#DILIGENT BOYS REMEMBER WHERE THEY LEFT OFF!?!?!?!?!?!?!

[knot-ee]

Truthfully it was warmer than Megumi usually slept at comfortably, but he WAS comfortable. Comfortable and safe in the arms of his fathers. Arms he had not been enveloped by for more than thirteen years yet it felt both familiar and like longing. Something he had been so intimately familiar with that it was almost like breathing yet had it been breath -- he would have died long, long ago. Children never forgot though. Toji's face had become a blur, forced like that because of pain, but children did not forget.

While awake Megumi would not remember how his father held him diligently every day, but the sleeping soul remembered. Megumi snuffled impossibly closer as if he was he was trying to become one with his dad. His knee bent and his leg swung over to get a better hold of his dad. Little beads of sweat doted his forehead, the back of his neck, and even down his back, but he didn't let go... not entirely. More than once Megumi woke up with a little start. Memories of Shibuya, Sukuna, and Mahoraga haunted him... made him feel guilty for having a decent night's rest.

The person who had taken care of him when his father left, Satoru Gojo, had also been bested and trapped. It was Toji's hold he longed for yet it had been Satoru who had been there for Megumi and his sister. It was the guilt, the impending doom, AND it was the strangeness of another person's warmth. He and Tsumiki had shared a futon when they were left alone, and after they moved they occasionally slept in the same bed. It had been a long time since then and even then it was different.

Toji's big arms were around him. His startled heart beat returned to normal and despite his guilt, he nuzzled his face closer. Just one night. Part of Megumi was sure this would never last. He was being too clingy though, wasn't he? He dropped his leg and stopped coiling his arm around his father's torso. He would have moved more but Toji had a firm hold on him and he didn't want to wake the man up. Like a baby, he just curled up against his dad.

It was far too long occupied in his thoughts before he fell asleep. Before he knew it, he had dreams his father was walking out the door. Dreams, rather nightmares, Satoru and Toji were arguing. Satoru was dead. Yuji was missing. He woke up comfortable of body but distraught of mind. It was morning but the light was shielded by the thick curtains. Only the faintest of traces of light hit the hit edges of the wall and ceiling let Megumi know what time it was. He moved his head to look at his father.

It was near pitch black but he thought he could make out his father's sleeping expression. He looked scary yet handsome. A full bladder knocked Megumi into action, and he so very slooowly extricated himself from his father. Part of the boy's face and his arm were numb from being so flush against another body and for such a long amount of time. He moved off the bed as carefully as he could and went to the bathroom where he emptied his bladder, washed his face, and brushed his teeth.

The walls were thick in such a nice hotel that the noise shouldn't have disturbed Toji. Megumi still great care not to disturb the man. He didn't know why. They had to move away from their fucked up family vacation. With no phone and no way to communicate with his classmates and senseis, Megumi really felt guilty and out of the loop; they were probably worried sick. He didn't know what he was doing but Megumi put on his boots and began tip toeing for the door when he heard the mattress creak.

There was no way he would have known that this is how they’d end up, in bed practically snuggling. Toji had some idea of how Megumi would react after he woke. He expected to be met with anger, hate, disgust even. But this… he wasn’t prepared for. He almost felt bad as if he was taking advantage of his son’s clear need for his attention and affection. Although he didn’t deserve this so soon, he almost felt greedy for it now that he’d gotten a taste. He wonders if Megumi was like this with Gojo, it wasn’t jealousy just curiosity he tells himself.

There’s no way he’s cut out to be a dad, he never was and still wasn’t now. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this was his child. That he somehow contributed to creating something so perfect. He can’t stop thinking about all the memories he spent so long trying to erase, trying to pretend didn’t happen. Those paternal instincts were still there even if he didn’t exactly express them as a normal father would perhaps. Toji somehow still knew what Megumi wanted and needed. Though of course, he thinks Megumi needs to stay far away from him, he’s already coming to terms with the fact that he nor Megumi is the type to always do the rational thing. When they really wanted something…

Even if Megumi didn’t outright say it, he knew. He knew that Megumi wanted to feel him close, wanted some sort of physical contact. He can’t help but smile softly when he feels his son slowly easing into his arms, relaxing and melting against him. He was like a prickly cat, so defensive and wary at first, but just a little love, and suddenly he is purring in his lap. Megumi is so fucking cute, he finds himself thinking as he looks down at his son. Continuing to stroke his hair and rub his back soothingly.

Then Toji almost has a fucking heart attack when he hears Megumi ever so softly say “Dad.” His heart almost fucking stopped! He tenses slightly but thankfully Megumi is already asleep. Toji inhales deeply through his nose and continues to rub their back. Trying to ignore the way one simple word from Megumi has filled with so much fucking warmth he didn’t know how to handle it. The coward he was wanted to push Megumi away and run for it. But looking down at Megumi’s peaceful face, one look and he finds himself hugging him closer. Pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head, he closes his eyes and just lets himself drown in the overwhelming feelings for a moment.

“I’m here, Gumi. Dad is here now.” He murmurs lowly to his sleeping son.

Fuck, he’s so damn screwed. How the hell did Megumi worm his way into his heart again so damn easily? After years of becoming a cold ruthless killer who didn’t care about anyone including his son, suddenly it was like all the hard work he put into not feeling, all of that just shattered. He felt so damn much, wanted things he never thought he’d want again in life. Most of all he wanted to make Megumi happy. To protect him and at least make him content. If the simple act of holding him made him happy then fuck it. What the hell did he have to lose now? He’s already died once. He will have to make sure he teaches Megumi not to expect much from him, he was still a piece of shit, but he could at least give him this, at this moment.

Toji doesn’t fall asleep right away, he watches Megumi sleeping peacefully, his hands occasionally pushing hair from his face or stroking it, or running down his back. He does this until finally, he feels sleep taking him. The man finally lets his eyes close and drifts off into a surprisingly peaceful slumber. Burying his nose in Megumi’s hair he hugs him close in his sleep. Father who was so much larger than his son, enveloped and held him protectively close as they slept. They snuggled warmly under the blankets, sharing one pillow with how close they were pressed against each other, as if both were clinging on afraid to let go, terrified the other would disappear.

[murphywilling]

My jaw hit the floor and rolled away

[theanxiousbookdevourer]

Reblog if you are a diligent boy.

[sunder-soul]

hiii cud u pl do a headcanon/oneshot where its a muggleborn reader who smhow ends up befriending the tom riddle who always seems to soft only to her, including tolerating her sassy attitude and its a study session together and they're bantering or summin? i think it wud be nice. thank you!

A/N: Girl I gotchu

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

Unsaid

Summary: By now you've got a pretty good idea why you're friends with Tom, but sometimes, when it comes up, you wonder why he's friends with you. [GN reader ★ no pronouns ★ Hufflepuff house (but ngl it doesn't really come up u just gotta trust me)] Word count: 1.2k

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

“I’m dropping out,” you announce, dumping your bag on the table and falling emphatically into the seat adjacent to Tom’s.

Tom, for his part, does not look up. His quill doesn’t even hesitate as he writes in a smooth, unbroken script across his parchment. Instead, he says: “Your bag is on my book.”

You shove it unenthusiastically to the side to reveal the open textbook he’s been working from, and then fix him with a pointed look. Tom is set up in the same little spot in the library as always, his bag at his feet and at least ten other books neatly stacked off to the side of the table. He looks (as Tom always looks) like the poster boy of adhering to the uniform dress code.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?” you say, slightly put out.

“I would not bother,” he says simply, leaning forward and dipping his quill in a small inkwell in front of him. “I’ve come to accept the inevitability of you telling me all sorts of things I don’t care to hear about, whether I ask about them or not.”

He resumes writing.

You kick his chair leg lightly and his quill skips sharply down the page, leaving a jolted line about an inch long off where he’d been writing the word putrescence.

This finally makes him look up, fixing you with a supremely irritated glare that’s made his whole face go tense.

You lean your elbows on the table and smile at him.

Tom’s jaw works slightly, and he takes a long breath. “What’s wrong?” he asks sarcastically.

“Well,” you say as he puts down his quill and bends to pick up his bag. “In Herbology this morning when we were cracking Wiggentree nuts, Lucy Grollen had this horrible allergic reaction and her feet swelled up so much that her shoes burst.”

“And this affects you how?” Tom drawls, diligently rubbing a Spellfriends eraser across his parchment.

You give him a scandalised look. “She’s my friend, Tom.”

He gives you a very dry look and then flips the eraser over to the purple side. “I hardly think you’d be tempted to leave the school because your friend is allergic to nuts.”

“Well she’s also my greenhouse partner,” you say dramatically, throwing yourself back in your seat, “and because she had to go to the hospital wing I had to finish the rest of the assignment alone­, and obviously by the end of class I didn’t have all our nuts cracked so Beery made me stay late to finish them. And that meant that I missed the sign up for the fieldtrip to the Menagerie of Mirabilia.”

Tom throws down the eraser and exhales in frustration. The ink remains unmoved. “You have been talking about that fieldtrip for six weeks,” he says in a clipped tone, pulling his wand from his bag. “And I have been telling you for six weeks that it was going to fill up quickly. Evanesco.”

The eraser shavings on his parchment vanish and leave both of you staring at the tenacious line of ink—which if anything, now just looks a little smudged.

His little comment about the whole six weeks thing has not left you feeling very sympathetic for him. “Wow. You have got to tell me what kind of ink you buy,” you say with a smirk as Tom tosses his wand onto the desk in frustration.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he says hotly, folding his arms and finally looking at you properly as he leans back in his chair. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“What happened with the fieldtrip?” he prompts irritably.

“Oh – so as I’m sure you remember, I promised Madeline I’d go with her on the fieldtrip because she’s obsessed with magizoology at the moment, so then I had to tell her I wasn’t going, and she was so upset, and I couldn't stop thinking about it because I felt so bad. So then I was really distracted in Transfiguration and of course Dumbledore notices and asks me to recite the whole definition of Amandation’s Command in front of everybody.” You sigh loudly. “So I can’t do it because I hadn't been paying attention, but then he points to the board and the definition is written right there and I just hadn’t noticed, and everyone laughed at me.”

You cross your arms too, feeling sorry for yourself. “The only solution is to drop out,” you reiterate moodily.

“This is one of your jokes,” says Tom delicately.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Yes well spotted.”

“You’ve ruined my assignment,” he says, nodding at it.

“You ruined your own assignment. With your callousness.”

Rather surprisingly, Tom snorts a laugh. “I would loathe to be my friend, to hear you describe it,” he says with suspicious ease as he extracts a new roll of parchment from his bag. “It begs the question as to why you persevere.”

“Very occasionally, you do something really nice,” you say, watching him with suspicion. Tom’s irritability rarely fades this quickly. “I just kind of zone out all the bits in-between where you’re weird and sarcastic.”

“Weird and sarcastic?” Tom repeats, lips curling. “Have you been listening to yourself since you sat down?”

“My life is ruined, and you’re worried about an assignment.”

“Your life is not ruined,” he says monotonously as he begins diligently copying over his work.

“I’m upset about this and all you care about is telling me that it’s not a big deal!”

Tom sighs curtly and looks up at you, leaning forward a bit and resting his forearms on the desk. “Your life is not ruined. Lucy Groggen is going to be fine, Wiggentree nut allergies are fairly common and the reaction doesn’t last more than an hour, the worst she’ll have to deal with is buying a new pair of shoes. Beery should never have made you complete a two-person task by yourself and it’s ridiculous that he kept you late because of his own poor class management. If Dumbledore was half the teacher that he claims to be, he might have noticed that you were upset about something and think to ask you about it, but his mistake is made all the more egregious given that he chose to single you out in front of the whole class with what sounds like a very silly little trick. And I wouldn’t worry about upsetting Madeline if I were you, because I signed you up for the fieldtrip.”

He resumes writing without another word. You stare at him, dumbfounded. A full ten seconds passes before you can rouse yourself to speak again.

“You signed me up for the fieldtrip?

Tom’s eyes remain level on his work—he’s writing at lightning speed like he’s trying to make up for the lost time. “You have been talking about it for six weeks. It seemed odd that you failed to show up.”

You look at your bag still lying dejectedly on the table in front of you and attempt to process the glowy, warm feeling spreading up through your chest. “Thanks,” you say blandly.

He just looks up at you with a glint in his eyes about halfway between wry and cynical.

“I feel bad about your assignment,” you announce.

Tom slowly smiles, this time very wryly indeed. “You have certainly changed your tune.”

You grab your bag and pull out your water bottle, placing it emphatically on the desk beside him.

Tom’s dark eyes flick from it to you, and he lifts a brow. “Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

“You have to wet a Spellfriends for it to work,” you mumble, folding your arms and resting forward on the desk.

He stares at you in a sort of frozen state of disbelief. “You mean you let me suffer through all of that for absolutely no reason?” he demands in half-subdued outrage.

“There was a reason!” you protest, smiling at him again. “It was funny.”

He blinks once, and then snatches the drink bottle off the desk, shaking his head. “You are extremely irritating,” he says icily, twisting the bottle open.

“Huh, sounds like a nightmare being my friend to hear you describe it,” you parrot back at him with a grin. “One wonders why you persevere, Tom.”

Tom pauses, and instead of the scathing look of irritation or perhaps a biting remark back, he just looks at you with an unplaceable expression like you’ve caught him off guard.

“What?” you frown, sitting up a little in concern.

Tom blinks slightly and then holds out his hand. “Pass me the Spellfriends,” he says colourlessly.

You arch a brow right back at him, and retrieve the eraser from where it’s been lying discarded for the last few minutes in front of you. “If you were wondering what I meant by the weird part in weird and sarcastic…” you say to him pointedly, placing it in his hand.

Tom silently erases the offending ink stain with a taut jaw and an irascible look darkening his eyes.

“Hey,” you say.

He ignores you entirely, sweeping the fresh shavings off his parchment and setting the eraser aside.

“Hey,” you repeat, reaching out and taking his arm.

Tom’s gaze immediately flashes to you and he goes entirely still.

“Thank you,” you tell him sincerely. “For the field trip.”

He does not immediately reply. A second later his lips part like he’s going to say something, but they close like he thinks better of it. He blinks, and then pulls his arm from yours to reach for another book. “Are you intending on actually doing work this evening, or was this visit’s entire premise just to disrupt me?”

You roll your eyes, and reach for your bag again with a smile.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

[zapreportsblog]

Could you do something with the Cullens where the reader has a meltdown at school and they find out it’s because they have diabetes and their blood sugar dropped and they can’t find their juice box they packed just in case

❝i need a juice box❞

✭ pairing : cullen siblings x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) has diabetes and their sugar intake tends to drop quite a bit hence why their always remember to bring a pack of juices with them everywhere, not only does it help but it’s tasty too. But then one day her juice boxes bust in her locker, so what does any frustrated person do? Have a mental breakdown like it’s the end of the world, luckily some classmates of hers has her back

✭ authors note : Ayo ignore that juice part that says no sugar added 😭 i used the first picture i seen of juice and those shits be bustin. Ah and I’ve been watching anime lately so i apologize in advance for the lack of writing I’m putting out

✭ twilight masterlist 2

(Y/N) had always been well-acquainted with the delicate balance of her health. Diabetes wasn't just a condition for her; it was a family legacy. With half her family members wrestling with the same ailment, it was almost a rite of passage.

The sun had barely risen over Forks as she hurriedly got ready for her first day at Forks High School. This new beginning was daunting enough, but it became even more challenging with the knowledge that her diabetes would be a constant companion throughout the day.

As she zipped up her school bag, she made sure to slot in her lifeline - a package of juices. These juices were her safety net, ensuring her blood sugar levels stayed within a safe range. She had diligently followed this routine every day, her tiny insurance policy against hypoglycemia.

With her backpack securely on her shoulders, (Y/N) headed downstairs to the kitchen. Her mom greeted her with a warm smile, understanding the importance of this daily ritual. "Don't forget your juices, dear," she reminded.

(Y/N) grabbed the chilled package from the fridge and slipped it into her bag. "Thanks, Mom," she said, returning the smile. Her mom's familiarity with diabetes had always been a source of comfort.

Minutes later, she was out the door and on her way to Forks High School. The campus buzzed with excitement, but (Y/N) couldn't help feeling a bit of trepidation. New school, new faces, and the relentless specter of diabetes were a lot to handle.

History class was her first stop, and she found a seat next to a boy named Jasper. They exchanged polite nods as she settled into her chair, trying to focus on the teacher's introduction.

Then it happened. A discreet but insistent beep emanated from her wrist. Her watch timer, meticulously set to remind her when to take her juice, had gone off. This was the crucial moment to maintain her blood sugar levels. With practiced ease, she reached into her bag to retrieve her juice, only to discover her heart-sinking realization – it wasn't there.

Panic started to creep in, her fingers trembling as she fumbled through her bag in desperation. Jasper, noticing her distress, leaned closer. "Is everything okay?" he asked in a concerned whisper.

(Y/N) could feel her face flush with anxiety. She mumbled, "I think I left my juice in my locker. I need to go get it."

The teacher, Mrs. Thompson, glanced their way. "Is there a problem?"

(Y/N) stuttered, "I just need to grab something from my locker. It won't take long, I promise."

Mrs. Thompson nodded, granting her permission to leave the class. Her heart raced as she hurried out the door, fervently hoping that her juice would be where she thought it was.

(Y/N) practically sprinted through the hallways, her heart pounding in her chest. The idea of waiting another four hours until lunch without her juice was unbearable. She needed to retrieve her lifeline from her locker, and she needed it now.

Finally, she reached her locker, a sense of relief washing over her as she yanked it open. But that relief quickly turned to frustration as she stared at the sight before her. Her textbooks had fallen over and, in a cruel twist of fate, had crushed the juice boxes. Their colorful packaging was torn and sticky liquid seeped from the ruined containers.

"No, no, no," she muttered in frustration, tears welling up in her eyes. It felt like the universe was conspiring against her today, and the overwhelming weight of her situation crashed down on her shoulders. Her mind raced with thoughts of how she would make it through the day without her juice.

Just when it seemed like her world was spiraling out of control, a voice interrupted her thoughts. "Hey, are you okay?" It was Rosalie, a girl she barely knew, but one of the few familiar faces in this new school.

(Y/N) blinked back tears and explained what had happened, her voice quivering with anxiety. "I don't know what to do. I can't wait until lunch without my juice."

Rosalie glanced at the sticky mess inside her locker and then at Emmett, who had joined them. "That's totally not cool," he said, sympathy in his eyes. "I'll grab you something from the vending machine. What do you want?"

(Y/N) opened her mouth to protest, but before she could utter a word, Emmett had already taken off down the hallway. She looked helplessly after him, torn between gratitude and a sense of intrusion.

Rosalie placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it," she said with a warm smile. "Once Emmett's made up his mind, that's that. He's a bit overbearing at times, but he means well."

(Y/N) couldn't help but smile through her frustration. In this unexpected moment of crisis, she had found a glimmer of kindness and support. Sometimes, it took a helping hand to make a bad situation feel a little more manageable.

Just when (Y/N) thought her day couldn't get any stranger, Emmett returned with a comical surplus of juice boxes in his arms. He had not come back with just one or two; he had brought what looked like a small grocery store worth of them.

"Emmett! What are you doing?" Rosalie exclaimed, smacking him on the back of the head. She looked at the impressive stack of juice boxes with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Emmett shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. "I didn't know how many she wanted, so I just grabbed them all."

(Y/N) stood there, stunned and grateful. She couldn't believe the lengths this stranger was going to in order to help her out. "Thank you," she managed to say, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.

Emmett chuckled. "No problem at all. It's better to have too many than not enough, right?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes but wore a fond smile. "You always do this, Emmett. How are you going to carry all of them?"

Emmett scratched his head, looking a bit perplexed. "I'll just carry them around until we see her again at lunch. She can take what she needs now."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "I don't even know how to thank you both enough," she said, reaching out to take a handful of juice boxes, about six of them. It was a bit heavy, but she could manage.

Emmett grinned, his good-naturedness shining through. "You're welcome. Anytime you need help, just let us know."

Rosalie gave (Y/N) a playful shove. "Girls gotta help girls, right?"

With her backpack now considerably heavier with the added juice boxes, (Y/N) felt a newfound sense of belonging. These two strangers had shown her kindness and support when she needed it most, and she couldn't help but feel that Forks High School might not be such a daunting place after all. As they walked her back to class, she couldn't help but smile, grateful for this unexpected friendship.

Lunchtime arrived, and (Y/N) entered the bustling cafeteria with her stack of juice boxes, feeling a mixture of gratitude and nervousness. She looked around, wondering where to sit when she heard a familiar voice booming across the room.

"Hey, juice girl!" Emmett called out, waving enthusiastically from a table on the other side of the cafeteria. His infectious energy drew the attention of many students, and a few curious glances followed her as she made her way toward him.

A warm smile stretched across her face as she approached Emmett's table. He had saved her from a diabetic crisis earlier in the day, and now he was offering her a seat at his table, as if she were already part of their group.

"Thanks," she said, taking a seat next to Emmett, her stack of juice boxes settling beside her. She couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging that she hadn't expected to find so quickly in this new school.

As she settled in and started unpacking her lunch, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel grateful for the kindness of her new friends. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to her, and it made Forks High School feel a little less dauntin

Emmett introduced his siblings to (Y/N) with a playful grin. "This is Rosalie, my lovely and sometimes overly responsible partner, and this," he gestured dramatically to a young man who had been quiet until now, "is Edward, our resident brooding poet."

“Partner?”

“It’s complicated,” Rosalie says but she gave (Y/N) a warm smile, and Edward nodded in acknowledgment, his expression more reserved.

Emmett couldn't resist a teasing grin as he turned to (Y/N). "And, of course, you already know me, the one who saved the day earlier—your trusty juice retriever." He emphasized the last part, a playful twinkle in his eye.

“Then there’s Alice and jasper but I’m not sure where those two are at the moment.” He added.

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh at Emmett's description. "Yes, my hero," she replied, her gratitude evident in her tone.

Edward, who had been observing the interaction quietly, couldn't resist a smirk. "Emmett and his heroic acts. Quite the storyteller, he is."

Emmett chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Well, I just wanted to make sure our new friend here didn't pass out from low blood sugar."

(Y/N) felt a sense of warmth and camaraderie settling in at the table. These strangers had quickly become friends, and she was grateful for their support. With a newfound sense of belonging, she joined in the conversation, feeling more at ease in this new school than she had thought possible.

[4ranghaes]

Helloooooo! First off, I wanna start off by apologizing for stalking your page! It’s just so good I couldn’t stop reading all your posts! Especially gongfourz 3some was probably the best one I’ve ever read on here 😩😩

You mentioned before wanting to write dad au so, if it’s not too much to ask, what do you think bnd members would be like as dads? You don’t have to write about all of them but I’m thinking about Sungho in particular is absolutely a girl dad!! Have a wonderful day love 🫶🏽🫶🏽

ੈ✩‧₊˚ bnd as dads!

ot5 bnd x reader [fluff, fem!mum!reader, dad!bnd]

warnings - post partum!reader in sungho’s, pregnant!reader in leehan’s and woonhak’s (leehan’s has pretty detailed descriptions of feeling the baby so i apologise if that’s not your style)

a/n 1 - NEVER apologise for stalking my account i LOVE it i LOVE receiving notifs🥰🥰🥰 and thank you SO much ahh thats crazy praise❤️❤️💕

a/n 2 - AHHHH okay!!! so these are my headcanons for the kids i already had - so i hope you enjoy!!!! i got SO carried away with this…

sungho🎀 [namgi = 6, changmin = 4, kyunghee = newborn]

“okay,” sungho said nervously, though the two boys holding his hands couldn’t detect the tone, “we’re gonna be quiet when we go in, okay? mummy might be in pain, and the baby will cry if you’re loud, okay boys?”

his two sons nodded diligently, holding on tightly to their dad’s hand as they walked through the hallways of the hospital. changmin was babbling a tune to himself as namgi looked around curiously. sungho took a deep breath; he’d been by your side for days on end as you were hospitalised prior to the birth of your daughter, and he didn’t leave your side for the whole 24 hours after she was born. going home to see his boys, no matter how much he loved them, was painful. now, he was plagued with even more worries of the first meeting.

“do you remember meeting changmin for the first time, namgi?” he asked, squeezing the hand of his eldest.

namgi looked up at his dad, thick glasses sat on his nose and nodded with a cheeky smile. sungho looked questioningly at his son, making him giggle.

changmin whined, “hyung! you were– you were 2! you don’t remember!”

“i do so!”

“boys, boys. quiet, remember?” sungho laughed, cursing himself internally for starting the debate as the three finally reached your room, “we’re here.”

changmin gasped, looking at his dad in excitement. sungho looked between the two boys, seeing almost perfect reflections of himself looking back before pushing the door open without letting go of either of their hands.

“okay…” he whispered, “quietly…”

the two boys giggled at the sight of you; four days being probably the longest they’d gone without you in their very short lives. you waved, beckoning them to your bed – which they happily left their dad’s side to run to.

“mummy!” changmin laughed, dashing over to you and climbing on your bed, but stopping himself before he wrapped his arms around you.

“where’s my hug?” you pouted.

“daddy said you might be hurt!” namgi said, pulling himself onto your bed and playing with the material of your clothes - pyjamas from home, finally no more of a hospital gown.

you glared at your husband, who laughed at your expression; ever the worrier. “boys, i’m okay. you can hug me.”

changmin giggled, flopping onto your body as he wrapped his small arms around you.

“but mummy…” namgi said, prompting you to look at him, “where’s the baby?”

“she’s right here!” you whispered with excitement as you pulled the incubator next to your bed closer so your sons could peak a look.

“little sister,” changmin laughed, enamoured with the bundle, though he was confused all the same.

“why don’t i hold her, and you two can come and say hello?” sungho offered, the two little boys scrambling off the bed to follow their dad as he walked round to the incubator.

he scooped the bundle of blankets out the cot with a slight gasp, sitting down on the side of your bed. he pulled the blankets off, revealing her bear onesie as he repositioned her in his arms.

you sat forward, leaning against sungho’s strong back to peak your own look at your only daughter, your head resting on his wide shoulder.

“she’s pretty,” namgi giggled, poking at her clothes gently to get a better look at her face.

“right?” sungho cooed, looking down at his daughter with a honey-filled gaze. you smiled, kissing his shoulder gently as he looked back at you. “you alright?”

you rolled your eyes with a laugh, rubbing his back gently, “you left me for less than 24 hours, sungho. i’m fine.”

he smiled, kissing your head gently before turning back to his children.

“ooh! what’s her name?!” changmin suddenly exclaimed, looking between you and sungho.

sungho turned to look at you, eyebrows raised expectantly after he left you with a final list of names just 12 hours ago.

“kyunghee,” you smiled at your boys, ���park kyunghee.”

riwoo🦦🍡 [yuri = 6, wooseul = 1]

“we’re going to go to hybe for a bit instead, okay?” riwoo said, beckoning yuri to stay close to him as they walked along the streets of yongsan, “mummy will meet us there.”

yuri’s hand stayed on her little sister’s pram even as she jumped up and down, “yay! yay! yay!”

“mummy,” wooseul repeated, her pronunciation still that of a baby.

riwoo smiling and moving the hood of the pram to look down at her proudly. “that’s right, baby.”

“that’s right, baby!” yuri parroted, stroking wooseul’s cheek softly, “ah, we’re here! daddy, we’re here!”

“i know, yuri, i know,” he laughed, beckoning yuri to run into the building first, the body guards and receptionists well aware of the charming little girl; confidence personified, especially when with her introverted dad.

greeting the staff first, he followed after, pushing wooseul’s pram through the halls and elevators to koz’s floor, and finally into the designated bnd practise room.

“the lee family has arrived,” riwoo announced, yuri running into the room and hugging her uncle jaehyun’s legs tightly.

“yuri-ah! wooseul-ah!” he exclaimed, picking up the older lee child before bounding over to greet the younger.

“yes we’re very busy on our daddy-daughter date so if this choreo emergency could hurry along,” riwoo said, looking back at the other members also stood in the practise room.

they laughed, taesan stepping forward to explain. “it’s not much, hyung, but we’ve swapped some parts around and we can’t figure out what to do with the positioning anymore.”

riwoo nodded along, thinking for a moment about the choreography he’d made the day previous and how to change it to suit the new requirements of the song.

“yuri, wooseul, watch this,” jaehyun whispered, now sat on the bench at the back of the practise room with a lee girl either side of him, “your dad’s about to be really cool.”

yuri giggled at his silly voice as wooseul stared up at jaehyun with big shiny eyes. he laughed, patting her head with a coo.

“you’re so cute, wooseul-ah,” he cooed, pulling her onto his lap and hugging her close. woonhak and sungho came and joined them on the bench, pointing excitedly at riwoo as he started mapping out some of the choreo.

yuri giggled; practise rooms the most comfortable place for her at this point. since birth, she’d assisted sanghyuk to his dance practises, and immediately upon enrolment in school made sure to join any dance academy or club she could. she watched her dad with a twinkle in her eye; wooseul more bothered about jaehyun’s shiny necklace as he giggled at the younger child.

“yuri-ah,” woonhak smiled, tickling the girls waist, “how are your dance lessons going, you think you could do this?” riwoo turned round to face them, smiling at woonhak’s words.

“of course,” he bragged, “yuri’s the best in her class, right?”

yuri giggled, leaping up and running to her dad, as he held her face in his hands pulling a funny face down at her. “aren’t you, yuri? that’s what your teacher said, hmm?”

yuri smiled shyly, burying her face in her dad’s leg as the members started encouraging her.

“show us, yuri,” sungho smiled, “show us your dance!”

riwoo smiled proudly at his daughter, pulling her out his leg and leaning down to whisper in her ear, the little girl nodding excitedly in return.

“okay! a special performance from yuri, then,” he announced, walking over to turn on ‘nice guy’ as taesan and leehan went to the side of the room, riwoo moving to stand behind yuri and watch her intently.

“huh?!” woonhak exclaimed loudly.

“our song?!” jaehyun laughed, joining woonhak’s shock.

“let’s go, yuri!” leehan cheered, the little girl giggling as she started dancing to the chorus. riwoo watched her proudly, knowing her skills like the back of his hand.

after she finished the moves she knew, she ran to her dad, burying her head in his leg again as he laughed, petting her hair.

“and wooseul?” jaehyun asked, standing the girl up on his lap.

riwoo laughed, walking over and picking up his youngest daughter, twirling her round the room as though they were slow dancing, “dance genius too! see?”

jaehyun🪻🐕 [jangmi = 5, nari = 4, dongbaek = 10 months]

“remind me why we had another child?”

jaehyun laughed, pushing your messy bed hair out your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “cause they’re adorable and we love them.”

“but we just got back to normal sleep!”

you heard his laugh echo through the hallway as he collected your youngest daughter from her cot. recently moved from a moses basket beside your bed to her own room, she wasn’t taking the change well - and neither was anyone else in your house for that matter.

“mummy! daddy! dongbaek-ie’s crying again!” jangmi exclaimed, appearing in your bedroom doorway, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands sleepily.

“we know, baby,” you smiled, not bothering to move from where you lay your pillows, instead bringing back jaehyun’s side of the duvet to invite her in. “daddy’s got her, she should stop soon.”

“i do like her…” jangmi trailed off, looking at you cheekily.

you raised your eyebrows, awaiting her next words. “myung jangmi, are you telling me you don’t love your little sister?”

she giggled, laying down beside you and nuzzling into your side, “i like nari.”

laughing loudly, you started tickling her body to tease her, “what?! jangmi! how dare you!”

if the crying from the baby didn’t do it for your middle daughter, laughter certainly did. more and more like your husband each day; nari loved to be where the laughter was.

“mummy,” nari smiled as she appeared in the doorway, teddy gifted by uncle woonhak tucked under her arm.

“come on then,” you smiled, patting the bed beside jangmi as your two daughters got into the warmth beside you.

“uh?!” a loud voice came from the doorway. jaehyun had mock offence on his face, your youngest daughter laying on his shoulder with his protective hand on her back. “my bed’s been overtaken!”

“it’s our bed now!” nari laughed, sticking her tongue out at her dad.

jaehyun pretended to cry, rubbing his face in dongbaek’s tiny body. “dongbaek-ah, save me from your horrible sisters!”

the two girls beside you just laughed, squeezing up to your body so jaehyun could sit on the other side. he raised his knees up, laying the almost-1-year-old on his thighs. she wriggled sleepily as he stared down at her lovingly.

“what do you think dongbaek’s gonna be when she’s older?” he asked, turning to look at jangmi.

both his older daughters were now sat up, staring down at their little sister in wonder.

“an astronaut!” nari cried, jangmi shaking her head defiantly.

“i think an artist.”

“no i’m gonna be an artist!” nari yelled, patting her chest proudly.

“there can be more than one artist, nari!” jangmi scoffed, jaehyun laughing at the interaction, stroking jangmi’s hair to cool her down.

“what do you want to be, jangmi?”

“a singer,” she smiled, settling down beside her dad as he lifted his arm to wrap around her.

“a singer?!” he gasped, a proud smile growing on his face.

“a singer?!” you repeated, “like daddy?”

jangmi nodded, growing shy as she hid her face in her dad’s side.

“woah, you’re so cool, jangmi-ya!” you smiled, brushing her hair affectionately, “and our nari’s going to be an artist too, my girls are so talented!”

“and dongbaek!” nari smiled, peering down at her sister, “even if she’s boring.”

dongbaek was finally starting to settle again, the sight of her dad putting her into comfortable sleep. jaehyun sighed in relief, placing her back on his shoulder.

“right,” he said, voice quiet, “back to bed.”

jangmi and nari whined, protests escaping their mouths immediately. jaehyun silently started signalling wildly to the sleeping baby on his shoulder as his girls started to giggle.

“bed!” he said again, both of them piling out the room as he turned to look at you, rolling his eyes.

you just laughed, “that’s all you.”

taesan🎸🐈‍⬛ [baekho = 8, seulgi = 4, deoksu = 1]

“baekho,” taesan sighed, “you can’t take a bat to school.”

baekho whined, looking to you after his dad seemingly crushed his dreams. you laughed, shaking your head, “he’s right, bud, i’m sorry. you can’t take a bat to school, no matter how much you like baseball.”

the little boy stormed out the room, taesan looking at you and shaking his head with a sigh, “everyday i feel more of a reason to call my mum and apologise for my behaviour as a child.”

you laughed, lifting deoksu out of his high chair and beginning to clean his mouth with a wet wipe, “hmm. and somehow i still think you were worse.”

taesan chuckled, busying himself with cleaning up all the mess from breakfast as baekho came back in the room, full baseball uniform adorning his body instead of the clothes his dad had picked out for him earlier this morning.

“you know what? yeah,” taesan shrugged, “that’s a good halfway point.”

his eldest son sat on the sofa, a serious pout on his face as he crossed his arms. you sat beside him, after placing your youngest on the floor, stroking his cheek softly.

“baekho-ya,” you spoke, “you know if it was up to us, we’d let you take your bat in, right? but both you and us will get in trouble if we let you take it, okay? we’re not trying to ruin your fun, i promise.”

taesan smiled, watching you talk to your son with softness. the beatles continued to play out from the speaker in the kitchen, deoksu toddling over to his dad once he noticed.

“daddy,” he said, taesan bending down to look at his young son with eyebrows raised, “beat-les song right now.”

“yeah!” taesan smiled, kissing his forehead as his heart felt filled to bursting with joy, “do you like it?”

deoksu nodded, giggling as he began dancing (or bobbing up and down). taesan stood up, watching him with a loving gaze. suddenly, he was ripped from the moment suddenly as he glanced at the time.

“god. baekho! seulgi! it’s time to leave!” he yelled, looking at you in confusion, “where’s seulgi?”

“she wanted to pick out her outfit herself this morning,” you shrugged, “and i’m not going to be the one stopping her.”

taesan rolled his eyes, why did his children have to be such mirrors of him?

“seulgi-ya!” he yelled, watching the bottom of the stairs for his daughter to appear. “we’re going to be late!”

“i’ll get the baekho in the car,” you murmured to your husband, kissing his cheek as you placed your dirty coffee cup on the side of the sink. you picked deoksu up, beckoning your eldest son to follow you out. “come on you, shoes and coat.”

taesan sighed as he watched the three of you leave, moving to go up to seulgi’s bedroom to check what she was doing – before he could even reach the bottom of the stairs, however, there she was. her fanciest off-white dress on her body with a soft red cape-style coat over the top. her hair was done in plaits - presumably your only contribution to her outfit, but she’d added a dress-up tiara on her head. he broke out in a smile, heart swelling at the beauty of his only daughter.

“well hello princess,” he chuckled, “going to kindergarten like that today?”

she nodded definitely, smiling up at her dad, “don’t i look pretty?”

he beamed, crouching down and opening his arms for a hug (which she quickly accepted), “you’re the prettiest, darling. put on your shoes quickly, though, we need to leave.”

“yes, daddy!”

he smiled, watching her lovingly as she slipped bright yellow crocs on her feet. he laughed at the new addition to the outfit, shaking his head.

“oh, princess seulgi!” you exclaimed, appearing in the doorway of the house again as your daughter walked out to the car, an air of determination about her, “have a good day at school!”

she giggled, waving goodbye to you and her little brother, climbing up into the car. you looked to taesan who seemed to be in a daze.

“time, taesan,” you said, walking over, deoksu still sat on your hip as you placed your hand on your husband’s face, “i know you’re head over heels for your daughter but you’re gonna be late.”

he snapped back to reality, winking at you as he rushed to the door, “only head over heels for you, my darling. have a good day!”

leehan🪸🐠 [sua = 6, haesu = fetus (6 months)]

“what’s this?”

“what do you mean what’s this?” leehan laughed, his daughter’s small finger trailing over his lips as she looked up at his face from where she lay on his lap, “they’re my lips!”

sua giggled, trailing her finger to poke her dad’s eye, “what’s this?!”

leehan chuckled, taking ahold of her hand and pretending to eat it, sua laughing loudly as his mouth tickled her skin.

“what are you doing?” you giggled, walking into the living room to see your husband and your daughter in their own world as they stared at each other.

“sua’s learning what a face is, apparently,” leehan laughed, tickling his daughter’s stomach as she squirmed on his lap.

“mummy,” sua said suddenly, peering at you. you tilted your head to see her straight on.

“yes, sua baby?”

“can the baby hear us?” she asked, playing with her dad’s hands absentmindedly.

“yes!” you smiled, taking a careful seat on the sofa next to the two, a hand atop your rounded stomach, “why? you want to talk to him?”

sua nodded, suddenly shy as she sat up.

“say whatever!” leehan encouraged, brushing her long brown hair out her face, “i talk to him every night.”

“really?” she giggled.

leehan nodded, a serious expression on his face, “of course! and i spoke to you when you were in mummy’s belly. do you remember?”

sua’s eyes sparkled, exactly the same as her dad’s as they looked at each other - as though trying to gage the other’s reaction. “of course,” she giggled, leehan gasping over dramatically in response.

“you do?!”

she nodded, before turning back to the task in hand as she looked at your stomach. she twisted her head to the side in confusion.

“he’s really in there?” she chuckled, looking up at you.

you smiled, wiping some of whatever she had for breakfast off the side of her mouth as you nodded. you looked down to your stomach, observing for a moment before feeling around. taking sua’s hand, you placed it on the top where your son’s feet were pressing into your skin.

“feel him? right there,” you said, sua’s eyes widening as she sat up suddenly, “he’s kicking me.”

“hey! don’t kick mummy!” sua laughed, placing both her hands on your stomach. she moved closer to the skin, speaking loudly. “hello in there. helllooooo—”

“hello kim sua,” leehan said, putting on a funny voice.

sua turned to glare at her dad, as he just laughed. “dad. i’m 6 now, you can’t trick me.”

“ah, okay, i’m sorry,” he smiled, “go on.”

the little girl turned back to you and the baby, resuming her original position.

“i’m kim sua, can you hear me?” she spoke, watching the surface as though a reply would come, “i’m your sister. and you have to be nice to me because i’m older, okay?”

leehan laughed, burying his face in your shoulder, “where did she get that from?”

you laughed with him, shaking your head, “she’s not allowed to hang out with han seulgi anymore.”

“right?” he said, smiling proudly down at his daughter, “let’s make her hang out with lee yuri. she loves her sister.”

“that’s because she has a little sister, not a little brother,” you said, peering at leehan as he nodded in thought. the two of you were still watching your little girl intently, though she wasn’t listening to a word you were saying; preoccupied with her conversation to her little brother. “i think she’s going to be a good sister though. look at her.”

leehan smiled, nodding, “she loves him already.”

you nodded, leaning your head atop leehan’s as sua suddenly turned to look at you two. you raised your eyebrows in anticipation.

“daddy,” she started, “…can you do the voice again?…”

leehan chuckled, acting confused at the very request. you smiled at him, stroking your daughter’s hair. “speak to your brother again, sua. try one more.”

“can you hear me, baby?” she asked, “answer me!”

“yes hello kim sua,” leehan said in a funny voice, your daughter bursting out in giggles, “i’m your little brother.”

ot6 / woonhak🧸 (this is a bit different cause i felt weird writing him as a dad - takes place FAR in the future!)

“i think this may be the first time in my life i’ve seen him cook,” sungho gasped, watching woonhak carry out the main dish and place it in the middle of the table.

woonhak smiled sarcastically, jaehyun patting him on the back reassuringly.

“it’s okay, baby,” jaehyun cooed, “you’re proving yourself now!”

“ah stop calling me baby, seriously,” woonhak whined, taking his seat next to you at the dinner table. all of the members and their partners were there, woonhak’s heart beating with what could only be described as nerves as you took his hand. “you all have your own children, why am i still the baby?!”

leehan smiled affectionately opposite him, “no matter how old you are, you’re still our baby.”

“yeah!” taesan cheered, raising his glass, “to our baby!”

“to our baby!”

woonhak chuckled off the comment, looking to you nervously as he played with your fingers.

“seriously, though,” sungho spoke, his glass still raised, motioning towards you and woonhak, “thank you for having us, mr. and mrs. kim.”

you smiled, cheersing him back with your own glass (juice, not wine like the others had).

“well actually,” woonhak started, clearing his throat suddenly as looked between his members, “i– we did have something to toast to tonight. a– a reason to force you all to get babysitters and invite you all here.”

“not that we’re not thankful for it,” riwoo laughed, the others joining, but stopping soon after when they saw their maknae’s serious face.

he smiled at his older brothers, the ones who had practically raised him since youth. you squeezed his hand as he spared a glance back at you before looking to his brothers again. the smile on his face was infectious, his heart now pounding with excitement as he grasps the news he’s about to announce.

“y/n’s pregnant,” he beams, the silence thick afterwards as he looks between them, “we’re having a baby!”

jaehyun’s the first to break, a loud cheer escaping his mouth as he bounds out of his seat, pulling woonhak into a hug. the rest of the boys soon follow; some energetic, some seemingly in a daze.

jaehyun turns to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“seriously,” he smiled, tears welling up in his eyes, “congratulations.”

“why are you crying?!” you exclaimed, slapping his arm as the rest of the members suddenly latched on to their leader’s tears too, teasing him beyond belief.

“i’m just so proud of him,” jaehyun sniffled, pulling woonhak into another hug as the younger boy whined loudly.

“get off me! i’m a dad now,” he teased, the other boys all looking on lovingly, leehan’s hand stroking woonhak’s hair, while a couple of the others were supporting jaehyun.

“wow,” sungho said, as everyone started taking their seats again.

“does this mean we’re old now?” riwoo laughed in disbelief, sharing sungho’s sentiment.

“no!” woonhak cheered, nothing could offset his mood with news this good.

sungho sighed, “speak for yourself. namgi’s already 12.”

[rewrittenmha]

Fixing Hawks

Stuck on the Sports Festival Arc right now so I thought I'd address what's probably going to be the biggest character change of the rewrite. This will be slightly spoiler-y for the rest of the rewrite so be warned.

Hawks' backstory mostly stays the same. Keigo's father is abusive and his mother takes him on the run. His father eventually gets arrested by Endeavor and he's scouted by the HPSC. His mother basically trades him in exchange for a luxurious life and exoneration for her involvement in her husband's affairs

Keigo is trained diligently to be one of the top heroes and a poster boy for heroism. But he's being turned into a weapon, learning to kill with no hesitation. Being taught that his targets aren't like the people who need protecting, that they need to die for the sake of peace and order

When Keigo turns eight, his training is primarily handed over to his senior, Kaina Tsutsumi. She's different than his other teachers, she's kind and funny and treats him like a person instead of a weapon

But Kaina is spiraling. Keigo is too young to fully understand, but even he can see that her actions are becoming more erratic. She's hesitating on missions and her disdain towards their superiors is something she can't hide. He doesn't understand; aren't they supposed to do what they're told? When he asks her about it, she tells him that their superiors aren't as righteous as they pretend to be. She tells him that by doing their work for them, she's just as bad. But she tells him that he has a chance to be better. She implores him to do what he thinks is right, even if their superiors would condemn it

Despite this, him and Kaina remain close. She's the only one who's ever cared about him as well as being the only person he's ever known how to care about. When the toll of their job gets to be too much, he finds comfort and warmth in her presence. He doesn't remember his mother's face, but when he thinks of her, it's Kaina's smile he envisions

Kaina is arrested by the time he turns nine. She killed the HPSC president and was locked away in Tartarus for it. And Keigo is left alone once again

For a few years, he doesn't take her words to heart. He's given a job to do and he fulfills it perfectly every time. Sometimes, his superiors ask about anything Kaina told him, but out of respect and loyalty for her he acts stupid. Pretends that he hadn't understood anything she said. They seem to believe him, as he doesn't hesitate to get the job done

Things change when Keigo becomes a hero. Thanks to the Commission's ruthless training, he quickly breaks into the Top 10. He's never interacted with citizens on a social level, so he tries to mirror Kaina the best he can: calm, coy, and playful. It seems to work as his demeanor does well at putting people at-ease

His first kill as a hero is the day he understands what Kaina was trying to tell him all those years ago. The blood stains his hands even when he washes it away. How can he smile in these people's face when he's as vile as the murderers they condemn? How can he pretend to be virtuous when he's covering up the cracks in society? He's no hero. But in this society where the good guys are no better than the bad guys, do heroes even exist?

It's on this day that Keigo Takami becomes determined to change the corruption he's been trained to uphold and protect. No matter the cost

I will always be pissed about how Horikoshi missed every opportunity with Hawks. He was the perfect character to expose the HPSC and society and try to change things for the better. Instead, he perpetuates the cycle of abuse and corruption, and becomes the HPSC president for some reason?? Horikoshi wtf.

At every angle, Hawks has been stripped of his autonomy. Not only did he unknowingly admire an abuser despite being a victim of abuse himself, once he found out there was zero reflection. He never got to rise up against or call out the HPSC despite being forced to be a child assassin. What pisses me off is that these things could have easily been fixed. A panel or so to reflect on his misplaced admiration of Endeavor would have been doable. Having him talk to Lady Nagant after Izuku beat her would have been doable.

But Hawks doesn't get to be anything more than a prop for Endeavor despite being in the perfect place narratively to address everything wrong in MHA society.

I kind of changed the timeline since Kaina is 16 years older than Keigo and would have been arrested when he was seven. Gave them a couple of years together. Because for some reason Hawks isn't allowed to have any relationships past an abusive middle-aged man

[robthegoodfellow]

Make Me Feel Mighty Real 1/?

follow up to praise kink soft dom Steve uber sub Billy fic (also on Ao3) from last year's Kinktober event. the boys play around with total power exchange. tagging @gigacat and @makeadealwithdean because i remember you liking the original 💛

no porn yet. pre-porn.

Billy didn’t want him to ask how his last exams went. Didn’t want him to mention his classes at all—a complete erasure of the last few weeks of compulsive flash cards and study guides and late nights at the library. He’d been mumbling psych terminology in his sleep, tossing and turning, and gnawed on so many pencils his desk seemed occupied by a tiny beaver.

Over the past however long since Billy had become his… well, his—his good boy, his baby, his first thought on waking, his to have and to hold in a sense felt more deeply than tying the knot, in a sense that transcended all he’d ever known of how two people could be together and frankly still knocked him breathless when he thought about it too much—anyway, since all that began, Steve had come to view his life as though through this peculiar prism.

Certain facets were as they’d been before, like now: soldiering through the numbers at work, making nice with surrounding cubicles, acting the part of the straight-laced office drone, diligent and dull as dirt. He’d been voted Best Hair at the office Christmas party not just because his hair was objectively magnificent but also because that was all anyone knew about him. By design.

He did his work, got paid, and the moment he left the building, Office Steve shut off. Some people centered their lives around a vocation, and some joined the rat race, scrambling to pull even, pull ahead. Then there were people like his dad, where career success determined your entire worth—your net worth all that mattered.

Steve was none of those things. Swore to himself he never would be.

So Office Steve had already been separate from the rest, from the facets of himself he valued most: the person he was with friends, with family, with girlfriends. The person he was just hanging out at home.

And he’d been content with those facets for so long… until Billy. Until something about Billy turned the prism and a flash of light unveiled a side of himself he’d never known was there, alongside the others, patiently waiting for that beam of recognition at exactly the right angle.

Billy dropping to his knees, face angled up, lashes low, eyes locked where Steve’s cock strained the denim.

Standing there, towering like he’d never towered before—looming, imposing, imperative—Steve had never felt so firmly seated inside himself. In command.

It was hard to explain. He’d been puzzling it through for months, but all he knew was that, these days, with every step he took up the stairwell to their apartment, something in him shifted, bestowed this clarity of need and means, so by the time he reached their door, crossed the threshold, he practically thrummed with it.

That day, knowing what he might find upon entering, the thrum heightened to a subdermal buzz, so intense he had to pause on the Welcome mat, breathe deep and slow. In control.

Billy was inside, would have finished his last exam an hour ago. And last night, as they drifted to sleep, he’d mumbled what he wanted, what Steve had been probing him for—what he wanted to do, how he wanted to celebrate, once exams were over.

Could we do… you in charge?

Like that evening in late summer, he meant, when they’d toyed with total obedience, Steve at the reins of every decision, free to follow any whim—unless Billy signaled yellow, they’d decided. Yellow to slow down. Red to stop.

Me in charge tomorrow night? Steve asked, his blood already rushing at the thought, the memory.

Maybe. Billy had turned, nuzzled into Steve’s side, more snuggly under his arm. And maybe… try for longer? At Steve’s enquiring hum, a teasing lilt, he’d huffed, finally said it straight out: You in charge all day.

Steve hummed again, low rumble in the chest, and trailed fingers up Billy’s spine to hook in his necklace, twine the chain until it hugged his bobbing throat.

Saturday? Steve asked.

Depended on where his head was at, Billy said. If he was up for it, they could start early. Start Friday. And see how it went.

Baby’ll be honest?

Billy nodded—more accurately, rubbed his cheek at Steve’s ribs.

Baby’ll be where he wants? When I get home?

On his knees, if he wanted to start.

Billy nodded.

On the welcome mat, Steve exhaled once more. Unlocked the door.

Billy didn’t move from where he knelt on the floor, facing the couch, his shoulders at ease, hands on his thighs. He was in the same clothes from that morning—jeans and sweater. One of Steve’s.

The TV was on, volume low, a blurred murmur beyond the pulse pounding in his ears.

Steve closed the door behind him. Locked it.

“Look at me,” he said, and Billy did, turning his head, gaze skirting the floor to find Steve’s shoes. Watched as Steve toed off the shoes, as he approached, silent socks on the soft blue carpet.

Steve sank fingers into messy curls, angled the head to see Billy’s face. Thumb brushed beneath his eye, and though the lashes rose, the baby blues were soft and spacey.

“Color.”

Not a question. Billy blinked, slow to process. Steve stroked his hair.

“Green.” He said it quiet, on a breath.

Even unfocused, his boy had this ravenous quality, like his eyes, his ears, his every sense were sponges primed to soak it up, suck in Steve’s smile, the pleased curve, and Steve’s words, just as pleased, and soft.

“Good boy.”

Next

[bucking-mustangs-with-wings]

So I done goofed, and my brain wasn't happy until I wrote a sequel to my little Barbed Wire Hearts snippet/ask/prompt thing from yesterday. So here ya go!

@swifty-fox @moghraidhs this is very much for you because we all needed this to happen

I recommend listening to this while reading, it had me all up in my feels while writing this:

Walking into the hospital parking lot and seeing his old beat up red F150 still sitting there, like a silent vigil awaiting his return was almost a surreal experience for John. As much as he would have found the thought ridiculous in any other situation, he'd almost forgotten it existed in the time he had spent cooped up in the sterile environment of the hospital, mind awash with more pressing matters. Coupled with the stress and worry that had oozed from every single one of his pores like a sickness, the outside world other than room number 13 and its occupant was the only thing he had been mentally able to put any real energy into.

Curt and a few of the other boys had stopped by every few days to slink their way into the wing, jeans and boots and cowboy hats sticking out like a sore thumb amongst scrubs and white coats and had brought him a duffle bag of spare clothes and toiletries so he could use the visitor's showers. He'd made it pretty clear in the first days that he wouldn't be leaving any time soon, not even to pick himself up anything to eat (when he could remember to).

Curt had been an angel in that sense, too. He'd brought Bucky dinner a few nights in a row in the fortnight he was there, some cheap takeaway from one of the diners in the middle of town, burgers and such. And those nights he couldn't make it in to check up on things John had very helpfully been informed by one of the nurses on shift that she was to remind him to eat, even if it was from one of the crappy vending machines dotting the hospital corridors at the behest of a very worried friend that had called the front desk. The soft amused smile the woman had flashed his way alerted him to the fact that none of the nurses were bothered by Curt's mother-hen phonecalls. Especially when Bucky hadn't turned his phone off of silent since he'd been there and one too many calls had gone to voicemail. He knew he'd be getting an earful off Curt and the other boys once he had made it back to the grounds, but he also knew he'd be quickly forgiven his neglect, given the current circumstances.

As he got closer to the truck, pulling his keys out of his coat pocket and twirling them around his index finger, Bucky took a quick glance back over his shoulder at the figure not too far behind him, making sure they were still following him.

Buck still looked like he'd been hit by a semi truck, blue eyes cast down to the pavement as he diligently followed Bucky on auto-pilot, bruises still stark over his face, albeit slightly faded now, but still evident. Still sore looking. His left arm was cast from the hand all the way up to his elbow, held up gently in a sling over his good shoulder. Bucky had no doubt the other man could still feel the telltale ache in his left shoulder-socket where it had been popped completely out in the accident, features wincing every now and then if he stepped too heavily and jostled himself.

His blond hair was in a messed up disarray, bed-hair born of two weeks of laying in an uncomfortable hospital bed for hours at a time, sticking up in some places and falling softly across his forehead in others. The nurses had helped him up and into the room's private bathroom the night before and had helped him finally have a shower before he got discharged the next morning, an awkward affair that Bucky knew the blond didn't necessarily want to talk about if the blush that had painted his pale cheeks when prodded was anything to go by. Better than having to be given a spongebath though, by a long shot, and Bucky couldn't have agreed more.

He also couldn't help the small smile that pulled up at the corner of his lips as he raked his gaze over the smaller man's body, taking in the soft grey over-sized sweatpants (Bucky's) tightened as much as the drawstrings would allow around thinner hips, tucked loosely into worn Twisted X square toe boots. A good idea in hindsight when there was no way Buck would have been able to get himself into a pair of his usual jeans with the soreness of the bruising up his thigh and over the jut of his hip bone, matching his face in colour albeit a bit more angrier looking.

The nights were a bit cooler than they were a week or so before, so at Bucky's insistence Gale was also draped in one of John's massive Ariat puffer jackets, only one arm able to fill the sleeves while the other hung uselessly at Gale's side. With the collar pulled up around his ears, John felt a sense of pride and slight satisfaction knowing he was wearing his clothes. Everything but the plain white tshirt underneath the draped layers.

Walking over to the passenger side quickly after shoving the key in the driver's side door and unlocking it, Bucky opened the passenger door and swept his other arm out in a low gesture, a smirk on his face.

"After you, princess," he drawled, delighting in the unimpressed lift of an unbruised brow shot in his direction, but no real heat or disdain behind it.

He patiently waited with the door held open, allowing Buck to gingerly hoist himself up into the truck's cab knowing if he tried to assist in any way he'd get sworn at for his trouble, ever the independent hard-headed idiot Buck often was. Once the other man was seated comfortably, only a few winces and sharp intake of breath painfully hissed through clenched teeth, Bucky carefully shut the door and trotted around the front of the truck to climb into the driver's seat. He gave a double glance into the truck bed at his and Buck's bags he had tossed in a little while earlier before he'd gone back in to help with the discharge papers.

The old truck roared to life without much protest, and he couldn't help the self-satisfied little chuckle that escaped him, patting the dash like the vehicle was a loyal old dog at his heels. As much as he'd nearly forgotten about her amongst the chaos, he was happy to be back behind her wheel, even if the leather was peeling just a tiny bit from sun damage. It added more character, he thought.

He looked over at Gale, noticing the younger man sitting still and almost stiff, eyes zeroed in on the dash but glazed over in thought and what was probably left over sedation from the heavy painkillers he was given. His expression was blank, nothing giving away even the slightest hint at what was running through that pretty head of his, and Bucky felt that telltale tightening in his throat creep up again. But before he let it get a permanent grip, he reached forward, grabbing the black felt hat that had been sitting on the dash since the previous day (thanks, Curt) and picking it up before turning and dropping it perfectly over Buck's head.

The other man flinched in surprise, ripped out of his thoughts and his bright blue eyes coming back into focus as he turned to look at Bucky, a confused frown creasing his brow as he brought up his working hand and felt the hat underneath his fingers. He straightened it a few centimetres, eyes looking between Bucky's in a numb sort of questioning expression.

"My hat," he said dumbly, voice quieter and still that hint of lost that had Bucky swallowing back emotions that he didn't want to put a name to, instead letting a bright smile grow from his smirk in the blond's direction, teeth bright.

"Well, can't be much of a cowboy without your hat now, can you?" Bucky smiled, watching every minute change in Buck's expression like a hawk. He was rewarded with a swooping sensation in his chest when he noticed the smallest grin colour Buck's face, eyes flickering away from Bucky's with a small huff of a laugh to focus out the windshield.

"Don't think I'll be much of a cowboy for the next couple weeks, Bucky," Gale muttered. As if in stark reminder, he winced as he shifted slightly in the worn leather seat, obviously jostling one of the many painful areas littering his body.

"Ahhh come on," Bucky joked, leaning forward slightly to grip the ancient clutch and put the truck into gear. "You're still one of the best cowboys around, even if you are bruised and battered to high heaven."

Gale huffed out another light breath of a laugh, lifting his good elbow up to rest it against the open window, hand and fingers dangling on the outside and tapping a gentle beat against the metal of the door as Bucky pulled the vehicle out and towards the end of the parking lot onto the main road.

The next half hour of the drive back to the rodeo grounds was silent, just the monotone hum of the local radio turned down to barely audible from the truck's old speakers and the quick whoosh of another vehicle every now and then, passing them on the highway on the way back to where they'd just came from. The sun had dipped low enough on the horizon now that the reaching expanse of the county they were in painted a picture through the slightly dirty windshield, sky lit up in oranges and reds streaked through by a few stray clouds.

Bucky would hazard glances from the corner of his eyes every now and then at Gale, who sat still and stoic beside him, chin now rested in the palm of his hand against the window, eyes cast out to the scenery that rolled by. Bucky could tell that under the surface there was something much more sinister and harsh squeezing at Buck's heart and thoughts, spiraling down deep into a void that he worried he wouldn't be able to pull the younger man out of, even if he lassoed him like a runaway steer.

At some point, with a nervous swallow, Bucky reached his free hand out, covering Buck's thigh with the expanse of it, feeling the tension in the muscles and gave what he hoped was a comforting squeeze, gentle and barely there, but a reminder he was right there with him all the same. He counted it as a win when he noticed Buck's face turn to him slightly with a soft smile, eyes very obviously still avoiding John's own before turning back to the view from the window. It had Bucky releasing a long breath he hadn't realised he had been holding hostage in his chest. He didn't attempt to remove his hand, and Buck didn't make any effort to shift out from under it. If anything, he leaned into the touch, knee swinging softly towards the gear stick in Bucky's general direction after a few moments. A silent thank you.

Bucky couldn't help the gentle self-satisfied smile that graced itself onto his face.

By the time Bucky turned the truck off the highway and through the big open gates of the grounds, the sun had dipped that much further underneath the distant mountains that everything was washed in a barely perceivable darkness. What was left of the sunset was slowly turning itself to the deep blue of the night, stars beginning to reveal themselves against the quickly fading orange glow.

As the beam of the truck's headlights lit up the dirt road further into the grounds and towards the still set up camps close by the back of the arena, the familiar sight of gooseneck trailers and camper trailers, awnings folded out and a pit fire settled in the middle amongst them came more into view.

They could see the silhouettes of a dozen people, Curt and Dougie and Brady and the rest all chatting away circled around the fire, beers in a few hands as Bucky slowly pulled the truck to a stop up beside Crosby's trailer. It wasn't until he had turned off the engine, hopping out of the cab with stiff knees and moved around to Buck's side that Curt's voice cut through the night and reached them through the other voices.

"Ayyyy, the great Champion returns!" Bucky couldn't help the grin from painting his face as he looked up, mid opening Buck's door and seeing Curt walking in their direction, back lit up in orange from the fire's warmth and arms lifted above his head, beer bottle in one hand.

Buck had only just planted his boots on the ground with a slightly pained grunt before he was swept up in a happy but very careful embrace by Curt, the other shorter man being incredibly cautious as to which parts he touched, but none the less enthusiastic in his greeting. The curve of Buck's own smile, teeth glinting in the half darkness caught Bucky's eye and he couldn't help the weight that lifted from the centre of his chest.

"It's good to see you, Buck. They finally release you from that hellhole, huh? Thought our good ol' Bucky here was gonna rot himself to that chair by your bed if you didn't get outta there soon."

Bucky couldn't help the bashful way he rubbed at the back of his neck at Curt's words, hoping the slight colour that rose to his cheeks wasn't too obvious in the lowlight when Buck shot him a soft glance from his peripheral.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away, Curt," Buck joked back. It was light-hearted and jovial, appeasing Curt's attention on him, but Bucky could see that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. There was a blank faraway look behind those baby blues, and it made Bucky's chest restrict uncomfortably as he watched as more of the boys made their way over. They all stepped forward to squeeze the blond cowboy's good shoulder or shake his good hand, some like Brady and Jack and Crosby mirroring Curt and pulling Buck into a gentle embrace, ever careful of his injuries.

Once they had all made their way over to the fire's warmth, Curt all but forcing Buck into one of the fold out camper chairs in his usual mother hen ways, everyone took their turn updating him and Bucky on everything they had missed while they had been in the hospital. Buck more-so, considering the first almost week the man had been unconscious for most of the time and had missed more than Bucky had.

Curt took a few moments to admonish Bucky like he had expected at having had his phone on silent for nearly the entire time, but Bucky just waved him off with a cocky smirk. He kept glancing at Buck every few minutes, taking note of every small change in the blond's expression, the way he joked with the others, the small smiles and tilt of his chin when he laughed as much as his broken ribs would allow him to in their process of healing. To any of the others, everything was normal, Buck's gentle quiet nature and injuries the reasoning as to why he wasn't quite himself yet, why there wasn't that normal spark in the shine of his eyes. But Bucky could feel the tension, the exhaustion that was more than just from pain and injury radiating from Buck like he was melded with the man's very mind himself. Could see the way he tucked himself further underneath Bucky's jacket every now and then with a faraway look on his face before he made himself more alert to the conversations around him.

Bucky just sat and boded his time, happy to not have to make too much small talk amongst the other boys as the night further darkened and the numbers on his watch got later and later.

When most of the conversations had died down and a few of the boys had retired to their trailers for the night, a few still milling about with the happiness that both Buckies return had caused and talking amongst themselves, voices slightly slurred from alcohol, Bucky stood from his seat against the wheel of one of the goosnecks and shoved his slightly chilled hands deep into his pocket. Making his way over to where Buck was still seated in the camper chair, staring blankly into the fire which wasn't as fierce as earlier in the evening now.

Leaning down, his lips close to Buck's ear from behind he whispered a low "Come on, Sunshine, follow me for a sec. Got something I wanna show ya."

He smirked when Buck jumped slightly in surprise at the sound of his voice so close, obviously so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed Bucky make his way over. Craning his neck backwards so he could look up at Bucky's face, blue eyes trying hard to focus on him upside down, he frowned in question.

"Come on," Bucky repeated, smile soft and obvious as he stepped to the side a little and held his hand out to Buck in an offer to help hoist him to his feet. The blond almost looked like he wasn't going to move, body language hesitant and lips pursing into a tight line, before he sighed and reached out with his good hand, gripping Bucky's offered firmly and allowing himself to be lifted into standing, a small grimace of pain fluttering across his features at his ribs obviously screaming in protest.

Once Bucky was sure he had recovered, he tugged at their joined hands gently, tilting his chin in the direction of the arena with a small smile. Buck looked at him, still questioning in his gaze before he allowed himself to be lead through the cluster of trailers. He didn't drop Bucky's hand, but instead almost hesitantly thread their fingers together. Bucky couldn't help his heart from soaring as he gave Gale's hand a gentle squeeze in silent comfort.

Like second nature he guided Gale out of the gathered maze of trailers, the sounds of the other boy's voices growing further and further behind them until the arena was not far in front of them, only just visible by some of the smaller flood-lights that were still on around the barriers. When they got closer, and Bucky turned towards the holding yards, he felt Gale falter slightly, his hand pulling back subconsciously but he didn't drop their hold.

Bucky looked back at Gale's face, seeing the blond's eyes focused out onto the sands, expression blank but taut like a frayed guitar string on the verge of snapping, and he slowed his stride.

"Hey," Bucky spoke gently, like he was approaching a ready-to-spook horse. When Buck still didn't look at him, he gave their still joined hands a squeeze and a shake, until Gale finally snapped his eyes back to Bucky's. They were wide and had a look of slight fear buried deep behind, flickering over Bucky's face trying to look for some semblance of comfort. Bucky held their gaze for a few moments, both men having stopped in their journey, and waited until he knew Buck was partially back in the present. "Hey it's okay, I promise. Trust me."

Gale's expression was still one of veiled panic and grief for a few more seconds, before he found whatever he was looking for in Bucky's own face and let his shoulders slouch and relax, breath exhaling slowly with a small nod.

With a comforting smile, Bucky tugged at their hands gently until Gale fell back into step behind him, eyes still glancing over to the middle of the arena every now and then like he was seeing invisible monsters advancing towards them.

Bucky could only imagine what was going through the smaller man's head, still often privvy to his own torturous memories and images from the day of Buck's accident no matter how hard he tried to forget and push them back. Every now and then the picture of Gale's face, bright red blood flowing down one side of it and slack in unconsciousness, pale and looking for all intent and purposes dead kept haunting him. But he stamped those thoughts down, focusing instead on the feeling of Buck's thankfully now warm fingers between his own, the slight sensation of his fluttering pulse.

Making it to the holding yards out behind the bull chutes, Bucky carefully made his way through the maze of yards, keeping a firm grip on Buck's hand as the two men threaded their way in and out between metal gates and runs in the dark.

Gale's voice, hushed and urgent, reached him from behind, and the smile only grew on his face. "Bucky I can't fucking see. We're both gonna fall head over tit if you don't slow-"

"Shhh!" Bucky answered back, only pulling Gale further into the pens.

Gale made an affronted noise, mouth parted. "Did you just fucking shush me?!"

"Sure did, now if you'd just shut your pretty mouth and look."

Gale gave his hand a harsh squeeze in retaliation. "Did you forget the part where I just said I can't see? What the hell am I even supposed to be looking a-"

Buck froze in his following of Bucky, the taller man allowing himself to be pulled to a complete stop when Buck's hand pulled against his as the whuffled knicker of a familiar horse finally reached the blond's ears in the darkness.

Bucky turned, facing Buck so he could catch sight of the smaller man's face in the dim light, and he couldn't help the genuine warm smile that split his face, noticing Gale's eyes focused somewhere off behind him, shock evident and an obvious glint of wetness beginning to form against dark blond bottom lashes.

His lips moved silently, stuck on actually producing any noise, until he glanced up at Bucky, brow furrowing into a look of pain. "John.."

"She's been waitin' for you," John said simply in response, still smiling brightly and allowing Buck's hand to drop from his as the blond stepped past him towards the last square pen at the end of the lane.

Almost as if he was seeing a ghost, Buck walked up carefully, eyes flickering over every inch of the palomino mare's body, taking in every inch of her as she walked up to the rails and shoved her head through and pushed her nose into Gale's chest, still murmuring at him. He couldn't help the way his breath rushed out of him at the contact, good hand lifting up shakily until he rested it on the white of her blaze. She nudged at him again, a questioning sort of move and lipped at the cast around his other arm. A silent question of 'what the hell is this thing? Why do you have this?'

Bucky slowly walked up to stand beside Buck, reaching up and resting his arms onto the higher rails in a casual air of relaxtion, and watched, transfixed as Gale just stared at the horse, hand still on her face, the younger's breathing jagged and coming in short bursts. Shock, relief.

After a few more moments, Buck seemed to come back to himself, a disbelieving breath escaping parted lips and turned his gaze back to Bucky. John could see the tears still evident in the other man's lower lashes, glittering and growing and threatening to fall to the dust underneath them.

"H-how..?"

Bucky smiled at him, resting his forehead against his folded arms and looked at the mare in question. "Curt's been looking after her while you were gone. Made sure she was real pampered, 'til you got back and did the pampering yourself."

"But she.. Bucky, I thought she was.."

Bucky chuckled, low and easy, and nudged his shoulder against Gale's. "What, dead? Nahhh, barely got a scrape on her. Tiny little cut just above the front hoof. Vet didn't even have to wrap it."

At John's words it was like a dam broke from within Buck, and he could only watch helpless as the tears gathered in the blond's eyes finally fell down his cheeks in silvery lines as he squeezed them shut, body bowing over at the waist with his good hand braced against his knee before straightening again. Buck tilted his face to the sky for a few seconds, breathing ragged, a barely audible sob hitching from his lungs painfully.

"I thought she broke her neck. God, Bucky I thought she was fucking dead, I thought she'd broke a leg, and she had to be shot. Fuck I- As soon as I woke up, that's all I could... that's all I could fucking-"

John stepped up to Gale, reaching up and pulling the smaller man against his broad chest and held him there, feeling the small tremors that wracked Gale's broken body. He put a hand against the back of Gale's head, fingers threading through golden strands, hat getting knocked off kilter and falling onto the ground.

"Hey, hey, you're okay. Everything's okay. Baby's okay. She's as tough as her goddamn rider," Bucky shushed him gently, resting his cheek against the top of Buck's head and just allowing the other to cry all but silently into his neck. He could feel the air chill the wetness there and looked up to the stars himself and thanked whatever was watching over them that Buck was still here, that he was still alive and able to be held in his arms like this. He felt his own eyes begin to gather tears at the fragility of the man in his arms, and swallowed harshly against them.

Bucky inhaled deeply, Gale's good hand clutched desperately in the side of his jacket, a warm weight sitting there as he pressed his lips into the crown of Buck's hair.

"Think she came out of it a bit better than you did, though," he whispered as an afterthought, lips curving into a smirk when he felt Gale clench his hand into a fist and thump it into his ribs in reply. He couldn't help the chuckle that rumbled in his chest, only slightly moving back so that he could look down at Buck, his smirk melting into a soft smile at the sight of Gale now looking up at him. Tear stained cheeks and lashes clumped together, a defiant glare but with no real malice directed at him, eyes bright and blue and more reminiscent of the Buck that John knew and adored.

Gale's eyes flickered from his down to his lips and back, frown easing into something much softer and more vulnerable, and Bucky thought his heart would explode at the pure emotion he could see mirrored in Buck's irises. His breath stuttered, smile slipping off of his lips and heart thundering like a freight train behind his ribs.

Everything fell into a syrupy slow motion as they stared at eachother, Bucky's hand that had been gently cupping the back of Buck's head slowly slipping around to cup the other man's cheek, slow and careful, thumb sweeping over the sharp line of his jaw in a barely there caress.

He swallowed thickly, noticing Buck nudge into that hold, eyes lowering back to his lips. He felt like his entire world was tilting on its axis, narrowing down to just the two of them standing out in the middle of the stock pens behind the arena where he nearly lost the one thing he had ever truly cared for more than the feeling of being perched up on a raging bull's back. Even riding a bull made his heart thunder less than it was right now.

Carefully, giving Gale the chance to pull away, he sighed, breath ghosting over the other man's lips. "Buck, I-"

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me John before we both die of old age," Gale whispered harshly, good hand that was gripping into Bucky's jacket tugging now and John couldn't help the surprised smile from lifting his lips.

"Sure thing, cowboy," John laughed silently, revelling in the familiar exasperated roll of Buck's eyes towards him before he surged forward and ever so gently pressed his lips against Gale's, eyes closing against the absolutely overwhelming sparks that ignited in his chest like someone had just lit fireworks behind his sternum.

Gale's lips were soft, just like he'd imagined a million times, pliant and warm and so gentle it stole his breath away, and it wasn't until Buck's good hand reached up and threaded through his dark curls that he allowed himself to deepen the kiss, tilting his head slightly. His lips parted, allowing Buck the access to slip his tongue carefully along his own, insistent and starved but always gentle. He could feel the taut guitar string tension like a mockery of earlier in the night behind Gale's kiss, a long awaited hunger like a man starved and then unleashed among all the sustenance he could have ever wished for.

It wasn't until Buck made a small sound in the back of his throat, a small needy gasp that Bucky allowed himself to pull back slightly, letting his lips linger as he allowed Buck a few more soft kisses before he gasped himself, pulling air into his starved lungs and it was only then he realised that at some point he had stopped breathing all together.

Buck didn't chase, happy and content with what had just happened, but still comfortable to stay wrapped up in John's arms, no sign of regret or fear in any way, and Bucky let his eyes open slowly and wander over the ruined and wrecked expression on the other man's face. Kiss swollen lips were still parted, breath huffing sharply, body still trembling but for entirely different reasons than before now, and Bucky didn't think he had ever seen anything more perfect, more beautiful in his life. Nothing, not even winning the PBR in Vegas could make him feel as elated or wonder-struck as this moment right here, having just kissed Gale fucking Cleven in some random rodeo grounds.

Trying for a few moments to catch his breath, Bucky let his thumb graze over Gale's jaw again in a gentle gesture, watching half lidded blue eyes peer up at him in wonder. He couldn't help the breathless laugh that escaped him, forehead bumping against Buck's, tips of their noses touching shortly after.

Baby knickered from behind them, shocking them back slightly into the present and John laughed again, the mare reminding him of something.

"By the way," Bucky panted, grin curving even further "Curt may wanna demand some compensation looking after your girl. He's down one half of an ass-cheek as of two days ago. She's got a nice pair of chompers on 'er."

Buck realed back, shock evident in his eyes and the gape of his mouth. "She fuckin' what?"

[alsktudy]

— i like you.

» bestfriend!soonyoung x reader

» fluff ☁️, highschool au, mutual pining, bestfriends to lovers, jealous reader, cameos from seokmin, mingyu, seungkwan, cheol, hao, jun, wonwoo and chan, confession

» warning: none

» w.c: 2.2k

» a/n: this fic took way longer than i expected and its much longer than i expected too. i was originally aiming for around 1k lol but this ask helped w the plot since i didnt rlly know where to go LOL

you remember seeing soonyoung back on the first day of high school. you remember his jet black hair that fell in front of his upturned eyes, his braces that he swore were going to come off soon and his very, very, very loud and distinctive voice.

somehow, the deafening sound of kwon soonyoung wasn’t enough to suppress your interest in him.

there was something charming about him, but it seemed like that charm that you claimed oozed out of him was only apparent to you.

yes, some how you still thought he had charm even when screaming at his taller friend, mingyu, when he would accuse him of stealing a pencil or when he copies his other friend, seungkwan’s facial expressions and hand gestures he made when talking.

you personally thought it added to his charm.

one day you and your friends walked around the school during lunch and witnessed soonyoung whacking his head while trying to solve a math problem with wonwoo, another one of his friends, underneath the seemed to be dead cherry blossom tree.

you found it endearing that he was spending his lunch time to understand a concept while the rest of your friends found it embarrassing that he couldn’t figure out fractions.

you tried defending him, saying things like, “people have different strengths in different areas.” and, “maybe… he didn’t have a good sleep last night?” knowing fully well if that was chan, another one of soonyoung’s friends, you’d also be laughing at him.

the thing about kwon soonyoung was that he was always surrounded by his friends. he was either with his established friend group, talking to kids in the other homerooms or getting to know the kids in the other year groups, which was somewhat ironic since soonyoung loved to go around the school proclaiming that he’s introverted, but you had never seen him alone.

—

the first day you saw him alone was on an early tuesday morning.

you arrived at school early since you earnt a scolding from your mother and your teacher about arriving at school late, in your defence, you never woke up when your alarm blared in the morning.

you had never seen the school so isolated in the morning, well… to be fair, you had never been at school in the morning, so you decided to take a walk around the school by yourself.

you marvelled at how somewhat eerie the building felt, although it was just the start of the day, until you heard a faint sound of music coming from the gymnasium.

as you got closer not only did the music get louder, but the music now was accompanied by the squeaks of sneakers dragging along the gym floor. you slowly push open the gym door and peek your head through the gap to see kwon soonyoung, alone and dancing.

his sweat seeped into his white shirt that he wore as his body moved to the music, his body switching between fluid movements, focusing on his arms and strong and powerful movements, focusing on his torso and his feet.

secretly watching him dance, it occurred to you that you had never really thought about what he was like outside of school. you only associated him with what he was like at school; his loud voice, his insanely big friend group and his lack in academics and assumed that he was most likely the same at home.

thankfully, he didn’t hear you slip back out of the gym but it left you wondering how much more is there to kwon soonyoung other than being your noisy classmate.

after that tuesday, you decided to become diligent and began to come to school a bit earlier to try and catch a glimpse of the boy dancing get to school on time.

one morning, you were peeking through the door to watch soonyoung practice his routine until you get startled by a whisper, “he’s pretty good isn’t he?” you whip your head and see seokmin, you guessed it, another one of soonyoung’s friends. seokmin was notorious for being very loud and also being an introvert who was always seen around others.

your eyes go wide as you see seokmin grinning and give him a small nod before slowly stepping back from the gym door.

“hey where are you going? i was just gonna say you could go inside of the gym instead of just poking your head.”

you politely decline the offer until he grabs your arm and bursts open the gym doors, announcing his presence to soonyoung. although soonyoung doesn’t give him a glance until seokmin mentions that he brought someone.

soonyoung runs to his phone to pause his music and turns towards seokmin and you. your swear your face begins to grow hot as soon as his eyes meet yours.

“uh.. nice dancing!” you manage to blurt out after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

“thanks! oh, you guys dating or something?” he points to seokmins grip on your arm, earning a firm no from both parties and a quick drop of your arm. soonyoung immediately apologises to both of you, earning a sound of laughter from seokmin and yourself echoing throughout the gym.

that was the day your friendship started. the mornings before school quickly were unlabelled as a burden and was instead labeled as your favourite part of the day.

soonyoung invited you to watch his practices in the morning after seokmin exposed you watching like a creep through the doors, although he warned you that he most likely wouldn’t talk very much, being focused on the choreography, but that was ok to you, it was better than sticking your head secretly into the gym and leaving with a sore neck.

but being soonyoung, he couldn’t help but talk to you during practice. he asked for choreo ideas, even though you made it quite clear that you had no prior experience to dance other than just dance.

—

by now, it had already been more than 6 months since you saw soonyoung on that early tuesday morning and talks about feedback on the choreo was followed by more personal topics. your mornings before school were not only for practices, but became a time and place where both of you could open up.

“my dream? well honestly? i don’t know.” you say lying on your back while looking up at the illuminated gym ceiling. “what’s your dream?”

“my dream is to dance.” he says as he wipes his sweat off his forehead, taking a seat next to you. “or just perform in general. any where where i can be on stage.”

“i think you’d be an amazing performer.” you smile turning you’re head to meet his eyes.

“thank you.”

—

soonyoung’s charm soon became apparent to everyone else in the next year.

after his outstanding performance at your school’s arts festival, everyone, including your friends who laughed at him for sucking at soccer volleyball, began to see him in a different light.

a light in which you had always seen him in.

instead of laughing about how dumb he looked trying to kick the flying soccer ball, everyone began to gush and giggle over how cute he looked when fell on the floor. it didn’t help that he got his braces taken off just before the performance which made the other girls swoon even more as they began talking about how cute his smile was.

“surely you can introduce us to soonyoung?” one of your friends, jiwon, begged as she tugged on your arm. “aren’t you like besties now?”

you sigh and roll your eyes, “why can’t you just talk to him yourself.” you say as you try to yank your arm out of her hands. “see, he’s right there.”

“nooo, it’ll seem too desperate! please for us?”

you don’t introduce them to him.

—

what you hated the most about soonyoung gaining attention was that he flirted talked to the girls who were brave enough to approach him.

he didn’t even like her.

why is he talking to seoyun who has that dopey smile on her face? he doesn’t even know her. so why-

“stop glaring.” one of your friends, eunji, speaks while moving her fingers to your eyebrows trying to make you stop furrowing them. “you’re gonna get wrinkles early if you continue doing that.”

your eyebrows return to their normal state after she pushes them up. “thanks.” you say with a huff.

“i don’t understand why you’re so mad. he’s just talking to another girl.”

“can’t you see the way she looks at him? she totally wants him.”

“so..?”

“so… uh. can’t you see he’s totally flirting back?!”

“are you blind?”

“no…?”

“he looks so disinterested in the convo.”

“then why is he still talking to her then?”

“because he’s a people pleaser. you literally told us how you were worried for him since he said yes to every single performance opportunity that the teachers offered him even though he knew he couldn’t handle it.”

“it doesn’t apply in situations like this.”

“it does.” she scoffs, “you’re just jealous.”

“and why would i be jealous?"

“because…”

“because what huh? finish your sentence.”

eunji lets out a sigh, “well i’d love to finish if you’d stop interrupting.” and gives you a glare, “because you like him?”

you scoff, “ha.. like him? i don’t like-”

oh my gosh. you do like him.

you liked him before he performed at the arts festival. you liked him before he got his braces off. you liked him before he slipped in corridors when being chased by seungcheol.

you began to like him the day you set your eyes on him.

“finish your sentence…” eunji says in a teasing tone as she see you flickering through your thoughts.

“i do like him...”

“i told you.”

—

you didn’t mean to ignore soonyoung. it just happened.

it all felt quite stupid really.

i mean, you never dated him and he never hinted that he wanted anything more than a friendship, so why are you ignoring him like you two had a fight? or as eunji says, “a break up.”

before you’d turn any corner, you’d try to listen out for his voice (or seokmin’s… both works) to make sure you don’t run into him.

but that became pointless as you feel someone swiftly grab your arm and drag you through the corridors, causing you to run. you had a feeling it was him. the yell of, “kwon soonyoung!” by your homeroom teacher confirmed that inkling.

he ran with you through the main doors of the school then turned to run towards the blooming cherry blossom tree with a metal bench underneath. the same tree where you saw him try to learn fractions last year.

“soonyoung,” you say while panting, trying to catch your breath, “what the heck was that?”

he turns to face you and gives you a smile. “impulse decsion.”

of course. soonyoung and his stupid impulses.

“why have you been ignoring me? it’s no fun practicing when i haven't got anyone to talk to.” he says as he sits on the metal bench, tapping next to him, signalling you to sit.

you choose to ignore the question and don’t dare to look him in the eyes. “why don’t you just ask junhui or minghao to watch you practice? i’m sure they have much better feedback other than it looks good.”

“well, they aren't you.”

soonyoung and his stupidly sweet words.

“i missed you, y’know. it feels so empty in the gym.”

you sigh in response looking at the dirt underneath you.

“did i do anything wrong..? if i did i’m so-”

“you did nothing soonie. it’s just me.”

he smiles at the old nickname but begins to pout at your lack of explanation.

“i guess, i just thought you didn’t need me anymore. i mean you suddenly became super popular, i thought you’d find other people to invite to your morning practices.”

you liar. why couldn’t you just say the truth? why couldn’t you say “i was jealous because i-”

“i like you.”

your eyes dart to the boy sitting next to you, face plastered with disbelief.

“what did you jus-” before you could finish your sentence soonyoung takes hold of your hand and begins to run again, this time back into the school buliding. “soonyoung!”

you two run through the corridors, hand in hand before he yells. “i said, i like you!”

you couldn't tell if your face was hot from the running you two were doing or from his loud and shameless confession.

you two circle around the building before running out the main doors again and returning back to the cherry blossom tree. you hear your peers laughter echoing through the school building accompanied by both of you panting, catching your breaths.

“did you hear me that time? or do you want me to do it again?” he says looking up at you with his hands resting on his knees, back bent over. “don’t tell me you want me to say it again... i’m kinda tired.”

“i heard you this time…” you chuckle.

“thank goodness.” soonyoung lets out a sigh of relief before plopping down on the metal bench.

“don’t do that ever again. please.” you say as you sit beside him.

“nah i wont. it’s too tiring.”

you two sit in silence for a while and watch petals fall from the breeze until you decide to break the silence.

“soonie?”

“yeah?”

“i like you too.”

thank you for reading until the end!!

want to read more? » m.list

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tags:

@aaniag @dkswife @kokoiinuts

[ladylooch]

Oh can we see Timo and Emma's first time after the twins? Xx

It takes her a while to want Timo in that way again but it's oh so fluffy when she does

A/N: Let’s start active NHL Player AU day off with a bang, shall we?? 🤭

Word Count: 2.2k

Read more Timo and Emma here.

“Weeee!” Emma cheers loudly at the twins as she stands above them, snapping away for their four month picture.

For each of their babies, Em has diligently committed to taking a picture a month until their first birthday. She wants to remember every moment these babies were so tiny. Time is a thief of both memory and the childhoods of her children. This way, she will be able to flip through each of their books and reminisce on their milestones from the month. This month, both the twins have smiled, started to make noises back when they are spoken too, and have finally embraced tummy time.

“Baby, Hannah is here. You almost ready?” Timo pops in to the doorway. Emma looks over her shoulder at him, grinning at how gorgeous he looks. He is dressed in designer everything, but looks as fancy and understated as he aways does while he straps on his equally expensive watch. Her eyes linger on his wedding band, then she nods. 

“Yes, I’m ready.” 

Nico and Lexi are hosting a team party at their place just because. It’s been a long season and the team needs to let off some steam together. Emma helped Lexi plan everything from the decor, to the fun drinks, to the adults-only guest list. Emma may have pushed a littler harder for that than she would have in years past, but she really needs a break from her babies. Instead the Hischier girls and Meier babies are all collected at Timo and Emma’s with two nannies to look after them all.

Timo helps Emma up off the floor, taking her in while holding on to her left hand. She wears a tight fitting bodice top with flowy, see-through black sleeves. The material helps suck in the parts of her that are still a little loose while giving her heavy breasts the support they need tonight. On her feet are black, high-heeled boots that Timo picked up from Dior “just because”. 

“Those jeans painted on?” He asks, moving his big hands around to grip her ass heartily in each hand. He leans down, nipping at her ear lob around his expensive diamond earring. When his teeth connect with her skin, Emma moans. It’s been so long since they have had each other. But anticipation floats in the air tonight. She feels ready both physically and emotionally. 

“Pre-twin jeans too.”

“Oooo, baby look at you!” Timo grins. He grabs her hand, making her twirl. “You look great. You always do.” Emma’s cheeks blush at the compliment. Timo wouldn’t lie to her about that. He takes fashion too seriously to fib. “Let’s go.” He murmurs to her, kissing her lips delicately, careful of her fresh lipstick. 

They each settle a twin in their respective sleep sacks, then put them into their cribs. The boys should be satisfied enough to fall asleep as is, but they know Hannah will check on them after they head out for the night. After quick goodbyes to their nieces, and smooches for their older babies, they head out, ready to walk down to the Hischiers, hand in hand. Several Devils players and their partners are already there. Emma and Timo immediately go to Lexi and Nico, announcing their presence. Emma asks if Lexi needs any help and, surprisingly, Lexi shoos her away.

“I am getting better at this hosting thing.” She poses dramatically with a tray of veggies and dip.

“You are.” Emma cheers her with a glass of wine. She gives her brother a quick smooch on the cheek, then goes to find where her husband wandered off to. He is with Jonas Siegenthaler and his wife, Heidi. 

“Emma! It is so good to see you! I’ve been thinking of you.” Heidi greets her in Swiss German. Because of her high risk pregnancy and having newborns in the height of cold and flu season, Emma has been missing from all Devils games so far this season. She has missed the camaraderie of the girls more than she expected.

“Hey! That is so sweet! It’s great seeing you too. I feel like we are finally coming out of our newborn haze here.” Emma murmurs, giving her a hug. After she steps back, Timo hooks a finger into the belt loop of her jeans. He eases her back into him, letting her straddle his thigh where he is sitting on a barstool. Emma places her hand on the outside of his thigh. His fingers come to hers, folding them together there.

As Heidi talks to Emma, he leans forward and kisses Emma’s shoulder over her shirt. She can feel the slight dampness of his lips through her sheer sleeve. Goosebumps break out on Emma’s body and they don’t leave for hours. Not when her husband cannot keep his fingers off her body. They stroke and rube and press into her skin until she has worked her bottom lip into a puffy, swollen mess. 

After grabbing another drink for her, Timo’s fingers go for another pass along her left hip. Emma can feel the flutter of her inner muscles. She presses her butt back into his lap, feeling the slight swell there. She looks over her shoulder at him. They don’t need to say anything to each other. He smirks slightly at her, then Emma pushes away, excusing herself to go to the bathroom. While everyone has been using the powder room on the main level, Emma goes downstairs to the guest bedroom that only is used by her and Nico’s parents. Her heartbeat dances wildling in her chest. She swallows, hearing Timo’s footsteps coming down the stairs. She turns as he walks into the room. He closes the door quietly then leans against it. 

“Come here, pretty girl.” He murmurs, taking her in with adoring eyes.

 Emma nibbles her bottom lip again, sighing as she flies towards her husband. He takes her into his arms, mouthes connecting immediately. They kiss, hot fiery laps of each other’s tongues as the need they haven’t expressed for each other in so long collapses in on them. It’s been so many months,Emma can’t even count them right now, not when Timo’s mouth feels this incredible on hers. 

“You’re okay with this?” He asks, pulling away, looking deep into her eyes.

“Yeah. I need you, T. So bad.” Timo sighs, then smiles affectionately at his wife.

“Was worried you didn’t anymore.” He admits. 

“It’s me, not you.” She assures.

“I know, babe.” He kisses her until she is quiet again. “We don’t need to talk about all of that right now. Just promise me you’re good and we can go.”

“I’m good. I really want this. I’m ready.” He lifts her by the back of her thighs, then lays her down on the guest bed. 

With each line of freshly exposed skin, they rub their hands over each other. Emma traces the lines of the muscle groups in his upper body, spending extra time on his abdomen before she gets to the waistband of his jeans. She is topless, shirt long abandoned as Timo kisses along her breasts. He works his way down her stomach. Emma hesitates as he kisses over every stretch mark, old and new, from giving them their babies. 

“I love you, Em.” He reminds her. “Every part of you. Thank you.” He lifts his gaze, making sure she is hearing and believing him. She nods. He undoes her jeans, helping her peel them off until she is left only in her panties. Timo’s hands practically shake as he takes them off next. Finally getting to have this part of her again has him close already. “I’m not gonna last long.” He admits to her. “Gonna have to get you close before we go.” 

Timo kneels down on the carpet and slowly builds her up. His mouth presses soft kisses along her folds, encouraging her to relax into the bed and the feeling of his lips. Emma’s legs spread wider. Timo pins her thighs down like that, exposing her folds fully to him. Then he slurps her up like melting ice cream. Emma shudders under his tongue. Timo strokes her clit like embracing a familiar friend. His lips create a vacuum, sucking her throbbing bud up and into his mouth so he can take in every part of her. Emma hisses, arching up, losing track of where they are with each movement of his lips on her. 

“Oh, right there. Oooooh my god.” Emma sighs.

She brings her arm up to her lips, sucking her flesh into her mouth to stifle her moans. A single finger plunges into her entrance, testing her. Then a second one slides in, encouraging her to gently stretch for him. His fingers curl up as he sucks hard, then weaves his tongue over her clit. Emma lifts slightly off the bed, then collapses back down as she comes hard on his lips. Her heavy moans and pants fill the room. Timo grins against her inner thigh. Then, he stands between her spread legs. She reaches for his thigh, helping him shove everything down until his hard cock springs free.

“Right in, baby.” He warns her, then strokes his red, weeping head through her folds once, gathering her orgasm on his tip before plunging in.

“Oh!” Emma sighs, ecstasy obvious in her tone and the way she pulls him deeper. Timo groans as her walls tighten around him. He leans his weight over her, thrusting gently in and out of her, getting her used to him again. She’s so wet- her pussy laps at his cock with each pump. 

“Baby.” He sighs. One hand gathers her waist in his strong arm, up off the bed, as he fucks deeper into her. His other hand goes to hers, lacing their fingers together. Their foreheads stay connected, hot breaths melding together as Timo fucks his wife for the first time since they completed their family. “You feel so good, Em. My perfect girl. I love you so much. Thank you for this.” He moans against her mouth. He is close, so is she.

“Make me cum, T. Please. Again.” Her free hand goes to his back, clawing down between his shoulder blades as he angles deeper, adjusts her hips and fucking her into the mattress. He releases her hand, bringing his thumb to her clit and rolling it in tight circles. “Baby.” She grits her teeth. “Don’t stop. So good. Please, please, uh!” She throws her hand over her mouth and yells into it. The grip of her orgasm strips Timo of his own. 

“Fuck!” He moans, plunging all the way in as he fills her full of him. His nose traces her neck. Then he begins to press soft kisses into her flushed skin. He wants to mark her up, leave purple marks for her to cover tomorrow morning. That wasn’t even close to enough. It barely soothed the burning ache in his cock for her. But this isn’t about him. As always, it’s about her. “Are you okay?” He asks, pulling away to see her face. Her eyes are closed, mouth open to suck in staccato breaths. 

“Mhm.” She finally responds, then inhales deeply. He gently pulls out of her, watching her wince a bit. He rubs her hips through it. “I’m okay.” She repeats when she sees his concern. “Actually, I’m really great.” She laughs. “Nothing two orgasms couldn’t fix.” He chuckles. 

“I can do that for you whenever. Wherever too.” He gestures to the room in a house that is not theirs. 

“We should wash the sheets.” Emma murmurs. “Mom and dad are coming next week…” 

“Emma.” Timo laughs as he falls next to her on the bed. His big frame falling shakes the bed. 

“I can’t help it. I think of these things now cause I’m old.” She laughs, scratching her nails through the sides of his hair. He reaches over, putting his hand on her bare thigh. He still rests on his back next to her, pants halfway down his thighs, sweater lost on the floor, hand intimately on his wife. There is a whole party going on upstairs without them. They both know they’ll have to return soon to avoid much scrutiny. “Hey.” Emma whispers. Timo looks over at her. 

“Hm?” 

“I love you.” A tender smile stretches Timo’s lips. 

“I love you way more.” 

“I don’t want to fight tonight.” Emma teases him, rolling to her side, then smooching his lips. His hands come to rest on her bare ass. “So just let me win.”

“I let you win last time though.” He murmurs, pulling her onto his body so she rests completely along the front of him. Emma covers his lips with hers. They share three deep, long kisses that turn into wandering hands. “This is why I let you win.” He practically slurs at her, drunk off the taste and feel of her. “Can we leave soon?”

“No, I really want to stay out for awhile. That’s why I lured you here.” She kisses him again. “Now you’ll last longer.”

“No, now you’ve just awakened the beast.”

“Well, put him away for now. He can play with me later.”

Everything about her is so fucking sexy right now. She stretches her arms up above her head, pulling her breasts up high as she fluffs her hair back into perfect curls. She licks her lips, then runs two finger tips under her eye lids. While she freshens up on top of him, Timo’s hands stroll up to her ribs, holding her in place on him right where she is. 

He wants to memorize her just like this- happy, healthy, and completely his.

[achaotichuman]

LoL imagine Tamlin absolutely hopeless in social interaction when he was younger so he literally made his own secret garden where he collects plants, gives them names, even chatted with them.

My Beasty plant boy just wants to be left alone with his plants, he rather rambles about Fascinating plant facts then to hold eye contact for a second.

Tamlin is my little neurotic introvert baby and I love him 🌱💚💚💚

Absolutely. My man is constantly attempting to escape social interactions and prefers either one on one with only the people he really loves or hanging out with his little plant friends.

Imagine, six-year-old Tamlin at a party his father threw, standing off into the corner, or hiding behind his mother's skirts, just wishing for it to end so he can leave. Then he sees the servants coming in and out of a door that leads to the outside gardens. Silently he slips away from the party and manages to get outside. he's standing out in the gardens, which are usually his favorite place to be, but now he needs to hide because if his father caught him running away from the party he would be punished. So, he quickly crawls into one of the bushes, and tries to hide himself the best he can.

Then a little twinkling light appears in the corner of his vision. He turns his head to see a tiny pixie puttering in amongst the bushes. He observes her closely for a moment, she flies around his face, making tiny ringing sounds as she did. Then taking a hold of one of his curls she tries her best to pull him further into the bush. Tamlin starts to follow her in deeper into the brush. Soon it gets darker, and he can no longer hear the sounds of Rosehall celebrating.

Then he hears more ringing sounds similar to that of the pixie in front of him. They get louder and louder until it's like a cascade of bells. A light appears through the bush, and he pulls back some of the leaves to reveal a small hollow.

It's beautiful. Filled with every plant imaginable, bright colors fill his vision, and he can hear the sounds of a trickling creek. Tiny pixies and small Faeries flutter about tending to the garden like their own.

The Pixies allow Tamlin to stay. The magic of the land that allows their hollow to live responds to Tamlin, they know he is their next High lord, and they hope to make sure he remembers them when he ascends to the throne.

Tamlin now goes back there at every chance he gets, even decades later. Once his father was gifted a small sapling from the woods of Autumn to be planted amongst their gardens as a token of peace and hope for an alliance. His father, not caring to entertain Autumn left the sapling to rot in a ditch. Tamlin rescued it and brought it to the Hollow, where he planted it in the center. It grew tall and large, extending out of the bushes surrounding the Hollow and providing a new layer of protection for the pixies. He then began to take small plants from the Rosehall gardens and relocate them to the Hollow. Until the Hollow was twice the size it was before and growing. More Pixies had come to live within the Hollow. Most new Pixies were wary of the High Fae Prince, but over time they just saw how he quietly entered the Hollow and sat in amongst the plants. Carefully and diligently caring for them. And over time Tamlin began to speak aloud, perhaps forgetting that even though he couldn't understand the Pixies, they could understand him, or perhaps not caring.

He spoke to the plants. Told them how his day went, asked them questions as if they could respond. Even going as far as to giving them names. He named a fern, Earnest. He named a patch of moss, Daimen. He named the Autumn tree that grew in the center, Lucien. No one knew where he got the names, just that he called the plants by their name. No other.

Even when Tamlin became High lord, he did not forget the Hollow. It was a challenge taking the throne. He had to attend the parties, rarely getting the chance to slip away. It became a daily struggle, as he was forced to speak with a great many people every single day.

But he shoved through. And by the end of a long, long day, he always excitedly looked towards Andras or Lucien, practically bouncing up and down. Waiting until they finally said the day was done, before sprinting out of the Manor, towards the Hollow.

His secret garden.

I imagine Tamlin's secret garden as something similar to a story I read when I was younger, coincidentally it was titled 'The Secret Garden'. Tamlin totally rambles to Lucien about every single fact he knows about plants. I imagine once Tamlin got comfortable with Lucien, the Fox was bombarded with a detailed list of plants and why Tamlin loved them so much.

[onceinawhilemoon]

Finished the Mycroft’s Pride DLC and you bet I have some thoughts to share. Long read ahead and Spoilers if you haven't 100%-ed the DLC!

Interesting how you can look at the DLC as Mycroft's way of distracting Sherlock from uncovering the past, like if he can't talk him out of it, he might as well distract him as much as he can and hope for a miracle, similar to how Jon distracts him with all the childhood memories and the treasure hunts and challenges. The psychological implications/interpretations of that last one are vast: Sherry is deep down dreading the truth enough that he wants to stall as much as possible, or maybe he realized he missed Cordona so much and wants to spend as much time as possible here before leaving for good, or maybe it's a coming-of-age thing where he sees it as a chance to revisit and relive his best childhood memories and interests before he grows old and out of them, or all the above.

Either way, I really appreciate FW making Mycroft more prominent in Sherlock’s life and depicting him as a parental figure who clearly takes so much pride in having raised him and, in Mycroft's words, shaped him into the fine and productive young man that he is today. Despite all the miscommunication and the bickering and arguing, the only thing that remains solid and unwavering in their turbulent relationship is that Sherlock is Mycroft's pride and joy. (omg look i said the thing)

I lose it every time Sherlock goes into tsundere mode and makes a show out of how much he does NOT want to accept the request.. before he accepts it. He goes “let me guess.. it's urgent and important and lives are at stake and Mycroft’s too busy with his tea parties and keeping the Crown's jewels to do it himself? Alright, give it here. I'll handle it. I'm far better equipped anyway.” like stop you’re killing me with those lmao especially since I'm sure this is a nod to the canon ACD universe where Mycroft is portrayed as lazy and can't be bothered to make his own bed whereas this Mycroft is too diligent for his own good; running multiple operations at the same time and losing agents left and right and probably losing his mind with stress and not to mention the constant worrying over where Sherlock is and what he's doing and what sort of trouble he's got himself into and whether it's serious enough to require intervention. I mean, the man has long earned the right to ask for some help lmao.

Funny thing is, I finished the Muse From Abroad case and unlocked the cabinet of curiosities just before finishing the DLC, so they just had a tense argument and Mycroft stormed off and then sent Sherlock a letter right away asking him to drop everything and pursue one more thing for him, even said it like "consider it a holiday!" and Sherlock was like sheeeeeesh Mycroft and his errands and then, as usual, he went and did the thing anyway.

Like no matter how tsundere he wants to get about it, this man still can't find it in himself to refuse his brother’s requests (for the most part) and I think that's freaking adorable, like don't tell me he doesn't secretly revel in his older brother's "Well done" and “Great work” just like when Mother used to praise him for figuring shit out and Jon said it’d be the happiest Sherlock’s ever been. This boy is still at an age where he craves and cherishes praise. After all, he made up an entire person to be his cheerleader (among other things) and to constantly tell him how great he’s doing and how much he’s proud of him.

I can also see Sherlock begrudgingly agreeing to take Mycroft's requests as him never wanting to miss on a chance to outperform his older brother, and probably even keeps a record to guilt-trip Mycroft into returning him favours, like "remember that one time you sent me to all sorts of ungodly places just to fetch a book? How about when I almost died busting a gang operation for you? See how much you owe me? now give me all the dirt you can on this dude." (the "almost died" is dramatic exaggeration. It was me who almost died fighting the Eels. Sherry on the other hand is a badass I'm sure it was a piece of cake for him lol) I love this headcanon also because him having a little competitive sibling rivalry thing going on with Mycroft is even more adorable, no matter how one-sided it is because I doubt Mycroft cares as long as Sherlock gets the job done and learns a few more tricks of the trade.

And it makes me sad to think this has all probably changed now that their relationship is in a blender dangerously set to start blending on the highest speed...

Anyway, here's the real reason why I made this post:

... to tell you how loud I screamed

(Ngl I was hoping for like a bonus Mycroft cameo at the end or something but THIS made me giddy like a schoolgirl)

But back to serious talk..

Jon said something in the Missing Shopkeeper case when they found the body along the lines of “the ugly reality of being Mycroft's agent,” and I agree. These requests serve to give Sherlock a glimpse into the nasty reality of Mycroft's day-to-day job; he's getting to learn just how grim and dangerous it actually is—that it's not all cushy and royal tea parties and getting to rub shoulders with the rich and powerful as Sherlock would like to think, if only just to poke fun at his older brother's career choices.

I also love how even Mycroft's agents and acquaintances have depth and intrigue and backstories.

Like Ursula Oni, the well-respected chief archivist in City Hall. She's so good at her "other job" that she managed to hide a whole other- other job as a grave robber for a considerable time, so much so that even Mycroft himself (probably) was unaware of her nightly exploits. (For real though, discovering her body genuinely saddned me. She seemed nice enough, and I kept interacting with her every time I was in City Hall hoping she'd give me a quest. Alas..)

There's also Yeasmin, the Cordona Chronicle editor-in-chief, who's not only a hardcore Holmes stan and just here for the tea, but turns out to be the wife of the murdered agent/shopkeeper. And the way she reacts when Sherlock tells her the truth by leaving Mycroft's service is interesting; like there are layers here: there's distrust and resentment toward her boss for hiding the truth from her, indicating that there's limit to Mycroft's elusive and covert methods that his agents won't tolerate, and there's some light shed on how messy things turn out when interpersonal matters become entangled with the professional.

What boggles me is that Mycroft specifically gave the letter about the husband going missing to Yeasmin of all people to deliver it to Sherlock, with strict orders not to read it, and, with total faith in her boss, she complied without asking any questions.

I'm starting to actually consider if this case was a test to see what Sherlock would do and how he'd handle the situation. Will he tell Yeasmin about her husband's death? or keep it from her knowing that Mycroft will never tell her. I mean it's all possible. I mentioned in an earlier ramble how I believe Mycroft carefully researches and chooses the "errands" he sends his brother on beforehand to ensure his safety. Anything could be a carefully planned test.

Quick two cents on In for a Penny:

I wonder why Mycroft has a particular dislike for the Manghir? I assume since it was gifted to him by the governer, it's having to do with how corrupt Sinclair is.

Maybe the governer offered it to him as some sort of lowkey bribe to keep some dirt on him in the ground aka "invaluable help" and Mycroft begrudgingly accepted it because he knew his little brother would be ecstatic to have it among his collection? (or maybe it's just the fact the manghir has a freaking cthulhu head engraved on it and Mycroft’s prophetic big brother senses were itching…)

But yeah, again, Mycroft making time in his overpacked schedule to put together the coin quest for his little brother is the sweetest thing, like I can totally see that being his love language. He knew exactly what kind of things interested Sherlock and what would keep him entertaind (and educated, Mycroft not wasting a single opportunity to subtly train his little brother in espionage is kind of hilarious) I appreciate the mentor-protégé dynamic that FW set for them in this adaptation.

It's a shame that Sherlock never got to finish the coin quest in time before shit hit the storm and they had to leave Cordona for good, thus he never got to have that meeting with Mycroft and report his findings and share what he'd learned, something that Mycroft was looking forward to with great anticipation as he expressed in his quest letter… it would have been a precious bonding moment for them and it's a real shame that they never got to have it...

Anyway, back to the outfits. Look at Jon???

Look at him!!!

More screenshots because I couldn't help myself:

(don't pay attention to Jon's feet clipping through the carpet lmao)

He looks so embarrassed here and I totally get it. Sherry you're so brave I could never wear my sibling’s clothes in good faith. And you look stunning btw.

I wonder if this game also changes your outfit back to default in serious scenes because I would do ANYTHING to see Sherlock confront Mycroft like this. I'm sure the exchange won't suddenly spike to 90 degrees awkward; your brother catches you screwing around in Cordona dressed as him… can't begin to imagine the level of embarrassment.

Anyway, time to run around town and fuck shit up officially. 🕴🕴🕴🕴🕴

[yanderepuck]

Kinktober Day 16

WELCOME BACK SLUTS. It's that time of the year you've been looking forward to. As always, Kinktober is hosted by your local Napoleon simp @xxsycamore

If you would like to read Kinktober 2021 and 2022 they are here

Remember to reblog and tell me what you thought about it

Day 16 -  Pegging | Choking

Writers note: last year I also wrote this with Isaac, so this might be a bit like a sequel??? Definitely won't be Isaac's first time, but the fic last year is you asking him.

~~

He didn't hate it which was a great thing. But the soreness the morning after? That's what made him reluctant to do it again. Isaac had to be sure he wasn't doing anything the next day.

Now he's gotten used to it the more you do it, but the first few times we walked a little off for a day or two.

He won't admit it but you are pretty sure he loves being pegged. That he loves it more than fucking you. He is such a bottom you love it.

"I hear tomorrow is a holiday so you don't have classes tomorrow," you purr in his ear. You came up to him to give him a hug. But you are really here to propose something.

"Yes. Having a long weekend is going to be nice."

"Well then. Why don't we.." you let your words trail off and you grab his ass.

He gets flustered every time you do that. Without fail. "I want to try something a.. little different."

"D-different? How do you-"

You put a finger to his lips to stop him. "Why don't I just come to your room later and you'll find out."

He started to tug at the hem of his sleeves. "O-okay," his mind is racing with thoughts. He wants to know what you could be talking about but this is one subject he is clueless on.

"Perfect!" You kiss him and let him go so you can go back to work. "I'll see you later."

~~

At this point you have just left your strap on in Isaac's room. You don't want to carry it back and forth, worried about who you might run into along the way. But you do have a bag of things with you when you get to his room.

You walk in and see him sitting at his desk grading some papers. You don't think he heard you walk in so you decided to go to him and rest your hands on his shoulders. "Such a diligent worker."

He jumped so much you thought he might also hit you. "Jesus! You scared me!"

You chuckle softly. "I'm sorry," you gently rub his shoulders as he looks over a paper.

"I'm almost done."

You whine. "I want to play with you now," you rest your chin on the top of his head. You aren't very impatient with you know you are going to be dominating him.

You already start to take his vest off and unbuttoning his shirt. "Let's get rid of unnecessary clothing to start with."

His cheeks are getting so flushed. "I-I just need a few more minutes."

"You have all day tomorrow to work on those. Because if you're able to walk after I'm done with you then I didn't do a good enough job."

A hand slides down his torso and to the crotch of his pants. You grab his cock though the fabric and rub it.

The open drops from his hand as he moans.

"Go on. Do your work," you smirk and your head settles on his shoulder, taking right into his ear. "I can still play with you," you keep a firm grip on him as he hardens.

He pushes the papers away and turns to look at you. "Th-they will still be there tomorrow."

"Good boy," you grab the collar of his shirt and make him stand up. You begin to kiss him while moving him around the room to the bed.

He begins working to get your clothes off. Your skirt drops to the floor and your blouse is wide open. He grabs your waist, squeezing your body from wanting to touch you so badly.

Once you get him to step out of his pants you push him back on the bed.

"Roll over."

As much as you love to watch his pretty face, having him on his knees worked better.

He listens and gets farther onto the bed and gets on his knees while you get the strap-on on.

"Give me your hands."

He wasn't quite sure what you meant, or where you wanted them. You grabbed his wrists and put him in cuffs, pushing his upper body into the bed.

"You look so pretty like this."

You stuck a lubed up finger inside him while you lube up the dildo attached to you.

He gasps, which quickly turns to a moan.

"You're not as tight as I was expecting," you smirk and still make sure he's prepped before holding his hips to slide into him.

He whines as you push in. You do it slowly, not wanting to hurt him.

You begin moving, thrusting into him, watching his ass clench around the fake cock. "I wish I could actually feel you," that's the only thing to disappoint you with this.

You grab onto the chain of the hand cuffs, holding him no other way. You pull his body back as much as you can and wiggle your hips.

He moans into the mattress. "P-please move!"

"Like this?" You slam into him hard and he nearly yells. "I like that sound," you smirk and pound into him. Isaac does his best to keep himself on his knees, but the force you are using is slowly making him fall.

He turns his head to the side to be able to look back at you. You push your hair out of your face. The one thing you forgot was a hair tie to pull it back, so you keep running your hand through your hair.

"Look at that pretty face," you lean over him and let go of the chain to gently wrap your hand around his neck. "I love the cute faces you make. I only get to see them when my cock is buried deep in you," you nibble on his ear.

He's already panting. He's already unable to speak. He just moans and whines from how good he feels.

"Such a good boy, taking me so well," your thrusts get harder. His knees start slipping and with each thrust his body gets flatter and flatter.

Letting his neck go you sit up again and grab onto the chain to hold him still. You stop moving. "Get your ass back up."

He whines as he repositions himself. "Good boy. Your face and ass are almost the same shade of red."

As you start up again, you feel yourself getting closer to your limit. With your other hand you reach for his cock, beginning to stroke his shaft. It only takes a few strokes before he covers your hand in a sticky trail of cum.

In that moment his moans turned to a short scream. You stop moving your hips, beginning to pant. "What a mess."

You pull out of him and grab a hand towel from the bag you brought and wipe your hand off.

Isaac starts to relax, lowering his body.

"Roll over."

"Huh?"

"I said. Roll over."

You said you wanted to try something new. Isaac thought it was the handcuffs but he should have known that wouldn't have been it. He rolls over onto his back, his hands still behind him.

You got the strap-on off and pulled out something new. "I've been wanting to try this on you for a while," you smirk and have him open his legs again.

He is still trying to figure out what it could be. He then feels something enter him again. It's similar to the strap-on.

"Wha-what is-" he gets cut short. He tilts his head back and moans. You plugged him up with a vibrator and didn't turn it on until it was in him.

"I bet that feels good," you press onto the base, pushing it dirty in him. "I could just leave you on the bed like this for hours while I go run errands."

His toes curls and he shuts his eyes tight as he pants harder. His legs closing and starting to squirm.

"Looks like I'm going to need to tie you down."

[relevant-catnik]

Stephen King on Book Bans

From a speech he gave in 1992:

"So, just for the record, here is what I'd say if I still took time out from doing my work to defend it.

First, to the kids: There are people in your home town who have taken certain books off the shelves of your school library. Do not argue with them; do not protest; do not organize or attend rallies to have the books put back on their shelves. Don't waste your time or your energy. Instead, hustle down to your public library, where these frightened people's reach must fall short in a democracy, or to your local bookstore, and get a copy of what has been banned. Read it carefully and discover what it is your elders don't want you to know. In many cases you'll finish the banned book in question wondering what all the fuss was about. In others, however, you will find vital information about the human condition. It doesn't hurt to remember that John Steinbeck, J.D. Salinger, and even Mark Twain have been banned in this country's public schools over the last 20 years.

Second, to the parents in these towns: There are people out there who are deciding what your kids can read, and they don't care what you think because they are positive their ideas of what's proper and what's not are better, clearer than your own. Do you believe they are? Think carefully before you decide to accord the book-banners this right of cancellation, and remember that they don't believe in democracy but rather in a kind of intellectual autocracy. If they are left to their own devices, a great deal of good literature may soon disappear from the shelves of school libraries simply because good books -- books that make us think and feel -- always generate controversy.

If you are not careful and diligent about defending the right of your children to read, there won't be much left, especially at the junior-high level where kids really begin to develop a lively life of the mind, but books about heroic boys who come off the bench to hit home runs in the bottom of the ninth and shy girls with good personalities who finally get that big prom date with the boy of their dreams. Is this what you want for your kids, keeping in mind that controversy and surprise -- sometimes even shock -- are often the whetstone on which young minds are sharpened?

Third, to the other interested citizens of these towns: Please remember that book-banning is censorship, and that censorship in a free society is always a serious matter -- even when it happens in a junior high, it is serious. A proposal to ban a book should always be given the gravest consideration. Book-banners, after all, insist that the entire community should see things their way, and only their way. When a book is banned, a whole set of thoughts is locked behind the assertion that there is only one valid set of values, one valid set of beliefs, one valid perception of the world. It's a scary idea, especially in a society which has been built on the ideas of free choice and free thought."

[anotherbluesunday]

✨Violet Midnight Ch. 14 Release✨

I closed my eyes and remembered his face. His eyes like the sky after a storm--cool and kind. Curls combed back like they were when we first met at grandma Imelda's bakery all those years ago. Donovan's skin kissed by the Mediterranean sun.

"Moon River" was playing on the stereo when he came barreling in. So young and handsome and hopelessly lost, he hardly knew a word in Spanish or where he was--the worry concealed behind wide doe eyes that shimmered like the sea. His curls fell onto his brow as he attempted contact. I can still see it now, Donovan in his linen shorts and white button down that had been hastily tucked into his waistline.

Grandma Imelda clicked her tongue at me as she emerged from the back kitchen where she had been preparing the dough for tomorrow's batch of bread. It was only a moment before she was as befuddled and amused as I was. But grandmother had a soft spot for dashing male damsels in distress. Smacking my shoulder with the back of her hand she told me not to make the poor boy suffer any longer. So straightening my posture I took the map from Donovan's hands and told him in English that his hostel was on the other side of town.

"Francoise Sylvenne." Extending my hand to him, my heart leapt when he took mine in his; it warm and strong with callouses on his fingertips.

"Donovan Galpin."

Donovan... The name suited him.

"Is this your shop?" Donovan asked somewhat awkwardly--our hands still joined as he looked around in gesture as if to punctuate his point.

I shook my head. "It's my grandmothers. I only work here during the summer. Then I go back to Sorbonne for school."

"What are you studying?" he said almost immediately only to fumble seconds later as he remembered his manners. "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude or intrusive. I didn't mean anything by--"

"Music."

"Music?" Donovan echoed, face still flustered and worried.

"Mhm," I hummed. "Music composition and theory."

Emboldened by the fact that he had yet to release my hand I took a chance on this feeling I had.

"My shift ends in a quarter hour," I informed him casually hoping he would catch the encrypted tone of my voice. "If you wait until then I can show you to your hostel."

The boy was as smart as he was handsome because his eyes sparked and cheeks dimpled. "I'd like that."

Donovan, my darling. My tall, tan, and charming boy from the Carolinas, I still remember our first date. It wasn't supposed to be one. That's what you told me when I innocently teased you for how nice you looked in your dark jeans and button down. I wore my favorite red dress that night with the straps that you diligently slid back up my shoulders. You would later slip them off with kisses to my neck and chest that night when we returned to your room. I still remember the electric bliss of your caress. The desire and want in your kiss and power of your hands. How they held me close to you as you made me yours and I marked you as mine.

My heart broke the next morning when I had to leave. It would only be until Tuesday--two days time but still too long to wait. Our laughter filled that small bedroom as you pulled me back down onto the bed. As you showered me in kisses, took my hand in yours, and called me "darling" as your thumb stroked me cheek. Who knew the love and adoration I would come to know from a single word. A pet name that you called me and me alone. The name you whispered with a kiss to my forehead as I wept in your arms at the airport when you left.

I loved you so much.

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