. A large estate. He could remember what had happened in the dream—memory? He could remember her getting lost in the storm, an unwelcome return to a past he tried to forget, and he could remember the argument with her mother, the slap.

She had to hide her mark, he remembered, eyes widening a bit. A winter storm. A warm summer. A large estate. Having to hide her mark. The answer was on the tip of his tongue, again, but again it dissolved before he could capture it. 

He let out a heavy, shaky breath—running a hand through his hair as he returned to his pacing. 

There was something else. He had figured something out beyond just where she was located—something important—but he couldn’t remember what. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he inhaled, turning his mind to a different subject, something else to focus on before he destroyed half of his room in a fit of rage. 

Her. She must have dreamt too, and if her dreams were anything like his, it must’ve been of his childhood. 

Dottore suddenly felt uncomfortable, gaze drifting down to his forearm. No one knew of his past—no one besides him and his segments—and he liked to keep it that way. It was a history he had left behind, a name and a face that had died centuries before that he did not want unearthed.

He only hesitated a second before he rolled up his sleeve, intent on trying to get an idea of what she might have dreamed about his past through whatever word passed to him through the bond. 

And he stared—cold, empty, the rage returning but this time it did not burn, it froze. It froze everything, all of the emotions that had been rattling his body, any desire he might have felt to try to locate her, and most importantly, whatever attachment that might have grown in the past thirteen years as he was faced with the word that had haunted him his entire life, branded on his forearm as a searing accusation from the one person that was meant to be his.

His body moved on autopilot as he shuffled through his desk to find the notebook he had kept of all of the words passed onto him. Once it was in his hand, he took two long strides to the opposite side of the room before flinging it right into the fireplace, watching the flames engulf it before leaving his room and making his way down to his labs.

Cursed. 

rbs appreciated!

#dottore x reader #dottore smut #dottore x you #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Call Your Mom｡⋆.

Clark Kent x plus size reader

I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom

Stick Season (We'll All Be Here Forever)

Music softly played through the shitty sound system in your car, providing enough noise for you to stay awake but not enough to wake your passenger. Every few minutes, your eyes would flick over to him as if to make sure that he wasn’t just some hallucination that your caffeine addled mind conjured up. But the way that the rare street lamps would cast a yellow glow onto his face and the occasional shift in his sleep meant that he was very real.

Even in the dim light of this back country road, you could see the tear tracks on his cheeks and the dark bags beneath his eyes. He looked so much smaller than you remembered him, weighed down by the world. You wondered briefly about how long he had felt this way, did it start recently or was it always there, just buried beneath a smile and those bright blue eyes that lingered in your dreams.

He drew in a shuddering breath but then settled back to sleep, the wrinkle of worry above his brow slowly disappearing with each mile you drove. You bit back the urge to push back the lone black curl that had fallen onto his forehead. Instead, you gripped the steering wheel even tighter and thought back to a few hours before, when you received a call from someone you thought you would never hear from again.

You were half paying attention to some late night television show, half awake and numb with the lateness of the hour but the relative calmness of your night was interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Without looking, you fished your phone from the side table and pressed it to your ear. “Yeah?”

Expecting a telemarketer or some automated message, you were shocked as the speakers let out a pitiful sob followed by a voice you used to know so well. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call- I just- Please.” 

The drive to his apartment went by quick as you forced yourself to act upon instinct and not listen to the still hurting part of your soul that told you to let him suffer just the same as he left you to do so. The achingly familiar walk up the stairs to his apartment made that little voice grow louder and louder until you could barely ignore it.

Your knuckles hovered over the painted wood of his front door, your nerves screaming at you to leave but then the door opened and you knew that you couldn’t. 

Clark Kent, Superman- always so well put together, so stupidly perfect in every way- looked like he was crumbling right before your eyes. Like a great tree wilting away, he was bowed forwards, pale and trembling. You let him pull you into a hug and he collapsed into your arms.

It had been months since the last time you had felt his touch, you were out of practice, slightly clumsy as you cradled his head in one hand and stroked his back with the other. But it was muscle memory, your instincts guiding you back to that spot on the left side of his spine halfway down his back that always had a knot in it but when you dug your fingers into the muscle, he melted, pushing his face into the crook of your neck as his sobs began to taper off.

Neither of you said a word, the discussion, the awkward conversation and the inevitable fight could wait- for a while at least. He trailed behind you like a lost puppy as you guided him down to your car. He squished himself into your small passenger seat and leaned his head against the window as soon as the door shut. 

He fell asleep less than 5 minutes after you started driving, this would have normally annoyed you but you knew he needed the rest and you didn’t need to hear the sound of his voice as your mind reminded you what used to be. 

Soon, street lights and paved roads gave way to corn fields and the gentle sway of a well-worn dirt track. The porch light was on, guiding you home through the darkness. As you pulled into the driveway that you had driven onto countless times before, the screen door opened and Martha, still dressed in her dressing gown, stepped out.

“Clark. You’re home.” You placed a gentle hand onto his shoulder, softly waking him. Those gorgeous blue eyes looked up at you, reflecting the full moon perfectly. He glanced past your body to where his mother stood then back to you. “It’s gonna be ok.”

His smile was enough to make you forget the miles driven in the dead of night, to heal the heartbreak caused by his hand, to remind you that all things can be set right once more.

[Verse 1] Oh, you're spiralin' again The moment right before it ends you're most afraid of But don't you cancel any plans 'Cause I won't let you get the chance to never make them [Pre-Chorus] Stayed on the line with you the entire night 'Til you let it out and let it in [Chorus] Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom I'll call your mom [Verse 2] Waiting room, no placе to stand Just greatest fears and wringing hands and thе loudest silence If you could see yourself like this If you could see yourself like this, you'd've never tried it [Pre-Chorus] Stayed on the line with you the entire night 'Til you told me that you had to go [Chorus] Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom [Bridge] Medicate, meditate, swear your soul to Jesus Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile wonderin' if you're breathin' So won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me? Medicate, meditate, save your soul for Jesus Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile without knowin' you're breathin' So won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me? [Chorus] Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom I'll call your mom

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @km-ffluv

DC

@snedhdh @kobaltdragon @blackhawkfanatic @8bookishworm8

#stick season (we’ll all be here forever) #clark kent x plus size reader #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #female reader #plus size reader #reader insert #clark x plus size reader #clark kent x female reader #clark x reader #clark x you #clark x y/n #clark kent x y/n #superman x reader #superman x plus size reader #angst

[euphoricimagination]

𝑨𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆

It's not often that Sakusa feels alone, but when he does, it hit him hard. Thankfully for him, you are there to help him out whenever it happens

[Part 2]

Masterlist

Sakusa is looking at his phone, his messages to be exact.

“We just won the preliminars, we’re going to the Nationals” reads the message. He sent it about 10 minutes ago. It wasn’t even opened.

‘They don't care’ he thought. He was alone; his parents couldn’t even bother to congratulate him over text for something he was proud of; his brothers think volleyball it’s stupid; plus, Komori was recovering from a minor injury, so he wasn’t here either. He was alone, nobody was there to celebrate with him…

“Kiyoomii!”  he hears from behind him, a familiar voice calling his name.

You met Kiyoomi last year, in your first year of Itachiyama. You, for some reason that he didn’t understand, decided to become his friend after your first day, when he was sitting on the gym floor. He remembers that you were lost, and you found your way into the gym. He helped you, of course he did, and since then he couldn’t get rid of you even if he tried, not that he wanted anyway.

“You were soo good today!” you exclaim as you get close to him, big smile on. He looks at you with slight confusion, why were you still here?

“Your color match is terrible” he says instead, looking at your outfit. The red pants with white letters from your new school match with the bright yellow-green jacket.

“Don’t judge me or my clothes” you hit him slightly

“What are you doing here? Nekoma match was over a long time ago” he says in an attempt to forget his previous thoughts

“I’m here to support you silly. I’m always going to be here for you” you tell him like it was the most obvious thing ever.

He looks at you with wide eyes, suddenly feeling an emotion that he doesn’t remember feeling before. But you were an expert when it comes to bringing emotions he thought he never had.

Like when you told him that you had to move to another city in Tokyo, and therefore, change schools, making him feel an emptiness in his chest.

Like the amount of rage he felt when you told him about the constant teasing you suffered with your old classmates just because you weren’t rich like the rest, rage that turn into feeling useless for not being able to protect you.

Or when you told him in one of your many calls how happy you were at your new school and how much fun you were having being the manager of the Nekoma High Volleyball team, when you made him feel sick of his stomach by the mere thought of you replacing him.

And like now, when you made his eyes watery by just saying something so simple.

“Omi? Are you ok? Did I say something wrong?” you ask before he pulls you into his chest, hiding his face in the crock of your neck.

“Thank you” he simply states, but he knows that you understand exactly what he means. You always knew.

“Of course. I’m so proud of you, Omi” you told him caressing the back of his head, which just made him tight his arms around you even more to contain his sniffles.

He completely forgot about every one of his thoughts, the screams of his school suddenly disappeared, he ignored every muffled comment saying how surprising it was that someone like him was showing emotions; because he wasn’t alone, he was with you, the safe place that he didn’t knew he needed.

“Better now, you cry-baby?” you say teasingly, earning a chuckle and a playful pinch in your waist “wanna go and eat dinner? I can go with your team…or you can come with mine, I’m sure they would love to meet you”

“What about my place? I can ask the chef to cook us your favorite” he asks with his normal self back on track, not quite sure why he feels happy that you want him to meet the team that you hold so dear to your heart.

“Oh yeah, I forgot that Mr. I-have-people-that-work-for-me doesn’t like the food of the peasants” you joked, this time receiving a small flick on your forehead

“If you don’t come you’re not eating pasta ever again” he says chuckling again as you protests about how mean he is with the smile that he grew to love “make sure to schedule a practice with your school before Nationals, they will be a good challenge”

“Eh? The great N°1 ace of all Japan wants to train with a normal high school instead of the university clubs?” you ask with full sarcasm, making him roll his eyes before starting to walk towards the exit.

“Forget it then”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, of course I will. I can’t wait for you to meet them” you say holding his arm, making an bunch of fireworks explode on his stomach.

You made him feel so complete ever since you enter into his life, so it’s only logical to take the next step. Hopefully he can present himself as your boyfriend when he meets your team next time.

@crystal-lilac

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #hq imagines #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq #hq sakusa #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa fluff #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa drabble #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #sakusa scenarios #sakusa hcs #sakusa kyoomi headcanons #sakusa kyoomi x reader #msby sakusa #sakusa headcanons #sakusa imagines #haikyuu kiyoomi #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu hcs