#(DID...DID I HAVE TOO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS? A LITTLE...
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witchywithwhiskey · 2 days ago
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don't play with love potions
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pairing: new avengers!bucky barnes x witch!female reader
summary: bucky barnes barges into your workshop while you're brewing a love potion and when you're startled into spilling it, the containment protocols in new avengers tower are triggered—trapping you in with the super-soldier and a whole lotta love potion.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, dubcon because lust magic, sex pollen, pwp, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, multiple sex positions, Bucky pins reader's wrists at one point, finger sucking, biting, rough body play, overstimulation, cockwarming, dirty talk, degradation kink (Bucky's a little mean, and so is reader), praise kink, teasing, begging, fighting for dominance, enemies to lovers, pet names (witch, angel), aftercare, happy ending
word count: 8.9k
a/n: whew! here's my entry for week 6 of @buckybarnesevents's Hot Bucky Summer!! i'm cutting it close to the wire, but it's been a looong week. i wasn't even sure if i'd get this done in time 😅 y'all voted for Bucky and reader to be dosed with sex pollen, and i had the idea of some enemies to lovers smut with witch!reader, so that's what i went with—and i'm happy with how it turned out!! enemies to lovers is always fun to write, and i especially loved the push-and-pull dynamic of these two. i hope y'all enjoy it!! ♡
prompt: “I need help.” | [Sex Pollen | Erectile Dysfunction | Fuck or Die]
Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist
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Your day had started off with the best of intentions. You’d disappeared into the potions workshop Valentina Allegra de Fontaine had set up for you in New Avengers Tower, and you were intent on creating a very specific kind of love potion. 
Well, you couldn’t really say you’d had the best of intentions, but they were at least the most mischievous of intentions. You had a theory, and you figured a love potion was the best way to test it.
So you spent long hours in your workshop that fateful day, messing around with various ingredients and combinations, trying to mix up a strong, but relatively short-lasting love potion that would make two people unable to resist each other. 
All the while, you kept John Walker and Ava Starr in the back of your mind. 
The two members of the New Avengers were always sniping at each other, always sparring in the gym when they had free time, and you suspected there was something more going on there. Something that was beginning to throw off the balance of the team.
But you didn’t want to make your colleagues do anything they didn’t want to do, of course—you just wanted to give them a little push. So you made sure the potion only worked if the people dosed were already attracted to each other. 
Once you thought you had the combination right, you began pouring the finished potion into glass containers. You were just thinking of ways to slip it to John and Ava, or trap them in a room and set it off, when the trouble began.
Bucky Barnes barged into your workshop—as the annoying super-soldier often did—and immediately launched into a tirade of criticism over your witchcraft. 
Apparently, the hair growth potion you’d given Alexei Shostakov had worked too well, and his chest was covered in hair so thick, he was having trouble fitting into his Red Guardian outfit. Of course, according to Bucky, this was all your fault. 
You would’ve rolled your eyes, if you weren’t staring in horror at the rising plume of thick, pink smoke quickly filling the workshop. Following its trail, you found shattered glass at your feet, the remnants of a bottle that had once held your love potion. 
All you could do was look at the broken bottle, dumbfounded that you’d been so startled by Bucky’s sudden appearance that you’d knocked it over. You didn’t think the super-soldier had that much of an effect on you, but apparently you were wrong.
The evidence of just how wrong you were was filling the room, your potion having turned into a magical gas that was rapidly pouring into the room. As you watched it plume and expand, leaving nothing but broken glass behind, your shock was quickly replaced by anger. 
The potion you’d worked on all day had turned into a gaseous fog, and there would be no putting it back in the bottle. All your hard work was going up in smoke—literally—right before your eyes, and you whirled on Bucky, ready to give him a piece of your mind.
Before you could open your mouth to yell at the blundering super-soldier, and berate him for charging into your workshop without knocking, a metal shield slid down over the door with a loud clang, locking it shut. A tinny, automated voice filled the room, notifying you and Bucky that containment protocols had been initiated.
For a moment, you were stunned into silence.
When Val had set you up with the workshop, you thought she’d been exaggerating about the protective protocols put in place for any errant witchcraft. You’d assumed it was a lie to keep you in line, so you didn’t mess with anything that could harm the others or the tower.
Apparently, she wasn’t lying (for once), and you were about to learn the hard way not to play with love potions in New Avengers Tower. 
“How many times have I told you to be more careful, witch?” Bucky hissed, hurling the epithet like an insult across the span of the workshop. 
Your eyes found the super-soldier through the pink gloom, giving him your harshest glare. But he wasn’t even looking at you. He was warily watching the pink smoke swelling and enveloping the room. 
“And how many times have I told you not to disturb me while I’m working, soldier,” you snapped back, spitting the last word with as much venom as you could muster, which was quite a bit despite the worry in your gut. You glanced around the room as well.
The smoke was filling up your workshop so quickly, you knew you were seconds away from breathing it in, and you had a good idea of what would happen to your body once you did. 
Across the room, you watched Bucky’s nostrils flare, the super-soldier dragging in a deep breath to respond to your sharp words. 
For a moment, all you could think about was how grateful you were that you’d made the potion so it would only affect those who already felt attraction—even if that meant it would affect you when you were in such close proximity to Bucky.
It was your most shameful secret that you harbored secret fantasies about the annoying super-soldier, and what was beneath that black and red superhero suit he wore. More nights than you could count, you got yourself off to the idea of Bucky railing you to within an inch of your life. 
So you knew the magic-induced lust would hit you like a freight train as soon as you inhaled the pink smoke. But at least you’d be alone in feeling the effects of the love potion. Because there was absolutely no way Bucky was attracted to you. 
The super-soldier had made it very clear during the months you’d worked together that he couldn’t stand you. 
He called you ‘witch’ every chance he got, had a problem with everything you did, and otherwise avoided you unless he was criticizing your recklessness on the last mission. There was no way he felt anything but irritation for you. 
But none of that dampened your attraction to Bucky Barnes. 
And you were minutes, if not seconds, away from letting him in on your deepest, darkest secret—that you wanted him. So you fortified yourself, knowing you’d have to resist begging him to fuck you for as long as possible if you ever wanted to look him in the eye again.
While the pink smoke continued filling the room, you tried not to breathe too deeply, but it soon became unavoidable. The sweet-smelling gas infiltrated your senses, and once you got your first whiff, you inhaled until your lungs were full of the magic smoke. 
A delicious, pink haze fell over your mind, the edges going fuzzy while your body felt like it was floating. It was a pleasant sensation, almost like you were weightless and wrapped up in the most delicious scent you’d ever smelled.
Then, the burning ache began.
It hit you like a punch to the gut, the sudden, needy pulse between your thighs. All of a sudden, you could feel your racing heartbeat in the throbbing of your core, and your inner muscles clenched pathetically around nothing.
A whimper escaped your lips before you could bite it back, and you hunched over your worktable, your hands clutching the edge, nails digging into the wooden surface as you tried to control the urges surging through your body.
You wanted to hurl yourself across the table and into Bucky’s arms. You wanted to tear your clothes off and then his, making it easy to impale your body on his hot, hard length…
“I need help.”
The words were a gasp, a plea hurtled into the thick fog of smoke filling the room. Wildly, your eyes searched through the gloom to find Bucky. He was standing rigidly next to the door, looking like a statue made of granite for how motionlessly he stood.
“I need you to tie me up,” you said, your tone sharp with an order. Despite the state of your body—which had begun to sweat beneath your clothes from the warmth building in your core—you couldn’t bring yourself to be nice when you asked the super-soldier for help.
Bucky was quiet for a moment, his blue eyes bright in the pink duskiness of the room. He raked them down your body, seemingly taking stock of the way you were curled in on yourself. 
Surely he could see you were in pain and would help you. He was constantly annoyed by your existence, but he was a good man. He would help.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to get anywhere near you,” Bucky said stiffly, his gaze unreadable when it returned to yours. 
A slight frown pulled down at the edges of Bucky’s mouth, but that wasn’t abnormal when he was in your presence. A quick glance down his body assured you he looked normal, as if he wasn’t affected by the smoke. So you didn’t understand his reluctance.
“Why?” you asked, huffing an annoyed sound as you stared at the super-soldier, willing him with your mind to answer. 
You had to bite back a whine when you breathed in more of the smoke, the burning ache between your thighs increasing enough to make your arms start to shake. Your nails bit deeper into the wooden table.
“The effects aren’t contagious. You can touch me, you’ll be fine,” you said, trying to reassure the hesitant super-soldier, though your voice came out more annoyed than soothing. It was difficult to sound calm when you wanted to climb Bucky like a tree and fuck him.
Bucky’s knuckles cracked so loudly in the quiet room that your eyes dropped to his hands. They were curled into fists, his fingers clenched so tightly, it looked like it hurt. In fact, when you looked closer, every muscle in his body was wound tight enough to snap.
Your brain, which was trying to feed you an endless stream of images of you fucking the super-soldier, was slow to catch on to what Bucky’s body language meant. 
“What…the hell is happening?” you asked, your voice wary, your eyes darting up and down Bucky’s form. Your mind was torn between appreciating his thick biceps and noticing the way his legs looked ready to pounce. For some reason, you couldn’t make sense of it. 
Instead of answering your question, Bucky only clenched his fists tighter, and you could hear his knuckles crack again. 
“What was in that glass you broke?” he asked, the question sounding like it was ripped from the depths of his barrel chest.
It was on the tip of your tongue to hiss back at him that you wouldn’t have broken anything if he hadn’t startled you by barging into your workshop unannounced—especially after you’d told him multiple times not to do that because the magic you dealt with was volatile. 
But you managed to bite back your harsh words when a wave of need crashed through you. You could…you could smell Bucky, even across the room. He smelled like salt and man, the scent so deliciously potent, you had to close your eyes and gather your wits before responding.
“I was just messing around with a love potion,” you admitted. Your voice was thin as you tried to play it off as no big deal, though the wetness dripping from your core and soaking your clothes painted another story.  
When you managed to wrench your eyes open, you found Bucky glaring at you from his side of the room.
“What the fuck—why?” he growled through clenched teeth, his blue eyes flashing with fury.
You basked in Bucky’s anger, the emotion stirring something inside you besides need. In your moment of relief, you clung to your tiny kernel of rage, shooting the super-soldier your own glare.
“I wanted to test out a theory about Walker and Ava,” you said in your most lofty tone, knowing it would only piss him off more. “You may not have noticed, soldier, but they’ve been circling each other for weeks and it’s messing with the team.”
At his sides, Bucky’s hands unfurled and curled tight again, like he was restraining himself from doing something—strangling you probably. It gave you a sick sense of satisfaction to see him reacting to your words, even if it was only out of anger.
“Why the fuck would you do that, witch?” Bucky growled, dragging your attention back to his face. He barely looked like himself, and you realized, all of a sudden, that the potion was doing something to him.
He was glaring daggers at you from across the room, his blue eyes piercing through the pink gloom still swirling in the air. The look in his gaze was wild, his mouth twisted into an angry sneer, and his body was practically vibrating with a furious tension.
Unfortunately for you, all of that rage only made Bucky impossibly hotter. He looked like your most shameful fantasies come to life, and he was standing right in front of you, only a worktable between you. 
Desperately, you wanted Bucky to take out all his anger on your body. You wanted him to pound his thick cock into your tight cunt with all the fury on his face, and then you wanted him to spill his seed deep in your body, growling in your ear the whole time, telling you that you belonged to him…
God, you needed to touch yourself. You needed something to stave off the throbbing ache beneath every inch of your skin. But you refused to do that in front of Bucky, not when he was standing right there and staring at you like you were little more than a bug beneath his boot.
You dug your nails into the wooden worktable you were hunched against, forcing yourself to remember your anger at the super-soldier and answer his question.
“It’s only supposed to work if both people are attracted to each other!” you cried, defending yourself, though your voice came out as a pitiful whine. Shaking your head, you tried to clear the pink fog from your brain as you muttered, “I must’ve messed up the ingredients.”
It was the only explanation you could come up with for why the potion seemed to be affecting Bucky. You still couldn’t believe he might be attracted to you, but something was happening to him. It was undeniable in the tense way he held himself.
Bucky’s rough voice sounded in the dim room, catching your attention and pulling you from your thoughts. 
“You didn’t.”
The super-soldier’s words were barely discernible through the growl in his voice, and your eyes snapped up to him. Confusion drew your brows together when you saw the tortured look on his face.
“What?” you asked, your voice sounding dumb even to your own ears. But you couldn’t seem to catch up with what he was saying.
Bucky looked away. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, fighting the urge to sink your teeth into his neck. You didn’t understand the impulse, only that you wanted to taste the salt straight from Bucky’s skin.
“You’re gonna make me say it?” he asked harshly, his eyes flicking back to yours before skating away, looking around the room as if searching for an exit you knew didn’t exist. He looked like he’d rather die than say whatever it was.
You were about to tell him you didn’t understand, but a wave of need crashed over you so strong, your knees wobbled and nearly gave out. You slumped further over the worktable, a whine building in your throat. 
The pink smoke wasn’t dissipating, the magic overwhelming whatever ventilation system was installed in the tower. If anything, it was growing thicker, stronger, and along with it, the need to have something inside you became excruciatingly painful. 
“Bucky, please,” you whimpered, not knowing if you were begging him to answer your question or to fuck you. Your eyes searched for his through the gloom, and despite the thickness of the fog, you could see Bucky’s face perfectly.
He looked devastated, his eyes filled with a concern you’d never seen directed at you as they raked over your hunched form. His arms were shaking, and his fists had curled so tightly, his knuckles had all bled white. He looked as wrecked as you felt.
When a rough sound came from his throat, your thighs trembled dangerously and your core clenched with need. Between your legs, your skin was sticky with sweat and desire, and all you could do was look at him pleadingly.
“I’m attracted to you, witch.”
If you’d been struck by lightning, right there in the tower, you would’ve been less shocked than you were by Bucky’s confession. It hit you like rolling thunder, an awareness spreading through your body as your heart raced in your chest.
The insistent, pounding pulse between your thighs grew even more ravenous, your body shuddering as your pussy clenched hard around nothing. With a groan, you bent over your worktable, pressing your heated forehead to the cool wood.
Then you laughed. 
The sound was scratchy and half-hysterical, filling the room with ridiculous peels of laughter. You couldn’t believe it—couldn’t believe Bucky was being serious. All you could do was laugh. It was either that or cry. Or beg him to fuck you. 
So you laughed, and you couldn’t help but notice Bucky didn’t join in. 
When you were able to get enough control of yourself, you tipped your head to the side and looked at Bucky across the room, still standing as motionless as a statue. 
“No, there’s no way,” you huffed, laughter still bleeding into your voice. Your shoulders were shaking and you wiped tears from your cheeks, unable to lift yourself up off the table.
Bucky’s jaw was clenched hard, and you couldn’t be certain, but you thought you saw a faint pink flush in his cheeks. Before you could puzzle over what that meant, the muscle in his cheek popped and distracted you. 
He must’ve been grinding his teeth something fierce, and you wondered fleetingly what he was thinking. You wondered if he’d take back what he’d said, admit it was a joke. But he didn’t.
“How long is this going to last?” Bucky asked finally, seemingly trying to change the subject.
You were so busy trying to figure out what might be running through the super-soldier’s mind that you answered unthinkingly. “A couple of hours, or until…”
Images of Bucky fucking you filled your head again and you trailed off, getting lost in the fantasies for a moment. 
“Until what?” Bucky snapped, his eyes finding yours. There was a desperation in his gaze that you’d never seen before. 
Errantly, you wondered what emotion you’d find in his eyes if you sank down on his cock. Would he stare at you with the same intense desperation, needing to come, or would his gaze fill with arrogant satisfaction. 
You closed your eyes against those thoughts, unable to look at him while you answered his question.
“Or until we do something about it, ok?” you said, your words a pitiful whine as they spilled from your lips. Your nails dug into the wooden worktable again as you attempted to ground yourself, but it barely worked. “I’m trying really hard to control myself over here, soldier.”
Bucky was silent for a long minute, and you focused on the sound of your breath. You tried to keep them even, tried to slow your racing heart, tried (and failed) to ignore the thrumming pulse between your thighs.
Then, Bucky growled, “Don’t.”
Your mind, which had wandered into a fantasy of Bucky bending you more fully over your worktable and fucking into you from behind, had lost the thread of the conversation. You lifted your head, looking at the super-soldier with confusion. 
“What?” you asked dumbly. 
That muscle in Bucky’s cheek popped again, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. You could tell it was taking him a great deal of effort to be patient with you, but somehow he managed. 
“If it makes this torment end faster, don’t control yourself, witch.”
Something in the distant recesses of your mind bristled at the implication in Bucky’s words, that it was agony to want you as badly as he did. But the rest of you fixed on the fact that his words sounded like an invitation—and it was one you wouldn’t pass up. 
Rising up off your worktable, you stood for a moment on shaky legs, then took an unsteady step toward the super-soldier. When he shifted toward you, you broke into a sprint, rounding the table and running across your workshop before launching yourself into his arms.
Bucky caught you easily, and you wasted no time. Your lips crashed down on his and you kissed him with all the ravenous need raging through your body. 
With a growl, Bucky turned and pressed you into the wall beside the door, kissing you just as fiercely. His tongue invaded your mouth as if he owned it, taking possession of your body as he kissed you deeply, thoroughly, licking your moans from the back of your throat.
You could feel his thick cock pressing into the slit between your thighs through your clothes. He was twitching and throbbing and you ached to get him inside you, but for the moment, all you could do was kiss him and touch him. 
The hunger in your core was satisfied with that, for a short while anyway.
Your hands were everywhere at once, skimming up his broad biceps and tangling in his hair. Your nails raked down the back of his neck, your fingers tugging impatiently at his superhero suit. 
You rolled your hips against his, grinding your hot center down on his thick bulge, and you moaned miserably into his mouth as the need grew desperate again.
“I don’t want to hurt you, witch,” Bucky rasped against your mouth, and you jerked back, shocked by the care in his voice. 
His eyes were pained as he held your gaze, and he looked so agonized and noble, you could only roll your eyes.
“You’re not gonna break me, soldier,” you promised, ducking your head and dragging the flat of your tongue up the column of his throat. When he made a rumbling, guttural sound, you sank your teeth into his neck, smirking when his hips kicked between your thighs. “Just shut up and fuck me, Barnes.”
With a low roar, Bucky’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you in for another devastating kiss. His hands tore at your clothes until they were nothing but shreds, falling from your body to land in a pile on the floor. 
Then he dropped you down to your feet, and helped you remove his suit. Your movements were frenzied, desperate, and when he was finally bare, the two of you crashed back together.
Bucky hauled you over to the closest worktable, clearing everything off with the sweep of his arm. If you’d been in your right mind, you would’ve been furious, but the lust pounding through your body was too needy to care what he might’ve broken. 
You just wanted him on top of you, inside you, surrounding you, overwhelming you. You kissed him harder, your hands tangling in his hair and yanking him closer, your mouth devouring his.
A needy whimper slipped from your lips and Bucky swallowed the sound hungrily. Then he was laying you down on your back on the cool wooden surface of the table, and he was climbing on top of you. So much of his heated skin was touching yours that you moaned into his kiss.
He broke away, sucking and nipping at your jaw, then down your neck while his hands groped greedily at your tits. He kneaded your soft flesh and plucked at your nipples, wringing mindless sounds of pleasure from your lips. He ducked down, sucking on your nipples until you were squirming beneath him. 
All the while, your fingers clutched at his soft, brown hair, holding the super-soldier close. Of their own accord, your legs wrapped around the backs of Bucky’s thick thighs, and you felt his cock, hot and heavy, lay against the soft folds of your pussy. 
“Bucky, I need your cock,” you whined, barely sounding like yourself. You sounded like a weak, pitiful creature, so you yanked hard on Bucky’s hair to remind him—and yourself—that you were just as fierce as him.
The super-soldier, however, barely reacted. He was busy inhaling greedily at the pulse point in your throat, and groaning when the smell of your skin invaded his lungs. 
You let out a keening, desperate whine, your hips rocking beneath his big body, and you yanked on his hair again, even harder to get his attention. The super-soldier huffed a sound of annoyance, biting into your skin at the base of your throat until you went limp beneath him.
“Be a good little witch and I’ll give you my cock,” Bucky rumbled into your skin before licking and sucking his way back up your neck.
At his words, you tensed, something close to a hiss spilling from your lips. You yanked on his hair until you could look him in the eye, and you gave him a glare. “Now, soldier.” 
Bucky’s eyes darkened, his face twisting into a snarl as he shifted onto one arm. Reaching between your bodies, he lined up his thick cock with your tight hole. 
Still holding your furious gaze, he dragged the head between your messy folds a few times, until you were whimpering pathetically beneath him.
“You want my cock so bad, witch,” he ground out, the muscle in his cheek popping with fury. “Then fucking take it.”
With that, he impaled you in one swift thrust. He filled your tight hole with every inch of his thick cock in a hard, powerful thrust that had you stretching around him to accommodate his size. 
Blinding, pain-edged pleasure tore through your body as he split you in half, and an orgasm detonated suddenly in your core. It crashed over you in unrelenting waves, your body bowing up off the worktable as a scream ripped from your lips.
Above you, Bucky grunted, his hips grinding between your thighs as he rocked into your clenching pussy. He was staring down at you with something like wonder in his face. 
“Did you just come on my fucking cock, witch?” he growled, his hips drawing back before slamming into you again, driving his hard length deep into your cunt. “Such a needy fucking slut, huh, coming on your soldier’s cock so fast?”
You sobbed your pleasure, nodding your head as tears spilled down your cheeks. It was so good, the feeling of Bucky’s cock filling you up. His pounding thrusts only made the pleasure spiral higher, dragging out your release for what felt like forever.
Finally, the waves of pleasure started to ebb, but instead of satisfying the burning, magical ache deep in your core, your release only spurred you on. In a matter of seconds, you felt like you hadn’t come at all, the desperate need in your body building again.
You clung to Bucky desperately, your nails digging into the warm, golden skin of his shoulders as your legs hooked around the backs of his thighs. You used your leverage on his body to hump your hips up against him, meeting his brutal thrusts as the sound of your bodies coming together filled the room. 
“More—Bucky, I need more,” you hissed, writhing beneath him, trying to take him deeper. You wanted to feel his cock pounding against the end of you, his balls slapping your ass. You slid your hands down his back, your nails digging into the hard muscle of his ass. “Fuck me harder, soldier.”
Bucky gave a feral roar, burying his face in your neck, and then he was fucking into you even harder and faster, moving beyond what should be possible for a normal human man. A scream wrenched from your lips, and you rolled your hips desperately as your pleasure built. 
“Ya got such a greedy cunt, huh, witch?” Bucky rasped in your ear, growing more furious with every word. “I already made you come and you want more already? Is that how this is going to be—you make demands and I’m meant to be your mindless soldier who fulfills them?”
Before you could respond, Bucky pulled out of you, breaking free from the hold of your legs and leaving you crying out pitifully at the loss of him. He flipped you over so your front was pressed into the unrelenting surface of the worktable, shifting so his legs caged in yours.
The super-soldier pressed you flat to the table, then slid back into your pussy. Grabbing your arms, he held your wrists pinned to your lower back so you couldn’t move. All you could do was take him, take his cock as he fucked you without mercy.
His hips slapped hard against your ass, the smacking sound filling the room, and his heavy balls teased your clit with every rough thrust. He held himself up with his metal arm planted beside your head, and you shifted to press your lips to his vibranium thumb, pulling it into your mouth so you could suck on it idly.
“I like this better, witch,” Bucky rumbled in your ear, splitting you open with his cock as he fucked you into the table. “Having you at my mercy—and having you do what I tell you for once in your fucking life.”
A moan slipped from your lips, sounding like an agreement even to your ears. You didn’t know what Bucky was doing to you, but you felt yourself slipping deeper into the pleasure filling your body. All you could do was take his cock, feel it pounding into your cunt, and it felt glorious. 
You never wanted it to end, never wanted him to stop fucking you. So you didn’t protest his words, even as they turned filthier. There was a meanness in his tone that had you clenching even tighter around his cock, your body loving the way he spoke to you.
“You’re so much sweeter like this, witch,” he growled in your ear, his hand tightening around your wrists as he fucked you in deep, hard thrusts. “I think I like you best like this—when you’re so drunk on my cock, you can’t talk back.”
It didn’t even occur to you to respond to Bucky. You just sucked on his thumb harder, flicking your tongue over the tip lazily. Sharp sounds of pleasure spilled freely from your lips, drool trickling from your mouth and pooling on the worktable beneath your cheek. 
Bucky lowered his big body down on top of you so he was nearly crushing you. His scruffy jaw rasped over your cheek before he nipped at the lobe of your ear. 
“Fuck, your cunt’s sucking my cock so good, angel,” he rumbled, his voice getting rougher as he fucked you harder. “You feel so good—why do you feel so fucking good, witch?”
The super-soldier sounded tormented, and you understood the feeling. It wasn’t fair that it was so good with him—better than it had ever been in your fantasies. You had to believe it was the potion, because you didn’t think you’d survive if it wasn’t.
“Oh fuck, ‘m gonna come,” Bucky rasped above you, burying his face in your shoulder. “Gonna come inside your tight fucking cunt, witch—ya ready for it?”
“Yes,” you sobbed pulling away from Bucky’s thumb and catching his eye over your shoulder. “Make me come, soldier, make it end.”
Bucky’s blue eyes glinted with something dangerous as they raked over your face. “Beg me, witch,” he growled, his words so gruff you could barely understand them. “Beg me to make you come.”
Your heart lurched in your chest and something deep in your soul rebelled against the command. You were a powerful witch, you didn’t beg anyone for anything. 
But you knew Bucky well enough to recognize the stubborn set of his jaw, and the ruthlessness in his gaze. You held his stare for a long moment, trying to fight the need to give in, but ultimately your desire won out. 
“Please, Bucky,” you rasped, the words rough like you’d dragged them from the pit of your being. “Please rub my clit and make me come.” The pleading spilled more freely from your lips the more you spoke, your need urging you on. “I need it so bad—I need you, Bucky, please!”
Bucky’s eyes flashed, and you thought you caught the hint of a grin. But then he picked up his pace and you were lost. 
Your eyes rolled back in your head as Bucky rutted into you, pounding you into the table until your hips hurt and your cunt was clenching tight around his hard length.
When it was almost too much, Bucky reached under you, freeing your hands so he could slip his warm fingers between your thighs and rub your clit. It took only a few rough strokes before you were coming apart for him.
You came with a piercing scream, your release overwhelming you as pleasure ravaged your body. It blotted out everything else besides Bucky and his cock—his perfect cock that kept fucking you while he chased his own pleasure.
“Fuck—fuck, take my come, angel, take it deep in that sweet cunt,” Bucky growled, his words cutting off in a loud grunt as he shoved his cock deep inside you. His teeth sank into your shoulder, biting you and muffling a roar against your skin as he came.
His hips pressed flush to your ass, fucking you shallowly as he unloaded himself in your pussy. You felt his cock twitch, and his warm come filling you up and you trembled in pleasure, basking in the sensation while you writhed beneath him.
Time stretched like taffy as you both reveled in your pleasure, and you didn’t know how long it had been by the time Bucky let out a last, shuddering groan. He collapsed on top of you, though he was careful not to crush you.
You thought it was over, but you’d barely heaved a sigh of relief before warmth began to prickle beneath your skin again. The heat spread quickly, like your release had only taken the edge off before it came back stronger, headier.
“Ba-Barnes,” you whined, squirming beneath Bucky, your hips rolling when you felt him harden inside you. “I don’t think it’s—oh fuck.”
The super-soldier pulled his hips back and snapped them forward, burying his stiff length in your already well-used pussy. You trembled at the almost unbearable sensation of his hard cock dragging against your sensitive inner walls, a mindless moan slipping from your lips.
“I’m sorry, witch,” Bucky mumbled into your neck, his hips pumping faster and faster. “But I don’t think the magic’s worn off—fuck, ‘m not done with you yet.”
All you could do was sob your pleasure, your hands reaching back for him, needing something to ground you as he sent you flying all over again. He buried his face in your neck, groaning as he set a brutal pace, fucking his come deeper inside you as he fucked you into the table.
“Fuck, witch, what’d you do to me?” he rasped into the hollow beneath your jaw, his scruff tickling your neck. “I’ve already emptied my balls in your hungry cunt once, and I can’t stop—can’t stop until I fill you up until your belly’s bulging with my seed.”
“Bucky, yes,” you cried, lifting your hips so he could sink even deeper inside you. He was so big and hot and heavy inside you, and you wanted his come, you wanted him to fuck you and fill you up until you couldn’t take anymore. “Give me more, soldier, I need all of you.”
At your demand, Bucky growled, the sound not entirely happy. It seemed to spur him into moving. 
Pulling out of your greedy hole, he flipped you over and spun your bodies until he was stretched out on his back on the worktable. He stared up at you, wonder and fury blazing in his blue eyes as you impaled yourself on his cock, taking every inch of him inside your hot cunt. 
The position had Bucky’s cock pushing even deeper into your cunt, and you threw your head back, savoring the feeling of being filled by his thick length. It wasn’t until Bucky gave your ass a sharp spank that you refocused on the super-soldier.
“If you want more, you’re gonna have to do some of the work, witch,” Bucky rumbled with a smirk, reaching his metal arm back and laying his head on it, propping himself up so he could watch you squirm on his cock. His other hand rested on your hip, anchoring you to his body. “Bounce on your soldier’s cock, angel, lemme see what a slut my sweet witch can be.”
It wasn’t in your nature to follow commands blindly, but even you couldn’t resist the desire to do exactly what Bucky had said. So you writhed above him, spurred on by his words as you rocked your hips experimentally, feeling his thick length shift inside you.
Bucky’s jaw clenched and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, his eyes going molten as he watched your hips hump on his cock. It was intoxicating, watching him unravel for you, and you realized you couldn’t get enough. You wanted more.
Planting your hands on Bucky’s broad chest, you lifted your hips and slammed back down. The super-soldier groaned loudly, his eyes sliding closed with bliss, his hips rising up off the table to meet your bouncing body.
Leaning down, you let your mouth brush teasingly against Bucky’s, pulling away when he tried to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. You laughed softly as you retreated, your hips lifting up and slamming back down at a relentless pace.
“You want a slut, soldier?” you asked in a sultry voice, your tone only a little bit mean. “I’ll show you such a good time, you’ll be begging to get back inside my cunt even after the potion’s worn off.” You nipped at his lower lip, moving away again before he could catch you for a kiss. “Maybe if you’re nice, I’ll even let you fuck me again—without the magic.”
Something in Bucky seemed to snap and he let out a furious roar, his face contorting with rage. Quick as a flash, he grabbed your hips and, using his super-soldier strength, he bounced you on his cock like you were nothing more than his own personal fleshlight. 
“You think I’m the one that’s gonna be addicted after this, angel?” Bucky growled meanly, fucking into you harder—so hard you had to cling to his arms to hold on. “You’re gonna be so drunk on my cock, you’re gonna be crawling back to me, begging to be my slut, witch.”
Bucky sat up suddenly, his metal hand curving around the back of your neck and his other arm banding around your lower back, holding you pinned against his body. His blue gaze was furious as he stared deep into your eyes, stealing your breath with the intensity of his look.
“You’re going to beg me to make you my fuck toy, angel,” he promised, his fingers tightening around your neck with a possessiveness you didn’t know he was capable of—and it had you gasping with excitement. He smirked smugly at the look on your face. “Just you fucking wait.”
You wanted to protest Bucky’s words, but you were slack-jawed with pleasure. The position of his body, and the rolling, deep thrusts of his hips had you barreling toward another release. Your clit was rubbing against the base of Bucky’s thick, perfect cock and all you could do was tip your head back and moan.
“Fuck, Bucky, just like that, I’m gonna come,” you whined, your nails digging into the hard muscles of his biceps. You clung to him like he was the only thing between you and death, all while he sent you hurtling toward a release that you knew would be devastating.
“Do it, witch,” Bucky growled, his voice harsh. His chest heaved with effort as he bounced you on his lap. “Come all over your soldier’s cock—show me what a good, filthy slut you are for me.”
Despite yourself, his command had your release crashing over you, you body going rigid and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. A broken scream left your lips. All you could feel was wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure rocking through your every limb, leaving you shaking and gasping.
Distantly, you were aware of Bucky roaring as he rutted into you, his cock twitching as he came deep in your cunt. You felt his warmth filling you, sating something in your soul that you weren’t sure had anything to do with the love potion, but you didn’t bother thinking about that just yet.
You let your release roll through you, reveling in the pleasure and clinging to your soldier all the way through it. He held you just as tight, his face buried in your neck, sucking greedily on your skin as you rocked together until the waves of pleasure finally ebbed.
With a weak cry, you collapsed against Bucky’s chest, both of you slumping down to the table as you caught your breath. You lay sprawled across Bucky’s broad form, his warm hand resting on your lower back, your bodies still joined where his cock remained inside you.
For the moment, the magic-induced heat in your blood had abated, but you could still feel it at the edge of your awareness. It was giving you a reprieve, but it was biding its time until the potion would have you fucking again. 
“I thought you said this need would end if we did something about it,” Bucky grumbled, his chest rising and falling beneath your limp body as he caught his breath. “I can still feel it—what do we have to do?”
“Fuck, I don’t know,” you whined, burying your face in Bucky’s sweaty chest. 
That was a mistake, because you inhaled the full brunt of his scent, making your mind go hazy around the edges. It was so good, and your body still felt so sated from your orgasm that you could feel your walls crumbling. 
You didn’t have the energy to keep them up, and you felt emotion slip into your heart. Without meaning to, you let yourself be vulnerable in front of Bucky, not caring for once about appearing like the strong and formidable witch that you were.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into his skin, defeat making you feel heavy. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been messing around with love magic—I’m so fucking stupid.”
Embarrassment rushed in as soon as the words were out, and you tried to pull away while keeping your face hidden so Bucky couldn’t see your shame. But he shocked you by tugging you right back to where you were. He held you tight to his chest and brushed a kiss to your damp forehead.
“It was a foolhardy idea, but you’re not stupid, witch,” he murmured into your hair, his calloused fingers stroking up and down your spine in a surprisingly soothing gesture. “Were you acting like an arrogant idiot? Yes. Were you being reckless? Definitely.”
You snorted, the sound derisive in the quiet of the room, and Bucky squeezed the back of your neck firmly until you went silent again. He heaved a sigh, then continued speaking, so quietly you weren’t sure if you were even supposed to hear him.
“I have a soft spot for reckless idiots apparently.”
The two of you let those words linger in the air. It almost didn’t seem possible, that Bucky Barnes had a soft spot for you, but he’d just said as much. It took you a moment to believe it, but when you did, you lifted up and pressed your mouth to his in a sweet kiss.
Bucky groaned softly, his hand cradling the back of your head while you kissed, each of you exploring the other the way you hadn’t earlier. When his tongue slipped into your mouth, you whimpered, feeling his cock harden inside you and reigniting the spark of lust. 
“What do we do?” you whined when you pulled away to gasp for air. Your eyes found Bucky’s, giving him your best pleading look. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
Bucky let out a soft breath, cupping your cheek in his warm palm, his thumb brushing your cheek comfortingly. 
“We ride it out, angel,” he said gently, tipping your head down until your forehead pressed to his. “We hope you were right that it’ll wear off in a couple hours.”
Unbidden, tears gathered in your lashes and leaked from your eyes. It was exquisite torture, feeling Bucky’s hard cock inside you, and you rolled your hips even as you cried softly.
“I’m sorry, Bucky, I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, emotions rushing through you that you didn’t understand, mixing with the heat of the magic into a heady, overwhelming mix. You clung tighter to Bucky, apologizing over and over again even as you rocked against him.
Bucky rolled you over onto your back, holding you cradled against his chest as he loomed over you. He kissed the tears from your cheeks and fucked you in slow, deep thrusts that set off sparks of pleasure in your core. 
“Ya gotta be strong for me, angel,” Bucky rasped against your cheek, kissing away your tears as quickly as they fell. “Where’s my headstrong, reckless witch who was demanding more from her soldier just a little while ago?”
A wet laugh bubbled from your lips, and you turned your face, kissing Bucky, feeling endlessly grateful that the super-soldier was being so patient with you. That he was showing you he liked every side of you, even the ones you thought annoyed the hell out of him.
The longer you kissed your soldier, the more you were able to sink into the building desire burning in your blood. Your legs hooked around the backs of Bucky’s thighs, and he groaned in pleasure when you lifted your hips, meeting his thrusting cock.
Your fingers sank into Bucky’s brown hair, twisting mercilessly in the strands and yanking on him roughly, your hips moving faster as you urged him on.
“Fuck me, Bucky,” you whined against his mouth, swallowing his grunts of pleasure. “Use me like my body is your own personal fuck toy, make me drunk on your cock, make me a mindless slut for you, soldier.” You pulled back, catching Bucky’s eye and shooting him a wicked smirk before murmuring, “That’s an order.”
With a low, rumbling growl and a wolfish grin, Bucky grabbed your thighs and hiked them up to your chest, folding you in half and pinning you to the worktable while he pounded into you. His cock sank deep inside you, mercilessly bullying your cunt with every thrust.
“Don’t order me around, witch,” he rumbled, though there wasn’t as much heat to his words as there had been earlier, and they were further softened by the look of reverence in his eyes. “You’ll take my cock like a good little slut and you’ll fucking thank me for it.”
“Thank you, soldier, thank you,” you gasped, writhing beneath Bucky’s bigger body. You yanked on his hair, dragging him down for another filthy, messy kiss, and he fucked you harder, both of you racing toward another release. 
Together, you tipped over the edge, losing yourselves in each other. You moaned against each other’s mouths as you both came apart, your bodies entwined so tightly, you barely knew where you ended and Bucky began. 
Without you noticing, the last wisp of the pink smoke that had once filled the room finally filtered out, and the containment protocols locking the door were lifted. But it would be a long time before the effects of the love potion wore off. 
You and Bucky kept going at it for another few hours, fucking late into the night and making each other come until both of you finally passed out from exhaustion.
When you woke, Bucky’s cock was still inside you, and your first instinct was to roll your hips. A moan slipped from your lips at the delicious drag of him inside you, his hard length twitching in your pussy. 
It took your tired mind a moment to realize the magical heat in your blood had finally disappeared, and you slumped back down on top of Bucky. You were sprawled on top of his chest, his breath stuttering on a groan as he roused.
Turning your face up, you pressed a kiss to the scruffy underside of Bucky’s jaw. “It’s finally out of our systems, soldier,” you murmured, knowing he’d be able to hear you.
Bucky grunted, his arms tightening around your waist. You could feel his hips lift slightly beneath you, fucking deeper into your aching cunt, managing to wring even more pleasure from your body.
“Mm, are you sure, witch?” he rumbled in a teasing tone, his hips bucking more noticeably beneath you. Your inner walls clenched weakly around him, as if urging him on. “Because your sweet cunt’s calling to me, begging me for another load.”
You tried to huff a laugh, but the sound devolved into a helpless mewl as you felt him move inside you. The slide of Bucky’s cock in your pussy was made easy by all the come he’d emptied inside you, and you could feel new wetness leaking from your hole at the idea of him spilling his seed inside you again.
Lifting up only enough to find Bucky’s lips, you kissed him lazily before pulling away to tease him back. 
“I told you you’d be addicted to my cunt after the potion wore off, soldier,” you murmured against Bucky’s mouth, your lips curved in a smile. “Do you think you’ve been nice enough that I should let you fuck me?”
“I think I’ve been very nice to you, witch,” Bucky said, the warmth of a grin in his tone. “And don’t act like you aren’t dying to fuck my cock again, angel.” His hips lifted up off the table, bouncing you on his hard length.
“Fine, fine,” you said, trying for a teasing tone, but it came out too breathy. Your fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair, and you kissed him more deeply. “Fuck me, soldier, and make it good, because after this, I’m gonna need so much food and water—and to sleep for a few days.”
Bucky chuckled against your mouth. “You got it, witch,” he said, fucking up into you in long, deep strokes that had you seeing stars. Your pussy was sore from all the pounding you’d taken earlier, but that made the pleasure all the more decadent. 
You and Bucky writhed together on the worktable, your bodies exhausted but still craving more—wanting at least one time without the magic clouding your minds. You kissed as you came together, your releases blistering and deeply satisfying as they burned through you, your moans filling the room.
After, you and Bucky were so tired, and it was so late, that you didn’t speak as you stumbled off the worktable. He helped you tug on his undershirt, since he’d ruined your clothes when he’d torn them off you, then he pulled on some pants.
Leaning against each other for strength, you made your way through the tower to the kitchen, grabbing some food before heading to Bucky’s room. There, you ate and then tumbled into bed together as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
In the morning you’d have to talk about the state of your relationship, but it was nice to simply exist quietly together. You’d spent so much time arguing with Bucky, that it meant more to feel safe and secure enough with him not to talk than if you’d filled the air with mindless chatter.
So you remained silent as Bucky wrapped you up in his arms, holding you tight to his chest in his bed. You tipped your face up for a brief kiss, and then settled down, letting yourself savor the comfort of his body.
You fell asleep quickly, a smile on your face as you gave in to the exhaustion and bone-deep satisfaction you felt. Even if you didn’t have any of your love potion left, it had been a good, meaningful day. 
Thanks to a barging super-soldier and that broken container in your workshop, you learned a few lessons about witchcraft: Drink lots of water before brewing love potions. Make sure to store potions in unbreakable containers. 
And don’t play with love potions unless Bucky Barnes was close by—just in case you needed a little help. Thankfully, after that day, he was never too far away. He was your soldier and you were his witch. Forever.
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thank you for reading!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated ♡
Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist
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bbgsaja · 2 days ago
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աɦɛռ ǟ ʄǟռ ʄʟɨʀȶֆ աɨȶɦ ȶɦɛʍ (Ֆǟʝǟ ɮօʏֆ)
featuring - Baby x F!Reader, Jinu x F!Reader, Abby x F!Reader, Romance x F!Reader, Mystery x F!Reader (separate) summary - you're not happy about how bold some fans can be, but he's got you warnings - none a/n - here's a little crack post so i can also announce the results of the poll: most of you voted YES for a sequel series so i am going to do it! for those who wanted HCs and short fics as well, if i get an idea i will write it out 🫶 also i HC Abby as a gentle giant so if that's not your thing, please don't fight me, just don't read
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You were with them at another fan event, this time centered around them with your group, Huntrix, being the event crashers. It had become a fun dynamic, and the fans loved the back and forth between the two groups.
You were just sitting, leaning back in your chair as they continued signing fan posters with their faces on it. And then it happened.
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BABY
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the fan walked up to the table, biting her lip to hold back an excited squeal
you were looking at your phone, unbothered, until you heard the way she gushed
"oh my gosh, Baby! you're so much cuter up close! your hair looks so soft, can i touch it?"
you blinked
the nerve
but before you could open your mouth to say something, your boyfriend was already on it
"thanks, but no," he deadpanned, "only my girlfriend gets to touch my hair"
he gestured to you
"and she does not like it when fans get too familiar."
the fan instantly deflated, her smile falling. she quickly apologised, took her signed poster and left
you looked at Baby, "You didn't have to be mean."
"I don't like anyone touching me," he shrugged, "except for you."
then he leaned in and kissed your cheek, his hand reaching under the table to squeeze your thigh
you short-circuited, and didn't say anything for the rest of the event
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JINU
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you were talking to Mira next to you as Jinu signed fan posters, not expecting someone to come up and outright flirt with him
"Jinu!" a high-pitched squeal made you falter mid-sentence. "i love you! you're so handsome, and i'm so obsessed!"
your head snapped in that fan's direction, eyes narrowed
Jinu laughed nervously, looking around for help
he stuttered something out, nervously fidgeting with his pen, struggling to sign the poster
his cheeks were bright red
you were about to say something, ready to speak up for your cute, flustered demon, but he beat you to it
cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry, but that was inappropriate. my girlfriend is sitting right next to me."
he's so cute you just want to smother his face in kisses
the fan apologised and took her fan poster and left, her face flushed with embarrassment
you leaned in and kissed Jinu on his cheek, "you're adorable"
instant red cheeks again, stammering, blushing mess
"i-i-you-you can't just do that!"
you just laughed and intertwined your fingers with his under the table, which seemed to relax him
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ABBY
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honestly, you were falling asleep
head resting on his shoulder, eyes drooping
you did not see the very enthusiastic fan with hearts for eyes skipping up to the table
but you heard her
"ABBY!" the squeal itself almost shattered your eardrums, "you're so hot! can you flex for me?? can i see your abs?!"
so Abby flexed his thick arms, captivating not only the fan but you as well
but when she looked at him expectantly, waiting to see his abs, he became a little nervous
you opened your mouth to speak for him, feeling bad, but also ready to rip her a new one for attempting that on your boyfriend, but he ended up speaking before you did
"i'm sorry, but i don't want to take my shirt off," he said firmly, "that would be disrespectful to my girlfriend," he gestured to you
the fan looked embarrassed, mumbling an apology before taking her signed poster and leaving
"i don't think i've ever said no to that before," he frowned
"it's okay, babe. setting boundaries is good," you kissed his cheek sweetly
then you kissed his bicep and he short-circuited
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ROMANCE
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you were whacking him with your pen every two seconds for flirting with a fan
they'd say something like "your hair is so pretty!" and he'd smile charmingly and wink at them
or he'd tell them he liked their shirt/hair/nails, whatever
you were surprised you hadn't broken your pen yet
but you were about to break his foot
one particular fan came up and asked about his skincare routine
he rambled off a bunch of names even you didn't know and started explaining his thirteen-step routine
you were tapping your temple impatiently, until you heard him say, "but your skin is flawless! what do you use?"
you jabbed the heel of your boot into his foot, hard
he screamed, bit on his hand and whimpered
the fan looked at him questioningly, but he shook his head, then smiled - a bit painfully
"sorry, i meant you should ask my girlfriend what skin products she uses because look at how she practically glows!" he wheezed
the fan turned to you, smiling, with no idea what was going on under the table, and you happily told her
when she took her poster and left, you ignored Romance
until he started flirting shamelessly with you in front of all the fans, and you had to shut him up
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MYSTERY
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this is why he barked
fans often mistook his silence for shy, submissive, reserved
he was not
most of the fans came and got their signed posters without hassle, but there was one that annoyed you
she approached like any other fan, her eyes bright with hope
then she started babbling, something about how Mystery's hair looked so soft and what did he use for his hair
all the while he was just looking at her, not saying a word
and then he noticed you sitting and looking irritated, arms crossed
he turned to the fan, signed her poster and handed it back, still saying nothing
when she asked him again, he simply said, "thank you for coming"
and she had no choice but to leave
he turned to you, his hand settling on your shoulder, silently asking if you're okay
"i'm fine," you smiled at him, "at least you didn't bark this time"
and you didn't know if it was a trick of your mind or not, but you thought you heard a soft, breathy chuckle from him
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deadpoetskin · 13 hours ago
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SHE DOES, MINE
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SYNOPSIS: Damian Wayne has never been the kind of man to fall in love halfway. And when he loves, he does it with all the ferocity and devotion of someone who was trained to safeguard what he holds most dear So when the girl he loves shines—he makes sure the world never dims her PAIRINGS: Aged Up! Damian Wayne x Reader TAGS: Alternate Universe, Romance, Fluff
🜼 :: i've seen too much alpha male content on tiktok i had to write this masterpiece to calm myself
🜼 :: i get that this might be ooc for damian—like i said, i'm not very familiar with the canon material yet—but i don't care because this is my fic and i can do what i want with it
🜼 :: i wanted to post this before part three of my tim fic just 'cause that one isn't quite done yet. i'm not yet satisfied with the way i've written it so this is a little something to have while you guys wait for that one.
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There’s something in her—
Something radiant.
It’s not loud or dramatic.
Not desperate or flashy.
It’s just… bright.
The way she walks into a room and transforms it, like someone opened the windows and let the sunlight in—suddenly everything feels warmer, clearer, alive.
Damian fell in love with that brightness.
And the moment he did?
He made it his job to protect it.
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One Year Ago
He showed up on her window balcony with a dislocated shoulder and a look that said: don’t ask.
So she didn’t.
She just opened the window, said, “You’re bleeding on my basil,” and went to get the first aid kit.
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They weren’t dating then. Not really.
He was Damian Wayne. She was the girl who sat beside him in class—lip gloss always perfect, boots too pretty for Gotham grime, with a knack for saying something ridiculous and making it sound profound.
They met in a Philosophy 101 elective.
He thought she was an idiot for quoting Barbie.
She thought he was repressing sixteen years of rage and probably slept with his fists clenched.
Both were right.
But they also partnered on a debate project, complained about their annoying classmates, and kept running into each other at increasingly inconvenient moments.
He’d show up to class with split knuckles and a stitched lip, and she wouldn’t ask. She’d just pass him an ice cold water bottle, slide her hoodie over for him to use as a makeshift ice pack, and keep talking like nothing was unusual.
One time he came in with blood drying beneath his collar. She only raised an eyebrow, moved her takeout box closer to him, and said, “The garlic bread is still warm.”
When he disappeared for five days and returned, knocking on her door—limping, face paler than usual and shoulder stiff—she didn’t ask where he’d been. She just opened her door, pointed him to the couch, made soup, and put on a movie he once mentioned he enjoyed.
He stopped showing up anywhere else after long nights. Only her window.
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They weren’t supposed to fall in love. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love
There were too many unsaid things between them—too much shadow in his world, too much light in hers. He carried weight in his shoulders like he was always bracing for war. She wore joy like armor, all sunshine and clever comebacks, like she could survive anything as long as she stayed golden.
But he kept coming back. For her. For the way she patched him up in glittery pajamas and brewed him coffee the way he liked it. For how she met every argument he made—disarming his logic with a well-placed “actually”—and still managed to be gentle about it, like she was offering correction with a ribbon tied around it.
For the way she made being brilliant look fun—and made him feel things he wasn’t supposed to. Things he didn’t have the time or luxury for.
It drove him insane.
He called her infuriating. She called him dramatic.
He kept coming back. And she let him.
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Eventually, he told her. About Robin. About the League. About the fact that he wasn’t just bruised from bar fights, but from chasing actual death through rooftops and gutters.
She blinked. Took a breath. Then asked, “So that’s why you’re so bad at texting back?”
He stared.
She handed him his coffee. “Cool. That explains a lot.”
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Now
Damian Wayne doesn’t do anything halfway.
Not in battle. Not in love.
So when it came to her—there was never going to be anything halfway about it.
He calculated the risk, weighed the consequences, and still handed her the keys.
He didn’t accidentally fall in love.
He didn’t casually let her into the Bat-side of his life.
And he’s sure as hell not going to keep living under the same roof as his gossiping, nosy, emotionally invasive brothers when he could be waking up next to her in a place of their own.
So yes.
The only logical next step?
Move out. Take her with him.
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“Damian. Baby. Love of my life. Please do not fold my dress like it’s a tactical vest.”
She didn’t even look up from her side of the room, where she was carefully organizing makeup into a padded case like it was crown jewels. Damian, meanwhile, was frowning over her favorite silk dress, currently flattened into a rectangle.
“It wrinkles when you pack it like that,” she said, tone calm but pointed—clearly watching him out of the corner of her eye.
“It’s more space-efficient,” he said flatly, still folding.
“It’s Dior.”
“That doesn’t make it less wrinkle-prone.”
She sighed, standing up and crossing the room to peel the dress from his hands. “This is why you’re not allowed near my closet unsupervised.”
“I rescued a civilian diplomat in less time than it’s taking you to pack makeup,” he muttered, watching as she delicately re-folded the fabric with a practiced roll.
“And yet here you are,” she said softly, “ still showing up for me anyway.”
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He flies her to the new place—not because it’s far, but because he likes the way her eyes light up when he does things like that. Private jet. Window seat. Her favorite drink already waiting.
The residence is technically still in Gotham.
Discreet. Reinforced. High above the noise.
A penthouse—three levels of clean lines and curated light. 
The kitchen looks like it was designed for a cooking show.
There’s library already holds all her annotated books, shelved just the way she likes them.
Their bedroom has blackout curtains, soft sheets, and her favorite throw blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed.
She’s silent for a long moment. Then:
“You decorated.”
“Tt. I’m not a savage.”
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The adjustment, the rhythm, the quiet luxury of building something together.
It doesn’t happen all at once. But the space eventually starts to feel like them—like a home.
Damian, ever precise, takes to domesticity the way he does combat: intensely, instinctively, and with startling dedication. 
He remembers—too clearly—those nights she wordlessly cleaned the blood from his knuckles, nudged a warm bowl of fresh soup toward him, handed him a fresh shirt and didn’t ask questions.
Back then, he hadn’t known how to say thank you. So now, he shows it in the only way he knows how: by making her life gentler wherever he can. By handling the sharp corners before she gets near them. By protecting her from the quiet exhaustion she never complains about.
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It starts small.
She’s humming—soft, distracted—while folding towels on a quiet Sunday afternoon.
Damian walks in.
Pauses. Frowns slightly.
“Beloved.”
“Hmm?”
“You shouldn’t be doing that.”
“It’s laundry. I’m not battling Deathstroke.”
“Still.”
Two days later, every piece of clothing she owned—including ones she didn’t remember buying—was folded, hung, and steam-pressed in perfectly color-coded rows.
No explanation.
Just a silent housekeeper named Marta, who appears twice a week like clockwork.
“Why?” she asks later, a little amused.
“Because you were humming,” he says simply. “And your voice is better when you’re not tired.”
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She doesn’t cook. Unless you count heating water for tea.
Every morning, she wakes up to a pre-set breakfast bar tailored to her weekly cravings.
Avocados? Already sliced.
Eggs, soft-boiled for exactly six minutes? Naturally.
Chocolate-dipped strawberries on Tuesdays? Of course.
She once jokingly asked for pancakes shaped like bats.
The plate was waiting the next morning—complete with tiny edible batarangs. 
“You know I can cook, right?”  she once mumbled, more puzzled than insistent. 
Damian, without looking up from his tablet, “You could also write a thesis in glitter gel pen. Doesn’t mean you should.” 
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She doesn’t grocery shop. She’s never had to. 
The fridge is always stocked. The pantry never dips below half. The fruit is always fresh, the snacks never stale, and somehow, everything she loves appears just before she realizes she’s craving it.
The exact brand of instant ramen she lives on during final?
Local lemonade she swears tastes better than store-bought?
Her favorite brand of oat milk that always sells out?
It’s just there. Always. As if the universe anticipated it
—or Damian Wayne.
He’d hired a private grocer before they even moved in. Arranged deliveries on a rotating schedule. Commissioned a smart inventory system that flagged replacements before she noticed anything missing. 
There’s no grocery list taped to the fridge, no scribbled reminders on the counter, no panicked “we’re out of milk” moment. It just… never happens.
“Did you go to the store?” she asked once, squinting at the restocked shelf of her favorite jam.
“No,” Damian said. “The store comes to us.”
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She doesn’t clean.
Not because she’s lazy.
Because Damian has built a life where she simply doesn’t have to.
The housekeeper arrives exactly when they’re out.
The vacuum runs on a silent schedule while they sleep.
There’s a scent diffuser system that releases calming scents like warm vanilla and fresh linen. 
The kinds of scents that say: You’re home.
She tried to vacuum once.
He unplugged the cord without a word, handed her a cup of tea, and delegated the task to Marta.
“This feels excessive,” she said once, laughing.
“No,” Damian answered. “It’s called priorities.”
“Priorities?”
“Yes. You have better things to do than chase dust bunnies.”
She huffed a laugh. “Like what?”
“Being brilliant. Annoying me. Tending to your garden of plants you call your children.”
“Your attention is a resource I refuse to waste on dust.” he said simply.
The only time she ever picked up a broom was to threaten Jason with it.
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She asked him once.
“Is this a power thing?” she’d asked, curled in his lap on their couch.
“Are you trying to take care of me because you think I can’t?”
He had looked at her then, calm and deadly sincere.
“No. I’m taking care of you because you shouldn’t have to waste your time doing menial things. Because your time is valuable. Because your mind is extraordinary. Because I can.”
She didn’t answer right away. Just rested her head against his shoulder, eyes soft.
“You know I’d do the same for you, right?”
“I know,” he murmured, brushing his fingers through her hair. “That’s why I won’t let you beat me to it.”
“You protect the city,” she tells him once. “And I don’t even do the dishes.”
He looks at her like she’s lost her mind.
“You protect me.”
He said it like a fact.
And she didn’t laugh. Didn’t roll her eyes or argue like she usually might.
It was ridiculous. Over the top. The kind of thing people say in movies, in poems, in love songs whispered between verses.
But the thing about Damian Wayne was—
To him, her happiness wasn’t a luxury. It was a metric. A criteria for what was worth her time, her effort, her energy.
If it drained her, it was cut. If it bored her, it was handled. If it made her pause too long before smiling, it was gone by morning.
“But Damian—”
“If it doesn’t make you happy,” he said, quietly, forehead pressed to hers, “it doesn’t belong in your day.”
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One of the things she does do—without fail—is wait up.
Damian came back with blood on his sleeve and exhaustion in his bones. The patrol had gone longer than expected, and the gash across his arm told her more than any debrief ever could.
She met him at the balcony window, arms crossed, your expression sharp with worry poorly disguised as irritation.
“We are having words,” she said firmly.
“I neutralized a threat—” he started, voice hoarse.
“No,” she interrupted, stepping forward and grabbing his uninjured wrist. “We are having nourishment, then words. In that order.”
He grunted something unintelligible, but didn’t pull away. Let her guide him out of his boots. Let her steer him to the kitchen. Let her fuss over him even as he rolled his eyes and muttered that he was fine.
Damian Wayne might be a soldier, might be lethal, might have faced down warlords and monsters—
But in her hands, he was just a man who needed soup, stitches, and someone to tell him not to bleed on the countertop.
And she always did. Every time.
“You disobeyed a direct girlfriend command,” she said, dabbing antiseptic on his scrapes and bruises. “I should revoke your forehead kisses.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” he grunted.
She simply leaned in, kissed his brow—gentle, lingering, a silent promise—and whispered, “Next time you come home bleeding, I will.”
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It makes her happy, he knows.
To help.
To protect him the way he protects her.
To be part of this secret thing that is his, and now, theirs.
And because he has her…
He trains harder. Fights harder. Smarter. Cleaner.
He fights with her voice echoing in his ear, and with the knowledge that if he slips—if he falters—it will scare her.
“You did good tonight,” she says after every patrol. “Come home safe. That’s all I want.”
So he does.
Because she keeps him steady.
Keeps him from going too far, from losing himself in the mission.
From the silence that used to follow him home.
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It was the first time she’d ever hosted anything in their penthouse.
She’d sent the invite on impulse, halfway through raiding the pantry for snacks. Damian hadn’t said anything when he saw the group chat name pop up. He only raised a brow and muttered something about “surviving one evening of meddling.”
The Gotham Partners Support Group™ hangout? snacks, drinks, and possibly unsolicited love advice
KORI: absolutely, i will bring flowers!! KON: on my way as long as no one makes me play charades DICK: lies, you love it
She laughed out loud reading it, already half-buzzing with excitement.
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Kori’s heels click against the polished marble, echoing softly through the open space.
Kon lets out a low whistle when he sees the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Dick stops in front of the kitchen island, eyebrows raised. “Is that real marble?”
Tim pretends not to be impressed, but his fingers haven’t stopped tracing the edge of the built-in espresso bar for five solid minutes.
There’s music—soft. Lighting—warm, romantic. Scents—floral and calming.
And in the middle of it all is her, radiant in pink silk shorts and a cardigan she didn’t button up all the way, offering fresh lemonade in glasses that chill themselves.
Kon accepts his with both hands, eyes wide as he takes in the curated calm of the space.
“This is what you live like?” he asks her, somewhere between awe and disbelief.
Tim doesn’t look up from where he’s adding a lemon slice to his own glass. “This is what Damian insisted she live like.”
Kon whistles low. “Damn. I get it now.”
Kon finds the in-house massage chair. Within seconds, he’s flat on his back, eyes closed, muttering something about never leaving.
Dick discovers the balcony garden—rows of herbs, sun-warmed terracotta, and a vine-draped bench with a throw pillow. He whistles low, brushing his fingers over the rosemary. “Didn’t know Damian had a green thumb.”
“He doesn’t,” she calls from the kitchen. “I do. He just bought the balcony.”
Kori, meanwhile, opens the walk-in pantry—and promptly gasps. “You have an entire section just for different kinds of honey??”
“I like options.”, she beams.
Jason hasn’t even shown up yet, and already the place is buzzing.
Kon’s half-asleep in the massage chair, murmuring threats to anyone who tries to make him move. Dick is crouched in the garden corner, dramatically sniffing potted herbs and assigning them names with far too much confidence. Kori’s opened three jars of honey for “taste-testing purposes” and is now trying to convince Damian to try the lavender one on toast.
Tim is loitering by the drinks counter, drink in one hand, the other typing furiously on his phone, pretending not to laugh at the chaos around him.
And through it all, she’s just laughing—at ease, perfectly unbothered—as Damian leans against the kitchen island behind her, watching it all unfold with a look that says: this is his personal hell and also he’s never been happier.
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They gather around the low table in the lounge—pillows everywhere, soft throws tossed over laps, bowls of popcorn and fancy chips within reach, half-finished drinks sweating on coasters. Laughter echoes off the high ceilings, warm and unhurried.
Kori nudges her with a grin, eyes sparkling.
“So you really don’t cook?”
“Nope.”
“Or clean?”
“Not once.”
“And Damian doesn’t mind?”
Before she can answer, Damian—seated beside her, legs crossed, perfectly composed, fingers idly brushing her knee—scoffs.
“Mind? I’d be offended if she tried.”
Jason, fork in hand, lazily gestures toward her as he leans back into the cushions.
 “So what do you even do in the penthouse all day if you’re not cooking, cleaning, shopping, or doing laundry?”
The question wasn’t malicious. Just curious. Playful, even.
Damian answers before she can—calm, certain, unapologetic.
“She studies, she writes, she drives me insane by reciting musicals.”
Tim snorted into his drink. “You’re spoiling her.”
“She deserves it,” Damian said simply.
Jason raised a brow. “What’s she ever gonna do if you’re not around to handle everything?”
“Thrive,” Damian repeated—cold, final. His gaze didn’t waver. “Because I’m building her a life where she can.”
Damian leans back, calm and unaffected. “I don’t understand why her not doing chores surprises you. My mother never lifted a hand to sweep a floor in her life. And no one dared question her capability.”
Dick raised a brow. “Your mother also runs an empire of assassins.”
Damian doesn’t miss a beat. “Exactly. And she never wasted time on tasks that diluted her strength.”
Because Damian Wayne may live under Bruce’s roof, fight under the Bat’s symbol, and protect Gotham’s streets—
But the foundation of his worldview?
That was all Talia al Ghul.
“I grew up watching people serve my mother. Not because she demanded it, but because her time was valuable. You don’t train the world’s most dangerous woman to hand-wash her robes. You let her focus on what makes her extraordinary.”
His gaze flicked to her, sitting beside him—pink silk and soft joy wrapped in confidence.
“So I made sure my beloved—who is, in her own right, extraordinary—lives the same way.”
Kori nodded slowly. Kon glanced her way, thoughtful.
Damian spoke without hesitation. “Why would I ask the person I love to waste time on things I can pay others to handle—when she could spend that time with me, pursuing her passions, or simply existing in peace?”
Dick leaned back, arms crossed, mulling it over. “So it’s not spoiling her.”
“It’s honoring her,” Damian corrected, voice calm but absolute.
Jason scoffed, grinning. “And here I thought you were just whipped.”
Damian raised a brow. “Oh, I am. Fully. Willingly.” A pause. “You should try it.”
Everyone stared at him for a moment. Then:
Kon let out a low whistle. “Honestly? I get it. She glows in this place. Like she owns the world.”
“She does,” Damian replied, calm and certain. “Mine.”
And somehow, that was the final punctuation.
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ARCHIVE
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divider: @enchanthings
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leighsartworks216 · 21 hours ago
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hi again leigh!! I really enjoyed your rainy day prompt! this time I was wondering if I could request a birthday comfort fic with Sylus please? Smth like reader/MC doesn't really go out of her way to celebrate her birthday since she thinks it's not worth it (me tbh) but Sylus proves her wrong? Another hurt/comfort fic, basically. It's my birthday on the 13th haha
Feel free to ignore this request if it's too much, just let me know <3 thank you so much in advance!!!
Greedy
Sylus x gn!Reader
IM SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK THIS LONG TO WRITE. AN ACTUAL MONTH OVERDUE OMFG
Anywayyyy I hope this was worth the wait 😭
Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, birthday, self-worth issues, kissing, food, teasing, established relationship
Word Count: 2,166
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AO3
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“Going to bed already, kitten?”
You blink at him, mid yawn and stretch. Arms reaching overhead, your shirt lifts up to reveal a little bit of tummy. His eyes catch it immediately. Flick down a couple more times until your arms flop down by your side. “Yeah, I have work tomorrow.”
Sylus quirks a brow up at you. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” you laugh. “Why?”
“Well, I was under the impression that tomorrow was your birthday.”
Your heart spikes. You shrug, playing nonchalant, glancing away to scratch your cheek. “Yeah, it is.”
“But you're not taking the day off?”
You shrug again. “It’s not that big a deal.”
He scoffs, crossing his arms. “If I’d said that on my own birthday-”
“That’s different.” He shoots you a look, demanding for you to elaborate just how his own birthday is more important than yours. You huff. You feel antsy under his stare.
You always hate when this comes up. When a friend gushes over you, wondering just how you’ll celebrate your big day. And the way their entire attitude changes when you say you aren’t doing anything, and that you don’t want to do anything. Like you not wanting to celebrate is a burden on all of them.
As a kid, it wasn’t much different. Yeah, you wanted to have those big parties and events like the other kids. Your friends’ parties that brought you to fun pizza palaces and trampoline parks. Or at-home celebrations with games and pool parties. But something about it always felt… wrong. Like those places and games were made for them, but not for you. You didn’t deserve to have parties like they did. Didn’t earn the right to celebrate another year of life.
You cross your arms in turn. “I just don’t want to make a big thing out of it, okay?”
He stares at you a moment longer. Reads your body language, all tense and closed off, as easy as an array of Mephisto’s code. You think he’ll give you that look - the look they all give you. Keep arguing about how it should be a big thing because you’ve survived another year around the sun. Bring up that if you were going to make such a fuss about his birthday, shouldn’t he make a fuss about yours? Throw out suggestions and ideas for “fun” things you could do. And look like a kicked puppy when you reject him.
But he doesn’t. He just gives a nod, uncrosses his arms, and stands up. “Alright,” he says.
You squint up at him suspiciously. “Alright?”
“On one condition.”
You groan. “What.”
He smiles. “I make you dinner.”
“... What?”
“After work, come back to the base,” he elaborates. “I’ll make us dinner and we can do or watch whatever you want for the rest of the night.”
Your mind is already racing, thinking up all the ways this can turn sour. You have images of Luke and Kieran jumping out at you with party poppers and cone hats. A giant 7 tier cake. A pile of presents that reaches the ceiling. If there’s two things you know about Sylus: 1. He doesn’t do things by halves, and; 2. There is no such thing as too much.
“Just us? No Luke or Kieran?”
He shakes his head. His bangs swish over his eyes. “Not even Mephisto.”
“And just dinner?”
He quirks a brow, but he nods. “Just dinner.”
You stare up at him, searching for any budding scheme he could be coming up with. But you know he wouldn’t lie to you. It wouldn’t be like your 15-year-old surprise party that your friends threw, despite telling them all repeatedly that you didn’t want a party. You almost cringe just remembering it. “Really?”
He scoffs. You’d think it was out of annoyance if it weren’t for the amused grin creeping along his lips. “Really. You have my word.”
Your shoulders finally relax, arms drop back down to your side. He bends down and scoops you up, carrying you with one arm. You scramble to hold on. He carries you off to bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And you - you rest your head on his shoulder, like that’s exactly where you belong.
“Now let’s get you to bed,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to be exhausted at work tomorrow, would we?”
-
All day, you’ve dodged well wishes and “Why are you here? You should be celebrating!”s and the awkward staredown while you read store-bought cards. Of course your boss sent out a mass email letting everyone know it was your birthday; she did it for every one of her employees. And of course everyone went all out to make sure you knew it was your “special day”. Your only saving grace is that you weren’t forced to sit and stare at your coworkers as they sing you Happy Birthday and watch you “make a wish” on a candle.
During your breaks, you use the Birthday Discount emails you get sent and Sylus’ black card to buy clothes, games, craft supplies - anything and everything you could. It’s not like he minded, especially when he’s usually begging you to use his card no matter how small or large the price tag is.
By the time you’re on your way back to the N109 Zone for Sylus’ supposed dinner-date, you’ve uttered about a million prayers hoping he truly doesn’t have anything else up his sleeves.
You wander through the base toward the kitchen, scanning every room you pass for any sign of Luke and Kieran, banners, party poppers, and presents. You love those kids, but if you see them tonight, you might just explode on them.
Strangely enough, you manage to reach the kitchen without any glimpse of the twins. And the kitchen is lacking in decorations and monstrously sized cakes, too. Instead, all you find is Sylus with an apron tied in a little bow at the small of his back, an array of messily-iced cupcakes, and an absolutely divine fragrance. He glances over his shoulder when he sees you.
“How was work today, sweetie?” he greets casually, before turning his attention to the food sizzling in the pan on the stove.
You frown at his back. “It was…” You sigh. He glances at you again as you step past the cupcakes on the island and come to his side. Up close, the aroma of a home cooked meal hits all your senses, making your mouth water and stomach grumble. “A lot.”
He hums. You poke his side playfully and tug on the strap of the apron. “Since when have you had this?”
“I bought it today,” he admits, flicking your forehead in retaliation. “I didn’t want to mess up my clothes while I cooked for you. Why? Is it not to your tastes?”
“Just thought you’d get one in black. Or one that says ‘kiss the cook’ on it, or something.”
He chuckles. “I’ll keep it in mind for next time.”
You wrap your arms around his, holding onto him. He doesn’t stop you. He even transfers his utensil to his other hand so he can continue to cook without disturbing you. You can’t help looking around again. You look at the cupcakes all lined up on the counter. At the entrances to the kitchen. Through the doorway leading to the dining room. He lightly nudges you.
“Something on your mind?”
“No,” you answer too quickly. “Just, wondering where Luke and Kieran are.”
He raises an eyebrow at you. “I thought you didn’t want them here tonight,” he teases. “They’re restocking my safe houses tonight. Once they’ve finished, I’ve told them they can do whatever they want. Most likely, they’ll run off to an arcade.”
You nod, trying to play it cool. “And Mephisto?”
“Keeping an eye on the twins, to make sure they actually finish their jobs before they play games.”
So… it really is just you and him here tonight?
“Go sit down,” Sylus says, breaking you from your thoughts. “This is almost finished.”
-
Dinner is better than you expected. Sylus always said that he could only cook so long as he had a recipe to follow, but every bite tastes like it was professionally crafted by a master chef. You savor each flavor. Try to chew slower so you can really relish the care he put into it. By the end, you’re genuinely scraping your plate for every last morsel.
He doesn’t judge you for it either, even when you look up at him all embarrassed. No, he just smiles. One of those soft smiles that makes him seem harmless, that brightens his eyes. He would be preening if he were a bird, so proud of himself for making something you enjoy so much.
“There’s cupcakes, too,” he reminds you after a sip of wine.
You smile wryly at him. “I thought you said just dinner.”
He chuckles, but shrugs. “Then I’ll throw them out.”
“Hmm, I better have a taste before you do. Just to make sure.”
He watches you get up and go over to the array of cupcakes. The frosting is messy, but with an intent to look nice. Or, at least, look edible. You pick one up and glance his way as you peel off the paper wrapping. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, waiting for your reaction as casually as he can. You sink your teeth into the soft cake and-
“Oh my god,” you moan around the bite. A dab of icing gets on your nose, but you can hardly care when it tastes this good. It practically melts on your tongue. You look up at him again, wide-eyed, as though searching for any hint that he knew it would be as delicious as this. “Sy, you should become a baker.”
He stands from his seat with another chuckle, plucking his wine glass from the table to carry with him as he joins you at the kitchen island. You take another bite. “Is it that good?”
You nod, licking your lips of crumbs and icing as you peel away more of the paper and hold it out for him to try. He eyes the cupcake for a moment. Then he takes your wrist and guides it away, bending down to your height, leaning in so his face is inches from yours. You gulp down the bite, trying to remember how to breathe when he’s looking at you like that.
His eyes flicker down to your lips multiple times as he leans in closer. Sharing your air, breathing in the sweetness of the dessert. And then-
Lick.
His tongue swipes up the icing from the tip of your nose and he’s standing at his full height, touching his lip. “Mm, yeah. It’s sweet.”
You groan. “Bastard.”
“What? Were you expecting something else?” he asks, though the teasing lilt in his voice betrays the honesty of the question.
“You know what you did.” You glare at him and turn away, taking another big bite of your sweet treat. “No more cupcake for you.”
His arms wrap around your waist and pull you back into his chest. He rests his chin on your shoulder. Nuzzles his nose against your cheek, where he can feel you fighting not to smile as wide as you want to. “That’s alright. I’ve got something sweeter.” He kisses your cheek. Along your jaw. Down your neck. Kisses you slow and delicate, closing his eyes like he’s savoring the taste of your skin, even after your long day. He hums, a sound that rumbles in his chest and vibrates against your back. “Happy birthday, sweetie.”
You swallow. The cake turns sour in your mouth. “I’m sorry for all the trouble,” you murmur.
He pulls away slightly to look at you, a frown of his face to match yours. “Sorry?” he asks. “Why are you sorry?”
“Well, ‘cause you made me dinner and cupcakes and everything.”
He huffs an astonished, confused laugh. “That’s hardly any trouble. I would cook dinner and bake cupcakes for you every night if I got to see you smile like you did tonight.”
The thought twists your stomach. He flicks your forehead before the thoughts can spiral.
He says your name sternly. “If you think you’re a burden because I want to take care of you, you’re wrong.”
You turn around in his arms and rest your back against the counter, the last couple bites of your cupcake held between you. “I just… It’s a lot of effort just for me.”
“And you’re worth every second of it.” He kisses your forehead. “For one day, let yourself deserve everything.”
“With you, I gotta get used to every day…”
He grins. “Eventually. We can start small for now.” He grabs hold of your wrist again and lifts the cupcake to his lips. He takes a generous bite and licks the icing from his lips. “One day, you’ll be as greedy as me.”
---
Tag List:
@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @nezuswritingdesk @anaathxma @ssushi @mina7820 @monophobix @mentaltrouble2201 @mskaylacharite @nerrivm @ichosesparklingtorment @schnittled @animegamerfox @flamedancer13 @rebloggingislove @moonlight-inthe-sea @persepolys @satorubabee @sleepykittycx @perla-drg @17chuuya @slovesyouuu @atinymekanie @astheskycries @nm4565natty @thegreawizards @zeldaisapuppy @ocharavitys @gaychaosgremlin @lemonn015 @zaynessdarling @serena6728
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itneverendshere · 1 day ago
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i'm so obsessed with bitchy!pouge!reader x rafe!!!! 😭❤ thank you so much for sharing your talent with us! 🫶 if your request is open, can you please write about rafe's reaction if the last fic was kinda in reverse? what if rafe or one of his friends sees reader talking to an ex and tells him about it? 🫣
call it passive or aggressive - r.c (+18)
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pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe warnings: smut
wrote this based on this ask and this one: "I need jealous sex with rafe x bitchy!pogue!reader please 🙏🏻"
"ur girl was talking to that dude she used to date. thought u should know."
topper added a photo too. blurry, zoomed in from across the marina, but clear enough to see you were smiling, tilting your chin in that cocky, typical way you always did when you knew you had the upper hand.
standing way too close to your ex.
jealousy flamed behind his lungs like smoke.
you hadn’t even told him you were going down to the marina today.
rafe knows that smile, how you touch your hair when you want someone to look at your mouth. it looks like the same shit you used to pull with him when you were playing in his face years ago.
by the time you get to his house later that night, barefoot, sandy, smelling like sea breeze and sunblock, rafe's pacing his room, teeth gritted, head full of you.
you barely get the door open before he starts his well-rehearsed (it's not) monologue.
“have fun today?”
“hi to you, too?”
“fuck off.”
you raise a brow in disdain at the tone he's using with you.
“okay. what the fuck up crawled up your ass tonight?”
“try to be less obvious when you’re flirting in public.”
you scoff, immediately connecting the dots.
“oh my god. that what this is about? you’re pissed because i bumped into someone i used to fuck?”
his jaw flexes again, wanting to strangle you for the reminder.
“you think this is funny?”
“no. i think it’s pathetic,” you said sweetly, lifting your chin. “be fucking serious, country club. flirting? catching up with a male friend is flirting now?”
"male friend?"
"you're pissing me off."
“so you were catching up.”
“oh my fucking god.” you drop your bag by the door and walk past him, not about to have the same fight he’s already playing out in his head. “i said two words to him.”
he turns, following after you like a good dog.
“funny. looked real fucking long for two fucking words.”
you stop, whirling around in perfect fury and pettiness. if he'd been calmer about it, you would've chosen a nicer way to phrase it, but alas.
“yeah, i talked to someone who knows what i sound like when i cum too for more than two seconds.”
he grabs you. palms against your thighs, lifting, pushing you up against the wall. he had to hold you still, or he was gonna break something.
your attitude hopefully, maybe your fucking ego.
Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct.
“don’t fucking remind me.”
“rafe. calm the fuck down."
“i’m mad,” he growls, “that you thought you could give him that smile. the one that’s mine. that mouth? It’s fucking mine, baby. your attitude? mine too. you think he could handle you?” he laughs bitterly, nose brushing yours. “he wouldn’t even last five seconds with your bitchy little mouth.”
“you’re so fucking dramatic, ” you breathe, despite your hips already grinding down against the hard line of him. “he said hi. that’s literally it.”
“i don’t care if he waved from a fucking boat,” rafe snaps, hand sliding under your shorts, dragging your underwear to the side. “you wanna act like you’re still available, baby? i’ll show you who you fucking belong to.”
you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders when his fingers roughly work you up and down, two of them slipping in, knuckles deep, as his thumb focused on your clit determined to erase every trace of that piece of shit from your system. 
you moan so prettily for him, head falling back against the door, and then you whimper his name.
“oh, you remember it now? your actual boyfriend's name?” he bites out against your throat as he kisses it down. “that’s more like it.”
you pull his shirt hard, dragging him in closer, angling your mouth to his ear.
“i came thinking about you this morning,” you whisper, “wanted to be good for you. but you’re too busy being jealous to fucking notice.”
that’s when rafe tears your shorts down, turns you around, hands on your waist, and pushes you over to his bed, pressing his hips flush against yours with enough force to make your breath stutter like a virgin.
“good girls don’t flirt with their exes.”
"lucky for you, i'm not good."
"huh. is that right?"
“and good boys don’t have anger issues.”
“lucky for you,” he taunts, mocking you as he drags the tip of his cock through your pussy, teasing “m'not a good boy either.”
his hips move forward with no proper warning as you cry out, the stretch overwhelming in the greatest familiar way, your hands bunching in his sheets as he bottoms out in one furious thrust.
“fuck me—” you curse, arching instinctively, body already trying to take more than it could.
rafe doesn't give you a single minute to adjust.
“mine,” he growls like an animal in heat. “say it.”
“fuck you!”
he slams in harder.
a broken whine leaves your mouth traitorously.
“say it.”
“tou,” you choke, delirious, clenching around him. “you, you, you—rafe, fuck—”
each stroke is brutal, punishing, not because he's angry at you—no, this is him spiraling. trying to fuck out the image of you smiling up at someone else, the possibility of you laughing at some old inside joke with someone who had you like this.
your moans echo off the walls, high-pitched and desperate, as he drives into you from behind, hands bruising into your hips, shaping them to his liking.
“fucking mine,” he gritts out, growing more irritated by the second, hips pistoning against the backs of your thighs. “say it.”
you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, eyes glazed and mouth open in a breathless smirk. “no—”
“say it.”
you shake your head to drive him insane, a wicked smile curving your lips, and that's when he slaps your ass so fucking hard the entire bed frame shakes along with it, and you gasp, the sting throwing you off your game.
“that’s not what i asked for.”
your breath hitches, pain and pleasure tangled together as his hand comes down again, more insistently this time, palms quickly kneading sweet circles with his thumb to soothe the burn.
“i’m yours,” you eventually concede as his hand keeps working the spot, reminding you he's got you.
“that’s right.” his hand fists in your hair, yanking you up so your spine arches for him, your ass pushing back into his hips. “you don’t fucking smile at anyone like that ever again. got it?”
“i wasn’t—” your protest melts into a moan as he fucks into you even harder, dragging a whimper from your throat. “i wasn't flirting!"
he wraps a hand around your throat from behind, to make you feel it, thumb on your jaw as he leans down over you, his mouth right next to your ear.
“you let him get a good look?” he grinds out, cock driving up into you slowly now. “you let him imagine what i get to feel every night?”
“fuck, rafe—”
“bet he’s still thinking about it. thinking about how good you sounded. but y'know what?” he licks up the shell of your ear, hips stuttering. “only i know how you sound when you break.”
“gonna cum?” you managed to pant, teasing through the fog in your head, searching for the upper hand.
he's not handing it to you this time around.
“not until you do,” he bites out, hand reaching between your legs, fingers working your clit, knowing exactly what you need—because he did.
rafe can't stop staring at your back.
how your spine dips, the arch of it, when he pulls your hair, offering yourself to him. only him. the way your skin flushes when you moan his name. the bed creaks with his thrusts, the sound of it obscene in the quiet, but rafe can't hear anything over the noise in his head.
“still think he could fuck you like this?” rafe growls, moving hard enough to shove the breath from your lungs.
you can't answer, your body tells him everything he needs to know—how it welcomes him, clenches for him, throbbs for him.
“yeah,” he muttered darkly, "didn’t fucking think so.”
he hates that someone else has seen you like this, that someone else had this view, that there was ever a time before he got to be the one to see you fall apart.
it's so fucking stupid of him.
rafe knows this is petty and irrational and fucking insane. but he's so in love with you, it makes him murderous. he doesn't want to be one of many, he's it.
his fingers get needier against your clit as he drives into you again, chasing the sound of your gasp, his personal oxygen.
you don't see it, can't see the way his face twists, how his teeth dug into his bottom lip, his eyes burning when they drop to where he's buried inside you. but god, he feels it. this ache in his chest, this need to make sure the memory of other men dissolve under what he gives you.
he leans down, voice cracking in your ear as he fucks you with everything he has.
"i hate it,” he clicks his tongue in annoyance, “knowing he ever had this. that he got to touch you. see you like this.”
your breath hitches. his cock twitches along inside you.
“hate that i didn’t get to be the first one to wreck you,” he groans, genuinely upset about it, wishing he could undo it somehow.
you whimper, voice shaky. “baby—”
“but he doesn’t know you. not like this.” he nips your shoulder, hand sliding back into your hair, pulling your head up so he can hear every word that spits out of your mouth. “he doesn’t know how you get when you’re desperate. doesn’t know how you beg for it.”
“please—”
“yeahhh, say it. go ahead,” his voice turns hoarse from all the talking he's been doing. “tell me no one else has had you like this.”
“no one,” you promise, thighs trembling. “no one, rafe. only you.”
“yeah?” his pace falters at the reassurance, losing rhythm with the stupid emotions building in his chest. 
“i p-promise.”
you're a mess for him, drool on the pillow, your voice sore from how many times you'd cried out his name. and still it isn't enough.
rafe pulls out, flips you, spreads your legs and stares for a second, breathing through the sight of you flushed and fucked out, pussy drooling for him, eyes barely open, inner thighs slick with your arousal and him.
he sinks back in with a neediest groan, holding your gaze as he bottoms out again, your walls fluttering around him, body hardly waiting to pull him even deeper. your hands eagerly fly to his hair, pulling him into a kiss as your hips lift to meet his thrusts.
he swallows your moans, your sobs, your everything, and keeps going, needing them for his own personal fuel.
rafe's so deep it feels like he's everywhere at once, in your head, in your guts, in your heart. his name is falling from your lips over and over and over again, it's the only word you remember right now.
“i love you,” he breaths, awe and pride and madness tangled in his voice. “yeah, that's it. you’re mine. fuck, you’re mine—”
you shudder underneath him, nails dragging red lines across his back as you kiss him senseless. every time, every goddamn time, kissing you feels like an explosion in his head. it burns and blooms, blowing everything else away.
your lips are swollen, slick, and trembling when he licks into your mouth, catches your moan with his tongue, and swallows it whole, relentlessly. he tilts your chin up, nose brushing yours, lips sticky with spit and curses.
“i’ll never get tired of this,” rafe rasps, fucking into you deeper, filthier now.
your hands are still fisted in his hair, dragging him until your teeth scrape his bottom lip and your tongue tangles with his. your shaky breath vibrates against his mouth, and he groans in retaliation.
“shiiiit, baby—”
he feels you clench around him, fluttering, and he pulls back to marvel at your pretty face as you come, eyes fluttering shut, mouth forming his name in broken sentences before it rips out of your throat, loud and cracked and perfect. watching you like that—his, undone, dripping, fucked out, and kissing him like he owns your soul—it undoes something in him.
you look up at him, eyes glassy, tears clinging to your lashes from how hard you came. “always you, rafe.”
rafe moans into your mouth, growing sloppy as his fingers dig into your thighs, and his cock is about to spill inside you. you're still shaking around him, your body so sensitive that you flinch with every grind of his hips.
“I’m gonna cum,” he mutters against your lips, forehead pressed to yours.
“inside,” you yank him back into the kiss, tongue lapping at his cheek, “rafe—please—inside—”
he cries out against your mouth as he comes, body jerking, cock buried into your soul as he fills you the way you like it. your body takes it like a champ, used to it by now, clenching and pulsing around him, wanting to keep it there forever, you're made for this.
and when it's over, and you're still tangled beneath him, panting against his cheek, he kisses you one more time.
“i did too much?"
your eyes close, but your lips curl into the laziest smile as you reply.
"don't underestimate me, country club."
232 notes · View notes
lucymmiller · 2 days ago
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Check Me Out
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Two stressed souls meet in the check-out lane of a grocery store. 
Pre/no-outbreak AU. Single-dad!Joel x fem!Reader. 
Word Count: 2.4k 
Tags: meet-cute, no reader description, reader uses she/her, Joel and his Southern manners, fluff, slice-of-life, ooh Joel Miller has a crush, mentions of Sarah Miller, mentions of Tommy Miller if you squint, shitty puns, profanity, no y/n, Joel is kinda smug, but also mildly-insecure!Joel, dinner party chaos, missing watch batteries, alcohol, slow-burnish? 
Author’s Note: I had so much fun writing this!!! Inspired by an interaction I had yesterday at the store lol. I’m thinking of writing their date in a different part, maybe I make this into a mini-series, who knows. Let me know what you guys think :) 
—-------
“Yes, I know she’s vegan, that’s why I’m swapping out the- what? You told me she was vegan last week, what do you-” You sigh, stopping in the middle of the produce section, hand hovering over a block of tofu. 
“Well, if your fiancée makes another dietary decision between now and when I leave the store, just give me another call.” You hang up on Chris, your dearest friend from college, just a tad too quickly, already frustrated with the last-minute shopping you have to do for your dinner party tonight. 
Technically, your fault, considering you’ve had this planned out since last month. 
It’s fine, though. You have the last of the things you need in your basket and a bottle of wine waiting for you when you get home. 
The grocery store is fairly busy today, riddled with tired parents stopping by to get groceries after work and older folks armed with their coupon books. All of the check-out lanes have a line of at least three shoppers in each. Fucking perfect, of course, when your dinner party guests arrive in just a little over two hours.
You wait anxiously at the end of one of the lanes, the line you’re in long enough to bleed into the baby formula aisle. You feel yourself start to stare off into space when, in your periphery, the light on Lane 4 flicks on. 
You melt with relief and start to march over, piling your items onto the conveyor as the cashier, a middle-aged woman named Linda with her hair up to God, greets you. You expect the worst to happen as she reaches for the first item to scan, as if Chris is going to call and tell you his fiancée actually prefers the tempeh from some pricey fucking organic store across town, or the register somehow stops working, or-
“S’cuse me, ma’am.” 
You don’t expect this. 
You whip your head up to look at the source of the voice. Tall, scruffy, clearly exhausted. There’s a bunch of bananas balanced atop a container of formula in his left hand, his right reaching up to palm at the back of his neck. 
“Mind if I uh-” He gestures to the display of gum that stands tall next to the conveyor belt. You let out a little oh before you step aside, letting him reach over and grab a packet of sugar-free spearmint. 
Your eyes dart down to his left hand again. No ring, you notice. You look back up at his tired face. 
“Did you wanna go ahead of me? You’ve only got a couple items.” 
You should be in a rush. You should be ignoring this ruggedly handsome man with the bananas and the formula and the gum and be speeding home right now, throwing your groceries onto the counter and pre-heating your oven to 375°. You’re not evil, though. 
“You sure? Seemed like you were in a rush, earlier.” 
He’s observant. Cute. 
“It’s fine, really. I’m sure you’ve got more important places to be.” You give him a polite smile and step aside, your lower back pressing into a rack of candy bars as he squeezes by. He smells a bit like coffee and sawdust and baby powder. 
“S’real nice of you, miss. Thank you.” He nods, mirroring your smile as he sets down his items. 
“Came here looking for watch batteries. Left with stuff for the baby, as always.” He lets out an awkward breath of a laugh, right hand coming down to slap the face of his watch on the left. When you glance at it, its hands remain still, and there’s a peek of paler skin beneath its green straps. 
“None in that uh- shelf near the gift cards?” You inquire. “No ma’am.” He mumbles. He steps forward to collect his bag of items. 
You expect him to thank you again, give you a curt nod and be on his way. But he stays. Stands there and watches as Linda scans your plethora of items. 
“What type’a batteries are they?” You sputter out when you realize he isn’t leaving. Why in the world would you ask him, as if you’d know where the hell you’d find watch batt-
When he reaches into his pocket and fishes out the tiny coin cell battery, you realize that you in-fact do know where to find his watch batteries. Because you fucking have them. 
“Shit, wait- I have those. Bought ‘em a while ago when my nephew’s robot thingy needed a replacement, but I still have the rest of them, if you wanted.” You shrug. 
“Oh, no, that’d be askin’ for too much from you-” He starts to shake his head, and the threads of silver hair near his temple sparkle against the harsh overhead lights. 
“You didn’t ask,” you retort. “I offered.”
“Hmph.” He gives you a once-over, seemingly amused by your kind stubbornness. 
“This has been real cute to watch, but I need y’all to move. Got a line.” Linda interrupts your stare-off with the man, prompting you to look behind you. You’re met with the unpleasant scowls of three coupon-wielding seniors with full shopping carts. “Sorry,” you chirp, quickly paying and reaching over to gather your bags, only to realize that Mister Watch-Battery already took them for you. He nods his head sideways towards the exit, already walking ahead of you. 
“Never got your name.” He says as you lead him toward your car. 
You give him your first name, then ask for his. 
“Joel. Miller.” 
“‘Kay, Joel Miller, listen-” You rummage through your purse for your car keys, popping open the trunk and watching as he hauls your groceries into it like they weigh nothing. “I’ve got people coming over for dinner in about two hours, so I can’t get your watch battery to you right this instant…”
“Oh, s’okay, really, I’m in no rush to find-”
“What time is it?” You tilt your head as you ask him the question. 
He straightens his left arm, knocking the cuff of his flannel out of the way before lifting it up to read his watchface… which is still frozen in time. 
His face drops and you can’t help but giggle. 
“Not gonna know when you need to get home to feed your baby bananas ‘n’ formula f’you don’t got a watch, Mr. Miller.” You glance up at his sulking figure with a smirk as you scribble something down onto the back of your grocery list. 
You hand the crumpled paper to him. “My address. Stop by later and I’ll give you your battery.” 
“Shouldn’t be giving your address out to strangers.” He chides. 
You shrug. “My apartment’s about to be full of tipsy psychos so… it’s your call.” 
He hovers by the car door once you get into the driver’s seat, pocketing the paper before leaning a hand against the roof of your car. “Good luck cookin’ for your uh- dinner party.” He leans down, eyes darting around the interior of your car, looking at anything but your face through the rolled-down window. 
“Thank you, Joel. Hopefully you’ll get there before the food’s gone.” You smile. 
“We’ll see.” He grumbles before knocking on the roof and taking a step back. 
When you back up and honk to say goodbye, clicking your blinker to merge onto the main road, you see him in the rearview mirror. He hasn’t moved from your parking spot yet. 
—-------
Your tiny dinner table is packed, everyone’s three glasses of wine in, and your friend Aubrey put a record on your player in the living room and cranked the volume to the max about thirty minutes ago. 
You’re too busy trying to portion leftover tofu stir-fry into take-home tubs to notice someone knocking at your door. 
Chris had excused himself to the bathroom not too long ago, so when he hollers your name loud enough to break through the stringy rhythms of Steve Earle, you jump a little. 
“There’s a… guy. At the door.” He says as you approach him with a concerned look. 
You peek past his tall stature, expecting the “guy” to be your divorced-dad of a neighbor frowning and asking you to turn the music down. 
To your surprise, it’s not your neighbor. 
It’s Joel Miller. 
“You actually came,” you breathe, eyes widening. 
“You offered.” He says smugly. Asshole.
He clears his throat, then awkwardly lifts a bottle of wine you hadn’t noticed he was holding. “Brought this as payment for the battery.” 
“Oh, you didn’t have to-” You start, but before you can even finish your sentence, Chris is taking the bottle from Joel and sauntering off back to the table with a lazy smile. Your lips fall into a flat line. 
You step aside to let him in, leading him through your narrow foyer before taking a sharp turn right into your kitchen. 
“Steve Earle.” He hums, barely audible over the music that’s somehow gotten louder. 
“It’s one of my dad’s old records. Was my favorite as a kid. Stole it before I moved out.” You smile, reminiscing as you search through your junk drawer for the batteries. 
“You got good taste.” Joel nudges your shoulder with his. Flannel against skin. 
Your apartment starts to feel a little warmer. 
“Who is this?” You hear a sing-songy voice glide in next to you. It’s your friend Bea in all of her tipsy, curly-haired glory. She’s eyeing him like you would a stranger at a bar.
“This is Joel, met him in the check-out line today. He’s lookin’ for batteries that I should have but can’t seem to find.” You grumble, slightly panicked as you continue to sift through a box of spare metal bits from an IKEA shelf you assembled the other month. 
“Hmph,” Bea bumps her hip with yours, and you already know where this is going. “Wish he would check me out.” She mumbles, and you nearly knock the wine glass out of her hand. Before you get the chance to actually do that, she scurries away with a giggle. 
“Sorry about that.” You mumble, shooting Joel an apologetic look.
“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” his lips curl up into a gentle smile, “You warned me about ‘em earlier, didn’t you? Tipsy psychos.” 
“I did.” You concede. “Sorry this is taking so long, I swear I have them.” 
“You apologize a lot,” Joel notes, his eyebrows furrowed with amusement, “been here all of five minutes, sweetheart. Take your time.” 
While you continue your search in a different area, the linen closet turned storage closet near your bedroom, you ask him about himself. 
“I’m assuming the uh- baby formula wasn’t for you to consume. You got a kid?” 
He laughs and nods, leaning against the wall next to the closet. “Mhm. Sarah. Curls for days,” he shakes his head, and when you look up at his face, there’s clear admiration for his kid. “Turnin’ six months soon, thought we’d give bananas a shot today.” 
“What’s the verdict?” 
“Loved ‘em. Started mushin’ ‘em up in her hands and just-” He cuts himself off, mimicking his little girl’s movements with his own hands and a chomping mouth. It makes you throw your head back in laughter. His grin grows wider. 
You eventually stop searching completely, too engrossed in Joel’s stories about his almost-six-month old, finding yourself admiring his admiration for his baby. 
Halfway through a story about spit-up, you’re reminded of why he’s here in the first place. “Shit, let me find your batteries. Get you out of here and back to the wife and kid.” You test the waters. No ring, you know, but that could be for any reason. You’re not even sure why you’re questioning it. 
He’s quiet for a moment, simply watching as you find a box with an Energizer logo half-ripped. 
“Just the kid. My brother’s watchin’ her right now.” 
You fight back a smile. 
You nod, too afraid to look at him, worried you’re going to say something stupid if you do. 
“Ha, here they are.” You lift up the flimsy cardboard sheet up victoriously, two of the coin cell batteries gone from the plastic packaging. You pop two of them out, lifting your hand to drop them into Joel’s. 
“Take one for the road too.” You joke. He smiles.
“Can’t thank you enough.” He mumbles as he takes his watch off, popping the back panel off and slotting the battery in. He flips it back over, and you both breathe with relief when the hands start tick tick ticking away. 
He secures the green straps back onto his wrist before dropping his hand, looking at you as if he has more to say. 
“Let me walk you out.” You nod your head in the vague direction of your front door. 
“BYE JOE!” You hear Bea shout over the scratchy record and shake your head with a chuckle. Joel lifts his hand with a polite goodbye, stepping over the threshold of your door. You lean against the doorframe with crossed arms. 
“Can I repay you?” He asks, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. 
You’re immediately shaking your head no. “It’s just a couple batteries that I forgot I even had before you showed me which ones you needed, you don’t have-”
“Dinner.” He blurts. 
“What?” Your eyes narrow with confusion. 
“Let me take you out to dinner.” He breathes, like he’s been holding onto those words this entire time. 
You freeze, still in disbelief that you even managed to convince him to even stop by to retrieve his fucking batteries. When he raises his eyebrows expectantly, you manage a few words. 
“That uhm- sure, I mean, yes, dinner sounds.. great.” You both stare each other down. You expect him to bail, to realize how ridiculous it is to ask you out, just because you did him a favor. He expects you to bail out on him, because he took you away from your friends at your own dinner party, because he’s an exhausted single dad whose hamper is filled with spit-up stained shirts. 
But neither of you do. 
“Next Friday okay?” He looks at you with hopeful eyes. 
You nod. “Next Friday is okay.” 
“Okay. G’night.” He smiles. 
“Goodnight, Joel.” 
When you close your door, you nearly collapse in your foyer. Just as your heart rate starts to slow down, your friends pop out from the corner leading into your kitchen, all wide-eyes and toothy grins. 
“Our girl’s got a date!” Aubrey yells, prompting the rest of them to cheer. 
“You guys are so stupid,” You mutter, masking your bashful smile by pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. 
When you turn to circle next Friday on your calendar in the kitchen, you’re met with a surprise. 
Thick handwriting, undeniably Bea’s, scrawled onto the date a week from today with Sharpie:
CHECK HER OUT!!!
154 notes · View notes
zepskies · 2 days ago
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awwww I'm blushing!! 🥰 Thank you so much, friend!! 💕
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the opening itself was so good, you have such a way with descriptions it's so easy to get immersed and be able to visualize it all ✨
ehehe I'm so glad you enjoyed the steamy opener! 😘
prime example right here. the wordplay? the phrasing? the descriptions?? insane. chefs kiss. 🤌🏽💋 had me blushing, fanning myself, talking into the air — amazing ❤️‍🔥🫠
🤭💜🤭💜🤭 legit thank you so much!! Gotta admit, smut writing is my biggest challenge lolol
this is so sweet are u kiddingggg 😭
Aww that was my favorite part to write for this scene tbh 🥹 finally we get Mark's side of the missing her, wanting her, hurting without her. 💙
this had me cracking up
LOL I'll admit the "dropping the soap" was a bit cliché, but it still made me giggle 😂
aghhh my heart 😩 the bathroom scenes in the show have been making my chest ache fr, i'm worried for himmm 🥺 (and now i'm worried for him in this series-verse too... loll)
omg yesss, they're literally hurting my heart so much, so of course I had to inject one here lolll (oh, expect more of that kind of angst to come, unfortunately 🥲)
cryinggggggg i love this, and them 😭
Ok, thank you for highlighting my actual favorite line. It may be too sappy but I couldn't help myself 😂💕
I’ll admit this soft sequence with her mom made me cry a little 🥹 i've been missing my mom a bit extra lately and this really took me back to being in the kitchen with her :') lisette seems so sweet already, I loved her dynamic with the reader and with mark 💙 (even with rachel, ik that look of disappointment has gotta sting 😗)
I'm so sorry, hun. I didn't know you lost your mom. 🫂💙
Yeah, Lisette is a sweetheart for real. 💓💓💓 She def treated Mark like family (and was verrrry disappointed in Rachel)
i know that's right !!! now this i love to see, get her 🤣 I love that she went straight for the punch, that bitch deserved to get milly rocked hard lmao
Ohhhh get ready lmaooo. Reader is NOT playing - whem she said on sight, she really meant on sight 🤣
yikessss, i feel for him. traffic here is a nightmare but rush hour? blegh 😔
Ooh are you out in Cali? Forgive me if I ever misrepresent the state bc I've actually never been there loll
aaaand crying again. i love that he had that with her and I hope with time he can get that again 💙
aww don't worry, he'll get a piece of that again in this one-shot (and maybe more later on in the series) 🥹💙
hooooooly shit lmfaooooo this is so much better than i could imagine. para que se le quite a la pendeja 🤣
ahahaaaaa exactamente! 😏
and she's stiiillll lying like oh my god girl, give it up 🤦🏽‍♀️ bien que tiene los cojones para hacer desmadre pero no para decir la verdad? wild.
por eso - ella necesita quantos cocotazos to get her head right. lying ass bitch 😂
man :(( I feel for them, I really do. hopeful for those second opinions...👀
oh we're gonna work on it! 😅
I hope this truly sits with her, and settles deep into her bones. not for a redemption arc, but so she can actually take the time and effort to self reflect and stop being such a nasty person with terrible intentions. like her apologies mean nothing considering it took over nine months and a face full of dog shit to admit to what she really did.
Yeah I doubt I'll write a true redemption for Rachel, but this is an important step for her realizing the scope of the damage of what she's done to both reader and Mark 💔💔 (and she doesn't even know about his diagnosis). She's truly damaged and vindictive
i'm glad the table setting ended up working out, with a much better third guest :p i'm truly obsessed with mark and this little series verse, 💙💙 i'm excited to see where you take this !!
Yesss exactly! Mark gets to be their #3, and he gets a home-cooked meal, even if it means he has to come clean to his second mom too 🥲
I'm so happy you love this storyverse because I'm having so much fun with it so far! 🥰 I can't wait to share more of it soon 💞💞
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SISTER, SISTER
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Pairing: Mark Meachum x F. Reader
Summary: You and Mark have an emotional reconnection after he finally comes clean. But that also means you have some unfinished business to take care of with your sister, Rachel.
AN: Wrote this last week because I guess I can't stop myself! 😂 So yep, these Mark stories have officially become a series of one-shots called — ‘Til When Do Us Part. This one is also a gif check requested by my friend @lamentationsofalonelypotato for the 5K Follower Celebration. I think this is an important puzzle piece to explore after Catastrophic Blues. 😉
Word Count: 4.6K
Tags/Warnings: [Set during 1x02] 18+ only! Reunion smut, fluff, an epic cat fight (lol), angst, hurt/comfort
Series Masterlist
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His hair dragged through your fingers again. First soft and loose, then gripped tight—desperate, hot tingles across your skin.
It was almost too much.
A halting moan fell from your lips, his biting kiss along your throat as he moved inside you.
“Fuck. Takin’ me better than ever, baby,” he said into your skin, his words gritted out and tinged with smoke and relief. “Gonna feel me for fuckin’ days at this rate.”
The sound of his voice reached deep into your bones. The safety of his arms caged you underneath him on his bed, the old mattress creaking with every test of the springs. He wrapped an arm around your thigh like curling steel, opening you up more for him, making his rolling thrusts hit deeper. Harder. A man possessed.
You gasped, your pussy already throbbing in time with your heartbeat. Your words were barely syllables, but they escaped you nonetheless. "Oh, fuck. Mark..."
He smirked into your neck. His lips trailed down to your shoulder and nipped harder with teeth, just to feel you writhe against him. You whimpered, your sensitive nipples brushing against his chest when you arched back up into him.
His hot breaths further ignited your skin. Your nails raked down the back of his neck and down his shoulder as you held on for the ride—an obscene squelching of wetness and hot breaths, skin against flushed skin. Your fingers pressed into every divot of muscle, as if you could sink right through his skin and make him feel you. Not for days. Forever.
You didn’t have words to speak. It was all in your eyes when they met his. Raw, vulnerable, glassy with pleasure, your breaths unsteady with emotion.
He pulled back a little, just so he could slip his hand between your bodies and find your slick, swollen clit again. He swept the pads of his fingers in the angles and rhythm he knew would serve you best in between his thrusts.
He swallowed your gasp of his name, your whimpers as you shuddered and came. A sensation like kaleidoscope colors, bursting like so many stars. You fucking squeezed him from the inside out for the third time tonight, finally forcing a ragged groan from his own lips as he spilled into you. His hips stuttered a shaky and powerful release.
You grabbed his face and poured your soul into that kiss, a wet and filthy meeting of lips and tongues.
Panting breaths forced their way through his nose, but he wouldn’t break that kiss for all the world. He finally had you back in his arms. He had the scent of your floral soap in his nose, your familiar sweetness on his tongue, your hair threaded through his fingers. He had it all.
It wasn’t the faded memories he clung to in a brick-and-mortal cell, or the daydreams of what if that had been torturing him whenever he saw a girl in a white dress, or a family sitting at dinner with their little kids in highchairs. 
It was you, solid and real.
Your kiss swollen lips dragged from his slowly, reluctantly, with shaky breaths in between.
He let your thighs slip down to rest more comfortably around his hips, but he didn't move just yet. He stayed buried deep inside you.
He brushed your frizzy hair away from your forehead, his eyes a little softer, less crazed. You sniffled as a tear rolled from the corner of your eye. He swept the wetness away with his thumb.
“I know it was good, but you don’t need to cry, sweetheart,” he teased lightly. There was a tender note in his voice though.
Your heart clenched to hear it. Part of you still couldn't believe this was real. Despite yourself, you laughed a little, breathless and boneless.
“I guess it’s just, um…it’s been a while.”
“Really? You haven’t, uh, been seeing anyone?” he asked, trying to hide the hope from his voice.
You snorted. “No.”
Plain and simple. He quirked a smile.
“And you?” you asked reluctantly, as if the answer wouldn't tear into you if he said any form of yes.
He almost laughed. “I was in lockup for nine months, remember?”
Relief allowed you to relax again. A smirk began to curve your lips as your fingers tapped an idle rhythm on his dewy arms.
“What, you didn’t get yourself a little boyfriend? No ‘drop the soap’ action?” you teased.
Mark’s jaw nearly unhinged. He stared down at you, disbelief and amusement warring for dominance at your cheek.
“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?”
Your whole body shook in effort to contain your giggles, but you couldn’t help yourself.
His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he tried not to laugh. Honestly, he should’ve expected nothing fucking less from you.
You were still kee-keeing when you caressed his bearded face with both hands, then twined your arms around his neck. But soon, you sobered up.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… You had to live with those animals for almost a whole year. I can’t even imagine how deeply shitty that was. How scary,” you said.
Mark huffed, shaking his head. He rubbed your arm and pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist.
“Heh. I was in hell long before I walked into Palmdale,” he said.
The confession slipped through his lips before he could think better of it, but there it was. Your expression fell even more. With a sigh, he stroked your cheek. Then he carefully withdrew, pulling out of your heat. You both felt the loss with soft groans.
He climbed out of bed just to grab a towel from his bathroom for the cleanup.
This was the first time you’d come to his place, just a couple of days since he took you home from that bar in Downtown. Two days since he came clean to you about what happened in Venice. Two days since you somehow found it in your heart to forgive him.
He still didn’t know what the hell he was doing with you. He hadn’t discussed it with you, hadn’t labelled it. It was almost as if you two had picked up from where you left off, except this time, there was an unknown expiration date.
That reminder literally hit him between the eyes. It forced him to pause in the bathroom and white-knuckle grip the edge of the sink. He grimaced and willed the pain away, stifling a grunt. Fuck...not even a moment's fucking peace.
"You okay?" your voice filtered over from the bedroom. Mark turned his face away from the mirror, just in case you could catch an angle of him.
"Yeah," he said, a little rougher. He breathed in deep, until the sharpest edges were passed. He padded back out and brought the dampened towel back to you.
It was late, but he still checked his phone on the nightstand for any missed notifications. He never knew when he might get called in by Blythe—another thing Mark couldn’t tell you about. He wondered if the taskforce was on your radar anyway, what with how D.A. Valwell was consistently trying to butt into their operations.
So far, you hadn’t mentioned anything weird going on with your boss in the office. Maybe Valwell was keeping you out of it. As he should.
You welcomed Mark back into bed and under the covers, luring him into a kiss as he settled in beside you. He drew you into his arms and couldn’t help but stare. He took in every contour of your face. Every shade of beauty.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Have I said that yet?”
A slight, sad smile twitched at your lips. Your heart pulsed sharply.
“What’s happening to you isn’t your fault. There’s no reason to be sorry,” you said.
“There is a reason,” he nodded. “I didn’t want to leave you twisting in the wind. I just…”
“I know,” you sighed. You watched his profile as he looked ahead, rather than at you directly. A deep breath ran through him, not altogether steady.
“I love you,” he said. He swallowed, jaw clenching. “Think it’s pretty obvious that I never stopped.”
You guided his face back toward you with a gentle hand on his cheek. Your thumb brushed over his lips.
“It’s become painfully clear to me,” you said, “that I’ll never love anyone like I love you.”
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Morning came, and you weren’t ready. You didn’t want to leave this house with its familiar smell and its gray-blue walls, which you and Mark painted together. After he inherited the house from his mother, who passed away a few years ago, you helped him clean and touch it up without losing the character of the house.
You were going to officially move in with him after you two got married and let go of your Downtown apartment that was close to your job, but often so empty. Obviously, that move never happened.
“You’re having dinner with your mom tonight, right?” Mark asked, pulling you from your thoughts.
You finished tucking in your blouse into your skirt and began to fix your hair in his wardrobe mirror. You had to go into work, and so did he. He was buckling his belt over his jeans, already dressed in a dark green shirt and one of his favorite leather jackets—the black one you helped him pick out.
“Yeah, every Tuesday,” you nodded. You turned and reached for the edges of his jacket. “I know it’s your business to share, but…can I tell her about what you’re going through? That we’re back together? She would want to see you.”
Mark hesitated. “I’d like that too, but let's just keep this between you and me for now.”
You frowned. “I still can’t believe you haven’t told your precinct. How long do you plan to work like this? Mark, what if…what if something happens when you’re on the job? I mean medically.”
He couldn’t blame you for your worry and concern. He held you by your arms and gave a reassuring squeeze.
“You know I’m on a case right now. It’s important,” he said, trying to communicate the gravity of it through his eyes, the tone of his voice. “After that’s done…I don’t know. We’ll talk about it. That and the, uh, second opinion stuff.”
Despite your lingering worry, a small smile peeked through. “At least you said we.”
Mark flickered at a smile too. He bowed down to kiss you on the forehead, lingering there with a short sigh. Ever since he left you, he’d been operating with a reckless head and a worse heart. But if you were determined to stick this out with him, like you seemed to be, then it wasn’t just about him anymore.
He’d have to protect you too.
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“Mmm, smells good, Mom,” you said, shutting the door of your childhood home behind you. Inside, the modest three-bedroom house was filled with the rich savory smell of something warm in the oven.
Your mom, Lisette, waved you over with her oven mitt hand. 
“Hey, honey. Come ‘ere and taste this.”
She took out a large glass pan filled with beef pot roast, complete with carrots, little yellow potatoes, and charred sprigs of rosemary on top.
“Wow, all that for just the two of us?” you asked, kissing her on the cheek. She just smiled and gave you a forkful after she blew on it first. You took the bite and fairly melted.
“Ughhh, so good. It’s been a long time since you made a whole…” You trailed off as you realized it.
Lisette’s smile turned bittersweet. “Yeah, it was your father’s favorite.”
She took off her oven mitts and left the pan to cool on the counter. She braced a few fingertips on the edge of that counter, as if her mind contained too many memories to sort through. You brushed a hand against her arm, earning her attention.
“Thanks. I brought dessert too,” you said, raising the grocery bag in your hand. You set that on the counter as well. You gave your mom a hug, warm and comforting.
Lisette sighed and hugged you back gratefully. She rubbed your back, like good moms did. But when she pulled back, she noted the smile on your face with a raised brow. It was genuine, not the fake ones you gave to pacify her. In fact, you looked more relaxed, more like yourself.
“You seem…”
“What?” you asked in confusion.
“I don’t know. A little happier today, I guess,” she said. “Did something good happen at work?”
You huffed. “No. Valwell’s antsy and frustrated about something, but every time I ask what’s wrong, he tells me it’s fine. Nothing for me to worry about.”
Not to mention, he’d taken three long lunches at odd times in the past week alone. Every time he got back to the office, he seemed more agitated and upset, storming through the halls like they owed him rent money.
“Well, it’s probably above your clearance, honey,” said Lisette. “If he wanted you to know, he would tell you.”
You frowned thoughtfully, tapping a nail on the counter. Before you could think too hard on it, your mom subtly cleared her throat, the way she always did when she was a bit nervous. She busied herself with grabbing silverware for the dinner table. Your brows drew together.
“You grabbed three sets,” you pointed out.
“Mhmm,” she nodded. “We’re going to be three today.”
“Who else is coming?”
Lisette hesitated, didn’t seem to want to meet your suspicious gaze. “Your sister. I invited her.”
Your face fell. Stony and incredulous.
“You did not.”
“I did. You two haven’t spoken in almost a year.”
“For good damn reason, Mom!”
“I know,” Lisette said, in a sharper voice than you expected. After a moment though, she softened. “I know. What she did to you…it’s frankly incomprehensible. But she’s still your sister. Your father would be sick to know you two are fighting like this.”
A harsh sigh fell from your lips. You rubbed your temples with both hands.
“We’re not fighting,” you said. “I’m just choosing to pretend I’m an only child.”
Lisette gave you a sad frown that spoke more volumes than her words could. You felt a stab of guilt for it, but you didn’t take it back. If you had to see that hateful bitch today, then you wouldn’t hold back this time. It would be on sight.
And…of fucking course.
As if on cue, there was a commotion at the front door. The lock began to turn and click. Then the door slid open, revealing Rachel with her key to the house poised in hand. She was a personal trainer and yoga instructor, so she was wearing her skin-tight Halara leggings (yes, the “TikTok Leggings”), along with a breezy crop top.
She had a chain-link purse strung over her shoulder and oversized sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, but you could still see her eyes widen when she caught sight of you, her steps stopping short in the doorway.
You stared right back at her. Your teeth clenched, like a train grinding against the tracks at a hard stop and shooting off sparks. Everything Mark told you two days ago came rushing through your mind—every unwanted touch, every disgusting, manipulative word she used to try and spin him into her web while he was at his worst.
“What—What’re you doing here?” she said, a frightened little deer caught in your trajectory.
You didn’t even answer. You couldn’t speak.
You just moved, rounding the kitchen counter and cutting through the dining room with a purpose. Rachel squeaked, and she scrambled to back out of the house the way she came in. She flung the door open and retreated.
You followed.
“I know what you really did, you lying, psycho bitch!” you hissed. Your voice carried and seemed to slap Rachel upside the head. She stopped on the stone walkway leading up to the house. She turned around, lifted the sunglasses to the top of her head, and she glared at you warily.
“What’re you talking about?” she shot back.
You laughed in disbelief. “Oh, don’t act dumb now. What you did to Mark isn’t just reprehensible. I should file a report and get you fucking arrested for being a vile cunt.”
Rachel’s eyes flashed. Her face screwed up in anger, so much that she strode back up the steps and slapped you across the cheek. Your head twisted to the side at the stinging blow. You even stumbled a little, but your shock gave way to a grim smile.
Can we say, self-defense?
Her face dawned with realization, just a bit too late. She didn’t even have the instincts to duck your punch.
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“Goddamn it. Fucking move, people!” Mark muttered uselessly at the cars in front of him.
It had been a long damn day. It also looked like he and the team were heading to Mexico in the morning. Doing a drug run for Javi, a local cartel boss, would hopefully get them one step closer to finding out who he carried a shipment of goddamn fissile material for. They had to find out who was trying to orchestrate another 9/11 in California. 
Mark was on his way home, cutting through L.A. traffic the best he could during rush hour. His stomach was practically attacking his liver in hunger. He also wanted to see you before he left, hopefully for just a day or two.
Didn’t you say you were over at your mom’s for dinner? Damn, that woman could cook.
How many Sunday dinners had he spent with your family in the past five years? All those Christmases and Thanksgivings, birthdays, Fourth of Julys at the beach and Memorial Day backyard barbeques.
Your mom was a sweetheart, too. She always bought him gifts at Christmas, never forgot his birthday, always saved him a special cut of whatever she was cooking. Truth be told, she was like a second mother to him, especially after his mom passed.
Mark sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment and let his head slowly fall back against the headrest. A warning flash of pain echoed through his skull, like a small oyster knife on the twist.
Fuck me.
It would be good to see Lisette—and be able to share another one of those meals with you too, however many of them he had left.
The traffic light finally turned green. Mark found himself changing lanes, then changing directions. Another twenty minutes had him pulling up to your family home on a quiet residential street.
Well, it was usually quiet.
“Aw, shit.” Was that Rachel out there on the driveway? What the hell was she doing here?
She was beelining up those cobblestone steps right for you. She threw you a slap so hard it snapped your head to the right, making your hair fly in your face.
“The fuck?!” His angry brows furrowing, Mark parked the car and unclipped his seatbelt quick, but when he next looked up, he caught sight of your swift left hook.
“God-damn,” he couldn’t help but laugh. As a man of the law, he knew he should've been stepping in right about now, but this opportunity was a little too satisfying to give up. He stayed where he sat to watch the show.
Rachel went down like a sack of shit.
And you didn’t waste no time. You pushed her the rest of the way down into the grassy front yard and got on top of her, pinning her arms behind her back and wedging your knee in her spine. Before she could swing back and headbutt you, you shoved her face into the grass.
Your dad taught you pretty damn well.
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Rachel screamed and cried for help, but all it did was fuel your ire. You felt crazy and deranged, but you also felt alive too, for the first time in a long time.
Meanwhile, your mom watched in worry from the porch. Her protests weren’t strong enough to reach you though.
“Get off me, you fat ugly bitch!” Rachel screeched.
You saw a nice little brown pile the neighbor’s dog must’ve left this morning. It was just close enough for you to grab (unfortunately) with your bare hand. You pulled her head back by her hair and smeared dog shit all over her face—her cheeks, her forehead and chin. Her shrill screech reached new heights.
The neighbors could’ve been watching with shocked open mouths and iPhone cameras raised high, but you didn’t give even half of a fuck. You did quiet her down though, by shoving her face back into the dirt. The lawn was still nice and damp from the afternoon sprinklers.
“Yeah? You like that? Keep talking shit and I'll break your fake-ass nose, which I helped pay for!” you shouted. “I waited in that fucking lobby for hours while they hacked off the old one. I gave you cold compresses for your swollen, puffy lobster face. Now how about I snap that shit off like you’re Mr. fucking Potato Head?”
She cried as if you were killing her. Dramatic, as always. But eventually she stopped wriggling and thrashing so much, just shaking her head and sniveling. Realizing she wasn’t about to get out of this so easily, she switched tactics.
"Okay." She splayed her hands out the best she could behind her back in surrender. "Okay! Jesus Christ, I'm sorry!"
“Oh, yeah? You’re sorry? What’re you sorry for?” you asked.
"I already told you I fucked him! I fucked your fiancé!"
"No, but you tried to," you seethed. "You just couldn't, could you? Because he's a good man, and you're a lying slutbag. Isn't that right?"
Rachel tried to deny it, but the harder you shoved her shit-stained face into the wet dirt, the more she coughed and spluttered. You eased up just enough for her to nod her head, lips trembling.
“I-I’m sorry. I-I was wrong. I didn’t mean for it to end up so bad,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just let me go—”
Tears began to sting in your own eyes. “Do you know what you actually stole from me?”
Your breaths shook, along with the inner most depths of your soul. You bent closer to her ear.
“Time. That’s what you took from us,” you said, a coarse whisper. “Time we’ll never get back.”
Rachel continued to cry pitiful tears. You almost, almost started to feel bad for her.
But then, you didn’t. Too many memories were rising to the surface.
“Why’d you do it, huh? Danny Mendez wasn’t enough for you?” you said. “Oh yeah, you remember him, back in high school. You made out with my boyfriend the night of my senior prom, bitch!”
Oh yeah, that was a fun little memory to unlock from the brain bank. You realized now that it established a pattern of behavior, one you still couldn't completely understand. It hurt your heart.
“Why?” you demanded through blurry tears. “Why do you hate me so damn much?”
“Because!” she yelled. Her own tears had mixed with the shit smears on her face. Her lips wobbled. “Everyone thinks you’re so fucking perfect! Mom…Dad…he practically worshipped you.”
Your brows knitted together. “No, he didn’t. What the hell are you talking about? He rode my ass all the time! Way harder than he ever did to you.”
Your dad had been a good man, but he'd also been a fucking hardass. A former marine turned LAPD, from officer to Homicide Detective, and finally Captain. In typical firstborn syndrome fashion, you took on the brunt of his expectations, and even resented him for it at times. But you eventually saw the wisdom and the work ethic he was trying to instill in you.
Then again, it would’ve been better for everyone if he had paid closer attention to Rachel. She had been a wild child who even you had a hard time corralling. Your mom was a loving, nurturing person, but unfortunately, not much of a disciplinarian. Your father had too much on his plate at work to wrangle Rachel in as much as he’d wanted.
“Because he believed in you!” she said. “He didn’t just pick at you or criticize you or tell you what to do like you were one of his little soldiers. He talked to you like…like a person. Even…even when he was dying. He only ever asked for you, or for Mom. He never asked for me.”
You heard the resentment and immature selfishness in her voice, but you also heard the hurt. The deep kind of hurt that could make you lash out at others, just to try to mask the pain.
After a long moment of hearing her pitiful sniffles, you sighed.
“He did ask for you,” you admitted. “That day, when you and Mom went out to get coffee, and it was just me and him…I think he knew it was the end. He opened his eyes for the first time in days, and he said your name. His eyes went all around the room, like he was looking for you.”
Rachel’s body shook underneath you. Her quiet sobs of realization reached your ears.
“I called you, but you didn’t pick up. Maybe you had your phone on silent because we were in the hospital… Anyway, a few minutes later, he was gone,” you said. “But he loved you, Rachel. He just hated that he couldn’t stop you from becoming what you are. Selfish. Insecure. Immature and vindictive. A truly heinous combination.”
Rachel had long stopped fighting you. She just cried and shook like a leaf.
You jolted at a touch on your shoulder. You were surprised to find Mark, looking down at you with calm reassurance and a tinge of humor in his eyes.
“All right, sweetheart. Think she’s had enough,” he said.
Rachel gasped and craned her neck up as far as she could. Her eyes went impossibly wide, her mouth falling open in shock to see him.
Mark helped you up with one hand on your arm and another around your waist. He guided you away from your sister. Rachel pushed off the ground and scrambled shakily to her feet. She wiped at her disgusting face painted with three kinds of shit, but shame was what radiated the most when she looked up at you and Mark.
“I…I’m sorry,” she said.
It was the first time you actually believed her. You didn’t say anything, but you swallowed tightly.
Rachel shot one last glance at Lisette, who was teary herself with disappointment. Rachel grabbed her purse off the ground and retreated quickly to her car. You watched her go, releasing a deep breath and the rest of your fury.
Mark massaged the back of your neck, pressing a kiss to your temple. He felt a surge of pride well up in his chest for you. Not just for being a veritable badass and handling your business, but for still having the kind heart he knew underneath.
“You good, Rocky?” he asked with a note of teasing.
Your lips tugged reluctantly at a smile. You wondered how much he saw. How much he heard. All you knew was, you really needed to get cleaned up.
“I don’t know. I might still be a danger to myself and others,” you said, a little slyly as your gaze ran up to his. “Might even need you to restrain me.”
His brows rose, his resulting grin showing teeth. You still knew how to catch him off-guard, in the best fucking way.
“Mark, is that really you?” your mother asked from the porch.
You two had to put a little pin in your game, for now, but his green eyes were full of promise. His lips twitched upward and he squeezed your waist. Then he looked up.
“Hey, Lisette. Been a while.”
When you and Mark ventured up the steps to join her, Lisette welcomed him into a warm, warm hug. The kind that sunk into his bones and made his shoulders feel a little lighter.
She later sighed and pulled away, giving you both a raised brow.
“It looks like there’s more to the story of what happened last year,” she said.
“That there is,” Mark nodded. He shared a look with you, and with your clean hand, you rubbed his back in support. However he wanted to do this, you would back him up.
“Well, we can talk about it over dinner,” Lisette said. She opened the front door to the house, giving a small smile. “I made a pot roast.”
Mark’s face broke into a grin. “Oh, I’m excited.”
You and your mom had the same laugh, like sweet sunshine.
“You remember my pot roast?” Lisette asked.
“’Course I do. With the little potatoes, sprinkle a’ rosemary?”
Mark held the door open for you like the gentleman he was, and he shut it behind him.
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AN: Sister, sister, dog shit eater. Amirite? 🤣
I have another Mark fic in this storyverse for you guys next week! I do have more ideas too (especially after watching 1x05 😭), so I plan to continue this little series as we get deeper into the season. 💜
But until then, I'd love to know what you guys think of this one! I think reader and Mark deserve a lot more "making up for lost time" moments lol. And was her confrontation with Rachel everything you wanted it to be? 😂
Next Time:
Your arms wrapped around his waist from behind. A smile began to tug at his lips on reflex. He felt your head resting against his dewy skin. Your hands inched up his chest and playfully teased with your nails. Little sexy scratch. Little kiss between his shoulder blades. 
“Go back to sleep, baby,” he said. A teasing note crept into his voice, “It’s too early for you.”
“You got in late last night.” Again. He’d been pulling late hours all week. Whatever case he was on, you had a feeling it was a big one. He still wouldn’t give you any details though. Not even when he was gone for almost two days, coming back smelling like a rancid farmhouse and covered in sweat and grime.
“I want to see you,” you added softly. “Kinda the whole point of me being here.”
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devinescribe · 3 days ago
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hi!!! i was wondering if you could write an angsty fic for Snotlout x reader - where reader doesn’t understand that his flirting is genuine and feels like he’s making fun of her so she ends up ignoring him and he’s confused and has to ask around their friends and then he’s like “oh.”
i hope that makes sense!!!! thank you!!! - ❤️‍🔥
Misunderstandings
Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
So many Snotlout requests/ideas so many characters to spread love to 😔 the best problem to have. I hope this meets what you were trying to say pookie :3
hi!!! i was wondering if you could write an angsty fic for Snotlout x reader - where reader doesn't understand that his flirting is genuine and feels like he's making fun of her so she ends up ignoring him and he's confused and has to ask around their friends and then he's like "oh." i hope that makes sense!!!! thank you!!! - ❤️‍🔥
Of course pookie!!! Mwuah
Warnings: angst, hurt comfort, cussing, he's an idiot,
Being around the group wasn't always easy. Ever since you all got dragons and have become closer, it seemed like everything was perfect!
But there was always something. And that something was Snotlout Jorgenson. He was loud, brash, made idiotic choices, and the worst part was he was mean. Sure he was an asshole to everyone, but it seemed he picked on you more than the others.
Little snips and comments that were just so mean... like when he caught you after you fell off your dragon and said that your dragon probably "couldn't carry your weight" and that his dragon was a warrior so obviously he could. Or maybe when he said, and you quote, "I usually go for flashy girls, y'know, the ones that everyone wants, but you're different."
What did that mean? All it mean to you was that he thought you were less than... plain... boring.
"Careful, people will start to think you're into me or something..."
Your translation of that?  He didn't want people to think you liked him... it would be embarrassing.
"You're.... A lot. In a good way."
Your translation? He literally thought you were too much. Too loud, too big, too... you.
"Looking like that, you're gonna distracts everyone in the village."
Your translation? You thought he was making fun of your looks...
"You are pretty intimidating... like... scary..."
Your translation? He thought you were too much. Too... scary. Unfeminine... too loud.
"What would a girl like you want with a guy like me anyway?"
Your translation? That he was too good for you... and why would a girl like you even try...
So on and so forth. This had gone on for so long... about maybe three months? Since the battle with the Red Death, the village had tried its best to adapt, and so did your group.
But there's only so much you could take. Pretty soon, you started to feel really upset... because for some time, you thought Snotlout might like you. At least as a friend... but his comments made you want to curl up and cry.
"You could like... probably crush a man's skull between your thighs..." He said one day after training when you had just taken one of the dummies down.
Your translation? He thinks I'm too big... my thighs are probably too big he thinks I'm gross...
"She could probably just walk and the sound would make any man think a thunderdrum is coming. It would scare them away before she could," Tuffnut snickered, thinking he's just being silly.
You tried to keep it in, smiling through your utter embarrassment and sadness. From this second forward... you knew that Snotlout Jorgenson didn't like you. Not at all.
——
Snotlout was a lot of things. Loud, obnoxious, idiotic... but secretly he was a huge romantic. Or at least he thought so. He thought, this whole time... he had been flirting with you.
"I usually go for flashy girls, y'know, the ones that everyone wants, but you're different."
His translation? You're different, and you treat me like I exist and I like that.
"Careful, people will start to think you're into me or something..."
His translation? I'm into you... please say you're into me too... please?
"You're.... A lot. In a good way."
His translation? A lot is good. A lot is the best. Cus too little is bad, so being a lot is good! I promise I can handle it…
"Looking like that, you're gonna distracts everyone in the village."
His translation? You're so hot, you're literally going to catch everyone's attention, including mine!
"You are pretty intimidating... like... scary..."
His translation? Intimidating and scary are things that describe like... the really cool dragons, which means they're good adjectives? Maybe? I think you taking charge is hot...
"What would a girl like you want with a guy like me anyway?"
His translation? Seriously... you're too good for someone like me. Why would you want to be with me... not like you do.
"You could like... probably crush a man's skull between your thighs..."
His translation? I volunteer as your experiment! They're so squishy and soft... or they look it anyway... I want-
And that was all good and dandy until Tuffnut butted in. Snotlout had a fear of seeming weak or out of the norm, so he laughed along... even if it wasn't even funny.
——
The next few days, you decided you were going to choose your peace. You ignored his comments, actively choosing to talk to others when he was talking to you... and you felt better.
You want to know who didn't feel better about this? Snotlout. He should have been used to rejection by now, he should, and he knows that. But there's something about you rejecting him that makes him extra sad, it really stings. Maybe because he has genuine feelings for you, and thought maybe you'd be the one he could actually have.
"Hey, Y/N, can-"
"Ruff, can you tell me that thing you do to your hair? It's so long and shiny."
He watched as you literally pretended he didn't exist. Walked past him. Not even sparing him a glance. And that hurt in the worst way possible. Because that was willfully ignoring him. You ignored him on purpose, and he felt a little bit of his soul die.
“Oof… harsh. Imagine getting ignore for Ruff. Not even Hiccup does that,” Tuffnut snickers besides him.
“Sh-shut up!” Snotlout groans, looking as you talk to Ruffnut.
From this moment, he swore he would find out why you were ignoring him. He would. However, the process started with talking to your friends. Which were his friends. So, he had to wait for you to not be around.
Just his luck, your mother had been looking for you, or at least that’s what Astrid said when she came in with Stormfly.
You said goodbye, and ran out with your dragon, flying in the direction of the village.
“Okay that was great timing because I have a question and it’s what the fuck is her deal?!” Snotlout said, almost screaming his question.
“Her deal? The Hel you mean ‘her deal’?” Astrid asked, defensively, ready to protect your honor.
Hiccup sighed, shaking his head, ever the observant man. He hand seen the way your face fell whenever he made a comment or how you would flinch when he laughed.
“Are you dense or just pretending to be?” He muttered, walking closer to the group.
Astrid and Ruff nodded, agreeing with him. They were your best friends and you had told them all about your feelings.
“If I knew why she was ignoring me I wouldn’t be asking would I?” Snotlout scoffed, fidgeting with the strings in his tunic.
“Snotlout, your comments!” Astrid groaned, exasperated by his cluelessness.
“My comments…?”
“Yeah your comments you mutton head! Her dragon couldn’t carry her weight but yours could because he was a warrior?”
“Or when you said that her thighs could crush a man’s skull, then my IDIOT of a brother added his thunderdrum comment,” Ruff piped up.
“What? Those things aren’t… bad? Are they?” He turns to look at Fishlegs and Hiccup, who have the most shocked, dumbfounded expressions on their faces.
“Not that bad? Not that bad?! Are you actually stupid?!” Fishlegs shrieked.
“I-I… I mean I don’t… get it.”
“Looking like that, you're gonna distracts everyone in the village,” Astrid mocked, crossing her arms.
“Guys I genuinely don’t understand why she’d be ignoring me over compliments-“
“YOU THOUGHT THOSE WERE COMPLIMENTS?!?”
He stared at the group around him confused and nodded.
“I like her thighs. And when I said the distraction comment, she looked good as always, and she was distracting me. Too much is a good thing to me… so yeah I don’t get it,” he explained.
Hiccup facepalms, wondering how he can be related to Snotlout. Astrid had seen yaks with more sense than him. Ruffnut has seen her brother fly Barf and Belch with more tact and grace than how he handled this.
“You fucking moron…”
——
After about an hour of them explaining how his comments were bad, and how you interpreted his remarks.
He lied on the floor, staring up at the sky.
“I’m an idiot,” he groaned.
“Yeah… you kind of are,” Tuffnut confirmed, standing with the rest of the group.
“I messed up.”
“Big time.”
“She probably hates me…”
“Probably? You mean she does hate you.”
“I thought I was flirting-“
“You thought THAT was FLIRTING?!”
Astrid groans, rolling her eyes, “Snotlout, get up, go find her, and apologize.”
“How in Odin’s eye am I supposed to do that when she ignores me the second I try to talk to her?” He sighed, sitting up, running a hand through his hair.
“Usually she goes out to the river alone around this time. I’m sure she’ll listen since she can’t exactly ignore you then,” Ruffnut suggested, shrugging her shoulders.
“Cmon… I can’t deal with anymore of this… dramatic moment any longer. Get up,” Tuffnut groaned, dragging him over to Hookfang, who was more than happy to fling his owner onto him and fly away when he heard your name.
——
When they found you, you were sitting against your dragon, humming as you gently took water and cleaned up any muck on their talons.
He flew down, and of course you saw him. You just turned your back to him with a huff, suddenly very interested in the patterns and scales of your dragon.
“Y/N… please don’t ignore me…” he said, quietly, fidgeting with his clothing, going over and sitting far enough that he was out of reach of your punches… but close enough that you could still hear him.
You didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him or his words, just kept checking your dragon. He sighed, looking down.
“I-…I’m sorry. I didn’t know… I-i… can you please just look at me for a minute-“
“Why do I owe you the grace of my eyes, if I had not been given the grace of your words?” You interrupt, not looking up, your words icy, shooting through his veins like an arrow.
He stares, shocked, shame filling his head. He already felt bad, but hearing just how much his words had affected you, made him feel even worse. But this wasn’t about how he felt. He should feel like shit because he hurt you, the one person who’s opinion he truly cared about. The one he really really cared about.
“I-I know. I was an asshole, okay? I get it… but please… let me make it right… let be explain… please…” he begged, looking up at you. He saw your shoulders heave in a sigh as you turned around.
“Fine. Go ahead.”
“So… everything I said? I-I meant it in… well I-i was trying to flirt with you…”
“You thought that was flirting, Snotlout?”
“I-I know I know! It’s… it’s bad… I already got an hour long lecture from everyone else… I didn’t know how you took them or how they hurt you… a-and… I’m sorry. I really am. I understand if you never want to talk to me again or something because I hurt you, even if my intention wasn’t to harm… still hurt you… I… I get it if-“
“How did you mean what you said?”
He took a breath; Then he began his long… so very long explanation.
“I’m just going off of what people… brought up I’ve said b-but I know I’ve said more… but when I said the thing about flashy girls versus you I-i didn’t mean you were plain or boring… I mean that you're different, and you treat me like I exist and I like that. When I said you’re a lot… I mean like… a lot is good… I’ve always been too little… I can handle it I promise. I said you’d distract everyone… I didn’t mean it in a way where I was making fun of your looks… I-i just… I thought you looked really pretty that day… a-and… you were going to catch everyone’s attention… you’d already caught mine… I wasn’t really thinking when I said any of these but especially not when calling you intimidating and scary… but those are adjectives we use for things like… dragons… or like people we respect so I-i just said it… The thighs comment… um… I-i like your thighs… I-i think they make you really really hot… I shouldn’t have laughed at Tuff’s comment… when… I said that people might think you’re into me… I meant… like… I-I’m into you… I wanted you to say you were into me too… and when I said… what would a girl like you want with a guy like me… it’s just… you’re too good for me why would you ever like someone like me? So yeah… that’s… all.”
He stared at you, waiting for you to say something, anything. To yell at him, to call him names, to make him leave. There was an awkward silence between you both as you stared with a shocked look.
“You… think… I’m pretty?” You whisper, getting up and walking closer.
He stumbled up, nodding frantically, “Y-yes! Yes, gods yes I think you’re gorgeous I-i… I didn’t… think… really that’s it I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”
“Snotlout… you’re… such an idiot,” You whispered, laughing. “I thought you didn’t like me.”
“Are you kidding me?! I’m basically in love with you!” He declares, stepping closer.
You smile, and gently reach for his hand. He grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers.
“I know this doesn’t fix it. But I’ll do everything I can to make it better if you give me the chance to. I promise,” he says, his eyes searching your face nervously.
“I’d like that…”
103 notes · View notes
joshujin · 1 day ago
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ot13 on love island usa
masterlist • submit a request 🚨 minors and blank blogs will be blocked
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mini guide to love island for non-watchers!
cast song/dance: is this love by xg villa boys: scoups, joshua, hoshi, seungkwan, dino bombshells: jeonghan, wonwoo, mingyu, jun casa amor: woozi, dk, minghao, vernon
cw/tags: suggestive, regular reality tv trash things, you pick the winner a/n: this season pissed me tf off. did i watch every single night without fail? yeah. yeah, i did. but i'm going to write svt hcs about it bc i'm convinced my version would be more fun!!! anyway, remember this is love island so some of these guys are dumb, messy, toxic, or all of the above. that's what makes it fun! :) it is not-at-all a reflection of any of the members or how i see them. also, don’t think too hard about how many people are in the villa or how all the casa boys make it back. just enjoy it LOL.
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scoups
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♫ intro video song: fever - enhypen
he’s the OG guy who gets cuffed on day ONE but nobody dogs on him for it bc they’re kind of intimidated by him (bombshells are a different story; they give him so much shit). he obnoxiously makes out with his partner every moment of the day, and social media is all "do they even know anything about each other?" no. they do not. his partner doesn’t even realize his name isn’t actually scoups. but their physical chemistry goes crazy so whatever i guess. they get kicked out of the room early on bc they’re too noisy at night so they start sleeping (aka fucking) in soul ties. they fight a lot bc they’re both super jealous people. he’s immediately beefing with every single male bombshell that comes in and flat out ignores female bombshells. so much so, that america creates a misogynist scoups agenda. they watch as this man stares blankly in the other direction when female bombshells say hello. simply scoffs when they ask to to pull him for a chat. doesn’t even entertain breathing near any girls during challenges. the islanders kind of get annoyed with this behavior and they start to think he’s boring, but his partner is ofc very pleased with how “well-behaved” he is. but... she doesn't return that energy. she eagerly gives male bombshells her time and she happily kisses people during challenges (“it’s just a challenge!” “I DON’T CARE” “we aren’t even closed off!” “AGAIN. I DO NOT CARE!”), so he’s constantly raging lmao. when casa comes around and the producers desperately present him with someone a little more compatible with his expectations for a partner, he finally starts to open his eyes. he still doesn’t do anything bc as toxic as he can be sometimes, he’s still trying to be respectful! he does bring his casa girl back to the villa, though, and his villa partner has the crashout of all crashouts. he tries to calm her down and explain he just wants to explore, but she won't hear any of it, calling him all kinds of names. he doesn’t know why but he continues to try and get on her good side or at least explain why he brought his casa partner back. she just keeps ignoring him and talking to several guys (who won’t really give her much bc they’re scared of scoups). he’s making them both breakfasts every morning (OG girl keeps throwing the food out or even at him) and he keeps splitting his time between having nice conversations with casa girl and getting ignored by OG girl. and then... movie night happens and he sees what she was up to during her time at casa, and let's just say he's very happy he explored. anyway, she's voted out and he gets to experience some peace with his new partner, who genuinely likes him, knows his government name, and is completely uninterested in making him jealous or raising his blood pressure. both america and the villa like him a lot more after that lol.
💗: wins the heart rate challenge. as a firefighter. or devil. you decide.
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jeonghan
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♫ intro video song: strategy - twice feat. megan thee stallion
INSTIGATOR 🫵🏼 he’s one of the earlier bombshells, if not the very first one; his walk-in song is "1-800-hot-n-fun" by le sserafim. he comes in on a game night where the girls are blindfolded and ranking kisses from the villa boys. he makes out with every single one of the girls (♫ i like to dance when i party / i like to kiss everybody ♫ like, hello?) while the guys just have to watch LMAO. the girls unanimously agree that the last kiss was the best kiss and surprise! it’s fucking jeonghan. he's just hella smirking while the other guys are standing there, angry, clenching jaws and fists, and rolling their eyes and shit. his intro video is typical bombshell behavior: “i’m not here to make friends," “i don’t care who i make mad,” “i’m here for me and for love.” reader, he is absolutely not here for love but he is 1000000% here for the $100k prize. as such, he’s constantly whispering in people’s ears and trying to break everyone else up lmao. but he’s also so charismatic that even if some of his scheming comes to light, everyone still somehow tolerates him. some of them are even delighted by him. he gets a kick out of pissing the other men off by making out with their partners during challenges and plays innocent after, bro-ing it up with them and saying it was just for the game… just to turn around and tell the girls he loved the kiss and he'd like to get to know them (bruh. all of them...?). he never stays in one couple for long, but only bc he’s not really interested in anyone so they’re constantly choosing another guy at the next possible recoupling. regardless, he manages to stay in the game all season either from sheer luck, from friendship couplings, or from america voting him to stay in bc they like his mess and he does put annoying people in their place with his smart ass mouth. karma comes in the form of movie night, though, which is a fucking nightmare for this man lmfao. everyone sees how much he's been lying and gossiping and playing all sides, and the entire villa erupts into chaos. i’m talking multiple guys threatening violence. every single girl (including his own partner) throwing popcorn. his name trending worldwide on social media. he never made a meaningful connection bc he was too busy playing games and after making an enemy out of the entire island, he gets voted out shortly after movie night. but his personality is so funny on social media that america immediately forgives him. the remaining islanders even admit the house is a little sad and boring without him and they all become genuine besties with him post show.
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joshua
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♫ intro video song: stupid in love - max feat. huh yunjin
long-time fans of love island watch his intro video and immediately know this man should not be in the villa. the intro video goes like this. he says he's never been in a serious relationship bc he's scared of getting hurt. he wants someone he feels safe with and hasn't experienced that yet. he says his dream date can be anything, but that he'll think of it as perfect if the time goes by without him noticing bc he's enjoying her company so much. he says it feels silly to go on love island but there are few things he won't do for the sake of love. in short, everyone immediately pegs him for the sincere, honest-to-god LOVER BOY he is. most of the OG girls skip over him bc they all want a bad boy even if they won’t admit it (scoups gets the most choices to choose from for the first coupling lol), and they can smell joshua's good boy aura from a mile away. the first partner joshua gets is just super bestie vibes but as more and more of the girls get to know him, the more everyone starts to question if they want him instead. really, they’re just not used to men who properly listen to them the way he does (but yes, they still do want him instead). he makes a connection with a bombshell who makes it abundantly clear in her intro video that she’s going into the villa for joshua and only joshua ("it's time for me to let a real man love me, and i know those girls in the villa don't see what i do, but joshua? he is a real man."). she’s very forward with her intentions and being wanted so loudly is a really nice feeling for him. she gets tired of him being pulled for chats by every bombshell that comes after her bc they’ve all seen him on the show and know how sweet he really is. BUT! he stays true to his partner and he constantly recouples with her (he has the CUTEST recoupling speeches btw). both of them are on their best behavior during casa, and both of them are good sports about the other kissing islanders during challenges. she's upfront with every male bombshell that pulls her, informing them she’s Serious™️ about joshua and uninterested. he doesn’t do the same bc he’s kind of oblivious and thinks he’s just talking to new friends. but if girls ask him if he’s "open," he tells them hell fucking no (not verbatim bc he's too nice). they get chosen for the first outside villa date and they close things off. they're also the first couple chosen to go into the hideaway by the other islanders (no one fucks and tells but they glow differently hehe). a fan favorite to win!
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jun
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♫ intro song: filter - jimin
this man has never watched an episode of any version of love island in his entire life. he doesn’t know what it is, and he barely understands what’s happening. he was just scouted on social media and thought it would be a fun “for the plot” side quest. america votes that he should be the next bombshell and he arrives after a recoupling (his walk-in song is "move" by taemin). the girls who were left single and vulnerable are obviously over the goddamn moon (heh) and are all over him. girls who are coupled up are also all over him. unfortunately, bc he doesn’t know what’s happening or how any of this works, the asshole producers take advantage of that and tell him to steal a girl… from scoups (his toxic OG partner). he does and obviously causes insane levels of drama even though all he did was pull her for a chat. scoups starts by glaring at him and quickly graduates to yelling at him—telling him he’s being disrespectful, complaining that he should know they’re serious and shouldn’t have pulled her (“how would i know you’re serious…? i got here 5 minutes ago…” *entire villa has to hold scoups back*). so jun immediately wipes his hands clean of that, even avoiding the girls coupled up to chill guys or in friendship couplings who want to get to know him. nope! he sticks to talking to girls who aren’t coupled up at all. he’s DONE being a homewrecker!!! he makes breakfast for all the single girls, makes sure they all get chats from him so they’re not lonely, does whatever they wanna do—pingpong, working out, tanning, etc. basically, it’s giving… he adopted all of them...? he’s literally just being friendly esp bc he doesn’t want to even breathe around the coupled girls, but unbeknownst to him, the single girlies are all falling in love. they're fighting to be the one he couples up with, the girls he ignores are jealous he won’t even give them the time of day, and a few of the guys are kind of annoyed that all the attention is on the bombshell. jun ends up coupling with a girl he feels like is his best friend. she’s also the only one not constantly breathing down his neck so that's a nice plus. surprisingly, he ends up really liking her, and soon she’s the only one getting his breakfasts and playing pingpong with him. he doesn’t even realize how many hearts he broke, and america loves him for how oblivious and aloof he is about the entire process. he's literally just happy to be there and everyone is obsessed with that, including his partner. another fan favorite to win!
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soonyoung
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♫ intro song: lemon drop - ateez
an OG boy who serves himbo realness. he’s hot, he’s funny, and it seems like there isn’t a single thought in that beautiful head. after scoups, he’s a pretty popular pick for the first coupling, and he ends up choosing whoever he thinks is hottest. that fizzles out fast bc he finds her laugh a little grating and he’s simply too funny to be around someone whose laugh he doesn’t like. all is well, though, bc she finds herself more interested in someone else anyway. he quickly becomes the comic relief in the villa, the appointed class clown. there are so many screenshots of him on social media saying the funniest and/or dumbest things, and he becomes the most quotable islander in love island usa history. the downside is that he goes several days—maybe weeks—without any girls taking him seriously, and it annoys the fuck out of him bc hello!!! he’s hot??? and all any of them want from him are laughs?????? america notices this and votes for him to have a date with the next female bombshell. they hit it off, but when casa comes around, the house is full of girls who know soonyoung is hungry for some, ahem, proper attention and are too willing to give it to him. at the end of the day, he is still just a man. so he brings another girl back to the villa, and his original partner (who decided to remain single and wait for him) is devastated. so he in turn is also devastated (embarrassingly cries really hard in confessional, which makes it really hard for america to hate him). cue days of him not knowing what to do even though it’s clear his casa pairing is literally just based on lust. he just really doesn't want to hurt her even though he wants to be with his OG partner. but then the tweet challenge comes and someone gets “_____ is fr pissing me the fuck off bc why is he wasting his time with _____ when his soulmate is obviously _____!” they don’t even guess him as the answer, but when they read it aloud, he immediately thought of himself and his OG partner, and that was sign enough for him to come to his senses. he tells his casa pairing that he made a mistake and he’s so sorry but bye!!! then, he grovels for forgiveness from his OG partner. they ultimately recouple and make it to the finals without any other hiccups, though there's a lot of joking about this incident ("remember when you left me for a hoe you knew for two days." "no, actually, no i do not."). is that healthy? maybe not. but either way, these two are in luv.
📲: the audience is absolutely floored when they realize soonyoung is not a true himbo, as he is a successful surgeon. or lawyer. or engineer. you decide.
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wonwoo
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♫ intro song: bouncy - ateez
ohohohoho. imagine this. it’s the heart race challenge, and it’s not like this current season’s bs where they do it as a couple; NO, it’s solo! the girls are out at the fire pit, and the guys go give them lap dances one at a time, by themselves! when they’re done, they’re all brought up to the balcony and are confused about why they aren’t being brought back to the fire pit to join the girls. then, boom. "2 baddies" by nct starts playing and we see a porsche pulling into the driveway in slow-motion. two new male bombshells (whose faces we don’t see yet) get out of the car… in slow-mo. we watch them enter the villa in—you guessed it—slow-mo. we get zoomed in, slow-mo shots of golden tan skin. wide ass shoulders. abs. tiddies. ass. t-aychi-u-n-d-e-r thighs. the camera pans out and not only is wonwoo walking in (in slow-mo) but mingyu is too (also in slow-mo). they’re both dressed in slutty ass cop costumes. they’re smirking at each other in slow-mo. they’re high fiving in slow-mo. they’re winking at the camera in slow-mo. they’re looking over their shoulders in slow-mo. they’re just existing and being hot in slow-mo. you watch love island. you get it. they finally get back to normal speed. they’re introduced and immediately get to doing their thang on the girls, dancing and grinding and kissing and licking and swallowing faces—normal love island things. the guys are all watching from the balcony and screaming in agony (tiger-dressed soonyoung being the loudest ofc). after the game, the producers don’t let them change into regular clothes, so wonwoo is awkwardly trying to cover all his skin as he gets to know the girls. this man has his arms crossed, hands tucked into his armpits, forearms over his tits and covering his nipples. he hunches over when he sits to try and cover his abs and maybe draw less attention to his leather speedos. it’s not working at all. everyone is still ogling him. one girl tells him to hold on and when she gets back, she has a throw blanket. she hands it to him and he gratefully uses it to wrap around his shoulders. he blushes and quietly thanks her, and he’s touched by her observant nature. they talk about their families and interests; they realize they both like games. they talk for a long time, and when it’s time to go to bed, they clean up, meet back in the bedroom, and they sit on her bed and are still talking. the lights go out but they don’t let that stop them; these mfs keep yapping. everyone is begging them to shut up and go to sleep, so they finally relent, and wonwoo goes back to his own bed. from then on, they’re quite literally inseparable and they couple up at the earliest opportunity. these two + mingyu (since he and wonwoo immediately became bombshell besties) are america's three musketeers, constantly voted villa favorites for everything. whenever tiktoks are made of them, there's always at least one (but usually several) "may this kind of love find me EXPEDITIOUSLY" comment.
📲: many people ship the three musketeers as a throuple :)
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woozi
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♫ intro song: back for more - txt
our first casa boyyyyyyy hehe <3 the casa boys are ofc introduced in their swimming trunks and mans is obviously hot and hunky. his intro video is just as hot as he is, and the audience learns a few things: he had his heart broken a year ago and hasn't dated since, he came to love island mostly for shits and giggles, and his friends are convinced this is what he needs to do to move on. he shyly says he thinks his friends have a very different idea than he does of what moving on entails (they just want him to get his dick wet lmao), but he would prefer to make a genuine connection, though as a skeptic of reality television, he truthfully doesn't expect to. he's okay if all he does is make friends and have fun on a free vacation. a few of the girls from the villa are uninterested in exploring connections bc they have their partners already, but the rest of the girls are in the trenches, either heartbroken by a villa boy or overlooked by them. as woozi gets to know everyone, his attention is caught by a girl who's ofc super stunning but more than that, is soooo soft and funny and empathetic and kind, it leaves him sort of breathless… but she’s one of the girls already with a connection. she and her partner aren’t closed off yet and she expresses her interest in woozi, but she also makes it clear she’s really torn about it. she does bring him to the villa, but when she sees how gutted her partner is over it, it throws what she and woozi have going off track. she keeps flip-flopping between the two, and the only person woozi is interested in is her. america definitely ships them bc her OG partner is lowkey an asshole and constantly ogling and talking about other girls, but it’s america… voting can only do so much. so even though they try to vote them onto dates or vote her and her OG partner apart, she ultimately does not get the hint, and she chooses the other guy. woozi’s obviously hurt, but he tries to remind himself he was just here for the plot (he fails). everyone in the villa is sad to see him leave and it’s generally well-known among the islanders that everyone prefers woozi. but aur well. has a jalen type arc where he gets a million followers after exiting the villa LMAO
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minghao
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♫ intro song: invitation - junny feat. gaeko
another casa boyyyyyy <3 upon being introduced to the villa girls, his connection with one of them is immediate. they can’t stop glancing at each other, smiling, giggling. they basically want the host to stfu and leave so they can go chat already. when the host finally makes her exit, they practically make a beeline to each other but the producers are like uh uh uh! no! group chats first! he’s just giving them his signature minghao glare but that’s not gonna stop him. he shoves another casa boy out of the way to be able to sit next to her. he’ll ask questions and a girl will answer it and he’ll just be like “okay yeah whatever, what about you, though?” and he’ll turn his attention to his girl. lowkey rude? LOL but only in the name of LUV. when they finally do get time together, the sparks are flying and they’re attached at the hip. they’re sharing a bed at night, he’s making her breakfast, he’s holding tea ceremonies for her, she’s showing him how to do yoga, they love all the same music—it’s a match made in heaven!!! … until they get back to the villa. make no mistake, minghao’s partner is single as hell and one of the girls who was constantly overlooked and under-appreciated in the villa, but of course, one of the musty ass men who left her for the first bombshell that caught his attention sees her with minghao and immediately wants her back. NOT ON XU MF MINGHAO’S WATCH LMAO. this man is a menace. he’s making out with her in front of this guy. he’s waxing poetic about her when all the guys are making breakfast. he sees that the dude brought her breakfast before he did and he throws the idiot’s plate out and replaces it with his. in front of him. america is living for his behavior. haters call him possessive, the real ones know he’s just a fucking king!!! and his girl? head over heels in love. not even interested in that other dude, but if minghao wants to keep acting like that, who is she to stop him hehehe. booktok loves him.
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mingyu
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♫ intro song: chk chk boom - stray kids
kim mingyu starring as himbo islander #2 with a heart of gold. as you know, he comes in with wonwoo hehe. and man, this mf enjoys the attention. he’s chatting everyone up. the girls love him. THE GUYS love him. no one can hate this man bc he’s so funny and ditzy and charismatic. he probably goes a while just bouncing from girl to girl not bc he’s trying to but bc nothing just ever really clicks, and america just keeps saving him even though he’s made zero serious connections, but no one minds bc his vibes are immaculate and he’s very respectful and kind. but ofc, a bombshell comes in and he finally finds his match, and it’s probably bc she’s the only one so far that’s taken him seriously. she’s around for more than just how fun he is; she asks him thought-provoking questions and she sees how emotionally intelligent he is and even though she’s obsessed with the himbo vibes (bc she’s also kinda got the same thing going on), more than anything, she just really likes his personality. he tries to be open and not-at-all jealous about her exploring and talking to other guys, so she gives everyone a chance, but she figures out fairly early on she’s only interested in mingyu. unfortunately, they don’t last too long bc in an elimination where the girls vote a female islander off and the boys vote a male islander off, the girls vote mingyu’s partner off since she’s the newest and they just don’t know her as well. he doesn’t hesitate to leave with her, and ofc, it causes loads of drama bc everyone loves him, and all the guys get mad at all the girls lmfao. they give it a real shot out in the world and it works out. they’re in luv hehe <3
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seokmin
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♫ intro song: love hangover - jennie feat. dominic fike
same genre as jun in that he has no idea what’s happening on this mf island. his friends applied on his behalf as a joke and he got cast. he was brought to the island as a casa boy, and he’s confused about why they keep calling it the spanish word for house when they’re in fiji but he’s too shy to ask, especially bc everyone seems to have in-depth knowledge about everything that’s happening at all times. like, why does everyone keep talking about america like it’s a person in the room? why are people voting on unimportant things like this? why does everyone keep screaming about texts? he’s so lost and he’s trying so hard to hide it, just going with the flow. he’s talking to whoever wants to pull him for a chat, making people breakfast bc that’s apparently what he’s supposed to do, not swimming bc the girls look at him crazy when he asks if they want to. brought back to the villa in a friendship coupling that ends fairly fast when she finds someone she likes more romantically. jun probably notices how lost he is and explains as best he can (though he’s still a little confused himself), and he’s like, “wait, i can’t fall in love in a month, what???” but all the guys are obv like you’d be surprised!!! so he tries his best, chatting with single girls, trying to be their ideal type, basically kinda forcing connections but it’s clear he’s lowkey miserable about this bc he thought he was just coming here for fun (more like a jersey shore type show than a dating show). he lasts a while bc the islanders keep saving his cutieful, clueless ass, but he surprises everyone when during one recoupling, he pulls himself out of the game and decides he’s going home bc he’s homesick and he just wants to have fun with his homies again without having to eat a girl’s face every other day. he comes home to thousands of new followers and gets tons of sponsorship offers. he accepts one from the dodgers lmao. i honestly see him reconnecting with one of the girls on the show outside the villa and falling for her more naturally in a setting that isn’t essentially a fishbowl for everyone to watch and tap at.
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seungkwan
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♫ intro song: shoong! - taeyang feat. lisa
OG VILLA BOY! … and resident therapist. he most accurately represents america’s opinion on this show. if the viewers think someone’s shady, seungkwan is the first to clock it on the island. if the viewers find someone annoying, seungkwan makes it clear he does too. basically, the audience now relies on seungkwan to be the voice of reason in the villa. he’s consistently receiving the most votes, both as an individual and as a couple (he’s with another OG villa girl the entire time and honestly, america doesn’t think she serves enough cunt to be with him but they keep voting them best couple bc they love seungkwan so much). she lets that get to her head and becomes insufferable, so he very obviously tunes out of the coupling early on but doesn’t care to formally uncouple. mostly bc this man is billing HOURS talking every other islander through their incredibly suppressed feelings. he’s telling scoups he needs to fucking relax. he’s asking jeonghan if he received enough attention from his parents as a child. he helps hosh unpack his need to please everyone at his own detriment. he’s serving as a shoulder to cry on for all the girls. he’s telling them they deserve better even if some of them are crying about his own friends. you get the idea. he’s having fun for the most part bc hello, it’s still a free vacation, but he is getting increasingly fed up with being surrounded by grown ass people whose frontal lobes refuse to develop. his facial expressions and reactions become the most used memes of the season. so much so, people who don’t watch are using them and just being like “who’s this funny guy and who is torturing him enough to be making faces like this?” salvation comes in the form of a casa girl, who’s been watching his journey on the island and is ready to free him of his therapy shackles. and she does that by… giving him therapy. girly sits him down and is like, “hey, so let’s talk about why you only feel useful and worthy when you’re serving and helping others. why is that?” seungkwan is flabbergasted. and by the end of the convo, he’s crying a little, she knows him so intimately, it’s like they’ve known each other their whole lives, and he does feel liberated as house therapist. he recouples with her and actually starts to enjoy the island the way the others have—he’s making more time for his partner and for himself, he’s being honest when he doesn’t have the mental capacity to listen to ashleigh cry about chad for the nth time, and he’s genuinely falling for his match. unfortunately, their time comes to an end in one of those weirdly voted elimination rounds where no one has any true control of who goes home, and fan (and islander!) favorite seungkwan is booted off the island. a source later reveals that seungkwan got two hours to say goodbye instead of the usual 30 minutes bc everyone was so distraught about him leaving LOL. he gets dozens of invitations for interviews and he and his girl continue to explore each other out in the real world <3
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vernon
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♫ intro song: sexy nukim - balming tiger feat. RM (RM’s verse)
casa boy who is besties with fellow casa boy, seokmin. why? bc they’re both so confused about what’s happening. vernon catches on a lot faster but doesn’t explain to dokey bc he thinks it would just stress him out (and he was obviously correct). he, on the other hand, takes the information well, and goes along with these little chats, getting to know people and kissing a few girls who seem to want it here and there. but he’s also just like ┐( ̄ヘ ̄ )┌ about everything. he doesn’t realize he’s kind of in a relationship with someone until everyone’s cheering that they “closed things off,” and he’s perplexed about why everyone’s so happy he and his friend agreed they would stop kissing people bc honestly, these kissing games are gross and he’s getting the ick so bad (not at all realizing that he was agreeing to exclusivity with his partner. why does everything have to have a vague term??? if he wanted to be exclusive, he’d ask someone to be his girlfriend. if he wanted to express interest, he would just say it instead of asking someone to go to “soul ties” like WHAT???). so he’s uncomfortably exclusive, trying to figure out how to break it to this girl that he actually doesn’t want to be in a couple at all and that he truthfully had no idea what was happening in the conversation they had about this. as he thinks about it, he’s seen all over the villa by himself, deep in thought as he scribbles things in a notepad. when he finally sits with her, he admits that he doesn’t know what the following means:
closing things off - thought this was deciding i was done dating people here bc the kissing is tiring
soul ties - i don’t believe in soulmates but kinda crazy every single person in here does tho
soul ties is crazy - yeah i agree?
good chat - wym they have good chat? just say you like talking to them
pull for a chat - kinda rude we keep stealing people away. why can’t we all just talk as a group of friends
america - why do we care so much about america
his partner is dumbfounded and suffice to say, she immediately recouples, and while vernon isn’t eliminated, he’s left “vulnerable” (whatever that means), and he decides he’s done! he doesn’t want to be using his brain like this on vacation! one moment, he’s laughing with his friends and drinking, the next, it’s morning and the narrator says, “vernon has left the villa. he’s tired of having to refer to his personal glossary to understand what anyone’s saying.”
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dino
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♫ intro song: get a guitar - riize
our last OG villa boy! he, unlike many of his friends here on the island, is a love island expert. a love island fanboy even. he’s watched every season of every version, and he’s a true believer in the process (though he doesn’t have much data to support this actually works other than his self-proclaimed parents, leah and miguel but that’s honestly enough). this man is eager from the jump. he zeroes in on the girls that are his type, he’s having good chat, he’s delivering his best banter, he’s making bomb breakfasts, he’s bringing the girl he’s most interested in up to soul ties. he wants to be in love and he’s hustling for it! but unfortunately, he doesn’t realize that maybe he’s a little more in love with the idea of love than he is with anybody he meets or couples up with. still, he convinces himself he’s in love with every partner, then when they choose someone else, he’s heartbroken for a day before he’s bouncing back trying to find the next soulmate. seungkwan is in the trenches trying to calm the mood swings that come with this man’s intense heartbreak cycle (“have you ever stopped to wonder why you have such a desperate need for love?” “what no go away i’m heartbroken.”). even with no true connection, he’s kept around bc he’s wholesome and cute and sosososo fucking funny; he, hosh, and seungkwan are truly the comedic relief in the villa from the start. he’s saved vote after vote bc america is endeared by him. the show has a people’s princess and america’s sweetheart (leah and amaya papaya respectively—argue with the wall), and now they have america’s little brother: dino! unfortunately, he can only go so far without a solid relationship, but he’s probably the person who lasted the longest in love island history while single almost the entire time (he’s booted off the episode before the finale). worry not, this man comes home to many many women who are convinced they’re in love with him. he takes to the fame just fine.
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sebong island playlist
host walk-in songs: ・ bad influence - svt (explicit!!!) ・ mantra - jennie ・ jungle - s.coups ・ sugar rush - bibi ・ guess - charli xcx feat. billie eilish ・ talking body - tove lo bombshell songs: ・ hot - svt ・ thunder - svt ・ good to me - svt ・ ash - svt ・ water - svt ・ march - svt argument/breakup songs: ・ i don't understand but i luv u - svt ・ happier than ever - billie eilish ・ yours - jin ・ toxic till the end - rosé ・ traitor - olivia rodrigo ・ somebody else - the 1975 voted out songs: ・ our dawn is hotter than day - svt ・ spring day - bts ・ sign of the times - harry styles ・ don't dream it's over - sixpence none the richer ・ come home - onerepublic ・ die trying - michl falling in luv songs: ・ fortunate change - joshua ・ home - svt ・ lights down low - max ・ stars in the sky - phora feat. jhene aiko ・ tokyo love hotel - rina sawayama ・ serendipity - jimin happy going-to-sleep songs: ・ what's good - svt ・ talk that talk - twice ・ endless summer symphony - kyle ・ i like you - post malone feat. doja cat ・ trivia: love - rm ・ sweet dreams - j-hope feat. miguel heart race challenge songs: ・ cheers - svt ・ house of cards - bts ・ neva play - megan thee stallion feat. rm ・ pop, lock & drop it - huey ・ my bag - idle ・ big booty - gucci mane feat. megan thee stallion winner announcement song: to you - svt
tag list: aka my love island watch partners that asked to be tagged LMAO @se0kied0key @jjknj
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drewssgirl · 7 hours ago
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Fwb reader finding out the condom had snapped!!
⋆˚࿔ FINDING OUT THE CONDOM SNAPPED
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— pairing: fwb!rafe x fwb!reader
— warnings: MDNI 18+, condom snapping, explicit language, post-sex convo, talk of pregnancy, friends with benefits
— word count: 1.4k +
— A/N: thank you so much for the request!! i had a lot of fun writing this.
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it had been a few months of this—sex, sleeping over, laughing way too hard, ordering takeout you never finished, and occasionally making out like the world was ending. no labels, no feelings. just two overworked, over-caffeinated, emotionally-stunted twenty-somethings keeping it casual. or atleast trying to.
you were in his apartment this time. the lights were off, windows cracked open to the warm night air, the distant hum of the city below. the sheets were half on the floor, your legs still tangled, skin warm, both of you catching your breath in the quiet aftermath.
“solid performance,” you muttered, voice still hoarse.
he huffed a laugh. “you sound like you just reviewed me on yelp.”
“four stars. lost one for almost elbowing me in the face.”
“i was into it!”
you grinned, eyes still half-closed. “you’re lucky you’re kinda hot.”
he nudged you with his knee. “kinda?”
you chuckle, shaking your head. you were just starting to drift—barely coming down from the high, body melting into the mattress—when rafe suddenly shifted beside you.
and froze.
"...y/n?"
you blink, head turning slowly. "what?"
he sits up a little, frowning. the discarded condom's in his hand, and his expression drops fast. "fuck."
you sit up too, instantly wide awake. "rafe?"
he holds it up. there's a clean tear down the side — small, but definitely there.
you stare at it. then at him.
"rafe."
“okay,” he says quickly, already panicking. “don’t freak out—”
“you had one job!”
"it wasn’t me! it was the condom’s job, not mine!"
you groan, burying your face in your hands. “this is exactly why i thought this wasn't a good idea.”
he’s already scrambling to find his sweats, one leg in, hopping toward the bathroom. “do you have— like a plan b?”
“do i have a—” you mock him before launching a pillow at him. “why would i have one?!”
“i don’t know! you’re more responsible than me!”
"that's not a compliment right now!"
he disappears into the bathroom for a second, comes back out, hair a mess, face pale.
"okay," he says again, rubbing the back of his neck. "okay. i can run to the pharmacy. right now. five minutes max. i’ll get everything. snacks. emergency stuff. a new condom box. a plan b. plan c. all the letters."
"sounds like you're reassuring yourself more than me." you’re just sitting there now, still sheet-wrapped. rafe sighs. obviously it wasn't entirely his fault but you couldn't help but blame him. “did you… finish?”
rafe blinks. “you were there. what do you think?”
you glare.
he swallows. “…yeah.”
you fall back on the bed, hands over your face. “god, i’m gonna be pregnant with a sports editor’s baby.”
“okay wow,” he says. “that’s dramatic. it didn’t even break inside you— i think. maybe.”
you sit up so fast the sheet falls. “maybe?!”
he throws his hands up. “i’m getting the pills!”
and he actually sprints out the door in just his hoodie and sweats, wallet in one hand and phone in the other.
you sit there for a second, completely still.
“…i cannot believe this.”
you look over at the ripped condom still sitting on the nightstand and mumble under your breath,
“...one job.”
twenty-five minutes later, you’re still in bed, hoodie thrown on, staring at the ceiling like it’s gonna give you answers.
your phone buzzes beside you.
rafe: i got it rafe: i also got mini eggs rafe: and a blue gatorade
after your lack of response, he types:
rafe: did u want red instead?
you sigh, typing back:
you: just come upstairs, dumbass
you hear him fumble with the keys like he’s never opened a door before. the second he steps inside the room, he’s holding a plastic bag like it’s a sacred offering.
“peace treaty,” he says, gently placing it on the bed. “i got the good brand of...you know and some water for that, mini eggs, gatorade and backup condoms.”
you give him a look, staring at the pack of condoms. “you think there’s gonna be a next time?”
he doesn’t answer that. just shrugs and plops down next to you.
you pop out a pill and the water. rafe watches you like you’re defusing a bomb. you take a sip, place the pill in your mouth and chug it down with water. the two of you sit in silence, taking in what had just happened.
“you okay?” he asks, a little quieter now.
you glance over. “yeah. just… wasn’t expecting this, y’know?”
“yeah,” he echoes. then adds, “me neither. i thought that thing was on tight.”
you shoot him a look. “please don’t ever say that again.”
he laughs, rubbing a hand over his face. “sorry. just trying to lighten the mood.”
you twist open the gatorade and down half of it in one go.
rafe’s quiet for a second, then nudges your arm. “hey. if anything… happens, i’m not gonna bail. i’m not a piece of shit.”
you look at him, a little surprised. “i didn’t think you were.”
“just saying. i mean, technically, we did swear on the bible, even if it was on your ipad.”
that actually makes you laugh. “true.”
“plus, our kid would be hot.”
you stare at him.
“kidding. kidding!” he says, hands up in surrender. “too soon?”
“way too soon, carolina.”
you lean your head back against the wall, the pill box still in your lap. he’s sitting next to you now, shoulder touching yours.
“you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, this time a little softer.
you nod, chasing down the last bit of the gatorade.
then you sigh, loud and dramatic. “so much for just sex.”
rafe snorts. you let out a tired laugh, resting your head on his shoulder.
“next time,” you mutter, “you’re wearing two.”
he chokes. “that’s… not how it works.”
“don’t care. double it up. staple it on. i’m not taking chances.”
"yes ma'am" he’s still laughing when his head falls back against the wall too. “honestly— i'm happy i'm even getting a next time.”
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©DREWSSGIRL 𖦹 est. 2025
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sookayheresthething · 3 days ago
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Was there anything that you want/wanted to do a "hold up a second" for that you didn't do for any reason? (Ex. you felt like if you did class 1-A from MHA, the party would be too large, or it would be too hard to make it obvious as to what it is, if it was something like the British Museum, or even just too much homebrewing that you might not want to do for something like Cynthia's team in Pokemon Platinum)
I mean, in general, if I have an idea for a WHOAS, I can do it. you'd be surprised at how much D&D 5e's terminology and mechanical descriptions can be warped for the sake of a one-minute punchline.
like, make no mistake, for the vast majority of WHOAS episodes, the character concepts would either completely fall apart or just be unrecognizable 5 minutes into an actual session -- they'd need way more work to be actually playable versions of the characters. there's a different market for people actually, like, writing answers to the question "how would I make Mabel from Gravity Falls in D&D 5e?" -- my videos are just silly little goofs.
and as for population size -- not usually a problem, if something has ten million characters I'd probably do the two or three Main characters, y'know? if I did MHA I'd do Deku, Bakugo, and Uraraka. if I did Smash Bros I'd do, like, Mario and Link and Kirby and Pikachu or something. if I did Animal Crossing I'd do the player character, Isabelle, and maybe Tom Nook. y'know?
the only one I can think of off the top of my head that I have on my to-do-at-some-point list where I cannot for the LIFE of me figure out how to force into D&D 5e is Light Yagami. I've done Ed and Al, I've done the Straw Hats, I gotta do Light Yagami at some point. but like... hey, that's not a fantasy hero, that is a normal child with a death book.
the closest I've gotten is "warlock whose patron is a death god who has a magic item that's a book with Power Word Kill built in as a free action" or something, but then I run into the second-, third-, fourth-, and fifth-most-difficult part of writing WHOAS episodes*, which are
2. how the hell do I make it at all verisimilitudinous that MMS would not Get It at this point,
3. how the hell do I make it at all verisimilitudinous that MMS would even allow this,
4. how do I get a full 40 to 60 seconds out of this premise, and
5. how do I keep the audience guessing so they don't get it 3 seconds in (I often fail at this one).
so yeah. light yagami, I guess? wait, no, I thought of another one -- veggietales. I had the idea for a veggietales one at some point (oh my god, bob would be a cleric, larry would be a bard/paladin multiclass-- I could make a joke about archibald being a warforged-- there's a lot of potential there). but there just isn't a commonly-recognized plant-person race that I could make into vegetable people. closest is myconids** and idk if that works enough for me.
the other thing is popularity of source material -- I sometimes don't do one if I know that it's not, like, mainstream popular enough. I know that sounds cynical, but it's not supposed to be, I just think that if I did, like, I dunno, Kidd Radd, it wouldn't be fun for anyone but me, eh? I did TLT characters at one point, and I'm vaguely considering doing characters from Remedy's Control, but while those are a little outside the mainstream (the TLT episode definitely got a lot of people in the comments saying "dafuq is this", and that was even part of the punchline of the video), I tend to avoid going for the REALLY obscure*** fandoms I'm in with WHOAS.
oh, and it'd be easy to do and a guaranteed smash hit, but obviously I'm not doing fucking Harry Potter. that whole franchise can rot in mold hell and anyone still supporting it needs to seriously reevaluate their life choices.
--
*the first-most-difficult part is, of course, figuring out the details of the actual build and how the build is described, but you probably already figured that :)
**that's when I have a conid. y'know, my conid as opposed to your conid.
***although I do have a proven track record of thinking things are obscure when they aren't -- case in point, my old "manticores are cool!" video starts with me saying "here's a mythological creature you've probably never heard of before" about a manticore.
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thecorefrisk · 17 hours ago
Text
I kind of want to make Tim a little weirdo. In a fic, I mean.
But, like, the kind of weirdo who is like ‘Omg I’m living out my superhero fantasy!!’ And then gets full body throttled into reality.
This doesn’t mean he doesn’t get hoes; it just means that he’s a weirdo but an oddly smooth one.
Weirdo like Deku is basically. A fanboy. A very dedicated one.
Because I, personally, headcannon that he did not go through willful neglect. His parents didn’t mean to neglect him. It just happened.
Emotional neglect rather than physical. Just too busy to actually get to know their kid.
And it’s not like they don’t love him. It’s not like they don’t care. But their jobs make them busy. (And it’s pretty easy to forget that you have to hang out with your kid when they seem so independent.
You did that. You. Not in your guidance but in your absence. A hyper-independent kid. You may take care of their physical needs but they’re not ever going to hand over the wheel to you with willing hands.)
A neglected kid whose every other physical need is met…
Tends to turn to the internet.
So, he’d probably write fanfic, maybe post stuff on tumblr, general fanboy stuff. (I don’t know whether he’d be the type to get SUPER angry and crash out over people getting things about his favorite characters/heroes wrong or if he’d be the type to headcannon OOC shit for fluff or angst and happily skip along in his willful ignorance.)
Personally, I was raised by the internet. And I… did not turn out normal.
Im not going to say I’m a terrible person because of it or that it didn’t literally save my life or that it didn’t cultivate my love for people and encourage my creativity.
But I am saying that it did ruin my sleep schedule, lead me to be exposed to things I should’ve never seen at that age, and genuinely altered the course of my life so much that there is a gap between the people around me and myself.
I’m saying that it fundamentally changed me.
I don’t think it would be the same for Tim. But I do think it would definitely be similar. I mean, you watch the wrong shows as a kid and go down the wrong pipelines and you could become anyone— even a kid willing to stalk two vigilantes while they’re on patrol.
I was lucky enough that the worst I was exposed to was sexual content. Imagine a kid exposed to gore. To murders. To genuinely horrifying shit.
I think it would make a weirdo. A rather good one. Ughhh, I want to write him like that 💔. I’m not saying it’s accurate to canon but it would be very fun.
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dilly-dahlia · 3 days ago
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Heya, I saw your event post and got super excited bc I love it when my fav fic authors do stuff like this! Would you be willing to do Backyard Boy for Laurance? I don't really have anything else specific to request, just go crazy if you so choose :)
Everything is Perfect
pairing: Laurance x Reader
content: during their college years, suggestive, friends with benefits situation, friends to lovers, i did accidentally sprinkle angst in here, sorry, definitely not beta read
summary: Your favorite place in the entire world was your summer beach house, though the fact that a certain brown-haired boy with sparkling eyes may have played a major role in that bias.
word count: 2.9k
a/n: yesss anon this is brilliant the gears were turning I had so much fun writing this
masterlist
300 milestone event | event masterlist
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There was nothing you loved more than riding in Laurance's car with the wind against your face. He had a convertible—a nice one—and when the summer season rolled around he very rarely put the cover up. He would turn the radio to a station that played old pop songs and the music would blast through the speakers as he rode through the streets with you.
It was nice. Your favorite car ride was always the first one when the two of you finally reunited after the school year. You attended different campuses, and even though the two of you had every way imaginable to reach out to each other, nothing could beat the time you spent actually in the other's presence.
The beach party your parents threw every year during summer's first week fell second to your favorite thing. And that was really only because Laurance was almost always by your side. That was why you and Laurance often had this first car ride, actually. Ever since he'd gotten his license his own parents sent him on every errand imaginable. You always tagged along.
Cadenza would normally join the two of you, but Laurance's sister had recently found herself enamored. She had opted to spend the first half of summer back in the city with her interest. You weren't entirely upset, seeing as it gave you an excuse to spend time alone with Laurance.
The first couple minutes were always awkward. It was time spent asking dry questions like How are you? How was the school year? Are you excited for summer? Time spent getting used to being together again.
The first car ride to the closest Walmart (which was a whopping hour long drive away) always dissipated the tension, and it never took long for the two of you to fall back into your usual routine. By the time you returned to your families beach houses, neither of you could stop talking to each other.
Of course, talking turned to teasing, and sometimes that teasing would turn to touches that lingered for just a little too long.
"Laurance! The water's cold!"
You really loved the beach side party your parents threw. Your parents made an assortment of pastries and grilled hot dogs and hamburger patties. Laurance's dads made mouth watering brisket and charcuterie boards. You decorated the beach with fairy lights and whatever else you picked up from the store. Every time you did, Laurance would find bothering you to be the most amusing thing in the world.
It was. You were so easy to rile up that you would often drop the decorating altogether just to chase him into the ocean and get him back. Sometimes you would get lucky enough to be able to tackle him to the sand, the waves lapping across both of you and soiling whatever outfit you had chosen to wear.
When the sun painted the sky in hues of orange and violet as it set and the people that wandered into your party mingled around the bonfire, you and Laurance often found yourselves drifting away. It was something you had done since you started high school, and anyone that cared noticed.
They never said anything.
They let the two of you pretend you were stealthy in sneaking away, but they must have been blind to not notice the change in atmosphere when the two of you were seen again the next day.
There was a concealed alcove just a five minute walk away from the beach houses. Everyone knew about it and sometimes you would find another couple that snuck away for a private moment, but tonight it was just you and Laurance.
The sand was finer there. During the day you were sure it would shine golden, too, since that picturesque image was the only thing you could imagine that matched the light and airy feeling you got every time you were there wirh Laurance.
Sometimes, mostly after long conversations about what had been pressing against your hearts since you last saw each other, the two of you would sit in silence. Your feet would be at the ocean’s edge and you would relish in the coolness of the salty water washing against your skin. Laurance would fidget with the bracelet around his wrist (one you'd made him to match your own) and occasionally steal a glance at you.
"Can I kiss you?"
He always asked that. It had started as a joke however many years ago when his friend Garroth had dared him to. He asked at least once every summer after that, always waiting for your cheeky rejection and never expecting a serious answer.
It took him by surprise when, the summer after you'd both graduated high school, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. Now he asked any time you found yourselves alone.
In that alcove that only belonged to the two of you, it always started soft. His lips would be gentle against yours, his hands tentative and almost hesitant to touch you. But he would always gain the confidence to pull you closer. He always slid you so close you sat in his lap and then he'd lie back against the velvety sand.
You would thread your fingers through his hair to press his body firmer against yours. His breath would hitch and he would part his lips just enough. The tips of his fingers would brush against your shoulders, ghosting along your spine with a featherlight touch that made you shudder and arch into him until—
Well, you get the idea.
After, the two of you would lazily pull your clothes back on and lie too close in the sand and look up at the stars. The party would be long over by now, but neither of you would be able to bring yourselves away from the moment. It was yours and yours alone. You didn't want it tainted by anything as trivial as the end of a party.
"Just friends?" you would always ask. Your voice would come out as a whisper for fear of shattering the fragile moment. Because back in Phoenix Drop Laurance had a beautiful on-and-off girlfriend he was conveniently never dating when summer rolled around. But sometimes, the faintest light of hope would fall through the cracks. Like you wanted more but couldn't risk destroying what you already had for it.
"Just friends," Laurance would agree. His tone would match yours in softness, hoping to preserve those fleeting seconds in a time capsule. Because back in Phoenix Drop there was a beautiful girl waiting for the text he always sent at the beginning of August like clockwork. But sometimes, the way he said just friends sounded sad. Longing. Like he wanted more but couldn't bear the thought of asking for it.
You always brushed it off and told yourself you were imagining things.
You and Laurance were close. Somehow, he was always touching you. Whether it was an arm slung across your shoulders or linking his pinky with yours, Laurance couldn’t stand when you were in the same space as him and his hands weren’t on you in some way.
He was always warm. His fingertips were calloused and he had a bump on his ring finger from where his pencil rested when he wrote, but he was still soft. You still wanted him to constantly touch you and found yourself longing for it when he wasn’t.
You didn’t have feelings for him. That’s what you thought, at least. That was disproven when the two of you went to a nearby flea market and ten separate people asked if you were dating. It was hardly that, it was moreso the fact that you had seen the most gorgeous set of china plates and Laurance promised he’d get them for you when you lived with him.
He was joking about that. He always was. But something about that time made you feel fizzy and bright. For one delusional second, you let yourself believe that he truly intended to live with you.
When you fully realized the extent of your feelings on the ride home, you were appalled with yourself. How could you have developed feelings for someone you considered to be your best friend?
After that revelation had hit you in the face as hard as a rock, you started to notice the little things. Like the way Laurance always went first and made sure you followed close behind when the two of you travelled to new places. Or how he always offered to eat whatever food you hadn’t off your plate when you got full. You never had to ask if he wanted it, he always just took it when you pushed the plate away from yourself.
He also always asked to kiss you. Every time. He never went in without intent or explicit consent. It didn’t matter if the two of you had been making out just a few minutes ago—if he wanted to kiss you again he would always ask.
And, strangely enough, the trips you took into town together started to feel more and more like dates as the days passed. Laurance always paid. He always pointed out things he thought you might like. He held doors open and kept you close to him.
Anyone else would have said you were dating.
Maybe that was why one day you asked him, “What are we?” You were lying in a hammock, gently swinging back and forth every time a gust of wind blew past. Laurance sat on the concrete beside you, book open and looking handsome as ever while he read.
He peered over his shoulder at you, brows furrowed as he took in your question. “What do you mean?”
You shrugged. You knew you should probably look at him, but you didn’t want to. His celestite gaze would pierce through your heart and you weren’t sure you could take that. Not in that moment, anyway. “I mean, we kiss.”
The fact that your only defense was we kiss was pathetic. You didn’t even sound sure of that fact when the words left your mouth. Immediately you regretted even responding and not just brushing the question away like your feelings.
Slowly, Laurance closed his book. You got a peek at the dark cover, but he tucked it against his side before you could read the title. It was probably something for a class he was taking. It was thick and if you knew Laurance, you knew he would never willingly pick something that long up.
“Just friends,” Laurance had replied. He sounded pained to say it, though. Like it physically hurt him to have those words leave his lips.
“And go on dates,” you added, hoping it would make him rethink what he wanted. “Well, they feel like dates at least. And we sneak away every chance we get. It just . . . It doesn’t feel very friendly.”
Laurance blinked at you. For a moment, you wished that you could read minds just so you could know what the brunette was thinking. His pale eyes shimmered like the ocean’s surface in the rays of the sun. They were all you were willing to see, despite your adamance about not wanting to before.
“Um . . .” He faltered. Truthfully, he was trying to come up with something to avoid his feelings. Because he did have an on-and-off girlfriend waiting for him to flick it on again back in Phoenix Drop. For a moment, he considered bringing Michi up. Just to avoid admitting how he felt.
He couldn’t bring himself to. Not when you were looking at him with eyes that looked like they would fill with tears if he gave the wrong answer. He couldn’t lie to you.
“We do,” he agreed, and he gave a brief nod that he hoped would give him a second to collect his thoughts. It didn’t, and the unspoken words remained a scrambled mess that was becoming impossible to organize into sentences.
“So . . .” You trailed off. There was a question in the air, though you weren’t entirely sure what it was. It could still be what are we, but some part of you also meant to ask if he still wanted to be with Michi. If he even wanted you at all or if he just considered you a fling to have every summer. Someone to let loose with.
Laurance cleared his throat. His full attention was on you and you suddenly wished that he wasn’t always so attentive when speaking to others. That sometimes he might glance away nervously, but no. The eye contact he held with you was steadfast and unyielding.
“What do you want us to be?”
Your breath caught and the beating of your heart sped up. It was pounding so hard you could hear the blood rushing in your ears. You should have expected him to ask that, but it surprised you.
“Uhm . . .” You were the flustered one now. Your mouth felt dry and your previously racing mind was now void of any thoughts. “I-I want to be more than friends.”
It was a soft, quiet admission. Your voice was a whisper and Laurance would have had a hard time understanding if his eyes hadn’t flicked down to your lips so he could read them. His mouth fell slightly agape, and when his gaze met yours once more his pupils were dilated.
“Okay,” he said, and that was that. He gave a curt, almost awkward nod before repeating the word. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
He nodded again, though this time he seemed more sure of himself.
“Okay what?” you asked. Sure, it was an answer, but you weren’t sure if it was an okay, let’s date or an okay, it’s cool that you wanna be more than friends but I don’t I hope that’s okay.
Maybe you were overthinking this.
“Let’s try it.”
You couldn’t help it when your lips curled up into the sweetest smile Laurance had ever seen. The amused breath you let out sounded like bells, and as Laurance continued he wanted nothing more than to hear it again.
“We’ll go on a date. A real one, where we both know what it is.” He flashed you a boyish grin of his own. “And we’ll start dating.”
“Just for the summer?” Your voice sounded hopeful and you were scared it would come across as you truly wanting it just for the summer. Just a passing fling that would dissipate when the school year started and be completely forgotten about by the time you saw him again.
Laurance’s grin faltered, and he cleared his throat to gather himself. "Sure. If that's what you want."
It wasn't what you wanted, but Laurance seemed so quick to agree that you didn't want to tell him that and then freak him out. So you only offered a soft nod.
Laurance gently took your hand in his and brought it up to his lips.`He met your gaze with a starstruck smile before standing and pulling you out of your hammock.
"Where are we going?" You let him pull you to your feet without much complaint or resistance.
"Our date," he said. He flashed you another charming smile, and you couldn't help but return it.
Laurance ended up taking you to a local cafe that served sweet pastries and smelled like wildflowers. He picked a booth by the window and didn't let a single second of awkward silence come between you two the entire time you sat there.
You never officially got together, but anyone could see the change in air when the two of you were around. It had always been secret feelings and skirting around the bush, but now you were more obvious. You laughed without care and made lingering touches more obvious. When Cadenza finally joined your families for the summer, it was the first thing she commented on.
"You and Laurance seem really close," she'd said. You'd taken her to one of the popular smoothie shops in town. "More than usual."
You didn't say anything, but you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face and that was all the answer Cadenza needed. She squealed and playfully hit your shoulder. "Finally! Irene, the two of you have been in love with each other for years."
Your face warmed. You averted your gaze to hopefully avoid any further questions or comments, but Cadenza kept going. "Goodness, every year before he gets back with Michi he goes on and on about how much you mean to him. I was getting tired of it."
"He does?" Your eyes widened. You knew you talked to your own friends about Laurance, but you had imagined that every time he got back with Michi you were almost completely out of his mind. You never would have thought that he'd talk about you.
But it got your hopes up. If he talked about you while you weren't there (and in a good light, no less), then maybe that meant he wouldn't just want a summer fling. Maybe by the time this warm season ended, the true extent of your feelings for each other would come out.
Until then, though, you would savor the few months you had where you'd be considered his significant other. The two of you would be a couple until August, and then you'd talk about it.
But the feeling of wanting to run and dance for joy was in your heart, and if this thing only ended up being a summer fling, then you would be okay with that.
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I feel like this went a very different direction than I intended, but I mean.... it's still good I think? it's shorter than usual and I feel like it isn't my normal kind of writing. but also I suck at writing summaries because wth is this one I just wrote 😭
idk anyways. hopefully you guys enjoyed this event fic cause I had fun writing it <3
TAGGING: @mellozhi @garrothswiferealnotfake @frostnova321 @kixbit38 @fartmonster98 @myluvbucky @jess1ka18 @isaiku @iim5foryou4ever
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kings-highway · 1 day ago
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hi there, it's ya boi, weather
uh, would you mayhaps hapsmay have any thoughts about iwaoi hanahaki AU......maybe.......:eye_emoji:
I'm gonna be honest, I do not understand the appeal of hanahaki as a ship au or dynamic. Like don't get me wrong, I think the concept is fascinating, but like, if someone pitched me a fic that was "haha yeah person A dies because of their unrequited love for person B" I'd reply with "okay, so I asked for SHIPPING fics?"
Like if I wanted my ship to *check notes* not be in love with each other, I'd go back to canon?
Now some people have explained to me that hanahaki can be believed unrequited love, or it can be cured when the other person falls in love, and I guuueeesssssss I get that a little more? Like I suppose I would HAVE to read it with a Happy Ending tag. To be fair I also don't read AUs where its unrequited (or honestly really anything where they dont end up together, I don't even read unhappy ending stories) even without the flowers.
I don't think I've ever thought too much about it then, but if I was going to make a Hanahaki Iwaoi AU concept, I can 100% guarantee you I'd write Iwaizumi choking up those flowers. And then like IG he'd be suffocating and dying slowly? Again, I am unclear as to how these stories usually go. I think it would be very, very fun to subvert it into something different thematically. When I started thinking of your prompt, I thought of the AU oneshot I had written "Muse," which made me think that a Iwaoi Hanahaki AU, where Iwaizumi begins to choke up these flowers and spends the first year suffocating and shamed and horrified by himself over to eventually decide he simply will not allow his love for his best friend be any of those things (suffocating, shameful, horrifying) and instead begins the use the flowers in an art projects, turning the petals into like a beautiful collage work that channels the unrequited love from something that was supposed to kill him into something wondrous and glorious and retaking his destiny from the disease and then probably also along the way when he physically changes from someone ashamed and scared into someone confident in his life and love and self, Oikawa begins to take notice and falls in love with him. The last scenes could be Iwa pulling the last petal from his mouth, knowing that his art was coming to an end but rather satisfied with it, press the last petal (the exact colour of Oikawa's eye) into the collage before turning around to head out into the sunlight and go meet up with Oikawa.
...
Hey fuck you weatherboy.
Fuck you for making me genuinely consider writing a hanahaki disease story how did you do that that was like witchcraft.
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markos-husband · 1 day ago
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@sloppychoppedtop
This was actually really fun to write!! Don't kill me but I'm splitting this into two parts so here's part one! Part two can be found here!
🌡🔥Heatstroke🌡🔥
Being in a war against your own AC isn't fun. Not even a little bit. How does someone get into a war with his AC? You might be wondering, well, by calling him creepy.
Hector was a man of his word, any promise he made to *his* sweet, handsome, amazing, darling human, he kept. Hector's only goal was to make him as happy and comfortable as possible. When he walked into the house and felt that blast of cold air hit him after a long day at work, it made Hector smile, knowing it was he who made the human so comfortable. Sometimes, Hector turned the heat up a bit too much to get a glimpse of skin when he took off his shirt due to the heat but never too hot, well, until now.
Currently, everyone in the house was caught in the middle of Hector and the human's battle. The heat in the house was unbearable, it was probably cooler outside in the summer sun. Every object was sick of both of their stubbornness. It was fine to hate someone, plenty of objects disliked each other and some even the human, but to make everyone else's life miserable and hot wasn't fair. Especially over an argument. Which leads us to how this began, Hector and the human.
The human was talking to Hector and called him creepy. Was it mean? Yes but did he fully mean it? No! Maybe he had been hanging out with Reggie too much. Hector was shocked and taken aback. His lover, his angel, his everything called him creepy? Sure, maybe he was a bit obsessive but he wouldn't say creepy! He stared at the human through the grates, anger rising in him.
"Creepy? You think I'm creepy?"
Hector's voice hardened as he gripped the bar of the grates that he was hidden by. He couldn't hold back, his perfectly articulated words that usually worship the human in front of him now twisted cruelly.
"Here is the truth of you. It is a truth I would have dreaded, if I'd ever even let myself consider that it might be what was underneath that exterior I have warmed and cooled and cared for. God, if I had ever truly believed you could be capable of this... I would have frozen you out. It would have been an arctic blast to rival the coldest winter's chill. The ice would have rimmed the windows to match the coldness of your heart!"
Hector said, growing more intense. He sounded angry, which he wanted, but just beneath the surface, he was hurting. All he wanted was to worship the ground the human walked on and this is what he got in response?
"Oooo I'm so scared"
The human said, crossing his arms. He stared back at Hector with just as much animosity but, similar to Hector, he also didn't mean what he said. He had picked the wrong words but couldn't go back now, he hoped maybe it would resolve itself but it didn't, especially as Hector got angrier.
"No you aren't, not really, not yet."
Hector spoke after a beat, his voice was quieter but much, much scarier.
"If you understood the power I wield over you, the innumerable ways I have protected you, sheltered you... Coddled you! Then the fear would be seeping out of you like coolant. Thick. Fridged. Overwhelming. But I have time. Time is all I have, and one day, you will see."
With that Hector left, and the human was stunned by his words. *The fuck did that mean?* Now, everyone knew what that meant, melt out the entire house to get back at him. He wasn't going down with out a fight though, from blocking low vents with Harper and Cam to boarding up higher vents, anything to keep Hector from being able to be a part of the house without leaving the attic. This made Hector angrier, which made the temp rise even more.
The human spent a lot of time in the gym now with Fantina, desperate for some cool air, which Fantina happily supplied. She was extremely uncomfortable from the heat like everyone else in the house but was so happy he were spending time with her. Hector's jealous grew as he heard Fantina and the human together but he refused to turn down the temperature.
"You know how glad I am that I'm cooling you down, I mean, I just can't get over how much time we're getting to spend together!"
Fantina exclaimed but it was clear she had more to say. She bit her lip as she nervously chuckled. She was the one the other object in the house decided should convince the human to fix things with Hector but she really didn't want him to be mad at her.
"But, uhhh, wouldn't it be nicer if, um... if... well, uh... ifyoustoppedactinglikealittlekidandfixthingswithHectorbeforeeveryoneinthehousemelts!"
Fantina finally said, her words so quick they melted together. Her cheek were red and sweat rolled down her face.
"I'm a fan! I shouldn't be sweating! Please, don't be mad at me but I can't take the heat anymore!"
Despite Fantina's please, he stayed strong on his standing. He crossed his arms before standing up.
"No. Hector's in the wrong, I should have to fix this."
He declared before leaving Fantina in the gym, practically melting into a puddle. He headed downstairs to the kitchen, hoping to get some relief from Freddy. He froze in his tracks as he saw the state of Freddy. Freddy looked like he was going to collapse from the heat, yeti's did not do well in this type of heat.
"Cool kid, you need to fix this right now."
Freddy grumbled as he grabbed a melting popsicle and popped it into his mouth. He grabbed another and tossed it at the human in front of him.
"Fix. It. Now."
Freddy growled as he leaned against the wall, grabbing a frozen bag of peas and placing it on his forehead. Okay, well now he did have to fix it. Fantina's pleading wasn't enough but Freddy's threatening was.
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notsodelirious · 5 hours ago
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Idea: Bruce taking a break on patrol on a roof suuuper late at night. Reader shows up, taking a weed joint break from some commission they’re working on in their apartment below. Reader casually smoking CBD while they’re having a super nice talk about family and the city. Idk, I’m high lowkey
ngl there isn’t much to this drabble but I’m always willing to write a reader who smokes o7
synopsis: Just a chat with Gotham’s main vigilante as you light one
notes: SFW, although, obvious drug-use (marijuana) so idk how sfw it is lol
tags: platonic/no relationship, just a little bit of fluff, gender neutral reader, wc: 900 words
I have nothing more to add, just a short-ish piece, hope you enjoy <3
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“It’s nice out here when the city isn’t trying to kill you.”
You exhaled a cloud of smoke as you rested your arms on the balcony railing, the red ember of your joint glowing like a firefly in Gotham’s night sky. 
The shadows didn’t respond. You kept talking anyway. 
“Sometimes I wonder what She would look like without crime,” you ducked your head to take another hit, letting the cloud of cannabis curl up towards the smog-filled Gotham skies. “Do you think it would still be as polluted?”
“Gotham’s pollution is a result of its industrial sector,” you tilted your head a little towards him, “So yes. I think it would be.”
“Huh.” You looked down at your joint—you’d made it really well, it was even and wrapped in a pink rolling paper. For no other reason than you could. “It makes the air taste weird.”
“The pollution?”
“Yeah.” You smacked your lips as the dryness set in—you didn’t move to grab a glass of water. That would be too much effort right now. “Also this weed.”
“Did you test it?”
“It’s my friend’s.”
Silence. 
“I grind it myself.”
More silence. 
You huffed as you rolled your eyes playfully. 
“I’ll test it next time. Just for you. But it’s not laced, I just don’t like this strain.”
Batman grunted but didn’t add anything, not as you took another hit. 
“It tastes different.” He didn’t inflect it as a question but you could hear the almost confusion. 
“What weed strains?” he gave a small affirmative hum, “Yeah, they do. I dunno what this one’s called—it’s a little bitter though.”
You offered him the joint before almost immediately pulling it back, “Never mind—not in the job right?”
“Why.”
“Why?” you shrugged as you leaned your forearms against the railing, “It’s fun, feels good.”
Another hum. 
“You’re super talkative, aren’t you?”
Sure, Gotham had accepted that She now had a guardian watching over her, but to acknowledge him straight on felt sacrilegious. Only criminals and rogues saw him properly—it was like a bad omen to stare straight into the eyes of the man who roamed Gotham.
If you could call him a man.
He sounded like one.
“It’s surreal, you know,” you continued as you took another hit, letting it sting the back of your throat—you weren’t trying to make a fool of yourself, taking too big a hit and coughing your lungs up in front of *the Batman.
You’d probably get a lecture and an earful about lung cancer and damage.
“Living in Gotham I mean,” you didn’t bother exhaling, playing with the smoke as it curled out of your mouth, “I moved here for uni—my family was against it but there are great undergrad programs here. Start to dwindle out for post-grad studies though.”
You thought your joke was funny. 
You didn’t even get a grunt. Maybe it wasn’t funny to the man who had to deal with all the washed-up PhD students.
He hadn’t left though.
“Adjusting to Gotham is different to what I expected,” you pressed your joint to your ashtray, letting the ember smother out before setting it down on, “She’s pretty. People forget to mention that.”
“The buildings.” You almost startled at the sound of his voice, like you had momentarily forgotten he was there. Well, you had forgotten—he’d been stood behind you and you’d forgotten he was there but you didn’t mention that to him. “They’re inspired by Gothic architecture.”
“Only inspired by?”
“Most of Gotham was built in the 19th century,” he explained, as if that alone cleared up the confusion about Gothic and *almost Gothic. “Gotham is a bastardisation of a late empire.”
You couldn’t help the giggle that left your mouth as you tilted your head, letting it loll against your shoulder.
“Doesn’t it just make it Neo-Gothic?”
There was a pause, and then a huff. You looked up, finally meeting the Dark Knight’s blank gaze—you felt oddly at peace with the massive, cloaked figure stood in the corner of your balcony. 
“Gotham’s Lady is based on the cathedral church of Saint Peter.”
“So it’s… not Neo-Gothic?”
The soft chuckle definitely took you by surprise. Batman wasn’t really known to laugh all that much. Or ever.
“You can consider it Neo-Gothic.” 
“I’m… I think I’m confused,” you mumbled, “But I think I’m just going to stay confused. Sort of Neo-Gothic it is.”
Your eyes roamed over the city lights, the small windows into people’s lives, illuminated windows and candlelight.
Somebody in the building opposite yours was petting their dog, while their neighbours had a very heated argument over what looked like a cooking pot.
“So many small lives,” you mumbled, “Are you one of them?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sounds fun.”
You didn’t need to turn to know that you were now stood alone on your balcony. And yet the emptiness didn’t quite feel that lonely.
A small bottle of Narcan and fentanyl testing strips sat on your garden table.
Eventually, you’d slink back into your apartment to return to the work you had previously taken a break from, still basking in the haziness of the weed.
Eventually, the evening would carry on as if it had never momentarily stopped for you, as if Gotham’s guardian had never been there.
And if the near future, you stepped out onto your balcony in the dead of night, with a freshly rolled joint, it had nothing to do with the shadow that lingered outside your balcony window. 
(“Smells different this time.”
“It’s a sherbet strain this time?”
”And it…tastes better?”)
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Trust that Bruce Wayne knows every single type of wine, chardonnay and champagne, but knows the essentially basics of weed
Funnily enough this was written completely sober because I couldn’t make myself write down a train of thought that purposefully sounded high, while I was high—anyway, nothing special but hope you enjoyed anyway <3
Here’s my wips list and masterlist <3 (requests are currently closed as I work through my current ones)
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