one night (fruit) stand — bnha, todoroki shouto x gn!reader, fluff, "love" as a pet name, fruit puns sorry, pro heroes, aged up, no quirks mentioned for reader, 2.2k words
written for andie's pretty boy summer collab!
"This is for you."
The low, measured tone is a welcome respite from the joyful chaos of the farmer's market, but you balk as you look up from a basket of oranges — straight into the eyes of your one night stand.
"Wait," you say. Your brow wrinkles. The man — tall, ridiculously handsome, way out of your league — merely blinks his dichromatic eyes and lowers his hand slightly. He sets the cold can of milk tea on the table and reaches up to tilt his bucket hat a little further up his head, revealing a shock of red and white hair that looks vaguely familiar. But that's not the only thing — "You have the same bucket hat as one of our regulars. But he said it was exclusive."
"I do have the hat," the hottest guy in the world says. "I'm Todoroki Shouto. Do you remember me?"
You feel the flush burn in your cheeks and up the back of your neck as hazy memories from last night leap unbidden to your mind. There was the warm buzz of alcohol in your veins — the intimate, cozy izakaya — a flash of a charming smile and mesmerizing dichromatic eyes — your quietly giddy giggling as you twined your arms around a smooth neck to stretch up on tiptoes for a kiss — stumbling into a door, tripping over shoes in the genkan, wrapping your legs around a trim waist as your partner groaned into your mouth —
Of course you fucking remember Todoroki Shouto. That was the best night of your entire life, and he was the cause of it. But why is he standing at your farmer's market stall looking like the world's hottest model for bucket hats?
You left his beautifully rumpled bed this morning way before dawn, yanking your clothes back on and mourning the loss of his strong body curled up around your own, positive you'd never see him again. You know for a fact that he doesn't have your number or any contact info.
But now he's here. At your farmer's market stall. Wearing a disconcertingly familiar bucket hat.
Maybe it's one of those new trends? You don't keep up with heroes and wouldn't recognize their branding if it smacked you in the face, but at the very least you know that when a hero starts rising in the rankings, their merch starts popping up more and more often. The hat looks like it could be one of those — it's a solid black with orange on the inside (that clashes terribly with Shouto's hair, except he still looks unfairly good), a thin line of orange along the edge, and an embroidered… grenade… patch centered in the middle.
Why anyone would walk around wearing a grenade bucket hat, you don't know, but if it's hero merch then it makes more sense. So Shouto must be a fan of this rising hero — a huge fan, to get an exclusive hat like this, but — wait, he's staring at you and gosh, his blue and gray eyes are so gorgeous and when his lips quirk in that little lopsided smile your heart feels dangerously like it'll leap out of your chest.
"I take it you remember me," he says, still in that even tone but with an edge of laughter this time.
Your face heats even more and your hands clench around the basket of oranges. "Sorry, sorry," you clear your throat. "I just… wasn't expecting you."
Shouto nudges the can of milk tea closer to you. "I wanted to see you again," he says carefully. You glance at the can and blink. It's your favorite drink to pick up from vending machines. Did that come up last night?
"And you came here to… give me a drink?"
He nods. A light breeze ruffles the collar of his shirt. His smile tugs a little bit higher on his handsome face.
Well, then. That smile is dangerous.
Shouto waits patiently as you get called to deliver the basket of oranges you're clutching for dear life. He hovers at the side of your stall, looking woefully out of place in his bucket hat and crisp, clean clothes. You can feel a streak of dirt along your cheek and your clothes are all dusty, but every time you glance back at him, he's looking at you steadily and completely unabashedly.
It's embarrassing, but you can't deny the little thrill that shoots to your toes every time you meet his gaze. "Todoroki-san, you really don't need to wait here," you say, slipping back to him during another lull in customers. "Thank you for the milk tea, though! It's my favorite."
Shouto blinks slowly as he observes you. The scrutiny does nothing to help your nerves — it takes two tries to pop the can open, and Shouto looks endlessly amused the whole time. "I would like to wait for you," he says. A pause. You bring the can up to your lips for a sip. "And you may call me Shouto. I appreciated the way you said it last night."
You choke on your drink.
The way you said it last night — gasping into his ear, moaning into his steadily fraying kisses — oh, jeez. "Ah, fuck," you blurt out, eyes widening with horror at the stray flecks of tea you've splattered on his shirt.
"It is alright," Shouto says. He pats at the small spots delicately with his sleeve and then seems to deem it unimportant. You blink as he looks up at you from beneath messy bangs. "Are you feeling… well?"
What a question. What a look. Does he know how lethally attractive he is? You take a very careful sip of your drink. "I'm… sore."
Shouto hums in response and carefully begins rolling up the sleeves of his button up. You watch, mesmerized, as the corded muscles of his forearms and biceps flex with the sure movement. You take a slow sip of your drink with wide eyes as he finishes and sets his hands on his hips. "Let me help."
Jeez, the shoulders on this guy. You can't help staring at the breadth of him as he comes around the table and into your space. A breeze of minty cool air washes over you with the movement and suddenly your brain catches what he's said.
"W-wait, Todoroki-san," you yelp, setting your can down and reaching for him. He continues bending for the large crate by your feet, hefting it up with barely any effort at all, and you're caught standing there holding onto the edge of his shirt. "Todoroki-san, you don't need to help!"
"Call me Shouto," he says. You gape up at him uselessly. "I would not want you to injure yourself because I made you sore."
"I — you — Todoroki-san," you huff, tugging even harder on his shirt. Shouto pouts and moves to bring the crate to the small truck parked behind your stall. You're forced to follow him, wary of accidentally messing up his shirt even more, though you feel a little dazed with his pout etching itself into your brain.
"This goes here?" Shouto asks. You nod wordlessly, still processing the cutest fucking pout you've ever seen on a grown man. "Would you like to hold my hand instead, love?"
Whoa, what?
Shouto sets the crate in place and dusts off his hands before reaching down to very gently detach your death grip on his shirt. You should get your hearing checked. You're clearly hearing things, because the hottest man you've seen in your entire life couldn't have possibly just called you 'love'.
"Love?" you repeat.
Shouto's lithe fingers squeeze around yours briefly. "Would you prefer a different pet name? I recall you mentioning that you liked that one."
You snap your jaw shut. "I… did…" you say slowly. But you said that to your regular, the other bucket hat wearer, the guy who always came wearing a face mask for pollen and dark sunglasses and that exact same bucket hat that you've… never seen anywhere else…
Several things fall into place at once. You stare up at Shouto with slowly mounting horror.
"Todoroki-san, are you… Helpless Produce Guy?"
Shouto laughs. Oh. Oh, you're so stupid. That's the laugh that's plagued your dreams every day for months as you've nursed your silly crush on the worst grocery shopper you've known. "So that is what you call me."
"I've never met someone more hopeless about buying fruit and vegetables," you say blankly. "I remember teaching you how to choose carrots the other day. I can't believe this. I've been teaching you how to pick watermelon for ages and I never knew your name or face. Just that bucket hat."
"Oi, Icyhot," a rough voice suddenly speaks up from behind the two of you, and you spin around to find yourself face to face with a spiky blonde guy who is undoubtedly a hero if the huge, bulky muscles are any indication. He's wearing a face mask and sunglasses, but he's got several reusable tote bags stuffed to the brim with leafy greens and potatoes and apples hanging off his arms.
"If you don't finish flirting with your new partner soon, I'm not gonna teach you how to make my famous curry recipe," the newcomer says. Shouto seems unfazed, simply tugging you closer with your intertwined hands. "Didn'tcha say you wanted to impress 'em?"
"I believe they are impressed," Shouto says evenly, glancing down at you with the ghost of a smile flitting across his lips. "I am helping because they are sore."
It's just the slightest emphasis on "sore", but it makes you itch to kiss that stupidly handsome smug smile off his face. "I'm fine," you say.
"Gross," the other man says decisively. You snort as he spins around and stomps off to look at a particularly enticing basket of celery stalks.
"Sorry, Todoroki-san, I promise I don't call you 'Helpless Produce Guy' that often," you say.
Shouto squeezes your hand. Warmth tingles up your arm and melts your heart into giddy mush. "I don't forgive you." You gape at him. He tugs you a little closer. "I will not forgive you until you agree to call me by my name."
Is he serious? The slight wrinkle in his brow makes you think… yes.
"That's… I don't know if I can," you blush.
Shouto hums. "Then you may call me your 'boyfriend' until I can remind you how to say my name."
Holy moly. This guy.
"Alright, boyfriend," you cannot say it without ducking your head. Almost immediately, his long fingers tip your chin back up. "Are you secretly a five star gourmet chef and you've just been acting like you've never seen a basket of strawberries before?"
Shouto cracks a tiny grin that pierces your heart. "I assure you, the produce help was invaluable. However, I frequent your stall the most because I find you… lovely."
Oh, dear.
"I do not wish for our relationship to remain limited to your stall at the farmer's market," he continues, as if he isn't blowing your mind with every word out of his perfect mouth. "Hence, why I could not help but approach you when I realized we were both at that izakaya last night."
"And you… knew it was me. Even though I didn't have my work apron."
"You were telling your friends about Helpless Produce Guy," Shouto says drily. "I had a feeling I knew the subject — but yes, I would recognize you anywhere."
"Jeez, Shouto," you breathe. Those dichromatic eyes widen a fraction before narrowing as you take a step closer to him. "I didn't realize… where are your sunglasses and mask?"
He pats the front pocket of his button down assuredly. "I am prepared."
You cast a quick glance around. Your coworkers are handling the stall well, and fruits are practically flying off the shelves as Shouto's friend gives a lecture to a captive audience about the importance of fresh fruits and vegetables in a healthy diet. The two of you are tucked out of view, mostly hidden behind the truck.
"And this…" you gesture between the two of you with your free hand. "We're… dating?"
Shouto nods solemnly, but there's a sparkle in his eyes. "Yes, my love. You make my heart beat berry fast."
Your lips twitch before you can help it. "No."
"I think we make a good pear," he says. "I find you very a-peel-ing."
You burst into giggles and Shouto tugs you into his firm chest. The sturdy, steadily increasing heartbeat beneath your ear isn't quite loud enough to drown out your own rapidly leaping pulse.
"If you were a fruit you'd be a fineapple," he says into your ear. You shudder lightly at the low, even tone but snort at his deadpan delivery, soft as it is. "Is this okay? You said once that you liked these puns."
"I do," you nod. "And I'd love to date you. Since you have a peach of my heart."
"Good," he murmurs. You tip your head up to look at him and beam at the gentle blush rising on his cheeks. Shouto leans down to press a careful kiss to your lips, drawing back after a moment with a shaky breath. "I was running out of lines."
"Don't you mean you were running out of limes?" you snicker.
Shouto stares. And then, still with that soft, deadpan tone — "Every day with you will be mangonificent."
knot happening (part two) — bnha, alpha!bakugou katsuki x f!reader, aged up characters, established relationship, a/b/o dynamics, use of "baby", "pipsqueak", "brat", "little shit" as pet names, dubious HR ethics, questionable sex toys, reader wears a skirt at the end, smut, creampies, oral sex, knotting, omegaverse!au for the spring fever collab run by @lorelune ! 10k words lmao
part one
your new company has some interesting policies for employee heat cycles, but your boyfriend and mate has no intention of letting you off easy
It starts with cravings.
All of Bakugou Katsuki's well intentioned efforts to keep you from dying of malnutrition or scurvy fly out the window as you enter your pre-heat. Your Pro Hero boyfriend and mate turns his nose up at the strawberry pocky you crunch on the couch, rolls his eyes at the cherry and dark chocolate chip ice cream you scoop after dinner, and pouts at the mango and sticky rice cups you devour after work.
"It all has fruit in it," you point out. "And besides, you always steal half my daifuku mochi before I can finish it. Complain about that, you thief!"
Katsuki, to his credit, retaliates by making your favorite veggie-laden meals for the cute bentos he puts together for your lunches. You pop open the container and you're greeted by stupidly cute penguins crafted from seaweed and rice, mushrooms and bell peppers nestled next to perfect rolled egg omelettes, carrots cut into little stars and cucumbers that look like clouds.
You take a photo of your lunch and send it to your boyfriend. He texts back "?????" and you frown at your phone.
Katsuki calls a moment later. "Don't tell me you're suddenly allergic to cucumbers."
His voice is rough and low — he must be in the office, if the distant chatter of his fellow heroes is anything to go by — but he's probably turned off into a side hallway because Eijiro's teasing has lately turned into casual remarks about marriage, and… yeah, of course Katsuki's gonna marry you, but he doesn't need his best friend to bring it up every time he's on the phone with you.
"I might be allergic to how cute these are," you say, but there's laughter in your voice and he scrunches his nose, so pleased he can feel the tips of his ears heat up. "How am I supposed to eat this?! This poor rice penguin has never done anything wrong in its life!"
Katsuki snorts quietly into his gloved hand. "D'you want me to make your food look ugly next time?"
You beam down at your bento and kick your feet beneath your desk. "Thanks for making me lunch, loverboy."
"Can't have you dyin' while I'm fuckin' you dumb," Katsuki's already low voice gets lower. The rough timbre of it so intimately in your ear sends a thread of desire straight to your core and you shift uncomfortably, glancing around your office. Luckily, it's empty — everyone's out for lunch because it's such a beautiful spring day, but you forgot to take your allergy medicine and you don't want to tempt disaster. "Leaving you in bed this morning was a crime."
"H-huh?" you set your feet on the ground and sit up a little straighter. "Babe, shut up. What if someone overhears you!"
"Then they'd be too damn close to you and I'll need to punch their lights out," Katsuki states matter of factly.
"So protective," you tease, settling back into your seat. He's trying to rile you up — he knows what his low tone does to you — but you're going to make it through your pre-heat without alerting your company even if it kills you. "I'll see you later, 'kay? Kick some ass, baby."
Your boyfriend mumbles something that sounds suspiciously cheesy before he hangs up, and you eat your lunch with gusto. It's day two of your pre-heat and so far it seems like nobody can tell. Your cravings are easy to pass off as a strong sweet tooth, and Katsuki's patrol schedule has kept him away from picking you up after work. You slapped a pheromone suppressor on your neck this morning and then styled up your business casual outfit with a loose silk scarf, so it should be… fine.
Your phone vibrates with a text and you swipe it open without thinking. The sound that leaves your mouth at the sight that greets you is unholy and you slam your phone facedown on your desk.
What the fuck.
"…You alright there, newbie?" Akane from Sales pauses in the act of draping her jacket over her chair. "Did you get a spam call?"
"Just peachy!" you croak out. You clear your throat as more of your coworkers file back in from their lunch break. "I thought I saw a bug, that's all!"
More like a closeup photo of your boyfriend's bulge in his hero suit, clearly stiff and straining hard against the heat resistant fabric, his easily recognizable gloved hand dangerously close to palming the thick outline —
Akane makes a funny face. "And you smashed it with your phone?"
"It was just instinct," you say sheepishly, "I'm fine with bugs where they belong, and they don't belong on my desk!"
Akane and your other coworkers nod at this and the conversation shifts, so you take advantage of everyone's inattention to pick your phone back up. You do it gingerly, as if there really is a bug squished underneath, but really you're just trying not to accidentally flash Pro Hero Dynamight's crotch shot to the world.
You can see the headlines now:
"Pro Hero Dynamight Ready to Blow!"
"Dynamight Explodes Up to the Top Ten Sexiest Pro Heroes with Infamous Shot!"
"Is the Great Explosion Murder God Packing the Heat?"
Katsuki's PR team would kill you. You quickly slide your phone beneath your desk and swipe away from your texts, breathing a sigh of relief when the (annoyingly tasteful) shot disappears from your screen.
Your phone vibrates with texts the rest of the day. No more photos (you can't tell if you should be grateful or mournful about this) but judging from the text previews you hastily swipe away on your screen, Katsuki's clearly out to get you. He seemed normal this morning — his lips brushed your cheek gently as you drew the blankets up to your chin — so what is his problem?
You finally get a chance to read his texts while waiting for your train at the station. Your eyes widen as you scroll through the messages — they're filled with his typical profanity, but he's practically written an instruction manual on all the ways he's imagined fucking you today. Your hand rises unwittingly to your pheromone suppressor patch. Maybe you should wear it at night, too, so he won't get so worked up? Though you kind of doubt it's working at all, since reading his texts is making you shift where you stand, heat pooling in your core.
The station is crowded with evening commuters — packs of students giggling and chattering among themselves, other tired office workers tapping away at their phones, little kids holding hands so they won't get separated — and nobody is paying you any mind. Maybe your suppressors are working after all? Wait — are they supposed to keep your pre-heat pheromones from leaking out or in?
Your ears perk as the pleasant tone signaling the arrival of your train jingles through the crowd. It's a quick ride three stops down to your apartment, which is one stop away from Katsuki's agency Ground Zero. When the two of you were looking for a place together, Katsuki insisted that it be just outside of his patrol range — close enough for him to get there quickly, but far enough that he would be able to actually relax at home. You can hear the familiar sound of a knife meeting a cutting board while you toe off your shoes in the genkan, lifting your nose to the air as the comforting smell of rice cooking wafts towards you.
"I'm home!" you call out, bypassing the kitchen to strip out of your work clothes. You sigh with relief as you toss your pants into the laundry basket, dragging one of Katsuki's well-worn hoodies over your head and tugging a pair of his workout shorts up your hips. They smell like him — smoky and rich and a little bit sweet — and you burrow into the comfort with a hum of pleasure.
The sizzle and crack of veggies and rice hitting the pan fill the air as you make your way into the kitchen. You follow your nose and ears happily, mouth already watering at the thought of eating more of Katsuki's cooking, but you stop dead at the entrance and make a funny strangled sound.
Asshole. Is he doing this on purpose? He's totally doing this on purpose.
"Welcome home," Katsuki says, rising from a crouch to his full, intimidating height and giving the pan another flick of his wrist. Sometimes you forget how broad your Pro Hero boyfriend is, but it's abundantly clear when he's standing in front of the stove shirtless like some kind of wet dream. He barely gives you a once over, just a casual glance of red that sends heat rushing to your cheeks before he turns his attention back to the stove.
You know — and you know he knows — that certain instincts flare up with your pre-heat. Everyone has different symptoms. The food cravings are one thing, for you, but they're manageable and easy to pass off as unrelated. Wanting to be covered in your mate's scent is another thing entirely, and while it's a relatively common symptom, it never fails to embarrass you, especially because you know how much Katsuki secretly likes it.
"What're you making?" you ask. Katsuki keeps his eyes on his pan, so you take the opportunity to ogle him freely, admiring the strong set of his shoulders and the firm lines of back muscle on full display. Stupid Katsuki with his stupid workouts making him look like a goddamn god. From your position at the kitchen entrance, you're close enough to see the pale scars crisscrossing his skin and the way the edge of his lips lift in a smug, self-satisfied smirk as he catches you checking him out. He's easily the hottest man you've ever seen in your life.
"Chicken fried rice," he says, snapping you out of your blatant stare. "It's almost done."
"You're telling me a chicken fried this rice?" you joke, grinning widely when Katsuki snorts and rolls his eyes at you. "Here, lemme set the table."
The two of you prepare for dinner companionably, though Katsuki definitely hovers more than usual. You can't help but lean back into his firm (and very naked) chest as he stands behind you while you reach up for plates, his hands heavy on your hips to help you balance. He also sets your plate piled high with fried rice next to his own at the table instead of across as usual, and when you make a questioning sound he just arches a brow expectantly.
"What? Sit and eat your fucking vegetables, pipsqueak."
"That's not my question," you giggle, accepting the seat he holds out for you. He spins it sideways easily, so that you're suddenly facing his own chair instead of the table, a casual show of strength that sends a shiver up your spine. Then he sits next to you with a grunt and immediately grabs your bare legs to drape them over his lap, forcing you to cling to his arm in surprise. "What the hell!"
"Shaddup," Katsuki mumbles, keeping a firm grip on your bare legs. "You can eat like this, right?"
You can, though you have to wiggle a bit and hold your plate in your lap. The changed angle gives you a perfect view of your boyfriend's profile, and you look at him for a moment, admiring the cut of his jawline and the slope of his nose.
"Quit starin'," he says. The pale scar along his cheek lifts when he shoots you a smug grin. "Your food's gonna get cold."
"You're the one who made me sit like this," you point out. You scratch at the side of your neck absently, but your nail catches on the suppressant patch and you pause. "Do you know if these patches are to keep the pheromones in or out?"
Katsuki takes a big bite of his fried rice and chews carefully. "Nothing's gonna stop your pre-heat from affectin' you," he says evenly. "And normally it'd keep 'em from leakin' out, but," he takes a deep breath and finally meets your eyes, "I'm your mate, so that shit doesn't work on me."
"Oh." Your voice is small even to your own ears. Katsuki's red hot gaze stays fixed on you for another long, torturous moment before he drags his attention to his food. "Is that why… you sent me a dick pic?"
Katsuki chokes on the spoonful of fried rice he just brought to his lips and his hand comes up to slap against the table. You crack a grin and pick up your own spoon. "That wasn't — wasn't a fuckin' dick pic, you perv."
"Sure looked like it to me," you say cheerfully. The fried rice is delicious and you nearly moan with satisfaction, wiggling in your seat as the flavors burst along your tongue. "It was a photo featuring the area of your body where your dick is at, so obviously, it was a dick pic!"
"Fuck off," he mumbles, shoving another spoonful into his mouth. "How was work? Anybody notice?"
"It was great," you say, "and nah, I don't think anyone noticed. I wore a scarf to hide the patch, y'know. Pretty good, huh?"
"You're a smart one," Katsuki says, and you preen under the praise. "You gonna wear a scarf the rest of the week, then?"
You shrug and wiggle your legs a little just to get Katsuki to clamp down on them with one strong arm. You flex your feet, feeling his thighs tense in turn, and eat another spoonful of dinner. "I don't think I can. It's supposed to get real hot this week and besides, I wanna… wear one of your shirts."
"Hah?" Katsuki nearly drops his spoon. "How're you gonna do that? It'll be too big for you, pipsqueak."
"I'll figure it out. I've done it before!" Your grin turns mischievous. "Want me to model for you after dinner?"
Katsuki shoots you a look. "You tryna get into my pants already, sweetheart? What happened to resisting pre-heat?"
"It's not like we'll be doing anything," you point out. "I have faith in you, babe."
Your boyfriend doesn't answer, but his hand tightens around your thigh, leaving indents in the soft give of your body. The two of you switch to safer topics, like the old ladies who ran into Katsuki on patrol (again) because they wanted to pass on their grandkids' sketches, and your new friends Akane and Shimizu who complimented your scarf. You do the dishes afterwards, but Katsuki stays glued to your back, thick arms wrapped firmly around your waist.
"I think you've got too much faith in me," Katsuki frowns, holding one of his button ups against your frame a bit later. You shed his hoodie and your shirt and bra, tossing them in the direction of the laundry basket and holding your arms out for him to dress you in his shirt. He eyes your chest openly, sending a spark of heat zipping down your spine, but slides the sleeves over your arms and helps you button it up without saying anything else.
His hands are careful as he slides the buttons home. You force yourself to breathe evenly as he crowds into your space, that smoky sweet scent filling your nose as he presses his lips to your temple and noses at your ear. His big hands with all their callouses and scars are gentle as he smooths the fabric over your shoulders, leaving a wave of warmth as he slides them around to your back to tug you closer into his embrace.
You hug him back, resting your palms against his shoulder blades and pressing into the skin there as he shifts. It's quiet as he breathes you in, his chest rising and falling against your own. Distantly you can hear trains rattling on the tracks, teenagers being rowdy in front of the nearby konbini, babies wailing for bedtime several doors down. You close your eyes and listen to Katsuki's heartbeat instead, though a furrow forms between your eyebrows as his heartbeat quickens.
"Are you… good?" you whisper.
"…'m fine."
"Okay… are you having a heart attack?"
"Don't be stupid," Katsuki snorts. "As if I'd get worked up over a lil' huggin'."
"Sure, sure," you grin up at him, smiling wider as his eyes soften at your expression. "It's not like I'm your mate or anything. It's fine if you get worked up, babe — I think you're pretty hot, too."
"Aren't you supposed to be figurin' out tomorrow's outfit?"
You detach yourself from him reluctantly, though he doesn't let you get very far, latching onto your wrist and padding along behind you as you go to peruse the closet. Katsuki pulls you into his chest again as you eye the various options. Despite favoring athletic, technical clothes — fabrics that are easy to move in at a moment's notice — he does own a wide range of clothing thanks to his various sponsorships.
"Does it ever bother you, wearing clothes with these brands associated with them?" you ask, rubbing a silky suit jacket sleeve and peering up at him.
"Nah," Katsuki shrugs. "My team's halfway decent 'bout choosin' who we partner with, so it's not a big deal."
"Should I be less sensitive about my company's branded sex toys?" Your voice is small. You turn back to the clothes so you don't have to look at him, but Katsuki presses a kiss to the back of your hair and huffs.
"If it bothers you, it bothers you," he says gruffly. "We're good, baby. You don't hafta tell your company squat. I'm still your mate no matter what."
You repeat Katsuki's words to yourself the next day, swathed in his button up shirt tucked into a pair of his trousers with the ankles rolled up, as Akane and Shimizu show you the storeroom where they keep the company branded sex toys. Everyone's email notifications had pinged this morning with the news that Kensuke in Accounting would be entering his heat soon, so your two new coworker besties had dragged you along on a mission to prepare his celebratory heat cycle package.
"Wow," you say blankly, "they really are branded."
Shimizu holds up a cock ring with your company's name emblazoned along the side. "When you're in the moment, you really don't notice the name, but I guess it is a little garish, huh?"
"It's just so… big," you say, pulling over another box. "Is the company worried we'll forget who we work for or something?"
"I think they just want to be supportive," Akane laughs, holding up a dildo that wobbles wildly in her hand. "We'll need to have our drinking party at the end of the week, I think. Kensuke-san said he'll bring his mate if it's late enough for her to make it. I guess her alpha senses get really sensitive when he's this close to heat."
"You'll come, won't you?" Shimizu asks you. She works in HR and it shows as she packs up a care basket with ease. "Most people don't bring their mates unless it's their own pre-heat party, but I'm sure everyone would love to meet yours!"
You wrinkle your nose before you can help it. The idea of alcohol and Katsuki and your coworkers sounds like a bad combination, especially when you're desperately trying to hide your own pre-heat symptoms from the company. "He doesn't really drink…"
"There'll be nonalcoholic drinks served too," Akane says. "My mate gets her panties all in a twist when I come home drunk."
"It's alright if you don't want to," Shimizu assures you. "We'll just meet him when it's time for your own pre-heat party!"
You freeze in the act of pulling out a package of anal beads where each bead seems to have one character of your company's name stamped on it, but luckily neither of them seem to notice. "Can you do me a favor, in the spirit of our new friendship?" you ask, "Could you guys please choose the toys with the least amount of branding?"
Akane and Shimizu laugh. "Aye, aye, boss!"
"We should just start prepping yours now," Akane says breezily. "That way we'll be ready when it hits you!"
"We can even give it to you early," Shimizu adds, "and I'll just mark it off in your file. You've got next week off, so maybe you can put it to good use ahead of time."
She winks and you laugh nervously, but thankfully they don't know you well enough yet to pick up on it. "That would be great, actually," you say, fidgeting with a packet of flavored lube. "I'm sure my boyfriend will love that."
There's a knock at the door as the three of you dig into boxes and sort misplaced toys into their proper shelves. Someone you vaguely recognize from the IT department pokes their head in and immediately zeroes in on you. "Ah, sorry to interrupt," they say sheepishly, glancing at the fuzzy handcuffs Shimizu is brandishing, "but it looks like your mate is here, and he says it's important."
You stare at them. "My… mate…?"
"Uh. Yes," they say, "Mr. Dynamight?"
What?
You wave goodbye to Akane and Shimizu and thank the IT person for the notice before speed-walking towards the entrance lobby of your building. The elevators always take too long, so you head for the stairs, even though it'll take you out towards the back end of the building. There's no reason for Katsuki to show up at your workplace, especially not when he should still be on patrol. He hasn't messaged you much today, either, but that's not unusual. Did something happen? Is he hurt?
Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears that you nearly miss the gruff "whoa!" as a densely muscled arm suddenly swings out to snag you by the waist. You're lifted straight off your feet and shoved into a supply closet before you even have a chance to open your mouth and scream, but Katsuki is quick to slap a rough hand over your lips.
"Shh, it's just me, shit, sorry," he grunts, wincing as you bite his hand. "Fuck, your teeth are sharp."
"Katsuki!" You have the presence of mind to keep your voice low as you shout. He must have a reason for ambushing you in the back of your company building, so even if you don't know what's going on, you know better than to risk getting caught. "What are you doing here?"
The closet is dark, though light seeps through the bottom of the door he's shoved you against from the hallway he just caught you in. You can barely make out his deep red eyes with the lighting and his gauntlets and gloves resting on the shelf by his shoulder — everything else is cast in shadows. "I needed to see you."
"… huh?"
"I'm not losing, you got that? I'm just makin' up for yesterday."
"What're you talking ab— hey!" You back up into the door with a thunk as Katsuki leans forward, his thick arms caging you in on either side. "Bakugou Katsuki I swear on your All Might trading cards I'll knee you in the balls if you blow my cover here."
He snorts and ducks his head closer. You can feel the soft puffs of his laughter against your neck as you crane your face away, desperate to maintain the upper hand here even though his proximity is triggering something alarming between your thighs.
"Knew you'd look hot as fuck in my clothes," he mumbles, inhaling sharp along the soft skin of your neck. "You smell so fucking good, too."
"I used a strawberry lip balm today," you breathe, careful to stay pressed back against the door. Katsuki is close enough now that you can feel his chest rumble when he laughs.
He presses his lips to the hammering pulse beneath your jaw. "I'm not gonna blow your fuckin' cover," he says lowly. "I'm just gettin' a little taste."
And then he nips at your skin, mere centimeters away from your scent glands — and you moan.
Loudly.
Desperately.
Fuck him. You're sensitive this far into your pre-heat. Desire thrums through you like a plucked string and you lose your tenuous grasp on your self control. All you can think about is Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki as hormones flood your bloodstream and your subdued omega instincts rise to the surface, pheromone suppressor be damned. Your hands are in his hair before you've registered it, yanking him up to kiss you. It's a testament to Katsuki's iron will and his love for you that he lets you drag him into place, though he can't quite kiss you properly because he's smirking too hard. You bite at his lip in retaliation, but that only makes him groan low in his chest and the sound zips straight to your core.
You're so warm. Hot, even, flames of pleasure licking up your spine. You grab onto his shoulders and tremble as he shoves one hard, muscled thigh between your legs, flexing and pressing upwards until your weight rests firmly on top of him. "K-Katsuki…"
"What's the matter, baby?"
"This is so fucking unfair," you whine, tugging at him until he drags you forward by the hips. The friction is delicious and intense, even through your borrowed trousers and the thick fabric of his hero suit, and you can do nothing but hold on for your life as Katsuki guides you into riding his thigh. The easy way his biceps flex and his overwhelming strength turn your mind a little fuzzy. "Why'd you — why're you —"
"Couldn't stop thinkin' about you, brat," Katsuki grunts, pressing his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder. You bare your neck for him instinctively, presenting for him, but he tilts his face up to nip at your ear instead. "Wearin' my clothes and smellin' like me —"
"You're my mate," you gasp out, fisting his hair. "Don't I always smell a little like you?"
Katsuki laughs and stops dragging you along his thigh, shoulders shaking harder when you whimper in protest. You can feel the sharp wave of your impending orgasm recede with every rough chuckle exhaled against your skin. "You want me to keep goin'?"
"You started this, you asshole —"
"Beg for it, then."
Oh. Wait. "Fuck you," you hiss, shoving at him to let you down. He obeys easily, keeping his large hands on your waist to steady you. Desire is still humming hot in your veins, but the cold logic of your brain is working overtime to bring you back down. He's just trying to get you to lose, huh? "Did you come here just to rile me up? What's your problem?"
"Your pre-heat is gettin' to me," Katsuki says, nosing at your temple. Your already flushed body spikes with embarrassment at the tender gesture. "I didn't wanna leave you this mornin', and you were so fuckin' hot yesterday. You sure we can't just kickstart it early?"
"I thought you said you could resist me," you mumble, "what happened to that?"
"I am resistin' you."
You pull away slightly to shoot a pointed look at his body caging you against the door. You get an eyeful of his firm chest and those strong arms you love so much, which doesn't exactly help your predicament, but Katsuki just grins, sharp and beautiful even in the dim light of the closet.
"Baby, if it were up to me, I'd be balls deep in you right now," Katsuki says. Your toes curl in your shoes as you bite back a whine. "But we're tryin' to keep it a secret, yeah?"
This was a mistake. You know — you know your boyfriend has a competitive streak a mile wide, and there's no way he's going to let you walk away from calling him weak for you. Never mind that he's been behaving himself so far — letting you try on his clothes in front of him, sending dirty texts but not acting on any of them — now it seems like he's ready to fight back. Making dinner shirtless last night was definitely a small test for your own self control, but now he's breaking out the big guns by ambushing you at work.
"You're terrible," you breathe, and Katsuki just grins.
"Better get back to work, or your coworkers'll come lookin' for you."
As if your coworkers read his mind, behind you come the distinct sound of clattering footsteps going down the hall. You hear someone beyond the thin barrier of the door you're still pressed against. "Do you think Dynamight will give me his autograph?"
Katsuki meets your glare in the dim light and his grin shifts into a smirk, though his red eyes are unmistakably fond as he regards you. "I'll let you know when the coast is clear."
"You suck. You're evil. They should take away your Pro Hero license."
Your boyfriend laughs quietly and leans forward to brush his lips along your cheek. You tilt your face up into the smoky sweetness of him and manage to kiss the edge of his jaw as he pulls back. He hums with pleasure, but his smirk is still sharp as he eyes you. "Yeah, yeah. You're the one who poked the big bad alpha, you little shit."
Katsuki gets the two of you out of the supply closet and disappears before anyone in your company can corner him for an autograph. You spend a few minutes splashing water on your face in the bathroom, hurriedly trying to cool down as the lingering aftereffects of nearly getting marked race through your bloodstream. Once you deem your reflection (and raging hormones) passable, you head back upstairs and get back to work.
Or at least, you try to get back to work. The stacks of reports are less enticing to you now that you know Katsuki is really trying to get you to beg for him. It all makes sense to you now. The dirty texts and shirtless cooking were testing the waters — his way of seeing how affected you are by him, as if you haven't been mated for years at this point — and now he's ready to leverage your omega biology against you any way that he can. There's no rule saying you can't fuck during your pre-heat, but neither of you have tried thanks to the unspoken agreement that it would make this silly competition less fun.
But you really, really want to fuck him.
"Is everything alright?" Shimizu's voice snaps you out of your vivid fantasies and you blink at your reflection in the dark screen of your monitor. "Your computer's been asleep for ten minutes now. Is your mate okay?"
"O-oh, he's fine," you flush with embarrassment at getting caught slacking. "He just needed to give me something I forgot at home."
"Oh, was that all? That's so nice of him," Shimizu says. "Make sure you ask if he wants to come to the pre-heat drinking party for Kensuke-san."
"Is that really okay?" you ask. "It won't set anything off for Kensuke-san and his mate?"
"Nah. They're bound to be all over each other, anyway. We're all used to it — the drinking party is always more for everyone else to send them off with well wishes," Shimizu explains. "The company picks up the tab, too. It started out as a one-off, and we didn't think the company would keep doing it, but we're all in agreement that if the company is going to pay, then we're going to go out and play."
That… makes sense. Even in a company as supportive as this one, of course it doesn't erase the fact that you're all working under them. "Is that… what happened with the sex toys?"
"Yeah," Shimizu slides into the seat next to yours as she picks up on your interest. "At first, everyone thought it was super cringe and weird, right? Why would we want company branded toys? But it's free stuff, and even if we've got great benefits and paid time off and work isn't unbearable, it's still free stuff. Nobody passes up on the free stuff. We all need to work, so we might as well take advantage of everything the company is willing to give us!"
"And you said you don't really notice the branding…"
"I mean, honestly, you've gone through heats before, haven't you? Are you paying attention to anything besides your mate?"
You snort in agreement. "Back when Katsuki and I were figuring out our mating bond, he triggered my heat on accident and I climbed onto his lap in the middle of an izakaya. He had to help me through it in one of his friends' apartments because it was the closest he could get to a private space nearby."
The two of you ended up buying Denki a whole new mattress and bedding set to replace everything you irreparably messed up that week. His friends were gentle in their good natured ribbing, but you'd unfailingly blush any time you passed by that izakaya, and Katsuki couldn't eat there after patrols anymore without popping a boner.
"That sounds typical," Shimizu says, grinning. "I don't care about mates, myself, but I love hearing about the crazy shenanigans the bond ends up putting you through."
"Is that why there's a company-wide announcement anytime someone is about to enter their heat?" you ask. It's a little risky, bringing it up, but Shimizu is nice and clearly eager to chat on company time. "Most places just mark it as time off."
Shimizu twirls her hair around her finger as she hums in thought. "That started before I joined the company, but I think it's more like… public image? I heard it's the vice president who fully supports heats and likes buying all sorts of new toys for everyone to try out. And if we're celebrating it all so publicly, the president can't protest without looking bad!"
"That's… good," you say. You don't know what else to say to this — but thankfully Shimizu hops out of her seat and waves goodbye cheerily as a chattering group of coworkers enters the room. You try to refocus on your work, but not even a packet of chocolate dipped dried mangoes is enough to help you through more than a few reports.
Hearing about the company policies from a coworker's mouth and seeing everyone chatting excitedly about the end-of-the-week drinking party lifts your spirits. Like you told Katsuki originally, you know you'll get used to the idea of everyone knowing about your upcoming heat. It's just taken some time, and seeing how nobody treats Kensuke from Accounting any differently helps.
Now that you're feeling marginally more comfortable about the whole thing with your company, you feel like you can turn to the real task at hand: teasing your mate and winning this silly game of who can make the other beg for it first.
You skip your stop on the train ride home and hop off at the station closest to Ground Zero. Eijiro was delighted to conspire with you in sending Katsuki back to the agency a little early on his shift and the front desk receptionist lets you into the upper floors with a wide smile. If Katsuki can ambush you at work, it stands to reason that you should return the favor.
You slip into his private office and silently thank Mina for insisting on having strong frosted glass for the windows separating their offices from the cubicles of the sidekicks outside. Katsuki's office is plain overall — there's a large wooden desk with a cushy chair behind it, but otherwise it looks like a normal office space at first glance. As you walk around in it, however, you spot a few All Might collectibles, and there's an omamori hanging off of his desk lamp that you picked up for him at your first shrine visit of the year. He also has a polaroid photo of the two of you — his arm slung around your shoulders as you laughed, his free hand flipping off the camera — washi taped to the bottom of his monitor.
"The fuck're you doin' in here," Katsuki demands, striding into the room and shutting the door behind him with a slam. You jerk up in surprise. He got back a lot sooner than you expected.
"How'd you know I was here?" you ask curiously. Katsuki rolls his eyes as he begins dismantling his hero outfit, the loud clanking and clicking of his gauntlets filling the room as you walk over to help him.
"Smelled you from the station," he says. "As if I'd miss you tryin' to sneak in here."
You grin to yourself, somehow pleased that he sensed you even though he's ruined your chances of surprising him. "I just wanted to help you out," you say, trailing your hands up his arms. Katsuki raises one ash blonde eyebrow, clearly sensing your aim, but he lets you shove his hero mask up into his hair, exposing his forehead.
"Oh yeah?" His gauntlets hit the floor with a thunk and he rips off his gloves, tossing them aside as well. "Help me with what, brat?"
"Just, y'know," you bat your eyelashes up at him just to make him crack a sharp grin, "returning the favor from earlier today."
You kiss him first, a deep, melting kiss that makes your knees go a little weak even though you're the one initiating it. Katsuki's eyes narrow as you sink to your knees, but he doesn't stop you as you palm at his already hard erection through the fabric of his hero suit. "Oi, don't start something if you're not gonna finish it."
"I just want a little taste," you say, grinning as he glares down at you for throwing his words from earlier back at him. You hurry to unbutton and unzip his pants, dragging it down his hips and catching on his thick thighs as his cock springs free. He's leaking at the tip, pearly white and oozing, and he groans when you lick your lips at the sight.
"Fuckin'… don't stare at it."
You tsk. "So impatient." Katsuki threads his fingers through your hair gently as you lean forward to press your tongue against the slit, sliding his cock into your mouth with a wet suck. His hips jerk forward as he grunts, but his hand is endlessly gentle in your hair.
"Motherfu— oh, that's good," he pants, tipping his head back and exposing the strong lines of his throat as he groans. You hollow your cheeks and suck his cock down, settling into a familiar rhythm of bobbing on his dick, sliding your tongue along the underside and teasing at the slit as much as you can. You keep one hand on his thigh for balance and use the other to grab the rest of his length, squeezing in tandem with your bobbing. Wet, slick sounds fill the air as you choke and drool around his cock, and the way he throbs in the heat of your mouth sends a shiver down your spine.
"Sh-shit baby, yeah, just like t-that, fuck," Katsuki moans, his husky voice cracking a little on the words. He tips his head forward to watch the way his cock disappears down your throat, thumbing at your cheek and the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. "You little — you little shit, you're gonna make me fuckin' come —"
You let go of his cock to cup at his balls, hanging heavy at the base of him, fondling them as you suck him deeper into your mouth. The strain on your throat makes you choke around him and he grunts, all of his muscles straining as he struggles not to blow his load. You choke on his cock a few more times, your omega senses singing in your veins with the thrill of pleasuring your mate, but as soon as you feel the telltale signs of his impending orgasm, you pull yourself off of him.
Katsuki nearly knocks you over. "You little — I'm gonna eat you alive you — fuck —"
You suckle at the tip of his cock, smiling up at him as he throbs concerningly in your loose grip. He huffs with the crash of his ruined orgasm and stares down at you in aggravated silence. "You want me to keep going?" you ask innocently, close enough that your lips get smeared with precum and saliva as you talk. Your voice is hoarse. "Just say the magic words, baby."
Your boyfriend seems to realize what you want a few seconds after you speak, as if it takes him a moment for his brain to comprehend full sentences. You peer up at him, blinking slowly, his cock mere centimeters from your lips as his face goes through approximately three different stages of grief.
"You're the worst," Katsuki grumbles, shoving you away and folding himself into a squat. You swipe at your face with the back of your hand, grimacing at the spit as you clean yourself up. He notices, because of course he does, and you watch with interest as Katsuki shoves himself upright to wobble to his desk. He tosses you a few tissues and pulls up his pants and boxers before crouching beside you to help you wipe your face. "The second your heat hits, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to feel your legs, you brat."
You suppress a shiver at his words and scratch at your suppressant patch, hidden beneath the high collar of your borrowed shirt. "Don't threaten me with a good time."
Katsuki laughs, a short bark that makes you grin. "I hope you're ready, loser," he says, eyeing your lips. "C'mere and give me a kiss."
You wrinkle your nose. "I have dick breath."
"Like I give a shit, pipsqueak." Katsuki nips at your lip as you smile into the kiss, holding onto his shoulders for balance and sneakily smoothing your hands over the dense muscle there. "What're you smilin' about?"
"Just feeling you up."
"Hah?" He's so pretty when he blushes, pink rising high on his cheekbones and staining the tips of his ears red. You nuzzle into his strong neck, inhaling his comforting smoky sweet scent with a sigh of relief. You can feel your omega instincts settling as his scent envelops you properly. Katsuki seems to feel it, too, nudging into your hair and wrapping strong arms around you to keep you close.
After a moment, your legs start to cramp up from the awkward position, so the two of you clamber back up to your feet. Katsuki keeps a firm grip around your arm as you wiggle the feeling back into your toes, and you take advantage of his support to lean heavily against him. "Hey, Katsuki," you say, peering up at him sideways, "when did you steal my fruit themed washi tape?"
"I didn't steal it," he says. You arch an eyebrow. "I just borrowed it." You blink up at him. "Quit fuckin' starin'. It reminds me of you."
Oh. Your heart does a funny little flutter in your chest, which is a little ridiculous considering how long you've been together and the fact that he's literally your mate, but you let the feeling wash over you anyway and beam up at him. "I love you, too."
Katsuki's expression promptly freezes before he rolls his eyes, but his smile is soft. "Let's go already. It's gettin' late."
He holds your hand on the walk to the train station and acts as your wall against the crush of evening commuters. You're clingy — tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie, slipping your fingers through the belt loops of his pants — but Katsuki indulges you, clearly feeling the effects of your pre-heat just as much as you are.
Dinner is a comfortable, teasing affair. You bury your nose into the strong lines of his back as he cooks, pinching the skin of his stomach whenever he makes a snarky remark. He asks about your day and makes you laugh while recounting one of the old ladies on his patrol route who's taken to giving him pointers about how to make cuter bentos.
"You could learn a thing or two from her," you giggle, breathing in deeply.
"Watch it, brat, or I'm puttin' those rice penguins in jail."
The two of you refrain from riling each other up the rest of the night, sinking into the other aspects of your pre-heat instead. He watches with a wrinkled nose as you down a strawberry sando picked up from the konbini after dinner, but he lets you pat your night cream onto his skin and nuzzles your neck while you're tending to your own nightly skincare routine. Katsuki keeps a heavy arm around your shoulders as you tuck yourself into his side, throwing a leg over his thighs as he settles into bed with you.
This is your favorite part of the day — listening to the steady thump of his heart with his scent all around you, teasing him and feeling the low rumble of his voice as he snarks back, running the pads of your fingers over the scars crossing his chest idly and basking in the safety and security of Bakugou Katsuki being in your arms. It's always nice when you can fall asleep with him, when he isn't holed up in his office poring over mission reports or out on the streets taking down villains. You know he'll never say it out loud, but he always kisses you before leaving for patrol in the early mornings, always tucks the blankets back up to your chin to keep out the pre-dawn chill. He has spans of time where he's out more often than not working on taking down big missions, but he always comes back to you.
And with your heat approaching quickly, he starts pawning off his later patrols in order to pick you up from work. This is something like torture for you, personally, because he always smells so fucking good and looks so hot all rumpled and cozy in his post-work clothes. Katsuki makes a funny sound in the back of his throat when you greet him with a hug, slipping his hands a little lower than normal to squeeze your ass and smirking when you squeak and rip yourself away from him.
Luckily he's agreed to meet you a few blocks away from your company building, so you can escape before any of your coworkers notice the two of you. Katsuki gets handsy the closer you get to your heat, but he doesn't push it any further than blatant groping when you pass by him at home, so you retaliate by feeling him up whenever possible. You have no idea if blue balling him at work earlier in the week put the two of you in a stalemate, but you keep your guard up anyway and play by his unspoken rules to keep it to touching only.
It sucks, though.
Every touch makes you shiver; every graze of his lips makes you warm. You can feel the deep, intrinsic ache of your heat simmering just below the surface, the wellspring of desire thrumming through your veins. You're tense — Akane and Shimizu cajole you into fancy beverage breaks because they think you're stressing out too much about work — but your omega senses quiver like a roiling sea being brought to boil, only partially satiated by Katsuki's frequent touches and attention.
It all comes to a head at Kensuke's pre-heat party. Honestly, you should've begged off, but you didn't want to draw suspicion and everyone kept saying how they wanted to meet your mate. Kensuke himself brings along a Dynamight t-shirt in the hopes of a signature, which is just so cute you can't bring yourself to ditch the party.
"Congrats and good luck with your heat," you beam, toasting with Kensuke and his mate, a very pretty brunette who keeps her hand firmly around Kensuke's arm. She gives you a grin and a wink.
"Thanks," she says, "though we shouldn't need it. Ken-chan and I are old hats at this now."
"Your mate's scent is pretty strong, huh?" Kensuke says, tilting his nose up in spite of the grilled skewers being handed around. "It's almost like you're the one in pre-heat with how overpowering his scent is over yours."
"Haha," you swipe a skewer and pretend to be intensely interested in the slightly charred yakiniku. "You're probably just confusing my scent since you're in pre-heat, Kensuke-san!"
"Hm, I guess so," he says easily. His expression suddenly perks up, but you don't need to turn to see why. Every hair on your body raises as that comforting, overwhelming, smoky sweet scent washes over you. "Oh look! It's really Dynamight!"
Fuck.
You feel his red hot stare burrowing into you, and you know without a doubt that he's caught the way you've tensed up. You can feel your nipples perk against the silk fabric of your shirt, straining through your bra, and your panties get undeniably damp as his gaze drags along your form. You feel warm, warmer than you should be in this partially outdoor izakaya, and the air suddenly feels stifling, like you're swimming in smoke.
Katsuki's hand is heavy on your shoulder. You feel his touch like a brand, searing straight through your meager defenses, a spark that flickers as it drifts down to the well of your desire. You know — you know that once it catches, once it alights — you're both screwed.
"Hey, babe," you chirp, leaning into his arm as if your entire body isn't thrumming with want. "This is Kensuke-san and his mate! He brought one of your shirts — would you pretty please sign it?"
Katsuki's red eyes flash as he nods. To everyone else at the party, he probably looks normal. Just a regular Pro Hero alpha, strong and exuding power, all dense muscle and grace and skill, little sparks flying from his hands as he adds a tiny explosion smudge to the end of his signature on Kensuke's merch shirt. The guest of honor and his mate thank Katsuki profusely, and you take advantage of their distraction to slide away towards the bathrooms inside the izakaya proper.
This isn't good. You need to figure out how to get out without anyone noticing that Katsuki's been eye-fucking you since he got here, and then you need to bolt home so you can collapse into your heat in peace. One more touch from your mate and you'll probably drop right into it, but there's no way Katsuki will be able to keep his hands off you tonight.
You press yourself flat against the concrete wall in the hallway for the bathrooms, heart hammering in your chest. Forget worrying about your company's pre-heat shenanigans — you have a new fear unlocked: going into heat at a party full of coworkers.
"Whoa, hey!" Akane's a little louder than usual, a little wobblier on her feet. "The bathrooms are here, yeah?"
You manage to laugh, though there's a pitch of desperation in it that she thankfully doesn't notice. "Yup, they're right here! I just needed a breather. Hey, what happened to sticking to the nonalcoholic stuff?"
"Aw, yeah, I'm having those next," Akane flaps her hand at you breezily. "I'll sober up before I get home! Don't worry your pretty little head 'bout me! Hey, have I ever told you how nice your skin looks? Like, whoaaa."
This makes you giggle. "Do you need help in the bathroom?"
"Nope!" She shoots you a thumbs up. "See ya soon!"
You watch with amusement as she stumbles into the bathroom, but she doesn't hit anything on her way inside, so you lean back against the wall again and take a deep breath. You're aching — a deep, insistent pulse throbbing between your legs as a rich smoky caramel scent tickles at your instincts. Oh, shit.
You barely manage step away from the wall when suddenly Katsuki's there, looming big and broad and setting off every alarm bell ringing in your head. He eyes you with a flinty glare that's more black than red for a moment before he huffs and grabs your hand.
"Uh —"
"Zip it or I'll fuck you right here," Katsuki grits out. Oh, god. Your panties are sticking to your folds, tacky and damp, and you bite back a whimper as he pulls you along. His hand is warm around yours, and even though he's tugging you towards the back entrance of the izakaya, he never moves too quickly for you to keep up.
The two of you burst out into the back alleyway and Katsuki spares a quick glance around before he's on you.
He keeps a hand on the back of your head as he slams you into the dirty brick wall, shielding you even as he wrenches your waist towards him to grind his incriminatingly hard length against you. He kisses you like he wants to eat you alive, wiping out all coherent thought in your brain as your senses strain towards him. "You're gonna kill me," he grunts. You whimper into the kiss and clutch at his shoulders for dear life as he licks into your mouth, filthy and wet, swallowing down your pitched moans as he rocks his clothed cock against your center.
"What d'you want? Fingers or mouth?"
Your eyelashes flutter open in confusion. Your mind feels hazy, lost in the smoky sweetness of your mate, your focus entirely zeroed in on the throbbing of your pussy as Katsuki swears low beneath the clattering of the izakaya door opening.
"Wh— whoops!" the voice sounds familiar, but you can't quite place it. You blearily try to turn your head towards the sound, but Katsuki anchors you closer to him, covering you with his broad shoulders. "I was just — oh! You two should head home! I'll let everyone know you had an emergency!"
The roar of the crowds inside the izakaya rises in volume again before the door clangs shut. Katsuki picks you up before you can figure out what's happening, a strong hand tucking beneath your thighs as you cling to his neck. "Hold on tight."
"What're you— Katsuki, what the fuck!?" The loud, snapping, popping sound of explosions echo in the night before you're suddenly shooting straight into the sky, air rushing past you like you're flying. You tuck your face into his neck and swallow down an aborted scream, because, well — you are flying, propelled through the city skyline by Katsuki's explosive power.
Your boyfriend laughs. The shaking of his chest is familiar, at least, and you concentrate on that and the strong, sweet scent of his scent gland right beneath your lips. It would be downright disastrous for you to bite him now, while you're soaring through the city leaving fireworks in your wake, but you can't help kissing and sucking at the skin of his neck and shoulder as your body shivers with want.
There's a thud as he lands heavily and then a muttered curse before the tinkle of glass meeting concrete filters into your ears. You take a peek and catch sight of your apartment's balcony curtains fluttering in the wind, but the perspective is all wrong — why're you looking in as if you're —
"Katsuki," you pinch one of his strong shoulders, "did you just break into our apartment?"
"I'll get the glass replaced next week," Katsuki says, stepping inside and kicking off his boots. You're shivering, hot, feverish. He's warm, too — as usual — but sweat beads across his brow and you know you're close. "Bed, now. Or all our neighbors'll hear you screamin' my name."
Katsuki doesn't put you down. He carries you in a princess hold, the hand supporting your back smelling like smoke and soot, and he kicks the bedroom door shut with one socked foot. "Katsuki, Katsuki," he mocks, and suddenly you realize you've been chanting his name, fingers clenching tight to the hairs on the back of his head. "What d'you want, baby? Fingers or mouth?"
"I want you —"
His laugh is rough, a tortured sound spilling from his lips as he drops you on the bed and immediately kneels between your legs. Your breath catches in your throat as he slides your shoes off and tosses them aside. You lean up on your elbows to watch, wide eyed and breathless, as he trails his lips along the bare skin of your calf, hiking your skirt up with every beat of your heart. "I want you, too," he mutters, pupils blown wide with lust, his smirk pressing into your thigh. "But answer the question."
Your body thrums with anticipation. You can feel your heartbeat in your core like a siren song. "Katsuki, please —"
Katsuki snaps. A loud riiip tears through the air as he tosses aside the ruined fabric of your panties and then he's on you, his tongue licking dirty and insistent through your folds. You choke on a moan, hips canting into the air as pleasure sparks in your synapses, chasing the feeling as he eats you out like a man starved.
"Katsuki, Ka— nghh, Katsuki, please —"
Your boyfriend swirls his tongue around your clit and you nearly sob as you clench around nothing, your inner walls spasming with your near orgasm. Your thighs are tense, locked tight around his head. Katsuki doesn't seem to mind, lapping at your slick and groaning into your warmth, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs to hold you down.
Distantly you hear yourself whimpering and whining, but Katsuki continues to torture you, bringing you to the brink and pulling back as soon as you start to spasm. Somewhere in the depths of your mind you know there's a way to get him to — to fuck you properly —
You release the blanket you've been twisting in a death grip and scrabble for the pheromone patch on your neck. It takes a few tries as you pant helplessly, your fingers sliding off your sweaty skin, but as soon as your nail digs under the edge you rip it off and drown.
"Haah, fuck you —"
Katsuki rips himself away from your fluttering pussy with a groan and shoves his pants down awkwardly, the thick fabric catching on his thighs but low enough that his cock springs free. You whine at the sight, reaching for him, and he huffs out a laugh as he clambers over you. "You asked for it," he warns, but his voice cracks as the tip of his cock nudges against your wet folds.
"Oh, god, please please please. In," you grab at his arms and tilt your hips up, "Please get inside me."
"Fucking — hell —" Katsuki groans as he pushes inside, but his self control is at an all time low. He doesn't want to hurt you, but you're so wet and warm and your velvety walls are practically squeezing him in a vice grip.
He shoves every hard inch of his cock into you with a grunt, kissing you hard as you fall off the edge into bliss.
White. Sparks. It takes you a moment to come back to your senses, a moan punching through your chest as Katsuki pants into your neck. "Fuck."
"Yeah?" He rolls his hips and you whine at the sensation of being stuffed full of his cock, wiggling as best as you can beneath him. His skin is sweaty and sticky against yours, and you realize pulled his own shirt off. He's shoved your borrowed shirt up and off so that you're nearly naked, and out of the corner of your eye you spot your bra dangling from the doorknob where he tossed it away.
"Katsuki, c'mon, move," you plead. He digs his elbows into the mattress on either side of your head and rolls his hips again, dragging every rock solid inch of him against your insides. You clench around him, sparks skittering up your veins as he bullies his way back in, and then he's gone.
Katsuki fucks you into the mattress. You can barely string together a sentence, holding onto his arms as he shoves himself deep with every thrust. The overpowering scent of him fills the air along with the smell of sex and sweat and your choked off moans. You cling to him as best as you can, tilting your neck up as an offering as his thrusts get deeper and harder, crying out when he reaches to rest your legs on his shoulders, ankles dangling by his head as the changed angle lets his cock kiss a spot inside you that makes you sob.
"Oh, oh, Katsuki, fuck please I need you I want you please please please —"
"I — I got you," he grunts, "just fucking — hah you've gotta —"
"Oh I'm gonna cum, I'm — Katsuki I'm gonna cum!"
Katsuki growls as you leap off the edge again, pressing a strangely sweet kiss to your lips before leaning down further and licking along the side of your neck. You barely have a moment to register what he's doing before his body locks up and he bites you, marking you as his cock spurts and kicks inside you.
"Oh, fuck —"
The heady rush of pheromones sends you spinning dizzily higher, a pleasure so intense lighting up your nerves you nearly black out. Distantly you can still feel Katsuki cumming, thick ropes of white painting your insides as he rocks his hips in tiny, incessant motions against you. He lets go of your neck with a grunt. And then you feel it.
"Ah. Ah." The swell of his knot is thick and alarming, but you force yourself not to tense as he locks up with you. The overwhelming feeling sends your nerves buzzing and you tilt your head to kiss him, languid and sweet.
"How's it?" he asks, breaking the kiss just to press his sweaty forehead against yours. You meet his deep red eyes and brush a kiss along the pink swell of his cheekbones. "I didn't hurt you?"
"I'm fine," you sigh. Your heart is still thumping like a drum in your chest, but Katsuki is warm and solid and unyielding around and inside you. You're so full. You nuzzle into the neck of your mate. "You're lucky I'm so damn bendy."
The first knot is always the most lucid, the relief of sliding into heat lending clarity to both of your senses before dissolving into a messy, incoherent sex fest. By the end of the cycle you'll have lost track of how many times and how many ways Katsuki takes you — though you know he's fond of the shower and he used to like propping you up against the balcony doors…
"Did you really break the balcony door?" you ask suddenly, disrupting Katsuki's careful kiss to your jaw. Your boyfriend snorts, slowly sliding your legs off his shoulders and wincing lightly as his knot jostles inside you.
"If I had to go through the apartment I would've taken you in the goddamn elevator."
"Oh." You wince as his knot slips slightly. Another thought leaps unbidden to the front of your mind. "Who was that at the izakaya?"
Katsuki shrugs. "Some chick. The one you were helpin' to the bathroom."
Your brain still feels fuzzy with endorphins and the afterglow of white hot pleasure, so it takes you a moment longer to figure out who he's talking about. You groan. "Oh, no… not Akane…"
"She said she'd take care of it," Katsuki assures you, nosing along your neck. "And 'sides, that's not what you should be worried 'bout."
You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"
The grin Katsuki shoots you is shit-eating and terribly, annoyingly endearing.
"You begged for it first."
A few days later, while Katsuki heats up some premade food so neither of you die of malnutrition, you finally remember to turn on your phone. It pings! with notifications, but one flagged as "important" catches your eye.
Shimizu: Hey friend, hope your heat's going well! I've sent along your company care package to be delivered to your apartment, and once you get back we'll have a post heat drinking party for you! I also sent out your pre-heat company-wide congratulations email a few days ago, but don't worry, I'll send it out earlier next time so we can celebrate you properly!
Katsuki pokes his head into the bedroom at your loud groan, two plates piled high with food balancing on his strong forearms.
"What's the matter, pipsqueak?"
"Did we get a delivery?" you ask. Katsuki sets the plates down on the bed beside you and disappears for a moment, but then you hear a loud bark of laughter and he reappears with a large box. "Oh, no. Don't tell me…"
Katsuki reaches in and whips out a dildo with your company's name stamped along the base. "They found out?"
"I'm gonna die," you say. "I can never face any of them ever again."
"So dramatic," Katsuki snorts, setting the box down. He braces his hands on either side of your thighs as he leans down to kiss you. "Wanna see which one makes you beg hardest?"
"We are not using those toys, Katsuki!"
"We'll see how you feel when I've got you beggin' for me again."
satoru's omegan nature has long been a source of contention with his clan. luckily, shame has no place in your bed, much less between your legs. yes, he'll claim you anyways.
contents: a/b/o dynamics feat. omega gojo, brief satosugu, penetrative sex (reader receiving), buttplug mention (gojo receiving), mating/claiming, heavy themes of possessiveness
reader details: reader is called "omega" and referred to with they/them pronouns. they are described as having a hole, but no other gendered or physical descriptors are used for their appearance.
a/n: this is my entry for @lorelune's spring fever a/b/o collab! im a bit late but i hope u all enjoy nonetheless :3
The Gojo clan is steeped in tradition. Old money and older power seeps through their veins, soaks in their roots like the finest green tea leaves in boiling water.
Their greatest pride— Satoru, the dual wielder of the Six Eyes and Limitless. The most powerful sorcerer of his generation, and of all the generations that precede him.
Their greatest shame— Satoru. Omega.
It’s funny, though. He’s never felt like an omega. Not when he single-handedly defeated his “strongest” handler at the tender age of six. Not when he grows up and learns to exorcise curse after curse with the barest flick of his finger.
When he shares his first heat with an alpha well over a decade later, Satoru is still the one doing the fucking. He sees nothing wrong with that. He’s the strongest. Why wouldn’t alphas submit to him?
Geto does it easily enough, spreading his legs with a sly, easy smile, and Satoru finds great pleasure in taking his best friend apart piece by piece until his big, strong alpha is nothing but a drooling mess in his sheets.
It’s nice in the way that drinking water is nice. Refreshing. Necessary to maintain good health. But Satoru has always had a sweet tooth, and it only took a decade to instill within him the killer instinct befitting of the sole heir of the Gojo clan.
Geto never stood a chance against Satoru.
But Satoru… Satoru never stood a chance against you.
Sharing heats with you is electrifying. There’s something that feels so right about the soft, hot squeeze of your pretty hole around his cock. Your gasps and moans stoke a fire in his chest— one that tells him to fuck you deeper, claim you for his own. And you are his. Nobody would deny it— how could they hope to defy Satoru’s will, Omega or not?
“Satoru,” you whine, scent reeking of warm vanilla and aching desperation. Your pleasure is honey for his sore throat, your moans airy as spun sugar. “Satoru, please, please, need you.”
“I’m here,” he pants against your mouth. His hole flutters around the plug that occupies his ass, but that pleasure is secondary to the pure bliss of sinking deep inside your pulsing heat. He gives an experimental grind, and you let out matching whimpers. Oh, Satoru might be the Heavenly Son, the strongest, the most powerful, but you are the perfect Omega, all sticky-sweet slick and heady submission. “Let me have you, Omega.”
Your scent blooms as you clench down, a wordless plea. “Yours! Satoru!”
“Greedy little thing,” Satoru purrs and nips at your swollen scent gland, drawing a pitiful whine from your throat. Still, though, you keep your neck bared to him, allowing him to scent you and mark you as he pleases. It sends a thrill through some deep, base part of him— you belong to him as stars belong to the sky, as rain belongs to the sea. You belong to him as a rabbit belongs to the wolves. You are his in the way that nothing else is.
Something primal swoops in his gut— some previously dormant instinct brought to light by your ardent adoration. His teeth sink deep into the soft flesh of your scent gland. He has an Omega’s blunt fangs, dull things made for gentle nibbles and playful nips, but what he lacks in biological imperative he makes up for with single-minded force.
He is the strongest, after all. He’ll claim you as his mate— teeth bared an act of defiance against biology, against curses, against the world. Belonging is the rivulets of blood that run down your neck. Pleasure is the forceful snap of two souls into inevitable orbit. Love is teeth in skin, tongue against flesh.
Your body goes slack beneath him, and your hole clenches almost unbearably tight as an orgasm razes your body in white-hot pleasure. Satoru’s hole clenches in sympathy, milking his plug even as you milk his cock. Your body begs him to claim it, begs him to pump you full, and who is he to ignore his Omega’s siren song? He spills into you, thick and hot, and copper-iron-metal drips from his fangs as he wills your impossible bond into reality.
To be Gojo Satoru is to live alone and in defiance— of his clan, of his restrictions, of his nature. To be Gojo Satoru’s mate is the opposite. He will never let you walk this world alone.
“Omega,” he growls, because that is what you are. Satoru’s Omega.
“Satoru,” you whine back, and that, too, sounds just right. Your Satoru.
In which reader overhears Mor say something not too nice about her... miscommunication enuses!
A/N: Just because I wanted to write some angst! Not too much, though, lol, I only write happy endings on this blog! :)
CW: None! Angst to fluff!
The day had been long, and tiring. You worked at a school in the Night Court, specifically with children ages 5-10. Winter Solstice was approaching, and today was the last day before school was out for a bit of a break. Little ones were so, so antsy about the holiday, and it didn't help that snow had been coming down fast and hard all day, increasing the anxiousness to be released for the break. It was hard to wrangle them all and get them to pay attention to the day's lesson, because truly, you didn't want to spoil their fun.
But finally, the day was over. The children were home with their families for a few weeks, likely already out enjoying the winter wonderland in the glittering Velaris. As beautiful as you thought it was, all you really wanted was to be back home with your mate, wrapped up under the blankets together.
First, though, you had to meet her at the River House, where you know she had been meeting with other members of the Inner Circle to discuss an upcoming visit to the Court of Nightmares. It was only Feyre, Nesta, and Rhys, as Cassian, Amren, and Azriel were all on other diplomatic trips, preparing for the large gathering planned for the upcoming new year.
After winnowing to the front yard, you trudged through the thick snow, not bothering to knock before entering the large estate. It was quiet, Nyx likely occupied with Elain while the others conversed. You could hear their muffled voices coming from the center of the house, where Rhys' office was located.
You weren't trying to be especially quiet, but you also hadn't announced your arrival, either.
The doors to his office were closed, dim light seeping from underneath. As you got closer, you heard someone, maybe Feyre, mention your name.
This, of course, grabbed your attention, and you tiptoed forward gently to listen to what they were saying. Just a few steps away, you heard Nesta ask, "How are you two doing?"
The question wasn't odd as the two of you had just moved in together, so it was only natural that your friends wanted to know how this new stage in your lives was going.
Mor sighed before responding, "It's good."
This made your brows furrow, because if they had asked you, you would have replied that it was amazing, one of the best experiences of your life. You'd have said how much closer to her you felt, how much more in love with her you've fallen and how you can't wait to spend the rest of your lives together.
But, you knew that Mor did tend to keep her romantic life more private than some of the other members of the Inner Circle, just rivaling Amren. She trusted them with her life, of course, but it didn't erase the centuries she'd spent learning to be incredibly cautious with and protective of any love in her life.
There were just some things she preferred to keep private, being honest with these kinds of emotions has always been more difficult for her.
But, still, you wondered if maybe things weren't as perfect for her as they were for you.
You take another step closer, turning your ear to the door. Rhys chuckles, saying, "Just good? You're finally in a place to yourselves and it's just good? What happened to the Mor and Y/N I know, that were always complaining about living with," Rhys pauses, and you can see him deep in thought in your head. "What did she call us?"
Nesta speaks next, "A pack of unruly males?" the smirk evident in her voice.
Rhys and Feyre both laugh before Rhys speaks again, "Yes! You're telling me you're finally away from the Cassian and Azriel," Feyre cuts in, adding, "You too, Rhys!" before he finishes with, "Pissing contest?"
Mor laughs a bit, but she doesn't say anything.
You're really beginning to overthink now, your lips in a frown.
When the laughter dies down, Feyre asks, "Really, Mor, how is it? I miss having you both around."
Mor hums, and you can hear her take a large sip of wine now that you've moved to directly outside of the door, ear pressed to the dark wood.
"I love her, she's my mate, and I'm so glad to take this big step with her, but... it's different." Mor says, getting quieter by the end.
Your heart drops at the statement, and you can only listen as she continues.
"I g-guess.. she's just everywhere, you know? More clingy, too. It's only been two weeks, I'm still seeing how it goes..."
By now, your eyes are brimmed with unshed tears, and you begin to back away, not wanting to hear anymore and too worried you'll be discovered. The word she used, clingy, was ringing in your ears.
Yes, you were quite affectionate and cuddly with her. Especially now that you two had a private home, no risk of anyone seeing you be intimate and close. Not that you two hadn't been in front of your friends, but there was a different feel to it when you could wrap up on the couch together, cook a meal together, or read a book on the porch together completely alone. You loved it, cherished it, especially after spending so long wanting a romance like this, never thinking you'd find your mate.
You were devastated to know Mor didn't feel quite the same, but you loved her, of course, and didn't want anything to end between the two of you. You knew she loved you, but you wished she'd just told you if she was having any doubts about your living situation or if she wished you two could spend more time apart, rather than embarrass you in front of your friends.
Once you'd left the front of the River House, you winnowed away, to your and Mor's house.
You decided to get ready for the evening, that you'll just wait for Mor to return home instead of meeting her. You doubted that she'd notice, and that maybe, she'd appreciate the space you'd given her.
---
It's almost dark out by the time you heard the front door unlock and creak open. You'd begun to make dinner, a pasta sauce simmering on the stove next to a pot of boiling water, bread baking in the oven.
You listened to Mor shed her winter gear, ending with her boots landing on the mat by the front door. Her footsteps padded down the hallway, entering the kitchen where she saw you at the stovetop, back to the entryway.
"Hello, love," Mor said sweetly, before sniffing dramatically. "Whatever you're making smells amazing!"
You turn to look at her over your shoulder, smiling and thanking her.
Her brows drip just a bit in confusion, clearly expecting a more joyous greeting, but you send a loving pulse down the bond in an effort so soothe her, turning back to the food in front of you.
She walks forward, wrapping her arms around your waist, burying her face in the crook of your neck. You make no move to return the embrace, instead, continuing to stir the sauce that's nearly done.
She places a few kisses on your skin, then says, "I missed you today, baby. I thought you were going to meet me at Rhys' earlier?"
You place the spoon down, turning to look at her. "I had a long day at work today, so I figured I'd come home and start dinner early." You smiled at the end, to assure her that it was just a simple plan change.
She looks confused again for just a second, before she smiles and nods, leaning in to kiss your lips. You kiss her back, but pull away before she can deepen it. You didn't want to be cold, but you were still a bit hurt, and of course, you didn't want to seem clingy.
"Why don't you change into some comfier clothes, I'll have the food ready when you get back."
Mor slowly pulls away from you, nodding softly before backing out of the room.
You sigh, turning back to the stove.
By the time the pasta has been drained, added to the sauce pan, seasoned more to taste and plated, Mor is reentering the room. She dons a red nightgown. It isn't especially sexy, it covers her and is quite tame. But she knows how much you love her in red.
As you pull the bread from the oven and begin to place a piece on each of your plates, Mor grabs a bottle of wine from the rack Amren had gifted the two of you.
She pours you and herself a glass, placing them on the tables as you set the plates down. You go to gather silverware and napkins, but she pushes you to your seat, pecking your cheek. "Sit, my love, after cooking all this. I'll get the rest."
Truly, it wasn't much, and it definitely wasn't hard, but you two usually cooked together, so you know she likely wanted to feel like she did some of the dinner work.
You sat and waited, smiling at her as she set your things down on the table.
When she took her seat, you immediately began to eat, waiting for her to tell you about her day.
"So, do you want me to tell you about the Court of Nightmares trip?"
You nodded while sipping your wine, encouraging her to continue.
---
After your plates were cleaned and your wine glasses were emptied, you stood and began to collect the dishes. You hadn't talked much, and spoke little of your day. Your plan was to go to bed within the next hour or so, to give Mor some of the time alone she badly needed. There was a book Nesta had given you that you needed to finish anyway, a few knitting projects you'd started with Elain and had abandoned, some homework for the next term you could get a headstart on making.
Alone time, you decided, would be good for the both of you.
Mor helped you clean, singing a song under her breath to fill the silence. When you were done, she wrapped her arms around you again and kissed you, harder than before.
"I really missed you," she said against your lips, cupping your face with one hand and gripping your hip with the other.
And, of course, you missed her too. That was undeniable, and you can't resist kissing your mate.
"I missed you too, sweetheart, I'm glad you had a good day." You bumped her nose with your own, kissing her again, rubbing her arms and back.
She grips you tighter, pushing your body into hers. She groans in your mouth, and you pull away before it can go any farther.
Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, you say, "I'm really tired, my love, I'm sorry."
She rubs your cheek with her thumb, kissing your forehead before pulling away. "That's okay," she says, always loving and sweet, never wanting to pressure you or make you feel bad. "I want you to tell me about it, I was excited to see you earlier and I got sad that you didn't come," your heart stings at her admission, but she continues on, "but I understand that you're tired. What happened today? Come lay down with me on the couch."
You feel a bit guilty for rejecting her like this, but, as gently as you can, you say, "I think I'm just gonna go to bed, love. I'm really sorry, I'm just exhausted. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, I swear."
Mor looks a bit surprised at your response. "Do you feel alright, Y/N, do you feel sick?"
You huff a laugh, smiling and shaking your head. You kiss her again, to alleviate any worry. "Just a headache, from the bad day, I think. I'm just going to lay down, you know, in the quiet, see if it helps. I'll likely be asleep pretty quickly."
Reluctantly, with a frown on her face, Mor nods. "Okay, baby. If you think that'll make you feel better."
You hum, "It will. I'm fine, Mor, really."
She releases you and grabs your hand, pulling you to the bedroom. "Let me at least tuck you in?"
You laugh at her, and nod your head. "Alright."
---
Later, in the solitude of your shared bedroom, you attempt to focus on the coursework in front of you.
Mor had, as she said she would, tucked you into bed. She fluffed the pillows, laid you down, dimmed the lights, cracked a window just a bit to cool the stuffy room. Then, she pulled the blankets up to your chin, kissing your forehead before again asking if you're alright.
You reassured her that truly, it's just been a very long day, trying not to be puzzled over her apparent newfound desire to be incredibly close to you tonight.
You couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about the distance you'd been putting between the two of you this evening. But, you were admittedly still very hurt. You struggled to both wish that she'd spoken to you rather than behind your back, and be glad that she'd even opened up at all, likely wanting to spare your feelings. You did not want to drive her away from you by being... clingy. But, it was hard to do this, to be so... detached from one another.
You sigh in frustration, the blank sheet of paper in front of you taunting you. You resign to the fact that you will likely not get any work done tonight. Not for your job, not on Nesta's book, not your half knitted scarves. There really is nothing to do but think, and thinking is especially cruel on you tonight.
You... could go downstairs to join your mate. You can picture her, downstairs, cozy on the couch. Either painting her nails, reading a book, or maybe, unlike you, getting some work done on whatever work for the Night Court she'd been tasked with.
But... no. You wouldn't bother her. You'd give her her space, so long as she was happy and comfortable, you'd learn to be too with this new relationship dynamic. Really, so that you never lost her, you figured you had no choice.
It was a little over an hour later, long after you'd called it quits and shut the lights off entirely, that the bedroom door creaked open again.
You listened to Mor gently close the door behind her, and pad her way over to the bed. You were, very clearly, on your side of the bed. Almost to the edge. You hoped this didn't strike her as odd, because you rarely went to bed without her, you hoped it just seemed like you'd rolled over there in your sleep without her to cuddle up to.
She lifted the covers and slid in, yet remained still. You didn't dare show that you were still awake, and so you waited to see what move she made.
Finally, after several seconds of nothing, Mor shifted closer. She didn't cuddle you as intensely as usual, just reached a hand out to rest on your hip. Typically, you'd lay on her chest, or you'd take turns being the little spoon, or you'd lay facing one another with your legs and hands interlocked. You yearned for the contact, to feel her skin on your own. But, you made no move to get closer.
Falling asleep was difficult, especially without the comfort of your mate wrapped around you. But, eventually, under the weight of her delicate hand, you drifted off.
---
The next morning, you woke to sunlight trickling in through the blinds. You could see a bit of dust floating through the air, and you faintly picked up on the sound of yet more snow falling.
Turning to look beside you, you saw Mor, asleep and cozy. She looked so warm, so tired, yet not entirely peaceful. A small frown was painting her face, and you furrowed your brows in confusion. Sitting up in the bed, you leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead, then her pouted lips. She didn't wake up at the touch, and you opted to let her sleep in rather than cuddle her until the both of you were awake and ready to start the day.
You shivered at the cold floor touching your barefeet, slipping fuzzy slippers Feyre had gifted you one year onto your feet. You gently exited the bedroom, careful to not disturb Mor's rest.
As you prepared coffee in the kitchen, you studied the snowfall from the window above the sink. It was gorgeous, a glittery white coat making the green of the trees surrounding your property stand out. Your house was tucked away in the woods, as it has been your dream to have a home surrounded by your favorite scenery. The house is private and cozy. But, it is also incredibly close to the heart of Velaris, just located on the closest edge of the city. That decision was for Mor, who loved city night life.
As you observe the weather, you wonder if you made a mistake choosing a home so secluded. The snow was thick and falling fast. Visibility was low, and you didn't need to go outside to know that it was bitter cold. Whatever plans you and Mor had for the day would be no more, as the weather was far too intense for any traveling.
This should have made you excited, squealing with glee. It should have sent you straight back to the bedroom, to sleep in with Mor, or, to wake her up and get her to enjoy the beautiful sight with you.
But, it made you... nervous. Nervous to see her reaction to her being snowed in with you, nervous that because neither of you could escape, one of you, likely her, would decide to leave for good when the snow cleared.
You shake your head, sipping your coffee, feeling silly for such dramatic thoughts.
She doesn't hate you, you thought. She loves you very much, she just needs space.
As if your sour thoughts had summoned her, Mor strolled into the kitchen. You hadn't heard her wake up, too lost in your head.
You turned to look at her, smiling softly over your mug, sending a loving pulse down the bond before you have to break the news to her.
She smiled back, tugging on your bond, walking up to you planting a firm kiss to your lips.
"Good morning, beautiful," Mor whispered against your lips, wrapping her arms around you and hugging you.
"Mmmm, good morning." You pressed a kiss to her hair, inhaling her scent.
You pulled back, turning to grab her favorite mug from a cupboard. "I made coffee, shall I make you a cup?"
You're pouring the coffee before she answers, knowing she'll never turn a cup of coffee down. She nods, then takes your spot at the sink, observing the snow as you had previously done.
"It's coming down hard, I didn't expect all this!"
You wince at the comment, hoping she isn't too terribly disappointed that she's trapped here.
"Yes, I thought yesterday was to be the worst of it. It doesn't look like we'll be able to do much today..." You trailed off at the end, bracing for a sight of disappointment.
When one didn't come, you turned back to her, holding out her mug that now contained coffee sugared and creamed to her liking.
She looked at you, wiggling her eyebrows and biting her lip. She took a deep sip from her mug before setting it down, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it on the counter, too. She grabbed your hand, pulling you to the stairs, presumably back to the bedroom.
"What are you doing?" You asked, genuinely confused.
"Let's get some more clothes on, silly! There's so much snow to play in!" She giggles as she speaks, like it should be obvious what her plans for today are.
You let her pull you into the bedroom, watching as she rummages through drawers and your walk in closet. She pulls out several layers of clothes for both you and her, throwing them onto the bed. She starts to pull her nightgown over her head before catching your confused gaze.
"What's wrong, Y/N? I thought you loved snow?"
She's right, you do love snow. You loved the look of it, the feel of breathing in the cold air. The snowmen you could build and the snowball fights you were always determined to win. The crunch of it underneath your boots and the smoothness as you held it in your gloved hands.
That wasn't why you hesitated, though.
"I do!" You were quick to clarify, not wanting it to seem like you were the one not wanting to spend this time together. "I just... we can't really do anything today, with it coming down like this." Mor just stared at you, waiting for you to continue. "I-I mean, aren't you a little upset? Didn't you have more things to meet with Rhys and Feyre about? Weren't you going to help plan the New Year party?"
Mor slowly released the hem of her gown, confusion painting her face. "I mean, yes, I did have those plans today, but why would I be upset? It's just a party, one that's still days away." She stepped closer towards you, and you could sense that she was growing a little aggravated. "Why would I be mad that I get a day off, a day to spend at home?"
You wanted to say, because it's a day with me, another day you don't get to have alone. But, you didn't. Your goal has never been to start a fight over this, and so you backed down before one could start.
"I don't know, Mor. I just wanted to make sure you weren't upset about it... the way it looks outside, it could be a few days until everything is back to normal. I didn't mean to imply anything, I'm sorry."
Mor didn't say anything for a moment, just nodded her head and continued to frown.
"D-Do you... do you still want to go outside?" You asked tentatively, the air charged with frustration, confusion, hesitation.
Mor sighed, closing her eyes for a second before moving to pull on a pair of sweatpants, discarding her nightgown and putting on a sweater. "I don't feel like it anymore, maybe later."
She didn't look at you as she spoke, speaking under her breath and hurrying past you to the door.
You tried to grab her arm, to stop her from fleeing, but she moved out of your reach and left to go downstairs.
"Damnit." You muttered under your breath. You had never intended to upset her, but you also didn't think you had done anything to deserve her anger.
But, it seemed like now she truly did need that alone time she'd apparently been craving. You wouldn't stoke her anymore, you'd let her calm down, and you'd stay out her way, even if it mean enduring the radiating disappointment from the bond.
---
You spent most of the morning locked away in the bedroom, staying out of Mor's way. You left once to fix another cup of coffee, Mor was sitting at the table, touching up her red-painted nails. She just looked at you when you walked in, and said nothing as you left to retreat back upstairs.
The book you were reading, while good, wasn't doing a very good job of distracting you. In fact, the longer you sat, the more your frustration brewed.
You really didn't feel like you deserved for her to be upset with you. You had been trying to avoid this, a fight, a confrontation. But you weren't sure how to move past this until you two talked.
A little after noon, you again ventured downstairs, determined to get some food and speak to Mor. You planned to tell her how you felt undeserving of her disappointment, how you felt like it was unfair that she was upset with you for giving her what she seemingly wanted.
She was absent from the kitchen, and eventually, you found her in her office, leafing through paperwork at her desk. You could tell she was trying to busy herself, as just days ago, she had told you the paperwork was mindless, formality bullshit from court to court.
Leaning against the doorway, you ask her, "Would you like some lunch? I think I'm going to make a sandwich, or maybe a salad?"
Mor didn't look up from her work. "No, thanks," she mumbled under her breath, paying you no attention.
"Mor, look at me," you said, calm and with a balanced tone.
She sighed, refusing to meet your gaze, keeping her attention secured on the papers in front of her. "I'm not hungry, Y/N, I'll figure something out later." She briefly waved her hand in the air, like she was shooing you away.
You roll your eyes, the desire for a conversation gone at the annoyance in her tone. You turn to walk away, but you can't help yourself from saying, "Alone, I'm sure, as you've made it abundantly clear that you prefer."
You're hardly a few steps down the hallway before you hear Mor call, "What did you say?" The sound of her chair screeching backward as she rises fills the silence, but you're still walking away. You knew having a calm, collected talk about this wasn't going to happen after she acted so unconcerned with your presence.
You hear her footsteps enter the hallway, too, Mor trailing right behind you.
"Y/n, what did you just say?"
And, because you're beginning to grow a bit bitter about this whole situation, you say, "Figure it out later."
Her footsteps grow faster, and as you turn the corner to enter the kitchen, she grabs your wrist and whirls you around.
"Are you serious right now?" Her tone is sharp, her jaw clenched, her beautiful face painted with anger.
You laugh, once and humorless. "Am I serious? Are you serious, Mor? Acting so cold to me today," your voice grows sharper the more you think about it, "all because you're locked in this damn house with me!"
Mor's brows scrunch, a mixture of anger and confusion. "Excuse me?! You're the one who didn't want to go outside with me this morning! You're the one who avoided me last night, going to bed early and staying as far away from me as you could!"
You pull your arm out of her grasp, pointing at her, "I never said I didn't want to go outside with you! You're the one who said she didn't feel like going anymore!"
Mor turns, scoffing and throwing her hands in the air like she can't believe what's happening. "Why would I after you had just implied like going outside together was like, the worst possible thing that could happen to you!"
You stare at her for a moment, mouth open and eyes wide. "You're making stuff up at this point! I never did that! I was just thinking about you. Cauldron forbid I care about what you want, Mor!"
You shake your head, your heart is hammering and you're starting to feel the uncomfortable sensation of tears gathering in your eyes and a lump forming in your throat.
When you turn to walk away, before it gets any worse, Mor grabs you again.
"Don't walk away from me! What in the gods name are you even talking about? You seriously think work is all I care about? You know me better than that." She sounds hurt, and angry, but you can't imagine she feels those things anywhere near the same degree as you do.
You sigh, losing the edge to your voice, a tear finally leaking from one of your eyes. "No, Mor, I don't think that. But I do know that being with me, living with me, isn't what you thought it would be. I wanted to save you from that today, that's all."
She stops dead in her tracks, her pacing coming to an abrupt end as she stares at you like she doesn't even recognize you. "What are you even saying, Y/N? Do you even hear yourself?"
"I gave you space last night, and I tried to this morning, so I wasn't too clingy for you," you put emphasis on that word like it was damning you. "But all it did was make you bitter towards me today, Mor. So I'm not sure what else I can do."
Again, she stares at you like she has no idea what's going on. And then, you see it click. Her features slowly grow from angry to sad, and she closes her eyes, tilting her head down. She looks ashamed, like she wishes she hadn't been caught.
A few more tears run down your face, and you swipe them away with your fingers, trying to calm your shaking hands.
"I didn't want to fight about this, Mor, I never did. I heard something I wasn't supposed to. I can't change how you feel, but I can change how I act. Can we just leave this alone? I won't be as clingy, but I need you to stop treating me like I've done something wrong." Your voice is hardly a whisper, and you're turning to leave the foyer you've been having this confrontation in before, for the third time, Mor grabs your wrist to prevent you from leaving.
You don't look at her as she says, "Baby, I am so, so, so sorry," her voice cracks, and the sound of her so upset breaks your heart, despite her being the reason yours has been broken since the night before. "Please, Y/N. let me explain."
You shake your head, pulling your arm away, but she doesn't let go. "There's nothing to explain, Mor. I heard you clearly last night. As much as I wish you had spoken to me about this, rather than embarrass me in front of our friends, what's done is done. You can't change how you feel."
Just as you said to her, moments before, Mor asks, "Y/N, please look at me."
You pull your watery eyes to hers, and truly, she looks devastated.
"That's not how I feel, Y/N."
You smile softly at her, putting your hand on top of the one holding your arm. You push her grasp away, saying, "Mor, of course you do. I'm suffocating, I see that now. I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, bu-"
Mor's cutting you off before you finish. "No! Y/N, I mean it. I do not think you're clingy, I was an idiot to say that."
Before she can continue, you stop her with a hand raised. "Mor, seriously, this is just making it worse. We can figure out how to make this relationship work better, later. I really don't want to talk about it anymore."
Finally releasing yourself from the hold she's had on you, you make your way into the kitchen.
And, of course, your stubborn mate follows you. She watches as you pull supplies from the fridge, meat and cheese and lettuce and other things required for a sandwich.
You spot her chewing on her thumbnail, her newly painted nail, as she watches you.
You sigh as you pull the bread from the cupboard. "Do you want a sandwich, Mor?"
"I want to talk, Y/N. I want to explain, I want to make this right. Please, baby, let me explain." Her voice is pleading, and she sounds close to the tears you were in just moments ago.
You slam two slices of bread onto a plate more forcefully than necessary. "I said I don't want to talk about this anymore. Please, Mor. Enough."
She seems to understand how serious you are, and she doesn't push you any further. She sits at the table as you prepare your lunch, and because you love her very much, and you know she hasn't eaten, you fix her one, too.
---
The day moves slowly, the two of you sticking to doing your own things. You find that the day is easier now that she knows what you know, that it's easier to breathe knowing you've said what you needed to say.
Mor hovers around you, but she doesn't push you to speak anymore. When you leave to sit by the fire in the living room, she moves to the couch with a book in hand. When you decide to work on clearing your front porch of snow, she joins you, shovel in hand and wordless. When you take a hot bath after, she waits in the bedroom, tidying until you're done. When dinner comes around, it's her that makes you a meal, and you nod your head in thanks, the two of you eating her stew in silence.
Long after the sun has gone down, you're in your bedroom, pulling a sweatshirt, matching to your sweatpants, over your head.
The door creaks open, and Mor walks in, both your book and hers in hand. Her face still looks devastated, you've been enduring the radiating guilt, shame, sadness, and disappointment from the bond all day. The only thing stopping you from kissing the hurt from her face is your own hurt, still aching, but a little less raw.
Mor sets the books down on her bedside table, and you can tell she's not going to let the two of you sleep tonight unless she's said her piece.
As much as you'd rather forget about this day, you know that tensions will only grow if you don't allow her to say whatever it is she wants to say, whatever it is she thinks will make this better.
You pull the covers back, settling on the bed. "Can you hand me my book, Mor?"
"Y/N..." Her voice is quiet. She's still standing, like she's afraid that if she gets too close, you'll run away.
You sigh, looking her in the eyes. You're surprised to see them welling with tears, her bottom lip trembling.
Your face scrunches, and you reach a hand out to her. "Mor, don't cry..." Your voice trails off, confusion lacing your tone.
She crumbles at your outstretched hand, like the acceptance is something she thought she'd lost forever. Like she's relieved that you still want her.
She collapses onto the bed, grabbing your hand, crying in earnest now. "I-I'm so sorry, Y/N, I swear to the gods I d-didn't mean what I s-s-said."
You can hardly understand her, and you run a hand through her hair in an attempt to calm her down.
"Mor, please, you don't have to explain yourself... I just want to move on from this."
That makes her cry harder, she's burying her face in your shoulder, shaking her head in refusal. "No! I d-don't want to move on from this, I want to make it r-right," she hiccups on a sob before continuing, "if you'll let me, p-please."
You sigh, kissing her hairline, urging her to pull back and look at you. "Honestly, Mor, I think it'll just hurt worse if you explain why I'm too clingy. I wish you'd just let us change how this," you gesture between the two of you, "works. No hard feelings that way, really."
Mor's face grows frustrated, her tears spilling down her cheeks rapidly. She sniffles, and grits out, "No. I-I don't want anything to c-change!"
"Mor, reall-"
She cuts you off before you can go on. "Y/N, p-please, just listen to me right now. I know I don't d-deserve it, b-but..."
Seeing her so upset, hearing the heartbreak in her voice, the sight of her red and puffy face from crying so hard, it makes you give in. You nod, signaling to her that she can continue, that you'll listen and you'll try to understand.
You brace yourself for the hurt, for her to explain how she feels suffocated by you, that you're too overbearing, just too clingy. You're ready for her to tell you that she loves you, because you know that she does, but that she just needs some space.
She doesn't, though.
She takes a deep breath in, bringing her hands up to rub at her wet cheeks, closing her eyes and collecting herself for a moment.
"Y/N, I-I have no excuse, for talking about you that way, in front of our friends."
She opens her eyes and looks deep into yours, waiting to see if you're going to stop her. When you make no move to interrupt, she continues.
"I... I am not good at this," she gestures between the both of you, then takes your hand into her own. "I'm not good at... being someone's mate."
You go to stop her, to scold her for thinking that way. She's perfect, the two of you literally made for one another. You'd not change a thing about her, and so far, your relationship had been virtually perfect. But, you swore to listen, so you refrain from stopping her.
"I never thought I'd meet my mate, and... for it to be a woman..." she trails off, and she doesn't have to elaborate on what she means by that. While your friends, your family, have been nothing but accepting and supportive, the same cannot be said for the rest of the world. Generally, Velaris, the Night Court, is open-minded, unfazed by any sort of queerness. And she decided, the moment she met you, she was done hiding her affections for women. She would not hide her mate, both you and her deserved better. But, Mor has seen the worst of other courts, of other people. She's seen terrible things happen to people for not being able to control who they love. She has always, always, been so protective of you, of the relationship the two of you have. It's made her guarded. Even around people she loves and trusts, she finds it difficult to be open and honest about the relationship the two of you have. She's opted for privacy in order to ensure protection. You know that, and it has never bothered you, because of course, you understand it.
"I am still... figuring this all out. How to navigate this, how to be more happy than scared." She pulls your hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to your soft skin. You smile softly at her, and cup her face, stroking her cheek with your thumb, soothing the still reddened skin despite the tears being nearly gone.
She leans into the touch, and again, she takes a deep inhale, like she's in need of being grounded.
"When they asked me today, how things are going... I-I just... I couldn't be honest." Her voice cracks at the end, and you dread having to see her beautiful face in tears again.
"Y/N, I swear to you, everything is perfect."
"Mor..." you sigh, worried she's just trying to make you feel better about all of this, worried she isn't really thinking of what would make her happier.
"No, Y/N, I mean it. Everything about you, about us... it's perfect," she moves to hold your hand to her face with both of hers, turning to press a kiss into your palm.
"I know it shouldn't, because they're our friends, our family... but it made me uncomfortable, the idea of gushing to them about us."
You give her a curious look, but you say nothing.
"It feels like, if anyone knows how perfect this is, how happy we are... someone will rip it away from us, from me."
And that, that breaks your heart. "Oh, Mor..." you coo, sitting up straighter, holding her face in both of your hands now.
"I really, really, really, have no excuse for what I said. You are not too clingy, Y/N. In fact, I sometimes wish we could be even closer."
You huff a small laugh at that, shaking your head and smiling. "Mor, it's okay, really."
She refuses to let you forgive her so easily, though. "It's not okay, baby. You're my mate, you're it for me. The only thing I'll ever want in life. I don't want to hide that, especially not from our friends. You deserve to be spoken about in truth, about how amazing you are, how easy it is to love you, how I miss you every second we aren't together."
It's your turn to tear up now, and you send a flood of love and adoration down the bond.
"I lied to them, because acting like everything isn't perfect was easier than feeling vulnerable. I treated you terribly, and in front of our friends, too... I am so, so sorry, baby."
You feel nothing but love and sincerity from the bond, no sign that she's lying, that she's just saying this to spare your feelings. You believe her, of course. She's poured her heart out to you, she's chosen uncomfortable vulnerability in order to make sure you know how loved you are.
Hearing what she said about you, knowing she said it to your friends too, it hurt. But, you know she's learned from this. You know that she truly feels terrible, and you now know that she thinks your relationship is just as incredible as you do. You hold no anger anymore, and the only thing left to make you sad is how upset your mate still looks.
"Mor, my love, I forgive you, it's alright." You learn forward, until your forehead is resting on hers. Her eyes flutter shut, and she releases a breath she was holding.
"You do?" She whispers.
You kiss her gently in response. "Mor, I forgave you a while ago. I wasn't angry so much as I was hurt."
She grimaces, knowing how badly she hurt you, but you soothe her with another peck to her lips.
"I understand, Mor. I do. I hope that next time, though, you'll just be honest," she nods against you, a promise to do right by you. "Or, if you cannot, I hope that you'll choose to hold off on answering, until you can talk about us."
"Of course, my love, this will never happen again."
You hum, plant a kiss to her forehead, and pull away. "I know it won't, sweetheart. Thank you, for being honest, and for apologizing."
A few seconds pass in comfortable silence, the two of you just enjoying the feeling of being close again.
Then, Mor speaks. "So.... you'll greet me at the door when I come in?" She asks.
"I will, every day, with a kiss." You emphasize your answer with kisses to her cheek, her nose, her lips.
She giggles and pulls away. "And you'll let me help with dinner? And you'll tell me about your day while we eat?"
"Yes, baby."
"And you'll stay up late and cuddle on the couch with me?"
"Hmm, what if I get tired?" You tease.
She pouts at you, but it's in jest. "You'll lay on my chest, and I'll wake you up when it's time to go to bed."
"I suppose that'll work..." a smirk is evident in your voice, and Mor kisses it quickly.
"And you'll cuddle with me in bed, all night?"
"All night."
"And you'll spend snow days outside with me? And take hot baths with me after?"
"I'd love nothing more."
"And you'll always talk to me, if I've done something to upset you? You'll always tell me how you're feeling?"
"I will, Mor, I promise."
She smiles, and wraps her arms around you. She pulls you down to the bed with her, and you nuzzle your face into her neck, planting a kiss to her warm skin. She tugs on your bond, teasing and gentle. A feeling settles over the both of you. It's warm and sweet, the distinct feeling that all is well.
---
A/N: This ended up being way longer than I meant it to be! I hope you all enjoy, angst isn't my usual but I wanted to give it a try. And of course, requests are always welcome! :)
A/N: Finally! Here is the second and final part of New Friends, Old Insecurities :) Thanks so much to everyone that was so kind about that fic and really encouraged me to write a part 2! I hope you all enjoy <3
CW: Angst to fluff!
Read part 1 here first....
---
It's been weeks since your explosive fight with Mor, and you were miserable. Looking back on it, you decided that perhaps you had escalated things too far, too fast, too dramatically. But you were truly heartbroken, and angry, and the damage has already been done, anyway.
Gwyn and Azriel, the friends that they are, have been letting you stay with them. You had shown up on their front porch in tears, stuttering and blubbering about what happened. Gwyn had brought you inside, made you a cup of tea, while Azriel started a fire and prepared the spare room for you to sleep in, carrying your things out of the room to give you and Gwyn some time to talk.
They've been incredibly understanding, even reassuring you that you can stay as long as you need every time you mention that you're going to start looking for somewhere else to stay soon. Truthfully, you think they just don't want you to pay for a place to live alone, all too confident that you and Mor will find your way back to one another eventually.
And that's not to say Mor hasn't tried. It wasn't hard to figure out that you'd started saying with the Shadowsinger and the Priestess, and Mor even showed up, trying to persuade them to let her see you, before Azriel very firmly told her no, that you needed time.
Gwyn said Mor asked about you every single day at training. She wanted to know if you were sleeping well, if you were eating enough, if you were ready to talk yet. Gwyn merely nodded at most of her questions, but always refused to answer the last one. When you were ready was entirely up to you, and Gwyn would never say so on your behalf. Gwyn did report back that Mor looked awful, bags under her eyes, sluggish like she hadn't slept or eaten anything. She said that she stayed to herself, showing up to training late and leaving early. She didn't go to family dinners, and Rhys had stopped asking her to patrol because her heart wasn't in it. That always made your chest ache, but you weren't doing any better.
You also found out that a rift had grown between Emerie, Nesta, and Gwyn. And that made you feel guilty. You had never intended to cause something between the three, knowing how deeply they love and admire one another. You apologized several times, but during one evening that Nesta and Cassian had come over for dinner, Nes and Gwyn both explained to you that it wasn't your fault. They said that Emerie had abandoned them, too, and that they were upset with her for interfering in a mated friend's marriage. Again, you tried to apologize, tried to tell them that it didn't have to be that way, but they shot you down.
"I love Emerie, and I'm sure we'll make up, but she messed up, that's all there is to it," Nesta had told you.
"She feels bad about it, I can tell, but she has to work up the courage to make amends. We can't make her do that," Gwyn had replied.
And that was that. But still, you couldn't shake the guilt. Though, a small part of you was thrilled that Mor and Emerie had been staying away from one another.
Your days mostly consisted of reading, paperwork, lunch with Gwyn, cards with Azriel, and dinner with the pair of them, or alone if it was family night. They had offered to stay home and eat with you, but that you adamantly refused. Just because you couldn't stand to be around everyone right now didn't mean you would keep your friends stuck at home, too.
So, while you had an amazing support system, friends that rallied around you and refused to let you go through anything alone, you were still, quite frankly, miserable.
---
During the third week of staying at Gwyn and Azriel's house, you were spending another night alone, cooking a small dinner for just yourself. The pair had just left, and they'd likely not be back for several hours. So, it surprised you when you heard footsteps at the front door, before a gentle knock sounded from the foyer.
You placed the spoon you'd been stirring your pasta sauce with on the counter before making your way to the front, a confused look on your face. As far as you were aware, Gwyn and Az hadn't been expecting anyone to stop by. They would have told you.
Another soft knock makes you walk faster, and you don't think to peek out of the window before you pull the door open.
There, on the front porch, looking sheepish and a bit scared, is Emerie.
You're a bit stunned, and all you can do is gape. The stare obviously makes her uncomfortable, and she looks down at her boots, sniffing a bit before saying, "Hey."
You swallow thickly, making no move to let her into the house. "Gwyn just left, she went to th-"
"I-I'm not here for Gwyn. I came to speak to you, Y/N," Emerie replies, pulling her gaze up to look at you. She looks braced for rejection, but ultimately, you don't hate her, you don't even dislike her. But there are, of course, harsh feelings.
"I don't know that that's a good idea, Emerie..."
"Please, Y/N, I came to explain, to apologize. I-I know why you won't speak to Mor," the sound of your mate's name makes you flinch, but Emerie just continues, "I understand it, I do. But please, at least, just hear me out."
You're silent for a few moments, contemplating how to proceed. You could shut the door in her face, go inside, make your dinner. You could keep looking at apartment listings, make a plan to move the rest of your stuff out of your and Mor's once shared home. You could avoid your mate like the plague. You could never see Emerie again. You could keep ditching family dinners, live a life of loneliness. You had always been so stubborn, so determined. Even if it was about making your own life a living Hell.
Or, you could let Emerie inside. You could hear her out. Let her convince you to reach out to your wife, to go home.
You sigh, you step aside, and you pull the door open wider. "I was just making dinner. Do you like pesto?"
---
You and Emerie share a quiet dinner, bowls of pasta and glasses of wine consumed with little conversation. When you're both finished, you take the dishes and rinse them in the sink. Wordlessly, Emerie cleans up the ingredients you had laid around the kitchen, and you're reminded that she's been here before, several times. Gwyn is her best friend, and you're not the only one here that's lost someone important.
When the kitchen is tidy, you make your way towards the living room, gesturing for Emerie to follow.
"I suppose this is the part where we talk, huh?"
Emerie nods, sitting in the chair closest to the fireplace while you sit on the edge of the couch.
Again, silence fills the room. But eventually, Emerie clears her throat and begins. "I think that first, I just need to apologize." She shifts so her body is facing you, she makes eye contact even though you can tell she feels a bit embarrassed. "I am so, so sorry for how I interfered with your marriage. I never had any intentions of breaking the two of you up, I truly hope you can believe me. I-I feel like I've done something... awful, and I am just... I-I'm so sorry."
You dip your head, trying not to cry. "Thank you, Emerie. I... I believe you."
She sighs, like she was expecting you to call her a liar, to kick her out. But you can tell that she's sincere, and you know her well enough that you don't think she'd ever want to or try to be a homewrecker. That just isn't her intent.
"And Emerie, truthfully... I don't want you to feel so awful."
She looks at you, confused, but before she can speak, you continue.
"Mor neglected me as a mate, as a wife. Yes, you encouraged her, certainly, but Mor chose to do what she did all on her own. You can't shoulder the blame for our failed relationship when it was her responsibility."
Emerie nods, but that guilt still paints her face. "I can't... I know it's not my place, to give you any sort of relationship advice..." She trails off and looks at you, anticipating you cutting her off, but you don't. "But Mor, she's... she's miserable. She doesn't talk to me anymore, and I don't blame her. Not many people do." And that statement breaks your heart a bit. You truly feel guilty that Emerie, likely more than you do, feels so lonely. "But I can just tell. She isn't sleeping, or eating, the only time she speaks is to ask someone about you. She.. she loves you, Y/N, adores you. You're the only person she'll ever want."
"It sure would've been nice if she had treated me that way the past few months," you spit out, your bitterness revealing itself.
Emerie flinches, but she doesn't disagree. "You're right, and I imagine she hates herself for it. A-And I know you probably don't want to hear this from me, but I never, ever had any romantic feelings for her. What I felt for Mor was strictly platonic, I swear to you. And never once did I get even the slightest idea that she felt anything beyond friendship for me. I would not lie to you about that."
And though you had tried to hold them in, the tears start falling anyway. You sniffle, quickly swiping your cheeks with the back of your hand.
"I don't know what do, then. I want to believe you, Emerie. But Gods, the way she treated me, made me feel. I can't ever go through that again."
Emerie nods, understanding and compassionate. "I know, Y/N, I know."
For a few beats, the room is silent save for your sniffling and the crackling of the fire.
"I... I'm going to stay away from her. I had already decided that when I heard about what happened between the two of you, but you should know... if it'll help convince you to reach out to her... I won't ever be a problem again. I'm going to stay away, I swear it."
You scoff. "And what happens when another female comes around to woo her? Again Emerie, I appreciate you coming here, but the problem lies with Mor. And anyway, I'd never ask you to not be friends with her. If you say friendship is all that it was, then I believe you."
"Yes, she is my friend, and I know how devastated she is to have lost you. So if it takes me staying away, so be it. I'll do it. And as far as other females go... Y/N... she would never, ever cheat on you. Do you know how much she loves you?"
You don't get a chance to respond before she continues. "You're all she ever talked about. In the mornings, she'd talk about how pretty you looked when she woke up, how she couldn't wait to see you later. When we'd be at the shop, she'd constantly talk about your studies, your work, how proud she is of you, how you've been working so damn hard. And that night... at dinner... she was telling me about how she missed you, and she was starting to get worried, because you were never late, and you never left without telling her where you were going."
Emerie's details make you start crying harder, quiet sobs shaking your shoulders as you keep trying to wipe the blurriness from your eyes.
"I-I don't know what to do," you cry, embarrassed to be so vulnerable in front of her.
Emerie stands from her chair, she moves to be beside you. Her hand falls to your shoulder, and she squeezes. "Please, just.. just hear her out. For both of your sakes."
You don't answer, and Emerie pulls her hand away. "I know you have a lot to think about, so I'll go. Again, I'm sorry for my part." She begins making her way to the front of the house, but stops to add one more thing. "Thank you... for the dinner... and for hearing me out." Then she lets herself out the front door.
---
You spent a few days mulling Emerie's words over, coming to terms with what you wanted to do. She had convinced you to talk to Mor, to try to work things out, but you just didn't know how to proceed. How to forgive and move on.
Eventually, you decided you'd speak to her at home. You wouldn't confront her in public, not when emotions are as heightened as they are. And you didn't want to invite her to Gwyn and Azriel's house, even though they would have no issue with it, you didn't want to impose on their home anymore than you already had. And truthfully, you wanted to see your house again. You wanted to be able to return to it one day.
And so, after days of contemplating, talking relentlessly with Gwyn and Az, losing sleep from the anxiety, you've finally decided to show up at your house, where you know Mor is currently at, if the candle glow from the windows were any indication.
Your hands tremble with nerves, your stomach doing flips. You debate knocking, but shake your head at the idea. This is still your house, anyway. If you keep thinking like it isn't, it'll be harder for you to see a way forward with Mor, and that's not why you came here.
However, you don't want to scare her, so you do softly rap on the wood before pushing the door open, softly closing it behind you.
You hear gentle footsteps sound from the living room, but you make no move to meet her, your nerves keeping you firmly planted in the foyer.
She stops in her tracks when she rounds the corner, and your heart sinks when you take in her form. Her hair is a mess, pulled back in a knot, some loose tangles plastered to her sweaty skin. She looks pale, her eyes bruised and sunken in. A blanket is wrapped around her shoulders, and she's dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She brings a shaky hand to her mouth that's fallen open, clearly shocked to see her wife has come home.
"Y/N?" she asks, her voice quiet and broken, like she's hardly been using it.
"Mor..."
And then she's bursting into tears, her shoulders shaking, her chest heaving as she struggles to breathe.
"Oh, Mor..." you sigh, rushing forward, grabbing her by her forearms and pulling her into the living room. You set her down on the couch, then fetch her a glass of water from the kitchen, urging her to drink it before she has a full blown panic attack.
When she comes down a bit, she sets the glass on the table, then brings her teary eyes up to look at you. "Are you h-here to get the rest of your stuff?" Her voice is muffled from her tears, her throat raw. "Did you come to... to e-e-end it o-officially?" She stutters over her words, the panic creeping up on her again.
You shake your head, sitting next to her on the couch, but keeping a bit of distance between the two of you. "No, Mor. I came to talk."
Her head whips to the side, her face in shock. Clearly, she hadn't expected you to ever hear her out. "To talk?" she asks, like she can't quite believe what's happening.
You nod. "Emerie... she came and... explained things a few days ago. She told me to hear you out... she said you're not doing well."
Mor shrugs, but she doesn't respond, like she doesn't really care about her physical and mental health. The thought stabs at your gut.
"Mor.. I-I'm done running from this. You're my mate. My wife. As hurt as I am... I've been wrong, to stay away from you for so long. So for that, I apologize. But I just... I needed tim-"
"You don't have to apologize, Y/N, please. I know why you left."
You don't argue with her, but still, you feel guilty for your part in your separation. "But still, I'm sorry."
Mor says nothing for a few tense beats, she just sniffles and wipes at her eyes.
"Can.. can we fix this, Y/N? Please? I can't... I can't lose you. Not for good. Not forever. I-I can't," Mor starts crying again, gentle, silent tears. "I won't survive it. I love you, Y/N. Please, let me try and fix this."
You reach a shaky hand out, placing it on her shoulder. "That's why I came here, Mor, to try and fix things. I came here to talk. But I think that you're the one that needs to explain things, not me."
Mor reaches her hand up to sit on top of yours. She releases a deep breath, clearly relieved to hear that you want things to work out.
"I have to start by saying I'm sorry. I'm so, so fucking sorry, Y/N."
Her words bring fresh tears to your eyes, and you try to keep them from spilling over, though it's useless.
"So why, Mor?" your voice cracks, but you keep going. "Why did you.. treat me like that? I-I want to understand."
She shakes her head. "There's nothing to understand. It was wrong, stupid, awful of me. I neglected you, I made you feel like I wasn't in love with you anymore... and even if you can forgive me, I'll never forgive myself for that."
A few more beats of silence, then Mor continues. "I want you to know, Y/N, that you're perfect for me. What you said that night... about us being mates... about it being wrong" she shakes her head like the thought disturbs her, like she's trying to rid herself of the memory. "That's not true. We belong together. I have never wished you were different. I have never wanted you to be more like Emerie, if that's what you had been thinking."
And she's right, that's exactly what you had convinced yourself she wanted. It had hurt beyond belief, but the ache lessons hearing Mor so sincerely tell you otherwise.
"I just... it had been so long since I had made a true friend, outside of the family. I have Feyre, but she's Rhys' mate before she's my friend, and she's been so busy lately, with her growing family."
"Were you not... were you not happy being my friend and my lover?" you whisper, always prepared to face the fact that you couldn't give Mor everything she needed.
She turns her whole body to face you, her features crumpling in devastation and shock.
"What?! Gods no, Y/N, no, that's not it at all. You're my best friend, and my wife. But we're not together all of the time... we.. we have our differences. Ones that I have never, ever wished didn't exist. It was just nice, to have Emerie, to have someone to talk weapons with, someone that could keep up with me in training, someone that understands what it's like to be a warrior and a female."
You could never fault her for that. Mor, after having gone through so much, deserved a friend she could relate to more than anyone.
"I... I understand that, Mor, I do. What I don't understand is why... or how she became more important than me. Than us." Your tone is firm, straight to the point.
Mor shudders, she squeezes her eyes shut in shame. "She never was. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I swear that no one has ever been more important to me than you, no relationship more important than our marriage."
You're reminded of Emerie telling you how Mor always talked about you, bragged about you, asked about you. You find yourself believing her, your anger slowly ebbing away.
"I got way too caught up in having fun with her, in being able to relate to her. It made me abandon you, neglect our relationship, and again, I am so sorry, baby."
The nickname tugs at your heart, the ease of slipping back into it.
Through tears and a shaky voice, you ask, "When you saw me... when you would come home at night, it felt like all you really needed me for was sex. Do you know how badly that hurt, Mor? To know that after you slept with me, we were going to wake up just for me to be alone again while you spent the day with her?"
Mor cries out, both of her hands coming to rest on your legs. "Gods, Y/N, I'll never forgive myself for making you feel that way. You were the only one on my mind, all day every day. When we made love, I was entirely there, with you. I missed you, every day, even if it was my own fault, I missed you. I just... I wanted to show you how badly I did, how much I loved you, through being intimate. I didn't realize what kind of message I was sending, and I'm so fucking sorry. You're so much more to me than sex, baby, you know that. I love you, I love you, I love you," then she brings one of your hands up to her mouth, planting a kiss to the smooth skin.
You take deep breaths to steady the overwhelming emotions, but the tears remain constant. Her words soothe your anxieties to some degree, but the hurt isn't entirely gone.
"I forgive you, Mor, but I don't know what to do, how to proceed."
Mor's breath catches in her throat, and she doesn't breathe for a few seconds. Eventually, she inhales, shakily, then speaks with a wavering voice. "I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you, Y/N, please give me the chance to prove to you, again, that you're perfect for me, the only person I'll ever need. Please, baby."
She sounds terrified, and you feel a bit guilty, because you hadn't meant to imply that you weren't sure if you'd able to continue being mated to her. Just that you weren't sure how to go from here, how to keep working on making this better.
"I-I don't want to... divorce.. or.. Gods forbid, break the bond, Mor, I don't." Mor shudders with relief, her shoulders relaxing, her hands start shaking a bit less.
"But, we can't just go back to before... we can't act like nothing happened. Things have to change."
"I understand, Y/N, I do. Tell me what you want from me, and I'll do it."
You huff a laugh at her eagerness, your tears finally ceasing to roll down your cheeks. You wipe your face with the back of your hand, but keep the other intertwined with Mor's.
"Well, first, I need to move back in, I guess."
Mor nods rapidly, "Yes, yes, please. I'll help you get your things. Come home, tonight, I can't stand being here without you."
You give her a soft smile, one that she returns. "Okay, we can do that."
She kisses your hand again, rubbing along your knuckles with her thumb.
"But, I don't think..." Mor looks at you expectantly, urging you to continue your train of thought. You clear your throat and begin again. "I-I don't think I'm ready for us to be.. intimate.. again. I-I'm sorry, I just need time, and I nee-"
"Don't apologize, Y/N, it's not necessary and I don't deserve it." Her voice is stern, and it shuts you up immediately. "I told you that you're not just sex, baby. I'll wait as long as you need. All I want is you, back home, with me, in whatever capacity you'll have me."
You nod, a bit stunned by how sincere she is, and relieved that she isn't upset with your decision.
"And, things have to be different. You have to spend time with me again, Mor. I won't be treated like that again." She nods while you talk, and it makes you grow more confident as you assert your needs. "Mornings belong to us again, and you'll speak to me, read with me, before we go to bed. You'll go into town with me, we'll go on dates several times a week, and we'll sit together at family dinner, every single time." Mor's smile grows, like she's proud of you for your demands, demands she would never dream of protesting, demands she craves, too. "You'll speak to me when you see me, you'll kiss me hello and goodbye, you'll ask me how my day was and you'll tell me about yours, even if it's something you think I can't relate to." Mor hums, she nods, she says, "Of course, my love," but you're not done yet. "You're my wife, Mor, my mate. But you're my best friend, too. You'll have to treat me as such again, if this is going to work."
Mor wastes no time agreeing. "Yes, to all of it, a million times, yes. I was a fool for not doing those things these past few months, it's a mistake that will never happen again, I promise you, Y/N." She leans in, and when you don't pull away, she presses a soft kiss to your lips. It feels like coming home, like everything falling back into place. She pulls back, cupping your cheeks with both of her hands. She stares into your eyes, an act of intimacy you can't, won't shy away from. "I'd do anything for you, give you anything, all the time in the world, if you wanted it. I love you, Y/N, and I'll forever be grateful for you, for this second chance you've given me."
You grin, then it's your turn to kiss her. "I believe you, Mor, I really do."
---
A/N: Ahhh! Part 2 is finally done! Once again, thank you so much to everyone that encouraged me to write the continuation, and all the enthusiasm you showed me! I really really appreciate all of you guys <3 I hope this part was satisfying and worth the wait :)
I know you are currently drowning in requests, but I wanted to ask if I could request an angsty mor x reader. However, if someone has already asked something like that just disregard this one xx
ILY 🌺
New Friends, Old Insecurities (1)
A/N: Yes yes yes! I love writing angst to fluff stuff! Thanks so much for the request, anon! :) This will be divided into two parts!
CW: None! But this is pure angst, so the fluff isn't til I write a part 2!
Update: Part 2 is now posted! Read it here!
---
You sighed as you watched Emerie and Mor spar, taking a seat off to the side so that you could finish up the work you'd brought along with you. You decided to come today because you've been missing your mate, but it's clear that you won't be receiving any of her attention today like you so desperately craved.
Ever since Nesta had become best friends with Gwyn and Emerie, they'd become close to everyone in the Night Court. In fact, you'd grown especially fond of Gwyn, and now considered her one of your dearest friends. Emerie and Mor had clicked, and their friendship had taken off fast. You were happy that Mor was making more friends, especially female friends as she'd spent so long just with Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel. But, you were, in fact, jealous.
You tried not to be. Really. But it was a deep insecurity of yours, that Mor would find someone better and leave you. She was just so bold, so confident, so commanding and brave. And so was Emerie. You were reserved, and quiet. You weren't a warrior like Mor, sticking to more intellectual pursuits. You didn't like to party, and you never had any interest in learning a sword. You had always wondered if Mor wished she'd been mated to anyone but you, but for the most part, you were able to look past the insecurities, as your relationship with her was loving and perfect.
But she was spending so much time with Emerie. They'd train together even when the Valkyries weren't, they'd go to Emerie's shop and talk weapons for hours, they'd patrol the camps as a pair and often sat together to talk about anything and everything. It'd been weeks of this, and though it was you that Mor came home to every night, you that she made love to, you that she said she loved, you genuinely had your doubts.
You were interrupted from your thoughts when someone came to stand in front of you. Looking up, you're greeted with Gwyn's kind smile.
"Hey," she says, hand over her eyes to shield from the sun.
"Hey," you respond, but your heart isn't in it.
Gwyn looks back over her shoulder, to where Mor and Emerie are laughing as they take a water break, and she looks back to you with concern in her eyes.
"S'fine," you shrug, a bit embarrassed that others had began to notice your mate's affections for another female.
Gwyn shakes her head. "It's not," she says, reaching her hand out to grab your own. She pulls you up and places a hand on your shoulder. "I'm done for the day, how about we go into town before dinner? We could go to the bookstore?"
You glance behind her, where Mor hasn't even turned to look at you or made her way over to say hello, and then you nod. "Yes, I think I'd quite like that."
---
"She adores you, Y/N, I think she's just forgotten how it's like to make a new, true friend, you know?" Gwyn says, taking a sip from the hot tea she'd ordered from the bookstore cafe.
Your eyes roam the shelves in the Fantasy section, your iced coffee clutched in your hand. "I never see her anymore, and when I do, it's when we're getting ready for bed, or she's about to leave in the morning, or I see her when we're all in a group. And even then, it's like she's not even with me."
Gwyn hums, then grabs a book with an emerald green cover, a dragon illustrated on the front. She flips it over to skim the back. "It is pretty shitty, I'm not denying that. But I don't believe it's because she loves you any less than she always has."
You shrug. "I don't know what to do anymore. The only time it even feels like we're in a relationship is when she wants to have sex."
Gwyn's head snaps up. "That's just wrong! I'm sorry she's making you feel this way. You deserve better. Have you tried talking to her about it?"
You shake your head, and try to stop the tears welling in your eyes. "No, I haven't. I don't know how."
Gwyn reaches out and rubs your arm gently. "You're one of my best friends, Y/N, we'll figure it out together."
You smile at her, a pure, genuine smile, something you hadn't done in weeks. "Thank you, Gwyn."
She returns the affection, then hands you the book she'd pulled. "This sounds like something you'd enjoy."
---
You and Gwyn spent hours at the bookstore, browsing and reading. Gwyn had been right, the book she'd found was exactly what you enjoyed, and you two read your new books, hers being an obscene romance title, for a while at an outdoor table, sipping your drinks and sharing a few slices of lemon cake.
You two also discussed how you'd confront Mor, and when. It was decided that you'd ask her about it tonight, before bed. You'd remain calm, and you'd try not to cry. You would avoid an argument, and you'd explain how you'd feel. It was a good plan. A solid one, that you hoped would work.
You two decided to leave as the sun began to set, knowing you'd be late for dinner at this rate, but you wouldn't miss it entirely.
You could hear your friends laughing and drinking as you arrived back at the house, and as you and Gwyn slipped your shoes off, you heard Cassian call, "There they are!" before him and Azriel came into the hallway.
Azriel smiled at Gwyn, bending to plant a sweet kiss to her lips before pulling her along to the dining room, where a full meal awaited her. You grinned at them, beyond excited that they'd finally accepted their mating bond.
Cassian clapped you on the back, smelling strongly of wine, and pushed you into the room as well. Instantly, your eyes fell to Mor. She was sat next to Emerie, who was sat in the seat you usually occupied. Instantly, your smile vanished. Gwyn met your gaze and rolled her eyes, shrugging, as if to say, "Screw them."
Your lower lip trembled at the small betrayal, but you swore to yourself that you weren't going to cry. Rather than take a seat at the table, you made your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of wine.
As you poured, you heard the door swing open behind you, but you didn't care enough to look.
"Where've you been today?" Mor asks, curiosity lacing her tone. Usually, you told Mor about your every move. Mostly because she worried when she didn't know where you were, and you liked the idea of someone caring about what you were doing.
You still didn't turn around, filling your glass nearly to the brim before setting the bottle down and taking a deep sip.
"I went to town," is your curt reply, cold and to the point.
You hear her take a few more steps towards you, but before she can reach you, you spin away from her and head towards the door, straight back to the dining room where you take an empty seat beside Gwyn, across the table and on the other end from where Mor and Emerie have taken seats.
Mor enters shortly after, looking confused, and she stares at you a long while when she notices that you'd sat as far from her as possible. You refuse to make eye contact, instead, you focus on making yourself a plate of the dinner Feyre and Elain had made. It smelled divine, and you were starved.
Conversation remained light, and mostly, you could tune out Emerie and Mor's voices, whatever conversation they were having. Gwyn, bless her, spoke to you nearly the entire time. She was a great friend, and a welcomed distraction.
When everyone began to clear their plates and put stuff away, you instantly went to the door after cleaning your mess. Usually, you and Mor would hang out for a while, then make your way home together. Without fail, nighttime was reserved for one another.
You waited by the door for a while, growing impatient and nearly ready to just leave Mor behind and wait for her at home, when she came around the corner.
"Hey," she says, furrowing her eyebrows at the sight of you all ready to leave.
"Are you ready?" Is how you respond, again, cold and to the point.
Mor rolls her eyes, confused and a bit agitated. "Well, actually, Emerie wants me to come to the shop tonight and work with her, I just wanted to let you know."
Cold dread washes over your body, your heart dropping. Once again, Mor is choosing Emerie over you, and once again, you're convinced that she wishes Emerie was her mate and not you.
"Are you serious right now?" You whisper, voice angry and brittle.
Mor says nothing, just looks at you with a questioning glare.
You laugh, humorless and bitter. You throw your hands up. "Well, Mor, you just have the most fun, and how about you stay there tonight, since you're so fond of her, hmm?"
So much for not starting an argument.
Mor recoils. "Excuse me?" she grits out, beyond offended.
"You heard me. Stay with her tonight, let's stop pretending like you don't prefer her to me," you spit, your voiced hushed as you're aware of all of your friends just in the next room over.
Mor shakes her head. "You cannot be serious right now," she glares at you like you've gone mad. "So, you're jealous?" she asks, and you don't respond. She scoffs, "I thought you were better than that."
And that, to you, is the nail in the coffin. You can't help the tears that well and spill over your cheeks. You look at her, you shake your head in disappointment, then you pull open the front door and leave.
---
You made it back home in record time, in case Mor did decide to come home, you didn't really want to face her. You slam the front door shut behind you, and in the privacy of your living room, you let loose a sob.
For weeks she'd been neglecting you, ditching you, spending more time with Emerie than her own mate. Her wife. She'd started giving the time of her day always dedicated to you, to someone else. She was never home. She hardly acknowledged whenever you were in the same place as her, and when she was home, it was to have sex, then sleep, then repeat. It hurt. And you couldn't take it anymore. You could feel the bond pulled taut between the two of you, and you closed yourself off from it entirely so that you could try to forget it even existed.
You're in your bedroom, still crying, when you hear the front door open. Mor.
She calls your name, sounding beyond frustrated. When she can't find you anywhere, she goes upstairs, and throws open the bedroom door.
When she barges in, her eyes land on your form, sat on the bed, head in your hands.
"What the fuck has gotten into you?"
Your head shoots up. "Me? What's gotten into me? I'm not the one falling in love with another woman!" Your voice is shaky, and your hands tremble as you take Mor in, her hands on her hips as she paces the room.
"Are you nuts? Emerie is my friend! I cannot believe you're acting like this out of jealousy!" She shakes her head like she's disappointed, like she's scolding a child for bad behavior.
You stand up, but you don't approach her. "And what about your mate?!" you roar, pointing a finger at her. "What about the female you married, the female you never fucking see anymore? Huh?"
Mor looks taken aback by your sudden shift from sadness to rage. "We've been bus-"
"DON'T! Don't give me that shit!" You bring a hand up to wipe furiously at the tears on your cheeks. "You're the one that's been busy with another female, I've been here, the whole fucking time, waiting for my mate to act like she's still in love with me!"
Mor flinches like she's been struck. "You can't be serious! Of course I'm in love with you Y/N, and I have seen you, every night I come home an-"
"And you fuck me then go to sleep, so you can wake up and see Emerie again." You spit, knowing it's a low blow, but that it's also true, and a cruel part of you wants to hurt her the way she's been hurting you.
Mor pales, her jaw clenches and her hands begin to sake with barely controlled anger. "We have never, ever, just fucked, and you know that. How dare you? How dare you act like every time we're together it doesn't mean something more than that?" Her voice cracks at the end, and it surprises you, that she'd start crying over this too.
"Do you think about her when we have sex?" You know you're just antagonizing her, but truly, you're convinced that you're not the female she's in love with anymore.
Mor's eyes widen, and she snarls before marching towards you. "Don't you ever fucking say something like that again! I have never not shown you that I'm in love with you!" She's in your face, and her angry tears are spilling from her eyes.
You push past her and make your way to the closet door, needing to put distance between the two of you.
"No, you've just started spending your entire days and evenings with her, only coming home to have sex with me then leave before I wake up. You've only been dedicating your time spent with me to her and her workshop, our breakfast dates to training sessions with her. You've been neglecting to ask me about my day and how I've been so that you can tell me all about your day with her. You've just been ignoring me when I'm in the same room as you two, because you're clearly having too much fun with her to be bothered. And you've started giving her my seat at the dinner table, because rather than find out where I am, you'd rather have her fill my place."
Mor's dead silent, staring at you from across the room. Her tears are still dripping, her hand is clenched into a fist and her other hand has come up to cover her mouth.
"All I've wanted these past few weeks is your attention. Your love. And no matter what I do, I can't seem to get it. But... but Emerie has no problem." You pause and take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "So, no, Mor. Maybe you've not exactly shown me that you're not in love with me, but you have shown me that you're falling in love with someone else."
She chokes on a sob. "No, Gods, no, baby. No. Never could I love anyone else."
You're crying again, and you choke on a sob mixed with a bitter laugh. "I-I think that you want to believe that. Mor, I've always known that I'm not right for you, mates or not, I think you know it too."
You turn and open the closet door, entering the small space and grabbing one of your larger bags. Mor walks in after you.
"T-That is not fucking true!" She blubbers, heaving deep breaths as she watches you pack some of your clothes.
"B-Baby, s-stop," she tries to plead, but you ignore her, and shake her hand off when she tries to grab your arm. You've just been grabbing things at random, but you need to get out of this house, now, so you can only hope that you've grabbed enough pants, shirts, dresses, and pairs of bras and underwear to actually last you a while.
You storm out of the closet and head into the bathroom to grab toiletries. Again, you grab at random, hardly able to see through your tears. And, of course, Mor follows.
"Y/N, p-please stop, we can talk about this, plea-"
You whirl around. "I've said all I needed to say! I'm done, Mor. I'm done."
Mor cries harder, looking down at the floor in utter devastation. The sound of her sobs breaks your heart even more than it already has, and you resist the urge to comfort her, to tell her it's okay, that you two can move on.
Reentering the bedroom, you throw the bag on the bed so that you can zip it up. Mor trails after you, and watches as the love of her life gets ready to leave her.
"Baby, please, I-I love you, so fucking much. I'm sorry, I-I'm so, so sorry," she can hardly get it out from how hard she's crying, and you know that if you turn around, you'll break. So you focus on sliding your bag up your arm and putting your shoes on. When you're ready, you make for the bedroom door, and you practically run down the stairs, eager to get away from the heartbreak tainting the house that was meant to be your home.
Again, Mor grabs your arm before you can open the front door. "Please don't leave, let me make this right," her voice is a whisper, muffled from the congestion caused by her crying.
You close your eyes, you don't turn to look at her. "I love you, Mor, I always will," you hear Mor's breath catch as she waits for you to finish, as she hopes that you'll relent, that you'll put the bag down and take her into your arms and let her explain and apologize and let her change so that she never hurts you again. But you meant what you said, when you told her that you couldn't do it anymore. "But I'm done. I-I'm sorry."
And with that, you're ripping the door open, and leaving into the night.
---
A/N: Whew! That was angsty! Also, just wanna add, I love Emerie! I tried to not make her sound like a female trying to take Mor away from reader, but she is the source of the issue here. Just please know that my characterization of her is not book accurate and was changed for the sake of a fight fic, I love Emerie a lot!
consider: making keigo cum so many times he cant even think. he only babbles and sobs as you ride him until he’s nothing but a stupid fucked out mess. he’s cum so many times that you’re stuffed full, but you keep going just to make him cry some more.
considered.
warnings/tags: subby Keigo, crying (ofc 😌), use of a ball gag because boyfie doesn’t know how to shut up, a bit of a wing disaster, mdni
........................................
Keigo’s loud, he always is. Especially in bed.
At first, his babbles started off as simple “please, angel”s and “can’t take anymore”s. They went through one ear and out the other as you rode him through orgasm after orgasm, though.
Now, however many blank loads later, he’s still running his mouth, except you can’t even make out what he’s saying anymore. He’s no doubt trying to speak the same begs and pleads, just now they’re overly slurred with a heavy tongue, wet lips, and hiccupping breaths.
Yes, he’s sobbing, and no, you’re not stopping.
“Kei, baby,” Your gentle voice betrays how mean you’ve been treating him, betrays how you’re still bouncing on him despite his jumbled begs. “You think you can take one more? For me?”
He hears you, you think, because then he starts sobbing even harder, fat tears breaking from his waterline and trickling down his already wet cheeks. He’s weakly shaking his head back and forth, eyes desperate and pleading.
“P-Please... no more,” he manages to choke out. “I-I can’t-”
“Oh, no, no, no,” You reach out, smear the fresh tears across his cheeks with your thumbs. “I think you can, Kei.”
The whimper that he gives almost makes you feel sorry for him. Almost. Because then you see him squeeze his eyes shut—no doubt to unscramble his brain so he can actually speak a coherent fucking sentence.
Perfect.
Perfect because now he can’t see you, can’t see how you light up because you’ve been waiting for this moment all fucking night. You slow your hips, taking his lack of vision to reach for the ball gag on the nightstand, the one you placed there in anticipation of this moment.
Once again, Keigo’s loud. He doesn’t shut the fuck up sometimes. And, although you love his babbles and pleas, you would also love to see him in other, naughtier ways. Ways that include him having a pretty red ball gag stuffed between his slicked-up lips.
His eyes are still closed when you start bringing the ball closer to his mouth, there’s a gleam of mischief in your eyes. When he parts his lips to speak finally, that’s when you shove it in.
His eyes open and shoot wide instantly, and a confused noise erupts from his throat. Before he can physically react you’re making haste to wrap the straps around his head, securing it snug and tight against his sweaty locks.
“Oh, baby,” you purr, securing your hands on his hiccupping chest to lift and lower yourself once more. He looks so pretty, just as you expected, all messy and gagged.
He chokes out a muffled sob, and his lips curl around the ball a few times like he’s still trying to speak. When his hands slowly start to inch off of your hips and towards his mouth, you snatch them up, place them back where they’ve created hot indents in your skin, place them back where they belong.
“Just one more,” you say. “You can give me one more, right? I know you can, baby.”
Keigo whines and tips his head back for a few seconds, but then he’s bringing it back up, shakily nodding at you through wet eyes. You think he tries to get out a “yes” through the gag too, but you’re not quite sure.
“That’s a good boy, Keigo. Such a good boy.” You admire him like this, all sloppy in his own saliva, tears, and cum. All of them dribbling down from his eyes, the corners of his mouth, from between both of your legs.
He softens at the praise just a bit, his wings even flutter a few times like he’s happy. He loves the praise, you know it too.
But then you’re bouncing harder, so much faster and suddenly he’s tensing up, body and wings alike, and it’s obvious that he’s reaching an edge that’s become near painful at this point.
His nails dig into your flesh, jaw clenching with the force of his bite, and every little whimper and half-gasp that escapes through the gag gets higher and higher and higher—
Then he’s crashing over his edge, hard. Harder than you’ve ever seen. So hard that his whole body shudders violently, his scream muffled but still very much loud (as usual). But what is not usual is how every single one of his feathers shoot out from his wings and impale the walls on either side of you.
You stop your motions, eyes going wide. Keigo hasn’t seemed to notice, apparently, because he’s still heaving and sobbing out like he’s fucking dying.
You wait a few moments, wait for him to come down a bit to where he’d be able to actually comprehend your words.
“Keigo, um,” you begin, “what happened?”
He must hear the shock in your voice, because then he’s looking up at you, following where your eyes lead to the wall and holy shit are those his feathers?
It’s funny how his eyes go wide as well, like even he didn’t know he could do that. You reach forward and slip the gag from his mouth, saliva drips from it and pools down from his chin, but neither of you seem to care.
“I...” he trails off, head flicking back and forth from the wall to where his wings should be. “I don’t know,”
You snort at his reaction. “You’ve never done that before?”
He shakes his head at the wall, then at you, still huffing out short and soft breaths. “N-No, this is the first time.”
“Hm,” you hum. The mischievous look from before returns, except this time, he can see it. “Well it definitely won’t be the last.”
Let’s consider! Hawks is a protective lover that’s for sure, but what if his little mate got hit by a quirk by accident that maybe gives random temporary animal traits, and reader just so happens to get bird traits! a.k.a pretty wings like his! Not only is his brain processing his love got in an incident ( nothing too serious as the quirk was a harmless one ) but now they have WINGS! Bird brain going haywire to present, protect, and nurture is new birdy love. 😳 His wings are just “out there” making sure he looks like the bird in charge to impress ( bird brain saying “okay man serenade them and show off a little” no matter already dating) and he’s just keeping anyone and everyone away from them! Poor paramedics and heroes on the scene can’t even assess them properly without an agitated Kiego keeping them away!
THIS. The wings 🥺 can we imagine them to be lil baby wings instead? Not full baby, but still baby compared to his <3
(I included some n/sfw bits too, but since they weren’t included in your ask I made them separate from the drabble. so tw: wing kink, rough s*x, Keigo flirting by comparing wing sizes 🥴)
word count: ~1.4k
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You’re propped on the back of an ambulance. Keigo can see you as he’s barreling towards you through the sky, far off and out in the distance. He can also (somehow) sense that you’re okay, no injuries to be had.
Well, besides the two wings sprouting from your back.
His eyes are like lasers, focusing in on them as soon as they come into view. His pupils slit to needles before going wide and black, and something deep within his avian mind flips.
He sees that there are two people crowding you; they’re obviously paramedics. Obviously. But not obvious to Keigo, apparently, because all he sees is competition.
He tries to act composed as he approaches you, tries his very best to act normal. The fluffed up feathers and the extreme overarch of his wings betray him, though. They cast a deep shadow over the whole back of the ambulance as the paramedics cower and sputter over their tongues, saying that they were just about to assess you, and that they would only need a few minutes.
Just about to asses you? To touch you?
Only a few minutes?
Keigo doesn’t take too kindly to that.
“Nope, they look just fine to me. We’ll be leaving now, thanks!” His voice is sing song and cheery, but it’s spoken through a plastered smile and gritted teeth.
You can tell he’s on edge just from that alone, and then he’s plucking you right from their grasp (despite their protests) and taking straight to the skies with a mighty flap.
“Keigo—ow! You’re hurting me!” you try to say over the heavy wind.
His grip on you loosens, but only slightly. The nails digging into your sides don’t exactly feel too comfortable either.
You relent, since it’s obvious that he won’t, and no more words are exchanged until he’s stumbling you both through your balcony doors. You expect to be let down, to be released from his (unusually harsh) grip because that’s what always happens, that’s what’s routine.
Except this time he doesn’t. His head is way too close to your neck, and his eyes are peering over your shoulder. And he just stays like that and breathes.
“Keigo,” you hesitate. “What are you doing?”
You can’t see him completely, only that his wings look much larger than usual from where they’re arched over and around you. Their color is a bit more vibrant as well. It looks nice, you think. Pretty and weirdly dominant.
(And that’s just what Keigo wants you to think—)
“You. Have. Wings,” he mutters slowly, deeply, but it’s more to himself than to you.
“I do, yes,” you mutter back, and you start squirming after a few *very* heavy breaths are released on your neck. “Can you let me down now?”
You’re thankful that he does, but then he twirls you around so your back is facing him, and he holds you there with firm hands on your shoulders.
“Really?” you huff.
“They’re cute. Smaller than mine,” he notes. He almost sounds proud at the discovery. Dominance definitely secured. “Can you move them for me?”
“But they’re sore, Keigo.”
You can’t see his pout as he says, “Please? Just once.”
You huff again, louder this time, and Keigo’s response is to give you a firm squeeze. He’s stubborn, you know this, and frankly you don’t have the energy to match his right now, so you relent once again with a defeated sigh.
Your face scrunches in determination and your fists turn to balls at your sides as you try your best to control the new and weirdly heavy limbs. It takes a few moments, and all you manage to dish out are a few sporadic flaps.
And Keigo melts.
“That was so fucking cute,” he says under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing!” he’s quick to chirp. Then he’s snaking an arm around your waist, leading you towards the kitchen. “Let’s get you something to eat, yeah?”
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now for the n/sfw <3
Keigo and WING KINK. x1000000 now that you've sprouted some (even though they’re temporary. sad face).
He just can’t stop himself from eyeing them up, from touching them up, especially when you’re both tangled in bed, all dewy and breathless and wanting. They’re just like his: soft, and fluid, and sensitive. And oh my god does this man abuse that fact to the max.
His favorite is when he gets to see them flutter, when you whine over how you can’t control it.
“Just feels too good, Kei—” you whine as the thick drag of him catches your sweetest spot, over and over and over.
He has a perfect view of your back from where he’s got your chest arched into the mattress, your hips propped up and sinfully presented. It’s become his go-to position as of late (for obvious reasons), and you can’t see it, but his wings start to flutter too.
“Fuck—angel,” he groans. “O-oh fuck, you’re so fucking hot—”
It’s dirty, it’s so dirty, and the sight of your wings like that has his eyes nearly disappearing into his skull. His hips start moving on their own, faster and faster and harder, greedily chasing his own high.
Keigo lets out a few strangled moans and leans down until he’s pressed flat against your back, right in between your wings. They’re brushing against his sides because they’re still moving, and Keigo can’t stop himself from sinking his teeth into your shoulder and growling.
It’s carnal, it’s possessive, and the pain makes your wings shoot up and stiffen for a brief moment as you muffle a whimper into the sheets.
“Don’t you dare hide those pretty little moans,” he snarls into your skin, and a rough palm grips your roots and yanks you back up. “Let me fuckin’ hear them.”
He ruts into you with more desperation now as your broken voice fills the room, and his hips get messy, so much more sloppy and it’s obvious that he’s dangerously near his end.
You are too, though, that much is also obvious with the way your walls start to pulse around him, greedily sucking him in.
So he lets the blunt of his nails dig into the meat of you, until both of your breaths are short and ragged and then suddenly bursting out as that sharp edge is finally reached.
He lets your roots go just as he curses out, just as you cry out, and his ruthless thrusts soon turn into soft and shallow ones.
Keigo lets you ride out your high, lets your soft moans be muffled into the mattress (this time) from where your head has plopped down, and after a few sticky and breathless moments, he pulls your limp form into his chest just as he flops to his side.
Your wings are still fluttering, he notices, he can see them from where he’s smushing your face into his chest, from where he’s peering over your trembling shoulder. His eyes soften at that, his heart does too, because the simple act tells him that he did a good job. Well, that’s how he takes it, at least. Whether they’re still moving because of afterglow or because of rapture, either way, he takes it as a gentle reassurance.
Keigo runs his thumbs down your back, massaging and searching for the tension that the weight of your wings have brought you. He brings his lips to your forehead too, mumbles sweet praises and bits of love against your dewy skin.
He doesn’t voice how he’ll be (very) sad when your wings have to go. He’s sure that he’ll internally pout for days when they disappear, but all of that can be dealt with later. For right now, he’ll savor in the time that he does have with them, such as by taking advantage of any patrol-free nights to indulge in not-so-innocent activities.
Maybe he’ll even buy you a fake pair to wear on special sinful occasions.
(Spoiler alert: he already has.)
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askjfdshasdjka you guys. I’d also like to add this: Keigo takes every opportunity to compare his wing size to yours. kind of like how people compare hand sizes as a way of *not so subtly* flirting. it fluffs his ego and this weird birdy dominance that he’s found he loves to have over you.
it’s honestly so childish, how he teases you about having smaller, “baby” wings, but really his d*ck is throbbing in his pants throughout <3
oh my gosh WILLOW THIS !! IM LOSING IT OKAY OKAY BUT LIKE CONSIDER:
on the topic of wing kink 👀 he would definitely use this time to plot some much needed, well thought out revenge. He’s had to deal with all of your constant teasing about his wings, how sensitive they are, how easily he becomes putty in you hands. But really, cmon now, let’s be honest here. His wings are the only thing, the only weakness, that kept him from being completely dominant in the relationship. His wings and the promise of what the stimulation did to him is the only thing that gave you hope for being in charge every now and then.
(oh boy this got long oops-)
But now, with your new appendages, he’s not holding back. It’s only fair right? He’ll act all coy, puppy eyes and pouty lips to boot whenever you accuse him of purposefully brushing up against them throughout the day. He’ll glide a hand down your back, blunt fingernails (purposefully) scratching at the roots of the sensitive plumage between your shoulder blades, smirking when you try and hide the way you shiver in delight.
It’s through the small actions, the teasing, the calculated “accidental” instances that leave you a mess by the end of the night. It’s so confusing, scary almost, realizing just how sensitive they are and the power Keigo holds over you with them in his palms. So much so that you’re shy coming to him about it, knowing his high horse ass is gonna look at you like that, giving you that “I told you so” look. Sadly, you break anyways, succumbing to the incessant throb that’s been resonating through your entire bottom half since lunch.
And he couldn’t be more satisfied. The way you push your thighs together, the whiny quality your voice has taken up when you ask him so politely “Please.. please just do something about this, I can’t- can’t take it anymore, Kei..”.
You just look so sweet.. but your puppy eyes and pathetic excuses won’t turn back time. Won’t make up for all those humiliating times you’ve held him in the palm of your hand, eating out of it like a damn dog just because you knew his weakness. No no no, he’s gotta drag it out, gotta make you feel the same pain he’s felt.
And so, that is the night that spawned Sadist Keigo into existence. Relentless, harsh, candy smiled Keigo, who giggles in response to your cries of pleasure and pain. Keigo, who’s cock throbs every time you beg for him to stop, how “it’s too much”. You have a history of being so cruel to him, using his wings as an excuse to turn him into a whiny mess countless times in the past. So now, he’ll extend the same sympathy towards you <3
your tags........ “I hope you don’t mind” ........ZULA. THIS IS DELICIOUS AND SO SEXY. NO I DO NOT MIND. Akjdkajdkakaksa thank you for the horny addition <333
You couldn’t help but love the way he came home after long missions, all pent up and ready to fuck the daylights out of you…
Warnings/tags: rough reunion sex, biting, a bit of wing kink, sex-starved keigo?, he just misses you, can you blame him?, he’s also the biggest softie with aftercare
Aziraphale’s phone rings. He answers, expecting it to be Crowley. But to his surprise, it’s a demon he’s never met.
“I’m Crowley’s replacement,” the demon says. “He’s not done anything impressive lately, and Downstairs doesn’t like how ineffective he is at keeping you in line. So now he’s shuffling paperwork and scooping up hellhound shit while I do his job for him.”
“Ah… I see,” Aziraphale says icily. “Well, I most assuredly do not look forward to working with you.”
The demon laughs. “Feeling’s mutual.”
Twenty-four hours later, the demon is very surprised to find himself discorporated in his sleep. He can’t explain what happened, he has absolutely no idea.
“Don’t let it happen again,” Beelzebub says, annoyed, and sends the demon back up.
After a mere three days, the demon ends up discorporated again.
A new replacement is sent up. This one lasts for a week and a day.
A third replacement is sent up. This one lasts for exactly four hours.
Three demons are sent up next time. Two manage to stay alive for at least five months. In that time, they botch four very important temptations, and the citizens of London inexplicably find their daily lives much improved in thousands of little ways. Traffic and pollution are nonexistent, injury and illness are miraculously avoided. Church attendance is up five hundred percent, and every politician and CEO is struck by the urge to donate as much money as possible to charity. There’s a general feeling of contentedness and goodwill in the air that wasn’t there before. It feels downright heavenly.
Suddenly, Beelzebub is having a very hard time finding anyone to take Crowley’s post. Bribes and threats make no difference. The rumors have spread and only grown more disturbing in the telling. Not one demon is willing to go up there and face the cold, calculated, merciless wrath of the angel known as Aziraphale.
Crowley absolutely loses it when someone gets around to telling him. “Y’know, I could’ve warned you,” he says gleefully. “Been working with him for thousands of years. I know exactly how much of a bastard he can be.”
After running the numbers and seeing how many souls they’ve lost to Heaven in the past year, Beelzebub gives up and concludes that trying to replace Crowley is a massive waste of resources Hell can’t afford.
After one year, Aziraphale receives another phone call. He answers, with bated breath, and nearly shouts for joy when he hears a familiar voice.
Its been a while since I’ve done an update so here it goes
At this point I am 3 years into my Hormone Replacement Therapy. I’m thriving.
These pictures were taken days apart and I am 3 and a half years into my medical transition (The picture on the right was also posted by Instagram on all their major social media handles attached with an interview I did with them for International Women’s Month)
During this time I was 4 years into HRT. Clearly living for it.
I am currently 4 and a half years into HRT, 5 years into socially transitioning, 6 years into when i first came out to my community around me and I’m loving life more than I ever thought I would.
Today is my 6 years on HRT! Half a dozen years seems like it went by a lot faster than i thought it would but I’m so grateful for the place that I’m in both with my appearance and my perception of myself. I feel a confidence I never thought I could achieve.
I just found out that you’re the asshole who has been stealing my coupons from the Sunday newspaper every week and I am going to make. you. PAY!! AU
You’re mowing your lawn at 5AM and that is completely unacceptable and I’m going over to your house to yell at you about how unacceptable this is AU
I always see you doing weird shit at ridiculous hours of the night and it makes me feel better because I do weird shit in the middle of the night too AU
You greeted me in the strangest way this morning when I was getting my mail and we’ve been neighbors for like 3 years and this is the first time you’ve ever spoken to me I have no idea what is going on AU
It’s like 3AM and my roommate locked me out of the house and I forgot my keys and I’m really drunk pls take pity on me and let me crash at your place for the night o’ neighbor of mine AU
You’re a famous viner and I constantly witness you doing the weirdest things AU
You live in the apartment above me and your water pipe burst and is flooding into my apartment and you can hear me yelling so you come down to my apartment to see what’s going on and witness me standing in my kitchen/bathroom/whatever, holding an umbrella, screaming at the water pouring out of my ceiling and crying because I have no idea what to do and we both just kinda stand there in shock as my stuff gets ruined and you let me crash in your apartment until my apartment gets fixed because you feel bad AU
You keep borrowing shit from my tool shed without even asking AU
I just moved in next door and I’m like 99% sure you’re insane AU
Every year we both go all out for holiday decorating and we’ve developed this rivalry so intense that we’re p much famous in our town for it AU
We’re both single parents and our kids are best friends with each other AU
In which we live in a relatively rich neighborhood and during summers we obnoxiously sit in loungers, drinking lemonade, and ogle the cute pool boy together AU
The walls in this apartment building are really thin and I can hear you having mental breakdowns all the time are you okay? AU
You’re one of those annoying people who tries to make casual conversation all the time and brings people baked goods and stuff and I just want to mind my own business but somehow we end up being friends or something?? AU
This is the first time I’m living on my own and my parents decided to spontaneously drop by in a few hours to see how I’m doing pls let me borrow some cleaning supplies and food so that my parents will believe I’m a functioning, responsible adult who totally cleans and doesn’t just have condiments and eggs in my fridge AU
We have weekly get-togethers where we gossip about our other neighbors AU
Your dog keeps pooping on my lawn AU
You just moved in next door and you’re convinced your house is haunted so you seek refuge at my house when you get freaked out and eventually rope me into investigating for paranormal activity and the only reason I’m doing any of this is because you’re really freaking cute AU
All of our other neighbors are crazy so we bond over that fact that we’re the only normal people on the whole street AU
just want a Transformers show where the humans they become friends with are millennials and gen z kids with those generations senses of humor and it makes even the Decepticons worried for them
