#I could make this longer but I’m just going to end it here

[noodlemoondle]

You Always Come First

(No matter how upset I am)

Zayne x Reader

summary: you and zayne have a small spat over you neglecting your health. as a result of it, you decide to sleep on the couch, not wanting to bother/upset him even further. randomly waking up in the night, you notice you’re no longer alone on the couch and do everything you can to get the doctor back in bed before he’s sore for his shift tomorrow.

tags: not proofread!, hurt/comfort? (i didn’t rlly include the hurt part of it so im not too sure), fluff, literal sleeping together, caring n sweet zayne (when is he not), self indulgent per usual

a/n: bro tumblr is REALLY testing my patience. why is it so dumb with everything i try to post. it’s literally why i haven’t posted a fic in a while. i can’t take this much longer i may crash out soon. anyway, as always hope u enjoy! (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)

side tangent: i actually have been so obsessed with caleb. it’s actually a problem. i have been loyal to zayne this entire time and i’ve been playing since release, but caleb is REALLY testing it. lord i’m a sucker for the protective n caring childhood friends to lovers trope (¯―¯٥) (id expect a caleb fic soon tbh if tumblr wants to stop hating me and making my life so difficult)

the fight was stupid. you were neglecting your health once again not taking your medicine, not resting, and ignoring doctors specific orders. zayne often could never say no to you, he always spoiled you and gave into any of your requests. the only time he was stern and stubborn was when it involved your health, that he doesn’t and will never budge on. you often lacked care for your health, pushing it to the back burners of your mind and often calling zayne dramatic saying “you knew yourself and your limits”. something zayne wasn’t particularly fond of. he confronted you about your recent negligence of your health and both of your stubbornness in your beliefs led to an argument.

it’s been an hour or 2 since it ended though. zayne left to your shared bedroom, most likely to do some work, while you stayed out in the living area, trying to distract yourself from the anger turning to sadness and guilt in your heart. you ended up deciding to just sleep on the couch tonight not wanting to bother him after an argument. you grabbed an extra pillow and thin blanket from a nearby closet and put on a random show so you wouldn’t have to fall asleep listening to your own thoughts. soon enough you were able to relax and fall into a slumber.

you don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep. you hear the tv still on as you slowly wake and become aware of your surroundings. once you can see clearly, that’s when you realize you were laying on top of zayne previously using his chest as a pillow unbeknownst to you. he has been peacefully sleeping on the couch with you for who knows how long. as you sat up in a panic you also notice a thicker, softer blanket, one you have preference for, falling off of your shoulders. instantly guilt is washed over you as you look at zayne, who is a somewhat light sleeper, somehow still deep in his sleep. you swallow quickly as you build confidence to wake him up.

you lean closer to his face which was awkwardly propped up by the couch’s arm rest, a position that you couldn’t imagine to be anywhere near comfortable. you lightly tap his shoulder and call his name trying to wake him up. soon enough he does, opening his eyes to see you staring back at him, the faintest smile appears on his face at the sight, almost forgetting of the spat you two shared earlier. before he could even say anything you scold him:

“why are you here? i was sleeping on the couch tonight. you have work early in the morning go back to bed and go to sleep.”

“couldn’t have you sore in the morning” he answers calmly releasing a small yawn in the process.

“neither can you! you have a long shift starting early tomorrow. i’ll be fine just go back to bed.” you quickly rebutted trying to push him off the couch, something that you didn’t have the strength to do, but nevertheless you persisted.

“i can get through a shift with an achy neck, however you can not.” he replies as he softly grabs your hands that are trying to shove him away back to bed.

“i know i’ll be fine. i’ll live to see another day. now go back to bed already!” you say. your voice getting louder as you’re starting to get frustrated trying to break out of his soft grasp.

“will you be joining me?” he asks softly not letting go of your wrists that keep trying to fight against him.

“no, i’m sleeping on the couch!” your voice raising above the tv still playing in the back illuminating the room.

“then it seems like i shall too” he states as he frees your wrists and pushes you back onto his chest, laying the blanket over you both.

before you can even think of a response zayne wraps his arms around your torso and closes his eyes to fall asleep once again, to which you quickly flick his chest to wake him back up. he opens his eyes again and looks down at you with an unamused expression.

“why won’t you just let me sleep here alone?” you ask in a tone he can’t quite place, nevertheless he can hear the slight amount sorrow that came along with it.

“i already told you, i can’t have you go into work tomorrow with a sore neck and back.” he says closing his eyes again despite your wishes against it.

“if you don’t wish to be with me tonight then i’ll sleep on the couch and you can take the bed” he continues. his arms involuntarily tighten ever so slightly around you showing how much he doesn’t want that.

“but i also told you!!! you can’t sleep on the couch, you have a few surgeries to complete, and you have to be in your best shape to do so.” you try to push up against his arms wrapped around you, another pointless action.

zayne sighs and opens his eyes again to look at you before speaking.

“well then you have two options. one, we both move over to the bed to sleep. or two, i sleep here and you sleep over in the room. my job isn’t physically taxing compared to yours, im not allowing you to go in if you don’t have a proper rest.”

he looks tired. you study his features before you respond to him. taking a moment to look at the eyebags under his eyes and a slight frustration growing in his face from this back and forth.

you sigh before answering “then to the bed we go”

a soft smile appears on zaynes face as he begins to get up. his neck slightly sore, but he wouldn’t reveal that to you. although it’s against your wishes, he lifts you up having you hold the blanket and pillow as he carries you back to bed.

he sets you down on your side of the bed, thinking you won’t necessarily want to be close with him tonight. not before tucking you in and kissing the top of your head whispering his love and goodnight wishes. as he gets into bed you turn to face him. once he fully lays down you scootch closer to him and grab onto the hem of his shirt. he instantly understands what you want and pulls you towards him, pressing you to his side as he wraps his arms around you.

he kisses your forehead once more and whispers

“we will continue our discussion after work tomorrow. goodnight, i love you.”

too tired to argue with him anymore you just nod your head against him replying quietly mouth squished against him making your words barely audible.

“goodnight, love you too”

[callsign-rogueone]

some girl on a horse

Sawyer Henrick x reader (peach!) words: 4k 🏷: major iron flame spoilers in this one, peach is a horse girl lowkey, temporary heartbreak, miscommunication (or just lack of communication), sawyer should really be in the doghouse here but he's too damn cute to be mad at, sweetheart cameo... that's all I got. onyx storm tomorrow! why am I dreading it...

With each passing day, it has become more clear that you and Sawyer are done playing pretend. He’s fulfilled his duty, and is probably glad to be done with it, not having to cross the bridge to go see you every day, or to spend his weekends with you in town. He has better things to do as a rider, and an executive officer at that. 

Maybe this was the will of the universe, having your paths split, then cross, then split again. It was childish to think that you’d stay close forever, that he’d stick around longer than he had to. He’d invited you out with his friends as a nicety, and then been too polite to decline when Rhiannon had volunteered him to be your knight in shining armor. You’d been an obligation to him, nothing more. 

But there had been so many moments where you saw something like love in his eyes when he’d looked at you, felt it in his touch and heard it in his words.

He’d have made a great stage actor.

Hot tears slip down your cheeks, blurring your view of the setting sun. You’ve started spending your free time out by the end of the bridge. You can’t cross it, but you can sit there and wait. And wait you do — a book laying in your lap unread, your hands numbing from the cold wind as you gaze across the river.

Your heart leaps every time anyone comes by, falling harder each time you realize it’s not him. It’s getting dark earlier each day, getting closer to the solstice. If Sawyer and his friends have really dumped you, then that’ll be a lot fewer presents to make. 

But the boy you’d grown up with wouldn’t do this to you. He was good to the core, always one to do the right thing, the one person you could always rely on and could always trust to keep your secrets, that you’d been content to die beside when that fire had swept through the village all those years ago.

That’s what’s kept you putting on the necklace he’d given you each day after you say your prayers, kept you reading the death rolls every morning for his name and waiting out here every afternoon for any sight of him — the belief that he’d come back to you if he could.

He’ll be back tomorrow, a little bruised but otherwise intact, and you’ll bandage him up, and everything will be alright. It’ll go on like that until July, when you graduate and get shipped off… somewhere, and then maybe the gods will be kind enough to let your paths cross again.

You’d quietly accepted that you’d drift apart at school, but now that he’s back in your life, losing him is going to hurt so badly.

Your friend bursts through the doorway, panting. “The riders are leaving.”

“What?”

“Look,” she wheezes. 

Your heart drops at the sight: at least a hundred dragons all flying straight overhead. Dozens of them are red, and any one of them could be Sawyer’s. Did he leave with them? Where are they going? Is something terrible happening, and they were called in as reinforcements? 

They’re headed south, not west — not to the border with Poromiel. Navarre probably isn’t going to war, then. But what else would demand that much firepower? 

Nothing good, that’s for certain.

————————

Rumors swirl around the quadrant for the next few days, every patient and healer having something to say about the week’s events.

Are we sure this isn’t just another one of their games?

Traitors, the lot of them. They should be rounded up and hung.

I’m sure there’s a reason why they left. Maybe they know something we don’t. 

Someone calls your name down the hall; Yara, a scribe cadet you’d befriended last year.

“It’s good to see you— oh!” you squeak in surprise as she pulls you into a hug — you hadn’t taken her for a hugger, and you really aren’t that close.

“Don’t react,” she whispers into your hair, “but his name is on the list. He left, and the rest of his squad, too. The Sorrengail girl, at least.”

You blink, stunned. “To where?”

“They’re saying Riorson led them all to Tyrrendor. That venin and wyvern are real, but the leadership and the crown are ignoring the threat.” She breaks the hug, painting on a bright smile. “Me and some of the girls are going out for drinks this weekend. You should go.”

You search her eyes for some indicator that she’s hinting at what you think she is.

“It’ll be a bit of a hike,” she continues, “but we’ve done crazier things.”

Have you, really? What she’s suggesting would be capital-I Insane, and potentially land you in prison. And wyvern and venin are just fairy tales, aren’t they?

You chew your lip, thinking. If Yara is right, and Violet, the smartest person you know, had left with the rest of them, there must have been some pretty damning evidence to convince her. And if she left, then Sawyer, Ridoc, and Rhiannon definitely went with her. 

“Maybe,” you respond a moment later than appropriate for the conversation you appear to be having. “I don’t know if it would be the best idea — I have a botany test that I really need to study for.”

“Understandable. Let me know either way. Good seeing you!”

“You too,” you manage, your heart and mind both racing. Did she really suggest that you follow them to Tyrrendor, or are you going completely insane?

There’s only one person you can talk to about this.

—————

“I can’t decide if this is the best idea you’ve ever had, or the worst,” Sarah offers around a yawn.

“Hopefully not the worst,” you reply, looking around the barn. Your eyes settle on a chestnut mare, the only one awake at this hour. “Hi, girl. You wanna go on an adventure with me?” She snorts softly, happily letting you scratch at her chin. “I’m taking that as a yes.” You turn back to Sarah. “If anyone asks…”

“I have no idea where you are. Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so. I took everything I care about, so if they want to assume I’m dead, I’m fine with you burning it all.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that point.”

“Thank you for everything,” you say softly, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll write from the road — or your uncle Fergus will. Leave her stall and the barn open. Some idiot forgot to lock up properly and she bolted.”

“This is why you’re the smart one. Too bad you’re absolutely nuts.”

You laugh, quieting as you realize that it’s still very much four in the morning, and you’re supposed to be making a silent exit. 

“I really fucking hope you’re right about this,” she whispers, holding you tighter.

“Me too.”

The horse lets you saddle and mount easily, walking you toward the door. “Alright, girl,” you say, patting her neck. “Let’s see how fast you can go.”

————————————

“Did you need something?” Brennan asks the infantry officer, looking rather peeved that he’d interrupted his lecture. 

“We have a bit of a situation,” he says quietly, embarrassed. “There’s some girl on a horse outside, says she’s a healer. Came all the way from Basgiath.”

Second squad exchanges a look.

“There’s only one healer I know that’s crazy enough to do that,” Rhiannon whispers.

Violet looks over at her, incredulous. “You don’t think…” 

Ridoc grins from ear to ear, clapping a hand onto Sawyer’s shoulder. “Why are you still here? Go get your girl.”

Sawyer bolts from his seat, ignoring Brennan’s protests as he races down the hall toward the front gates. “She’s on our side,” he calls, and the two guards lower their swords, letting him through.

Your head snaps up at the voice, your body flooding with relief at the sight of him. You spring forward and hug him tightly, clutching the black leather of his jacket for dear life. “You’re alive,” you breathe, and his heart cracks right down the middle. “Gods, Sy, I was so scared… The leadership wouldn’t tell us anything, and I didn’t hear from you or Violet or Ridoc or anyone… I waited for you at the bridge every day, but you never came, and I thought…”

He wraps his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, peach,” he whispers, rife with guilt. “It hurt so fucking bad to leave you behind, but I knew you’d be safer there, under the wards.”

You’re crying now, tears slipping down your cheeks and seeping into the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t tell me that anything is safer than being with you.”

He holds you a little closer, rubbing your back gently — slow sweeps of his palm, up and down, up and down, letting you get it all out. 

“I mean it,” you sniff, still clinging to him. “I need you, Sy. I don’t ever want to be away from you like that again.”

“Hey,” he soothes, holding you closer, “I swear to every god who’s listening that I will never leave you behind again. You have my word.”

“Good,” you say in that same cracked whisper you’d used when you’d agreed to let him protect you from James, to play pretend with him.

He continues to whisper soft reassurances to you, rubbing your back. “I’m okay. Everyone is okay. They’re all here, Ridoc and Violet and Rhiannon and everyone. They’re all safe.”

That makes you feel a little better — you’ve become deeply attached to his squad in the last three months, and you couldn’t bear the thought of any of them being injured, or worse. “Is it true?” you ask softly. “All those fairy tales about wyvern and dark magic?”

“It is,” he says quietly. “All of it.”

You exhale deeply, sitting with the information for a moment. “I don’t know what to say,” you admit.

“That’s okay,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Your tears have dried by now — you don’t have any left, likely because you’re so dehydrated. Water had been scarce the last few days. 

He finally puts it together. “Did you steal a horse?”

“I prefer the term liberated,” you wheedle, and Cinnamon chuffs softly in agreement.

“From who?”

“Some poor infantry cadet. They didn’t treat her right, anyway.”

He laughs, bewildered. “You’re absolutely crazy, Peach.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, waving him off, “but you love it.”

He holds you tighter, letting you lean into him — you’re exhausted, your entire body sore from your journey. “I do,” he says softly. “I do love it. I love everything about you.”

Your breath catches. “Sawyer…” you whisper, a warning that you’re getting close to something you can’t ever come back from. 

He ignores it. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m so grateful that you came back into my life when you did. I don’t want to play pretend anymore. I want this to be real.”

“I want that too,” you say quietly. “I was going to tell you the day that you left.”

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I promise you that I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you.”

“I don't think I was ever really pretending,” you admit into his shoulder.

He laughs softly, his chest shaking against yours. “I wasn’t either.” You shiver, burrowing into him further — it’s freezing out here, but he’s impossibly warm. “Alright. Let’s get you ladies inside.” 

Cinnamon lets him take the reins easily, trusting him to be gentle with her after seeing the way you ran to him and hugged him so tightly. 

You stay tucked into his side as you make the short walk to the stables. 

He turns to you after a moment, pausing his work of undoing the tack. “Wait. It’s a twelve-hour flight from here to the school… When did you leave?”

“Nine days ago,” you answer tiredly. “It would have been eight, but there was a rockslide in the mountains, so I had to double back and take the long way round.”

“Nine days?” he echoes. “How did you…”

“I followed the south star,” you explain, gazing up at him. “And then a friend of ours found me, and led me the rest of the way here.”

“You’re welcome,” Sliseag adds.

Sawyer blinks for a second, processing. “You two never cease to surprise me.”

You laugh, the puff of breath visible in the air. “Him and I have an understanding.”

“Evidently so,” he agrees, finishing up.

You step outside, tilting your head up to watch the flakes fall. “Just like home.”

He smiles, tugging you closer. “Just like home,” he agrees, leaning his head down…

You put your hand in front of your mouth to stop him. “That’s not a good idea,” you squeak, your cheeks warming. 

He looks at you, confused and a little hurt.

“Sy, I’ve been camping for the last three days,” you prompt, embarrassed. “There weren’t any inns between here and Deaconshire.”

It dawns on him after a second. “Ah.”

“Yeah. So if there’s a bathtub and a sink in that castle back there, I’d like to use them.”

———————

He isn’t expecting you to start stripping so fast, but you’re so eager to be out of your dirty clothes and into the warm water that you don’t think about the fact that Sawyer is still standing there.

He whirls around as soon as he realizes.

“Facing the wall and closing your eyes? I’m almost a little offended,” you tease.

You can see how red his cheeks are in the mirror as he responds. “It’s called being respectful. I’m gonna find you some clean clothes. I’ll be back.”

You hum, letting your head tip back against the tiled wall. By the time Sawyer returns, you’ve washed up, and are just relaxing, enjoying the moment of peace. The warm water is so nice after the freezing cold weather outside, and besides the last week of traveling, you haven’t taken a real bath in two and a half years — showering at Basgiath just isn’t the same. 

“You about ready? It’s almost dinnertime, and you need to eat something.”

You whine in protest, sinking deeper into the water.

“Okay,” he concedes. “Five more minutes. But you’re gonna get all pruney.”

You wiggle your fingers at him playfully. “Oh, it’s too late. I’ve been pruned.”

He rolls his eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”

“C’mere,” you coax, sitting up a bit and resting your forearms on the edge of the tub, leaning toward him.

He settles onto the floor, at eye level with you.

“I brushed my teeth,” you tell him. “So I’m ready for that kiss now. Are you gonna do it, or should I—” Your sentence is interrupted with a soft whimper as he pulls you forward with a hand on your jaw, guiding you into a dizzying kiss. Water sloshes against the side of the tub as you rise up onto your knees, wanting him even closer, but you have to pull back for air. 

“Minty fresh,” he pronounces, brushing his nose against yours.

“Gods,” you breathe, “Why didn’t we do this earlier?”

“I have no idea. But we have the rest of our days to make up for it.”

It’s your turn to tug him forward. You bring a hand up to cradle his cheek, sending water droplets running down the side of his neck, but he doesn’t seem to mind, still entirely focused on you as the kiss gets deeper and deeper, making up for lost time.

He pulls back after a moment, and you whine softly, pouting up at him as he stands. “Dinner,” he reminds you gently. “We can pick this back up later tonight.”

That seems to appease you — there’s that mischievous little twinkle in your eye, the one he loves so much. “I’m holding you to that,” you warn.

“Please do,” he answers a little too quickly, holding out a thick towel and turning his gaze to the wall so you can get up.

“Averting your eyes again? Ouch.”

He reddens, still looking away. “If I see you naked right now, we won’t make it to dinner.”

You giggle, taking the towel from him and pressing a kiss to his flushed cheek. “You, Sawyer Henrick, are adorable.”

He clears his throat, gesturing to the pile on the counter and changing the subject. “I think these should fit.”

Black on black, of course. This castle… palace? fortress? is full of riders. At least it’s cotton fabric and not all leather — that would be a bitch to put on with wet skin.

You throw your still-dripping hair into an easy style; you’ll take the time to dry it and detangle and everything later. “This feels like a hallow’s eve costume. All I need is the jacket,” you joke, examining your reflection.

He shrugs his off, draping it over your shoulders, and your heart nearly stops. 

You’d had his tongue in your mouth not three minutes ago, but this somehow feels even more intimate — wearing his jacket, with his name over your heart, being wrapped in his scent and the warmth of his body that lingers on the fabric... Definitely against regulation, but so are a lot of things you’ve done in the last week, namely taking an unplanned and unsanctioned leave of absence from Basgiath with no real plans to return. 

You’ll deal with those consequences later. Maybe.

—————

You freeze at the sight of the group of people entering the hall, their brown uniforms and the quivers of arrows over their shoulders marking them as gryphon fliers. You’ve never seen one in person before. 

“It’s a very long story, but they’re on our side now,” Sawyer explains, but he still holds you a little closer anyway — it’s unclear if he doesn't fully trust them, or if he just wants to comfort you in the presence of the people you’d been taught to treat as enemies.

“That should not have been a surprise after everything else you told me,” you laugh, but the sight of them still makes you a little nervous. 

He stops at one of the long tables and drops a kiss to your forehead. “Sit. I’ll get you some real food.”

Rhiannon is the first to spot you. “I told you it had to be her!”

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Violet says, wide eyed.

You laugh, settling into an open spot on the bench. “I feel like a little kid playing dress-up. But at least I don’t stick out so much anymore. The blue was a little…”

“I thought it was nice,” someone says quietly — a girl sitting next to Ridoc with a book open in front of her. You recognize her from the infirmary; he had brought her in one morning, covered in cuts and bruises. A little butterfly had fluttered around her the whole time, landing on your arm once as you worked.

You offer her a soft smile. “Glad to see you in one piece.”

“I hear you’re our newest healer,” someone greets — a man who looks a bit older than you. Your eyes catch on the Lieutenant Colonel insignia on his jacket, and then the mender’s patch. He must be the equivalent of Nolon around here.

“Yes, sir,” you answer shyly, suddenly a little embarrassed to be wearing someone else’s uniform. “Or one in training, anyway.”

“We’ll take what we can get. Come by the infirmary tomorrow, and we’ll get you started.” He pats Sawyer on the shoulder in passing, giving him a knowing smile. “Your squadmates can fill you in on what you missed this afternoon.”

Sawyer reddens. “Thank you, sir.”

You wait until he returns to the head table before you look back at Violet, wide-eyed. “Is that…”

She nods. “Officially, he isn’t. But yes, that’s my brother. How did you know?”

“You have the same smile. And the signet patch — Nolon talks about your brother all the time. He’s the best mender there’s been in a hundred years.”

“He’s pretty good,” she concedes. “Second only to Lieutenant Avan, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Your ears prick up at the mention of the girl. “Is she here too? How’s she doing?”

“You know her?” Ridoc’s girl asks, curious. 

You nod. “She came in all the time with Professor Carr to practice. Oh, I hated that guy. Poor girl always looked so uncomfortable around him, and he’d work her to the bone every time. I talked back to him once, telling him to let her stop before she keeled over, and I was sure that he’d get me in trouble for it, but he just gave me that creepy stare and left.”

“I know the one,” she says with a shudder. “He’s the worst.”

“Food,” Sawyer prods before you can reply, pushing the plate closer to you.

You roll your eyes at him, but you finally realize how hungry you are, tucking in to your first real meal in days — nothing fancy, just some kind of fish and vegetables and brown bread, but it’s much more appetizing than anything you’d had at any of those terrible inns in Deaconshire, and with much better company. You had to cut everything with one hand, the other under the table clutching Sawyer’s dagger to defend yourself against any of the other patrons, but praying that you wouldn’t have to. Mercifully, they’d all left you alone.

It feels like you’re back at school, crammed around one of the tiny tables at the tavern you’d frequented — the same laughter and easy chatter, as if you aren’t preparing for a war of proportion you don’t yet understand.

You keep up with the conversation for a little while, finishing your plate and resting your head on Sawyer’s shoulder for a moment, a gentle gesture of thanks. He wraps an arm around you, tucking you into his side as the squad continues to discuss several things that go in one ear and out the other, but are likely important to this effort — journals and runes and wards and the original six.

You can’t keep your eyes open. Now that you’ve reunited with Sawyer, gotten cleaned up and eaten something, the adrenaline has faded, and you just want to sleep for the next four days — in a real bed with real blankets, not a thin sleeping bag on the frozen ground.

“M’sorry,” you murmur. “Just really tired.”

He chuckles softly. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Let’s get you to bed.”

You bid everyone goodnight, trudging up endless flights of stairs to a barracks room that’s devoid of anything except a bed made up with plain sheets and the pack you’d taken from school. 

“Home sweet home,” he announces. “At least you don’t have a roommate. I get to deal with Ridoc twenty four hours a day now.”

You manage a laugh, kneeling down to look through your bag and setting a few things on the empty desk. “Now it’s home.”

He raises his eyebrows, amused. “Glad to see that your bunny made the cut when you were packing a bag to commit treason.”

“I wasn’t going to leave him behind after twenty years,” you defend, a little embarrassed.

“Understandable,” he offers. “Alright. You’ve got pajamas, bathroom’s down the hall, you have your key… you all set?” You nod in affirmation, and he kisses your forehead, giving you a soft hug before he turns toward the door. 

You whine softly, holding on a little longer. “You’re leaving?”

“I need to shower, but I can come back after, if you want.”

You cover a yawn with your hand. “That would be nice.”

“Alright. Get changed. I’ll be back.”

The door unlocking and the movement of the mattress under his weight stir you from your sleep. 

The bed is just barely big enough for the two of you, but you don’t mind, curling into his side and nuzzling your cheek into his shoulder. He’s warm, and the weight of his arms around you is soothing.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.”

[neerons]

Some of Yves Kloss’ best quotes

"He caaaaaaaaame! " (—Yves screaming about Clavis)

"You're the most common commoner I've ever seen. You have no redeeming features to speak of. Why should I accept someone like that?"

"Choosing me shows how sophisticated you are. You won't regret it." (—Yves' changing route quote)

"Y-You call that a CAKE...?" (—Yves reacting to Clavis' gift)

"If this shameless behavior goes on any longer, you’ll find out what happens if you test my patience. I suggest that you don’t." (—Yves defending Emma in front of a noblewoman that bullied her)

"ExCUSE me? What on earth are you doing hiding in my closet?!"

"Excuse me? And why not?! I’m going to tell everyone, so we can figure out how best to punish her for what she did to you! (…) Huh?! Hey, no, you’ve got it all wrong! This isn’t kindness! I just know I’d end up with the worst stomachache if something happened to you because of me!" (—Yves defending Emma)

"Why should you have to be the one to carry such a heavy burden? This is a problem between two nations. It’s not the sort of thing a simple, kind-hearted woman like yourself needs to get involved in."

"…Emma really is amazing. I could never do anything like that. I always wanted to be a bridge that could bring Obsidian and Rhodolite together… But I was despised just for being half-Obsidianite, and I accepted it all, like it was completely normal. I never did a single thing to actually improve the relationship between our countries. I didn’t even think I could. It takes courage and resolve to approach someone when you’re completely at odds with them. It’s not easy, not in the slightest. I bet it’s left Emma in tears countless times. But even so, she’s still here now, holding her head high and taking that first step towards peace. She really is… amazing. (…) She’s so beautiful it’s dazzling. (…) I’ve spent my whole life with my head down, seeing nothing but the ground at my feet. I really need to change—I need to learn from her example." (—Yves talking about Emma to Leon)

"Fhwhwh...?! Oh my god. How is my little brother this adorable?!" (—Yves talking about Licht)

"Know this: Yves Kloss loves you, and he's always thinking about you. There's not a day you're not in his thoughts."

"You do realize you're pretty, no matter what?"

"For the record? Each time you make me happy, I swear I'll make you even happier."

"H-Hey... Have you really not noticed that I, Yves Kloss, am waiting for the right moment to talk with you?"

"U-Um, Emma... Don't tell me you're... with both of them...?" (—Yves talking about Emma holding Gilbert's and Clavis' hands)

"Just the thought of being tossed into a den full of women sends a shiver up my spine..."

"Did you just say... LOVE?!" (—Yves to Licht and Leon)

"I guess you captivated me. You were always striving to be perfect, and... that's the Emma I fell in love with."

"Y-You think you can just be all cute and get away with it, huh?"

"Please don't cry, Emma. When you cry... my heart aches so badly I don't know what to do."

"I'm not a prince to be pitied. It doesn't matter if no one accepts me. The only one I need acceptance from is me. (...) It doesn't matter what other people say. What's the point, if you can't trust yourself, and believe in your own worth? Even if they trample you under their filthy, worn boots—so long as you hold your head high and believe in yourself, it'll only make you stronger."

"Okay, which of you gave Licht wine?! How many times have I told you not to?!"

"There are so many people in the world who hate me. But... I hate me more than any of them."

"Aww, Licht, don't be so down. Failure is an unavoidable part of cooking!" (—Yves reassuring a sulking Licht)

"I'm never making dessert for any of you ever again!! You're all horrible and you can eat dirt for all I care!"

"I am NOT a cat!!!"

"...I know that kindness of yours is probably a virtue, but I can't help worrying that you're going to kindness yourself to death one day."

"What? No! I didn't meow. Why on earth would I meow?!"

"You're my goddess of happiness. I... thank you for coming, Emma."

"He's such a brazen fool! Not a principled bone in his body, and he's incorrigible to boot!" (—Yves talking about Nokto)

"Listen, you didn't hear this from me, but... Licht made almost five hundred attempts before he baked an edible batch of cookies. (...) That boy really loves you a lot. So much that it gives me heartburn just thinking about it."

"I often get told that I don't have luck. But when I talk to you, I feel like my life isn't all that bad."

"I hope she comes soo... WAHH! W-Warn me when you come!"

[kirbysdreamlandd]

Hiii here's one idea based on the Barnyard Eclipse Mukbang!!!

Martin has a cousin form Croatia that is visiting Canada

She gets introduced to the gang (Mandy and Hamzah) and also the slushys

They all go together to the farm to see the eclipse

Mandy n Martin get one cabin and Hamzah n Y/N another… the whole one bed trope happens 😳

They end up cuddling while talking before sleeping - in the middle of the night he gets awkwardly HARD against her and the smut comes in!!! *cabin fever*🤭

Maybe we should keep it canon that he is a hardcore virgin?!🤨

love ur writing♥️

Eclipse Mukbang

Hamzah X Y/N (Fem)

word count: 4k - longer than I expected lol, let me know if you want a pt. 2!!

After spending your whole life in Croatia, the European life was getting boring. You’d often caught yourself daydreaming about a change, about traveling somewhere new, somewhere out of the continent.

The last time your cousins visited, they couldn’t stop bragging about their Canadian life. Martin, in particular, was insufferable with his talk about his YouTube channel. He went on and on about “Slushy Noobz” and how his videos with his friend, Hamzah, were getting more and more attention. But as annoying as his boasting was, it kind of influenced you in a way.

So, when Martin randomly offered to fly you out to Toronto, you didn’t even think twice. The idea of leaving everything familiar behind, even just for a little while was too tempting to pass up.

The moment you spotted the signs written in English and French, it finally settled in: You had just flown a full 12 hours from Croatia to Canada to visit your cousin and his girlfriend.

By the time you checked into your hotel and began to unpack, your phone buzzed with a text from Martin.

Ah, right.

You’d completely forgotten that you agreed to be in one of Martin’s next vlogs. His pitch being “You’re just as stupid as us, the Slushies are gonna love you!”. And somehow, in a moment of weakness you’d said yes.

But what Martin hadn’t mentioned was that he’d booked an Airbnb for everyone to stay in. You sighed, staring at your neatly unpacked suitcase. Tomorrow’s paid-for room was now destined to sit empty while you stayed with your cousin and his friends in whatever far countryside of Ontario he deemed “So Eclipse mukbang coded”.

Oh well. It wasn’t like you were a stranger to making videos. Back when you were both kids, you and Martin used to make YouTube videos together sneaked away into your rooms during family gatherings. They were the kind of chaotic nonsense only 10 to 12-year-olds could conjure up, that’s why years later that channel was wiped off the website, never to be seen again.

Just as you were coming to terms with the Airbnb situation, another text from Martin popped up on your phone. He casually mentioned that Mandy and Hamzah would be joining and that “for the sake of the bit” Martin and Hamzah were gonna share a queen-sized bed while you and Mandy would have to do the same. You sighed, setting your phone down before diving onto the hotel room’s neatly-made bed.

As much as you tried to downplay it, you always enjoyed Martin’s company. Sure, he could be overwhelming at times, but dealing with his shenanigans was mostly fun. The two of you had a sense of unbounded silliness that you shared with no one else. While you usually kept that side of yourself hidden around most people, Martin always brought it out of you. With him, you didn’t feel the need to filter your humor or tone down yourself. It was an unspoken agreement between you two. A family bond of sorts.

-

The next day you met in Martin’s car, which was oddly being driven by his friend Hamzah, and you squeezed into the backseat.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m Hamzah.” The brunette said looking at you through the rear view mirror, his thin glasses reflecting your face as you awkwardly waved in response.

From Martin’s description and based on his usual group of friends, you had expected Hamzah to be just as obnoxious. But, to your surprise, he gave off a surprisingly calm vibe. His polite introduction almost catching off guard.

“Yeah. He’s my other half” Martin chimed in grinning as he reached a hand on Hamzah’s thigh only for it to be quickly swatted away.

The two eventually started recording. After a series of exaggerated pouts and baby voices from your cousin, Martin’s girlfriend was reluctantly handed the camera, clearly giving in just to put an end to the obscenity of Martin’s pleads.

As they started talking, you noticed a subtle shift in Hamzah’s demeanor. His voice took on a slightly higher pitch, and he became noticeably more talkative. You understood the concept of putting on a persona, but you couldn’t help but wonder if, deep down, he was just as silly as you and Martin, if his videos made his truest self come out.

“So, you’re probably wondering who this is,” Mandy said as the camera flipped to face you. You froze, giving it an awkward deer-in-the-headlights stare.

“And yes, guys,” Martin interrupted from the backseat, leaning into the frame, “She is my girlfriend.”

Mandy gasped, swiveling the camera to capture Martin’s overly confident smirk, which faded fast under her glare. The whole car was quickly filled with an awkward atmosphere until Hamzah broke the silence with a stifled laugh.

“She’s your cousin, Martin, oh my god” She complained, panning the camera back to you with a defeated look on her face as though she was considering being single again. You scrunched your nose back to her, as a way of giving her your condolences.

“I’m Y/N. Martin’s cousin,” You introduced yourself, giving the camera a deadpan look. “And yes, I am unfortunately related to him.”

From the driver’s seat, Hamzah let out a low chuckle. You caught his amused glance in the rearview mirror. You spotted Martin’s pouting at the camera from the corner of your eye.

“So guys,” Martin cut in, clapping his hands together, reverting the audience’s attention back to him. “Right now, we’re on our way to the Airbnb—”

“—Brokeback Mountain Airbnb.” Hamzah interjected dryly, eyes on the road.

“The Brokeback Mountain Airbnb— where we’ll be both sleeping together in the same bed!” Your cousin announced with way too much enthusiasm to the camera. Mandy groaned audibly, leaning back to create as much distance as possible between herself and the camera.

As the drive neared its end, the car turned onto a quiet gravel road. Up ahead, a cozy lodge came into view, the air carrying a blend of woodsmoke and the earthy scent of barn animals, reminding you of the rustic surroundings.

Approaching the entrance of the house, Hamzah pulled out his phone to text the owner.

“Jesus, there’s barely any signal.”

“Hey, get off your phone,” Martin said, his voice teasing. Mandy pointed the camera at him, capturing his exaggerated performance. “Enjoy nature, man.” he added, spinning around dramatically in the air.

That’s when Mandy stopped the recording as Hamzah, too focused on trying to find a way to access the Airbnb, didn’t bother to pay attention to Martin’s antics.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Hamzah muttered after a while, tucking his phone away into his pocket. “I guess we could just start eating.”

You left Hamzah and Martin as they wandered toward two stray chairs they’d found just outside the farm. The camera, Popeyes chicken, and those stupid eclipse glasses in hand.

You and Mandy had agreed to avoid participating in the mukbang and eat in the car earlier. Maybe it was a bit out of spite: you couldn’t help it as the guys stared at you with hunger in their eyes while you devoured your chicken, still insisting they were gonna have to wait until they get to the Airbnb to start the “Mukbang”.

You realized you and Mandy got along better than expected—your shared love for animals and the casual shit-talking behind the guys’ backs bonding you. As you left the kids to play, you decided to take a stroll around the farm, bumping into a tall man with leather gloves and a broom in hand. He introduced himself as the owner and, much to your delight, offered to show you the barn animals. You told him you’d wait for the guys to catch up, and he handed you the house keys before walking off. Both of you giggled at the thought him encountering the two guys hunched over their chicken in the middle of his yard while filming a YouTube video.

Once inside the house, you and Mandy headed to the first bedroom you found. The room was cozy, with a large bed and a homely vibe you both loved. You tossed your bags on the bed and settled in, chatting and making yourselves comfortable.

But as the two of you were discussing about how much money adopting an alpaca would cost you, Mandy began sneezing more and more frequently. She sniffled, rubbed her nose, and you noticed her eyes started to water.

“Mandy, you okay?”

“I don’t know. I might be allergic to something here,” she replied, her voice a bit stuffy. “My throat is itching.”

You looked around, trying to figure out what could be causing the problem. That’s when your eyes landed on the large framed picture above the bed. It was a beautiful floral arrangement, but those colorful flowers were as beautiful as they looked like they were likely to cause an allergic reaction.

“Are you allergic to some type of flower?” you said, pointing above you. “It might be that frame over there.”

Mandy sneezed again, looking miserable. “Ugh, this is so bad.”

Without wasting any time, you helped Mandy pack up her things. “Come on, let’s change rooms.”

You grabbed the keys and led her out, making your way to the second cabin. The other bedroom was much more spacious, you realized it was probably the one the guys booked for themselves to sleep in.

“Oh well. They’re gonna have to take the floral one” You said as you set you things to the side of the bed, taking a seat on the colorful bedsheets. Mandy thanked you, while she got remaining sniffles out with the tissues you gave her.

You were both laying flat on the bed relaxing when the light reflecting into the room began to dim, Mandy tilted her head, noticing it too. Curious, you stood up from the bed and walked over to the window. Peering out, you spotted the two guys who had brought you here, standing behind a camera and exclaiming excitedly at the sky.

“They grow up so fast.” Mandy commented, her eyes darting over the two figures in the distance before walking over to the opposite window, her phone propped up to take a picture of the eclipse happening in front of her.

“Careful, you’re looking at it with no glasses on” you teased, mimicking Martin’s exaggerated tone. Mandy responded with her usual deadpan stare that she usually reserved for your cousin.

Once she finished taking her pictures, you both decided to step out and meet up with the guys. The sky was already fading back to normal as they wrapped up their mukbang. The chairs were deserted, but Martin and Hamzah were still nearby, camera in hand.

“Did you see that, Mandy?” Martin called out enthusiastically walking toward you, his glasses still on, making him look as ridiculous as it was the over-excited energy he greeted his girlfriend with.

“That was actually beautiful, man” Hamzah added, carrying empty Popeyes boxes and a tripod with ease as he started heading back toward the cabins with the rest of you.

You filled them in about the allergy situation, and they quickly agreed to switch rooms. Martin made sure to announce the plan to the viewers, turning the camera back on.

“Okay, so, we got a smaller room for us,” Martin narrated, zooming in on the bed before panning to Hamzah’s unimpressed expression as he scanned the space. “But that’s okay. It’ll bring us even clos—”

His words were abruptly cut off by the anticipation of a loud sneeze, his left hand flying up to his nose as he sniffled. “Damn, big-ass sneeze” Hamzah teased, taking the camera from Martin so he could grab a tissue.

But the sneezing didn’t stop. Each sniffle grew louder and slimier, making Hamzah let out an audible “eugh” as he watched his friend’s mucus drip onto the tissue.

“God, I might be allergic to lilies too” Martin joked weakly, before Mandy demanded he evacuated the cabin. After stepping outside for a while, Martin’s sneezes started to ease, confirming your and Mandy’s suspicions.

“Aw, we’re united by allergies too!” Martin said dramatically, wrapping his arms around Mandy, who, despite being restrained by his hug, let a tiny smirk slip across her usual stoic face.

“Shit, this is complicated,” Hamzah muttered, sighing as he gestured toward you and Mandy“We can’t switch rooms with you again.”

He bit his bottom lip, frowning in frustration, before glancing at you. Silence stretched on as you and Hamzah shared an awkward stare-off, both silently acknowledging the inconvenient situation.

“I’m sorry,” Mandy gave you both an apologetic look as she wiggled out of Martin’s restraint “We could ask for the flowers to get removed…”

But that last sentence hung in the air, heavy with a shared hesitance among all of you.

“It’s fine” You and Hamzah both said at the same time, voices overlapping in different paces but carrying the same tension.

Mandy and Martin didn’t seem to have any objections, leaving you and Hamzah to share a one-bed room.

In the quiet of your cabin, an unspoken tension between you and Hamzah grew as you were settling into the once-again changed room. Even when you were doing something as simple as unpacking your belongings, every movement seemed amplified, making you both extremely aware of each other’s presence. Hamzah glanced over, clearly trying to keep things casual.

“You good with that side?” he asked, motioning to the bed as he set his phone and retainer on the nightstand.

“Oh, yeah.” you replied, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt. You busied yourself with unpacking your pajamas, desperately avoiding his gaze.

Rummaging sounds came from his side as he fought with the zipper of his backpack, his voice breaking the silence again.

“This your first time in Canada?”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing over at him while you finished setting your things on the small wooden vanity. “First time anywhere outside Europe, kinda nervous.”

Hamzah shared a laugh with you, his shoulders easing as the tension in his chest seemed to slowly settle.

“Well, welcome to America, I guess. Though, as an immigrant, I’d advise you to go back when you still have the choice.” Hamzah’s tone remained the same, the last serious remark slipping out with a half-smile, as if it hadn’t been meant to land too heavily.

His hands fumbled with the things in his backpack, pulling out a crumpled receipt and some loose papers before setting it aside with a quick motion.

He then got up and walked around the bed over to your side, stopping in front of the door, something small clutched in his hands. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes but stopping to turn towards you.

“Wanna come outside?” he asked, his gaze catching yours, what seemed like a lighter being shuffled around in hand. His dark eyes lingered a bit, scanning over your face a couple of times, as if searching for something or perhaps just your reaction.

“Sure” you said, your voice steady despite the sudden rush of the moment. Without thinking, you dropped your things, completely unaware that you had left your phone behind.

You followed Hamzah outside, your gaze fixed on the back of his head, as if trying to figure out what was going on in his mind. The air outside was cool, and the silence between you both felt oddly comfortable.

You found a bench just outside the cabin, the stone wall behind it covered in vines and delicate flowers that made it look like it was straight out of a fairytail. But as Hamzah lit his cigarette, and cloud of smoke curled up into the air, you were pulled out of that very magical feeling.

“Want one?” Hamzah asked, catching your gaze on his cigarette.

You shook your head. “No, thanks,” you replied, your voice almost reflexive.

For a moment, you hesitated, a thought almost slipping from your lips. You were about to say “I stopped that years ago” but quickly shut the thought down. It felt like the kind of thing that might open up a conversation you didn’t feel right to have in that moment. Instead, you let the silence stretch a bit longer, the smoke hanging filling the air you two were sharing.

The sky had softened into deep blue hues, casting everything in muted shadows. Hamzah’s sharp features caught the soft glow of the unfolding moon, you watched the spirals of smoke blown out of his lips drift upward before dissolving into the night.

“I thought I finally stopped, you know,”Hamzah’s low voice broke the silence, a chuckle escaping mid-sentence.

You glanced over at him. He was already looking at you, though his gaze seemed to falter, as if he hadn’t meant to get caught. The cigarette dangled between his fingers, its ash tumbling to the ground below.

“Still, I carry a pack in my backpack,” he admitted, his tone hollow. “Guess I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

A humorless chuckle slipped out of him. His eyes dropped to the ground, and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. For a moment, you noticed the subtle tremor in his fingers.

Hamzah caught the way your eyes lingered on his trembling hand. His jaw tensed, and he lifted the cigarette for another drag, faking nonchalance.

“I’m only smoking ‘cause of nerves,” he muttered, the smoke curling from his lips. “This bed situation has been making me a bit…” He trailed off before biting the inside of his cheek. His words swallowed by hesitation.

“It’s hard to stop,” you admitted, your voice low but steady. “I mean, I’ve been there. Quit, started again, quit again… It’s a never-ending cycle.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth like a landslide, a reflexive need to reassure him colliding with an undeniable sense of relatability. Hamzah caught your gaze from the corner of his eyes, his expression softening, steady and quiet, as if he was carefully holding onto every word. When you fell silent, though, he didn’t look away. His expression seemed to be expectant, like he wasn’t yet ready for you to stop talking.

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your coat. “Anxiety is something you have to battle, not cope with.”

The sentence hung in the air, heavier than you intended. Your tone came out too even, you almost worried it sounded cold. But the words were real—every bit of them was something you truly meant, words you wished someone had said to you when you were struggling too.

Hamzah’s silent response should’ve been unnerving, but it wasn’t. In fact, the way he looked at you, earnest, almost patient, made you feel oddly grounded. He nodded slowly, the corners of his lips tugging into a soft smile. It wasn’t a defeated one this time, but something warmer, more genuine. “That’s true” he said simply. But it didn’t feel like just an agreement for you, it was an affirmation that every bit of your words actually mattered.

But before you two could add anything more, Martin’s voice cut through the quiet night.

“Hey, we’re about to go eat dinner!” Your cousin exclaimed, walking over to you, car keys jingling in his hand. “You guys coming or…?”

“Just give me the keys, man.” Hamzah groaned as he stood up from the bench, a soft grin peeking through his rough act, swiftly catching the keys thrown his way by Martin.

In the car, you caught Hamzah’s gaze more than once. His eyes shifted between the road and brief glances at you, his steady expression almost as if he were ensuring both the drive and you were under control.

You dined at a Chinese restaurant in the area, despite you and Mandy’s earlier talk about wanting to try Ontario’s traditional country dishes. Hamzah had scoffed at the idea, insisting there was no such thing, and if there was, it wouldn’t be worth tasting.

During your second round of sushi rolls, Martin, mid-attempt to hit the ending scene “Wicked”high notes, accidentally knocked over a bowl of hot soup. The contents spilling all over your light blue dress. Though the soup wasn’t boiling hot, Hamzah moved quickly to catch the bowl and then proceeded to dab at the stain with tissues while Martin apologized profusely. You laughed it off, even if the damp spot on your stomach left you trembling during the walk back to the car, the chill of Canada’s cold air biting at your wet skin.

Clutching your coat tightly in a futile attempt to warm yourself, you shivered visibly. Hamzah noticed immediately and leaned toward you. “You okay?”

“Just give her your jacket already” Mandy scolded, peering over Martin to shoot Hamzah an annoyed look.

Hamzah shrugged off his jacket without a word, holding it by the shoulders as he hovered it behind you. The awkward silence stretched long enough to make you wonder if you were supposed to laugh or not, but his steady expression made you quickly slip your arms through the sleeves, the jacket settled warmly around you, its length arriving to your thighs.

His hands brushed against your shoulders as he adjusted the coat, patting it into place with a casualness that made you undeniably flustered. But despite the warmth left on the coat from Hamzah, you found yourself longing for the heat of his hands on your shoulders, a thought you tried to brush off throughout the whole walk.

As you made your way back to the lodge, the chilly, pine-scented air wrapped around you, illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns decorating the vine-infested walls. The chirping of crickets seemed to sing you a gentle welcome.

“Look at the stars!” Mandy exclaimed, elbowing Martin, a finger pointing up above. The group came to a halt, all turning your heads upward as one.

Above you was a sky so clear and full of stars it was hardly comparable to the light-polluted streets of Toronto. You stood still for a moment, mesmerized by the view, while Martin silently pulled out the camera.

“There’s the Big Dipper” you said while pointing toward a constellation, tracing its shape with your finger. The others squinted, following your gaze. “See? That’s the handle, and there’s the body.”

Hamzah stopped squinting to turn to the camera with a big confident smile, one that practically screamed a stupid joke was about to come out of his mouth.

Hamzah tilted his head, squinting at the stars. “Bro, the Big Dipper is what I get at Dave’s Hot Chicken, know what I’m sayin’?”

His terrible attempt at comedy was met with two deadpan stares, as expected, from both you and Mandy. Martin the other hand stifled a laugh, but quickly collected himself, turning the camera around to film himself.

“I don’t know, guys, the only beautiful star I see is the one right next to me.” Martin said, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend and pulling her close. Mandy rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips as she reached out to rest an arm on his back.

Hamzah groaned, his eyes flicking back to the sky.

“Little Dipper’s right there, right?” He leaned in closer, his gaze following yours, hand extending to point up at the stars. “Though I call ‘em Ursa Minor and Ursa Major. Never heard of Lil’ Dipper.”

Hamzah joked, mocking your knowledge of astronomy, which made you elbow his side in frustration.

“Oh, but I’m sure you know all about Lil Yeat, right?” You shot back, your tone confident.

But you were met with a burst of laughter exploding from him, his dry chuckles paired with his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. He wiped at his eyes, struggling to catch his breath. “Did you say Lil Yeat?” he gasped breathless.

You rolled your eyes as Hamzah tried to control his laughter, his hand rubbing his face frantically as he struggled to compose himself. He really didn’t have to mock you twice in a row, especially when the first joke was based on something you clearly had more knowledge on, and the second one being about a rapper’s name, one that you really couldn’t cared less about.

Hamzah hadn’t stopped teasing you about it, repeating “Lil Yeat” to Martin, who had the same, in your opinion, exaggerated reaction. The jokes carried on all the way to the cabin, where you two found yourself in after being ditched by the couple, who had conveniently decided they needed some “private time.”

“I’m gonna make you a Yeat fan one day, mark my words” Hamzah declared, locking the door behind him. That teasing smirk he’d been wearing all evening was still firmly in place.

“Can’t wait” you replied dryly, heading straight for the bathroom. You unpacked your cosmetics onto the small, cramped counter and began sorting through your skincare essentials. Just as you settled into your nightly routine, Hamzah started hovering in the doorway, holding a moisturizer and toothpaste. You quickly interjected his request to borrow some of your skincare products, cutting him off with a sharp look, but his insistent nudging came back the moment you pulled out a new product.

“Why not? There’s no way I can fit mine in this tight of a space anyway.” he whined.

“That’s what she said,” you muttered, dabbing your pricey Tatcha moisturizer onto your face.

The night passed quickly as the two of you argued over who had to take a piss the most all the way toplayfully shoving each other to claim the impossibly tiny sink.

When you finally made it to bed, you were relieved to find it wasn’t as small as you’d feared. Though not too spacious, it fit both of you well enough under the heavy blankets.

“Holy shit—your foot!” Hamzah suddenly yelped, jerking his leg away when your icy toes brushed against his calf. His warmth was so inviting, though, that you couldn’t help but inch closer.

Without warning, you extended your leg again, letting your foot rest against what you quickly realized was his thigh.

“Oh my god—“ Hamzah groaned as your heel pressed into his skin. He flinched but didn’t pull away immediately, giving you just enough confidence to push further.

Smirking, you placed your foot completely flat onto his thigh, his body warmth radiating like a heater to the entire sole of your foot.

“You better stop.” he threatened through chuckles, his leg jerking involuntarily as his hand darted out to grab your ankle. You yelped, trying to jerk your leg free, but his hold only tightened, restricting your movement. In a burst of resistance, you pushed forward with more force than you intended.

The sudden motion sent him lurching forward, his chest subtly pressing against your back. You both froze, the laughter still caught in your throat as you felt the fabric of Hamzah’s shorts tickling your thigh.

You quickly turned into a flushed mess, your face heating up as you felt a firm bump against your backside, Hamzah’s breath quickening against your ear.

[justiceiscalling]

so i wanna get into batfam cause it seems fun. my introduction to this family is through some dceu movies and titans (show) only. is there any introductory ff or something? (don't wanna do comics idkw)

dude the way those were my introductions too (plus young justice)!!! i also refused comics in the beginning lol. first, disregard titans as a whole. i loved the show when i knew nothing of the batfam and dc in general but now that i do, i remember how wrong it was on so many parts.

i'm just going to do fic recs that i read and that i think helped me better understand some characters and then at the end i will add a 'quick' background on the 'lesser known' bats (duke, cass, and steph).

(nine fics plus an additional two crossovers)

here we go:

Worlds Saddest Breakfast Club by motelyfam

Summary:

Following a couple of Very Bad Weeks™ (which may or may not have involved being kidnapped and mildly tortured), Jason decides the best way to cheer himself up is to break into the Manor for a 3 a.m. snack. Turns out he isn’t the only one awake.

my opinion: okay i love love love this one. it includes every 'major' batfam member save for barbara gordon (so really just the one's considered bruces kids + steph). i think this one has extremely accurate characterization, it’s jason todd-centric but includes a good amount of everyone else.

greatest of ease by ijustwanttodestroy (ONGOING)

Summary:

The times people meet Dick Grayson. Not Robin, not Nightwing — just Dick. (Or: Dick Grayson is a hero, has always been and will always be, no matter what name he takes.)

my opinion: i actually just read this during the 12 hour tik tok ban and this is so good. it's dick centric and is just how random people who've met him in passing perceive him. i love it so much. there's still one chapter left to be written, but since the last time it was updated was 2019, i don't think it'll be updated lol. but, i think the last chapter isn't really needed

A Mediation on Railroading by eggmacguffin

Summary:

When he ends up ditched in Atlanta after a fight with his dad, Tim decides to do the only sensible thing: Tell no one and make the 800 mile journey back to Gotham on his own. Because the "call Batman when you're in trouble" rule only applies when he's Robin, right?

my opinion: okay, honestly i haven't rad this in forever--a reread is long overdo--but i remember enjoying this. this one is on the longer side, nearly 25k words. i feel like a majority of people in this fandom have read this, in 2023 i could not go anywhere without being recommended this. i'm pretty sure this started me into my jason and tim as a duo spiral, which i have since left because i now really believe that tim and jason would lowkey be beefing non-stop but like in a brotherly way? which most fics surrounding them don't quite capture in the way i want, idk i'm picky lol.

but yeah. this fic=good for new fandom people.

though your eyes will need some time to adjust by popsunner

Summary:

“I think…” Stephanie takes a deep breath, “I think I’m bad.” “I don’t.” “So what, I’m just supposed to believe you?” “I am Batman.” Stephanie snorts, “Yeah, you are… but what if I’m still bad?” “Then I forgive you.” _______ Or: Stephanie and Bruce, figuring it out

my opinion: i actually haven't seen a lot of steph and bruce bonding fics that i like but i really enjoyed this one. i read this a year or two ago, forgot about it and reread it today. steph and bruces relationship is complicated and i like how this captures them.

dick grayson: a case study by writersagainstwritersblock

Summary:

Dick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m mostly used to sparring with my little brothers, it’s kind of just habit, and I was having fun. I didn’t want the match to be over too quick.” “Too quick?” Derek asked, eyebrows raised. “I’m twice your size, kid.” Dick shrugged. “So’s Bruce and we’re pretty much tied at this point, or at least according to the score board the kids started to keep for Saturday spars.” “Saturday spars?” Derek repeated, following him towards the locker room. Dick flashed him a smile. “What? Don’t have any weird family traditions?” “Not ones that include hitting each other,” Derek said   OR The BAU gets a probationary profiler who is a little more than he appears at first glance. Or second. Or third. Just how many secrets can Dick Grayson be hiding from a team full of profilers?

my opinion: this one's a crossover but i love how it shows dicks relationship with his siblings, wally, and bruce. slades in here and so because of that theres implied sexual assault. the author has warnings on every chapter. i wouldn't read if you're not familiar with criminal minds though, it'll be really confusing

The Robin Generation by waterunderthebridge12

Summary:

"It's the dodging emotional conversations for me," Duke said. "Take the L." "Stop being such a cringefail edgelord," Tim said. "It's giving emotionally stunted," said Damian. "It's giving big yikes delulu."   In his ongoing search for better ways to fight crime, Tim comes up with a brand new method: bombarding bad guys with Gen Alpha slang. Recruiting Gen Alpha cusper Duke and full Gen Alpha Damian, shenanigans, chaos, and bonding ensue.

my opinion: i recommend this entire series, omg it's so unbelievably funny and good. great duke and damian bonding, great duke representation overall, and it also introduced me to the idea of duke hating dick and cass and jason just straight up beefing all the time which makes so much fucking sense. if you read anything on this list PLEASE read this.

Life Happens by Cdelphiki

Summary:

While walking home from an event at Wayne Enterprises, Tim and Damian are kidnapped and sent to an alternate dimension. In a world where superheroes are merely comic book characters and the idea of the multiverse is only a theory found within the pages of science fiction, how are Tim and Damian going to return home? How long will they be stranded on this strange Earth? And will the boys murder each other before they figure it out?

my opinion: by far one of the best tim and damian bonding things i read. it's 176k words so it doesn't make them bonding so straight forward, yk? not the usual 'they're both secretly jealous of each other' thing (which i lowkey love like i eat that shit up ngl), it's more complex. more 'i love you cause you're my brother, but i don't like you' which evolves into 'you're the only one around for me now' which turns into 'you're my favorite, please don't leave me.' i sob every time i read this story, it's so fucking heartbreaking. the other works in the exiled robins series are good but not needed to understand life happens.

All the Roofs of Uncertainty by Kieron_Duibhir

Summary:

For all the blood on his hands, Red Hood was never just a villain. And Nightwing never gives up on family, not for good. (Or: The one where Dick bleeds a lot and Jason argues with everybody.)

my opinion: i remember vaguely reading this when i first joined the fandom and loving it so much, it was my first introduction to jason and dick's relationship as brother that i thought actually made sense. if you like this one, check out Kieron_Duibhir's account, they're a really good author.

Martry Unmade by Here_we_go

Summary:

Jason Todd was loved best dead. Dead he was a saint. A martyr. Nothing was more sacred in the Church of Batman than martyrdom. - No one ever said that coming back from the dead was easy, not for the one who died and not for the people they left behind.

my opinion: catholic jason todd, my love. i'm always searching for catholic jason todd fics. i stumbled upon this a couple months ago and loved the fuck out of it. catholic jason is just so incredible to me, for some reason.

the entombment of idolization by make_your_own_world

Summary:

It turns out that growing up in the League of Assassins complicates your definition of self-worth. Or: Damian’s Saturday nights did not typically involve an underground sequence of caverns, a drugged brother, and a bloodthirsty monster snapping at their heels, but he was nothing if not adaptable. Or: If I am all you want to be, and you are all I want to be, why together are we not enough? (Can be read as a standalone)

my opinion: i did not read the other works in this series and i understood everything. this has tim and damian bonding which i will always look for, i'm pretty sure i stumbled upon this christmas of 2023 and i have loved it ever since.

okay that's it for the recs. if you want more heres the link to my bookmarks.

some have OC's or x readers, and i think theres one or two non batfam in there. still, feel free to look if you want. i also have some tim and damian bonding ones posted (Keep hanging on, Praise from a mother, Trust from a bother, the graves i dig series, and Growing apart), i don't think any of my other works will be of any use if you're just trying to get into the batfam because the rest are x readers or x OC's, save for one which is on a HEAVY hiatus lol.

quick background (as promised):

since your introduction was through DCEU and titans, im assuming you have no clue who duke thomas, cassandra cain, and stephanie brown are. duke is bruce’s latest foster kid, he’s black, his parents were rendered insane because of joker, he’s the vigilante signal, and he’s often forgotten by lots of the fandom. cassandra is one of bruce’s adopted kids (i believe) she came after tim but she’s jason’s age. she’s the daughter of lady shiva and david cain. typically she’s depicted as mute in fanon, but in comics she can speak her english is just very broken. depending on the fic, cass will be either one of those three vigilantes: batgirl, black bat, or orphan. stephanie isn’t bruce’s kid, she’s kind of an honorary kid though. she used to date tim but they’ve broken up in comics (tim is bi and dating bernard, as seen in the titans show), many people have her date cassandra. it’s a VERY popular ship in the batfam fandom, i think. stephanie is the vigilante spoiler though she was previously the vigilante batgirl and the only girl robin.

batgirl and robin are passed down. all the (main) robins in order are: dick, jason, tim, stephanie, then back to tim, and then damian (im pretty sure tim is robin in comics rn alongside damian but most fics have him as red robin). some people include maps in that but i normally don’t. batgirl has only three: barbara gordon, cassandra cain, and stephanie brown. then there’s also tiffany fox, who im pretty sure is said to be batgirl in the future? i’ve yet to see her in many fics and i think i read one comic that had her but that was forever ago.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

CHAPTER ONE  .  CYNEFIN 

tags ; emotional turmoil, not proofread, entirety of this chapter was broken into a series of late night yapping

See: heartbreak on the mound

The clang of iron ringing throughout your kitchen was brash and unforgiving as it travelled down the hall, invading your unconscious senses and bringing you back to a noisy, cruel life. It didn’t take much smarts to guess that Sasha and Connie were up to something in the kitchen again, no doubt attempting to fulfill their irrational hunger so early in the day. If you listened closely, you could hear an annoyed groan coming from a barely-sleeping Jean in the next room. 

Your eyes felt stiff as you pulled them open, barely willing yourself to resist the magnetic force pulling them shut. You blinked, bleary eyes adjusting to the light seeping in through your curtains as you processed the moment. A soft grumble left your cracked lips, and for a moment, that was the only noise. It was just you and the silky fabric of your bedding and the straps of your tank top falling down your shoulders, as if the chaos had all been a dream. But then there was another clang and a panicked shout and you were reminded that the mayhem was no sort of nightmare. 

Your feet met the ground with a gentle groan, hoping to remain unnoticed by the other inhabitants of this zoo exhibit for a moment longer. Far from bothered enough to compose yourself, you padded into the hallway. The noise grew nearer, voices choppy and holding the rasp of a nights sleep as they shot back and forth. 

“Look who decided to join us,” Jean quipped as you came into view, still sprawled haphazardly over your couch as he had been the night before. “You enjoying your peace and quiet? ‘Cause I didn’t.” 

You quirked a brow, biting back an amused smirk as you advanced further into the common area of your home. Your eyes caught on Sasha and Connie, who were playing a game of tug with a frying pan. There was a smear of powder over Sashas cheek—pancake mix?

“You know, Jean, you don’t have to be here. You could like—sleep at your own place, maybe?” you said, feigning sincerity. He met your eyes, unamused, watching you roll the sleep from your joints. 

“But what’s the fun in that?” 

You rolled your eyes. Your friends had a way of retorting in a way so illogical that there wasn’t a way to defend it, by now you’d simply stopped trying. It was a battle of egos, one not worth shedding blood for. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for your game?” 

He let out a long, drawled out sound of annoyance. “That’s not ‘till later. I’m gonna do well, anyway.” 

Humble, isn’t he? You responded with a half hearted hum and moved to the plush chair nearest you, legs beginning to ache from the sudden adjustment in weight. 

“Do we still have to go to that, Jean?” Connie cut in, momentarily pulling away from… whatever her and Connie were doing. She shook some baking mix from her hair and eyed him curiously, expression matching that of her grey haired companion. 

Jean’s face pulled up in what looked to be an exaggerated form of offense. “Of course you have to go! That’s a given. You guys can drop out of literally anything but that.” 

Jean is overly passionate and all too pushy about your attendance, and you’re holding in a groan because you know he’s only going to spend the entire time staring heart eyed into the crowd anyway. At the end of the day, though, he is your best friend. It’s not like your displays of affection are verbal nor are they physical—gentleness a foreign art yet to be learned by your worn hands, so you show up. That’s what you do. 

You’ve never been secure in your love language. It wasn’t a lack of fondness stunting your tenderness, no, it was anything but. No matter how much the words to express it simmered inside, crawling up your throat and boiling over, they never spilled. They remained an agonizingly concealed whisper, damned to the confines of your mind and never to be released. So to make up for it, you were there. Always there. You forever lingered where it mattered, whether that be the peripherals or the kisscam, eyes shining with fondness and lenses itching to capture the memory. On late nights, you’d look back to them. Maybe, if your emotional constipation didn’t lead to your downfall, the group of you could reminisce over your college days shared for years to come. 

And you’d be there. 

So, you peeled yourself from the chair that had just started to feel right and trotted over to the washroom. It was a wordless action, nobody even bothering to ask, instead silently anticipating the squeak of the pipes and the beating of water on ceramic. You would not only be present, you would look half decent while you did it. 

The water was hot against your back, searing your skin to ash and washing it down the drain. A sigh of relief left you at the feeling, shoulders decompressing and bones unwinding after the night's sleep had tied them in knots. 

It took five minutes to shower, five hours to support your friends in the only way you could, and it was a never ending cycle that had been going on for five years. Yet, with all of these fives constantly surrounding you in a mocking serenade, your circle was made of four. There was a gaping hole in your heart. It beat for five—Sasha, Connie, Jean, yourself, and… and the soul of another who had yet to come by. Eyes that you didn’t know the colour of were ones you’d one day stare into and see the final bit of purpose, see what swirled within and know it was destiny. You hoped so, at least. 

“y/n!” the sound of a sharp whine broke into the cage of your mind, sending your train of thought flying free in the wind. “You almost done?” 

“Yeah,” you called, voice feeling oddly strained. 

You left the washroom feeling unfulfilled. Your skin was clean and flushed from the heat, but your mind was crawling with the infectious bacteria that was your dwelling. But you didn’t have time for dwelling. You only had time for them. 

Wake up. Be present. Capture. Click. Repeat. 

:: 

The roar of the crowd was unfamiliar and suffocating, the simple act of weaving through webs of excited fans becoming treacherous and frantic with the addition of the invading noise. Everyone around you was buzzing with anticipation, the air nearly vibrating. You’d been to Jean’s games before, but this was different. This was the major league, not high school games at the park. There were probably thousands of people here, and yet somehow, they all seemed in their element. They all looked perfectly fitting for their seats in the bleachers, waving hats and banners alike. Every supportive shout knocked you further off your rocker, feeling your knees grow weaker with every step. You felt as if your moves were without purpose, the metal set of stairs you were descending from dipping beneath your feet and swallowing you whole. Not that anyone would notice if it did, anyway. Showing up didn’t seem to mean much when the population of a small town all did the same. 

By the time you joined Sasha and Connie in the front row, the masses had quieted. Their cries had dimmed to murmurs, the energy easing in intensity just a smidge. Sinking into your chair—too busy trying not to jump out of your own skin to worry about the uncomfortable rub of the plastic—was, at least a bit, relieving. 

“Took you long enough,” Connie spoke, muffled by the handful of popcorn stuffed into his mouth. The buttery fragrance swirled through the space between you and wafted into your nose, the way your stomach clenched in response a dull reminder of your choice to shower instead of eating this morning. 

You reached into the bucket with a grumble, eyes barely catching on the large that Sasha had acquired personally. It was difficult to even bat an eye anymore. Generously, Connie tilted it toward you, and you barely missed the concern creasing deeply between his brows. Maybe he was less than bright, but he knew you. He knew that your quick mouth and blunt exterior was a barely-upheld front that you guarded yourself with, evident in the way you pushed yourself for the sake of one game. He knew that you wanted to, really, but he wished you’d learn to balance the love between yourself and your friends. 

It seemed that the both of your minds had drifted away from the game at hand, only snapping back to the events within the atmosphere when the swift crack of ball against bat cut through the arena. Eyes immediately drawn to first base, everyone’s attention was captured on the brunette darting across the diamond. 

Except for yours. 

In the midst of your zoned out, half-intent watching, you’d noticed someone you found far more interesting at first glance. In the dugout, tucked behind a swarm of men in uniform was a head of golden hair. It shone against the overhead light like the sun itself, and although he stood lower than the rest, to you he seemed colossal. 

You were stopped mid chew, eyes narrowing at an attempt to observe him through the glass. His features were soft and meek, like he belonged at home, baking banana bread and humming sweet tunes by the fireplace. He looked out of place, the way he eyed the scene before him nervously, but the figures surrounding him seemed completely at peace (both with his behaviour and their impending contributions). His shoulders were tense as though instead of spending hours swinging bats, he’d spent it hunched over a desk, pen in hand. He had the sad eyes of a poet. 

Suddenly, those same vehemently dreary eyes were locking with yours. The world stopped spinning for a moment—the waving hands and clusters of people around you fading into slow moving assembles of the background. His lips parted, gentle and pink like a primrose, gaze boring into yours like he’d seen you a thousand times before. You couldn’t pull your eyes away out of the fear that if you did, you’d never get to find him again. This felt like a reunion of sorts, though it was the first meeting, and hopefully not the last. 

Later, when you snapped pictures for the school paper, you couldn’t help but seek out his form in the sidelines. A new sort of excitement built in you at the thought of bringing that to life once again—coursing through your veins and shaking your fingertips as you delicately printed the photos. 

Showing up to the next game had more purpose now. It wasn’t the chore required of you thanks to your inadequacy, it was hope. It was the faith in the return of your missing fifth, and that was enough to get you through the days between.

taglist: open

@estella-novella @lizbix @blu3-l0v3r @vi0let-writes @gumims @getovibesonly @tamishadawn @adoresia

[totallyunidentified]

Finally Home

Word count: 3433

After years of searching Cody finds Obi Wan…or does he?

This has taken me months to finish and I don’t even know if I fully like it but here we go. I love codywan and they are endgame and I miss them and that’s all.

In all the years that he had been searching, Cody had never once thought that it would end like this. Under twin suns on a desert planet that he truly should have known to check first. After the Death Star had been destroyed it became a little easier to travel, the Empire losing so many men meant that their control relaxed more as you got further from the inner core worlds. The spaceport on Tatooine was a bustling hive of different species and creatures all just trying to get through the day. Cody looks for a place to rest for a moment, it was a long and tiring journey to get to Tatooine. He knew he could have stayed with Rex, Wolffe, and the rest of the rebels for a little longer but he knew that it was time to finish his search. He passes shop after shop before stopping at a little tea shop down an alley. It looked a little dusty, maybe even a little sketchy but appearances aren't everything. The tea shop is the first in a series of stops in what seems to be another wild goose chase. No one will give Cody an answer—without credits of course. Credits that Cody was in short supply of. He asks day after day until finally, someone tells him. There had been a Kenobi on Tatooine. “Had” being the key word. Cody had missed him by mere weeks.

“You must mean Old Ben, the human guy with a Coruscanti accent? Always wearing these heavy robes till the day he left with that Skywalker kid and two droids,” said one of the locals. Cody had not wanted to believe the next farmer he asked when the man had said that old Ben had never returned. If he was honest he had begun to lose hope anyway. After 17 years or so of searching one has to give up sometime right? Cody hadn’t, he had known he'd find Obi-Wan somewhere someday. Technically, he had, he was just too late.

The farmer he had spoken to was kind enough to drive him out to where “Ole Ben Kenobi” had lived for a small fee of course. The house is on an overhang looking out over the sands of Tatooine. An outpost with unobstructed views, the high ground. The farmer leaves him at the base looking up at the several flights of stairs. Cody groans knowing that this is not going to feel good tomorrow. Walking into the humble home that Obi-wan had kept for himself, Cody quickly gets a sense of how he had been living. There was a fine layer of dust over everything, it had been a while since the owner was home.

As he walks through the doorway, he notices a mirror behind the door and stops for a moment to study the man in the reflection. He realizes that even if he had found Obi-Wan, he might not have recognized the bearded and slightly longer-haired clone he had become, the wrinkles across his face didn’t suit someone who wasn’t even 34 yet. Cody notices a cloak haphazardly lying on the floor of a closet doorway. He can't help but chuckle as he is reminded of all the times he had picked up Obi-Wan’s cloaks before.

“General! It appears you lost something again!” Cody grins beneath his helmet as he watches his Jedi pause and whips his head around searching for his robe.“My dear I never lost it, you knew where it was the whole time did you not?” Obi-Wan flashes that smile that makes Cody’s heart skip a couple of beats. The smile that he is sure that if anyone fighting just looked at for more than a second, could end the war. “Really? Guess I can add robe collector to my official job description then.” “Oh no, nothing so menial as that you must not forget to add lightsaber collector to your resume also.” Obi-wan jests and despite the dirt covering his face, Cody swears that he has never seen someone so beautiful. “Maybe I could turn this into a part-time gig, the other Generals must lose their things all the time.” “I’m afraid not, dearest Cody. I fear I shall have to keep your particular skills to myself.” Obi-Wan takes the robe from Cody with a wink, their fingers brushing ever so slightly, and even through his gloves, Cody can feel the connection.

Cody smiles at the memory, groaning as he picks up the cloak. He carefully hangs the robe up in the closet, cleaning up after Obi-Wan once again. The Jedi had become a bit eccentric in his old age, the messy house a polar opposite to his former quarters at the Jedi Temple and on the cruiser where his room had been kept tidy. Just from where he stands at the front of the house he sees this is no longer the case. Obi-Wan had other things on his mind.

He moves further into the house, the clutter coming just short of disarray, He sees glimpses of the man he loves as he moves further in. Little details about the life that he should have been a part of. Tables stained with rings, little dents in the walls, scuff marks on the floors, proof that this house had been a home. The kitchen is difficult, there are scratches on the floor under the table and chairs. There are marks on the countertops and water stains near the sink. This kitchen had been lived in. Cody looks for some kind of food, something to help with at least some of the empty feelings. Looking through the cabinets he opens one and is overwhelmed by the scents that almost attack him. Throwing him back into yet another memory.

Obi-Wan had said it would be easy to find the droid. It should have been but the damn thing ran into a marketplace.

Undercover, Obi-Wan and Cody were in disguise, playing the couple who were simply at the market, searching for tea. While Obi-Wan was comfortable wearing a simple slightly worn-down robe, Cody was without his armor. The loose civilian shirt and pants have no weight nor the protection that his armor provided and he was only allowed a blaster on his hip. As they got ready Cody reminded Obi-Wan,

“Sir—I have the most recognizable face in the galaxy, how are we going to be inconspicuous?”

“You see my wonderful Cody. I did think of that. I grabbed this for you.”

Obi-wan brings his hand out of his robes holding—a hood? Cody can't exactly see what it is before Obi-Wan steps closer and puts the fabric around Cody’s head creating a hood.

“Genius as always sir—but this doesn't cover my face. It Isn't much of a disguise.”

Obi-wan takes the end of the fabric holding it up and across the bottom half of Cody’s face. Only his dark brown eyes can be seen.

“It is if you do this” Obi wan says grinning as he secures the fabric. They realize seemingly at the same time how close they are standing. Obi-Wan’s hand was still over Cody's shoulder and their faces were inches apart. He feels as if he is frozen in time as he stands close to Obi-Wan. For a moment he can imagine that this is real, that they truly were a couple simply out at the market for essentials. If they were, would they hold hands? Would they stand this close comfortably? Without care if they were allowed this one piece of sunshine in the darkness of a war?

Would Cody’s teasing about the endless tea that Obi-Wan collects end in a kiss on the cheek instead of a polite chuckle? These thoughts are all destined to be dreams, never reality. Cody clears his throat and looks out of the alley they had been hiding in. Now disguised as the couple–the pair continue down through the market. Eyes roaming the stands and crowds of people. Obi-Wan walks beside him, his arm hooked on Cody’s own.

“Wouldn't want to lose you”, Obi-Wan explains with a satisfied smile as Cody is glad that the redhead can't see the blush hidden by his mask. Surrounded by people and creatures from around the galaxy there are so many things to see, hear, and smell. Passing shop after shop the pair come upon a shop filled to the brim with different colored boxes and tins full of herbs and different teas. Cody looks over at Obi-Wan who is already grinning at him.

“Sir we don't have the time-” He tries to start but he is practically dragged into the tea shop by the Jedi general.

“Come now Cody, there is always time for tea. We haven't collected one for this mission have we?”

“No sir we haven’t,” Cody says, shaking his head but smiling. Obi-wan immediately begins to pursue the store, moving and investigating pile after pile of tea. Cody watches as Obi-Wan meticulously chooses a type of Deychin tea, one that is both of their favorites. They pay the attendant and Obi-Wan grabs Cody’s hand this time.

“Just to stay together,” Obi-wan reassures him. Cody wishes that he wasn't wearing gloves, cursing them the whole time they continue through the market. He wishes he had listened. That they had stayed together.

The cabinet Cody had opened contained one of every tea that Obi-Wan and Cody had collected over their years on different planets. Cody’s favorites remained untouched as if waiting for someone to appreciate them. He wonders if they are even good anymore. They had to be nearly two decades old by now. Yet, Obi-Wan had kept them. Simultaneously comforting and a little disquieting the scents come with the memories of times long gone, missions long finished. Obi-Wan had saved them, hoping that Cody would find him and that they'd be able to drink the tea together.

The stains on the counters, and dishes in the sink, just are further signs of the life that had occupied the house. Standing in the middle of the space, Cody can imagine himself finding Obi-Wan preparing tea and wrapping his arms around his waist to pull him in for an impromptu dance in the kitchen, their foreheads together no care in the galaxy but for the man in front of him. Again these would remain dreams wishes for a time that had passed without the chance to arrive in the first place.

From the kitchen Cody ventures into the bedroom, unlike the barren quarters he had held on The Negotiator, there are shelves of books and a small cot against the wall. Cody inspects the bookshelves, wanting more of an understanding of who the man he had loved became. Cody remembered how Obi-Wan had preferred using flimsi, claiming the datapads could hurt his eyes if used excessively. Upon closer inspection, one of the books on the shelf sits at an odd angle and Cody pushes it in; he hears a mechanical noise and takes his blaster out aiming it at the newly revealed shelf in the wall that holds several more books that Obi-Wan had not wanted found. Cody grabs one recognizing the little notebook Obi-Wan had carried around for most of the war.

It had been a harsh battle, scars would marr the landscape and soldiers alike for years to come. Cody finished talking to a group of shinies still shaken after their first fight before noticing a figure sitting under a tree alone. He nods to the troopers dismissing them with a hand to a shoulder, a handshake, and a salute as he tells them to get some rest. As he gets closer he realizes that Obi-Wan is asleep, a notebook just about to fall out of his hand.

Cody picks up the notebook, his heart sinking as he recognizes the names within. After every battle, Obi-Wan, his sweet kind hearted general, wrote every fallen vod’s name. No matter how long they had been with the 212th, every single man they lost was in one of the many journals Obi-Wan had filled out. Name after name filled the pages, even from the battles that Obi-Wan wasn't with them for. He flips back several pages looking for a specific name. Cody had entered it himself after they had left that hellhole of a planet. Umbara had taken up almost half a notebook.

Waxer had always helped Obi-Wan remember and gather the names of the journals. Now, the men all knew to bring the names straight to Obi-Wan or Cody, sometimes they even passed the journal around so the men could enter their brother's names themselves. Remembering their brothers who had marched on. Immortalizing those who marched forward. If you asked Cody, the ones who marched on weren't the ones who had fallen. It is the ones left living who have fallen behind. The ones left who wished that they could just march with their brothers again. The ones who stayed were cursed to hear their lost brother’s voice every day and yet they'd never hear them laugh again. Many had never had the chance to hold a photo of their brothers who marched on but would always see their faces. Cody looks past the journal smiling softly at his general asleep against the tree. He grabs the pen that Obi-Wan had been using and sits next to the sleeping Jedi. Setting his helmet beside him, He continues the list from where Obi-Wan had left off, two heavy pages later his own eyes start to droop as he yawns and settles back against the tree. He closes the notebook, sets it beside himself, and slowly lets himself relax enough to fall asleep next to Obi-wan. He startles awake when He feels Obi-Wan’s head rest on his shoulder. Looking at the clones who had also congregated around the pair leaning against their trees or their brothers he hoped none had noticed. His face burns with a blush as he looks down at Obi’s peaceful face he shrugs it's not like his brothers are oblivious, they often tease Cody about his affection for Obi-Wan anyway. Letting his head lean against Obi-Wan’s, Cody accepts his fate and falls back asleep.

Cody picks up the notebook sitting on top of the shelf, it’s the least used of the batch but it’s still about a third of the way full. He recognizes the names in this book as those of the Jedi, young and old. Names that Obi-Wan had grown up with, the names from the stories of Obi-Wan’s childhood. Stories told over fires and late nights over holo tables. He remembers the first name that Obi-Wan had put into the very first notebook, the name of his fallen master, now joined by his Jedi brethren.

The pages went on and on, as he flipped through the pages there were more spots where it seemed that a tear had fallen and landed on the page. He reaches the end and his heart stutters reading the names Ahsoka, Padme, Anakin, and Rex.

The last name is several blank pages later like Obi-Wan had wanted to give the name its own space. His name sits in the middle of the page, Cody. Alone, even in remembrance. His heart sinks seeing the stains surrounding the name.

The paper is warped around his name, evidence of the sorrow Obi-Wan had felt writing it down. Turning to another page he almost drops the notebook when he sees a letter addressed to him. His hands shake as he holds the notebook and as he reads, tears already begin to fall leaving identical marks to the ones his partner had left.

Dearest Cody, I don't believe that you will ever read this but on the odd chance you do, I have probably moved on. Not a day has passed that I haven't thought of you. From the second the suns rise to the minute the moon sets my thoughts are of you. I haven't felt your presence since that day on Utapau, perhaps whatever it was that caused the clones to turn and take you from me also blocked your presence from the force. I hope that should you ever find this, that you understand I never blamed you. I only wish that we could have had more time. I often wonder why the force would have brought us together just to tear us apart. I often try to find solace in the fact that you wouldn’t be alone. While I lost my family, you would always have your brothers. While we have been separated I have found solace in the fact that I will always have you. The memories we shared could never be erased from my mind, nor could they grow foggy with time as I regularly revisit them to see your face. I treasure the time we had together and only wish that we could have had more. I do hope that someday you find my humble dwelling, not home–not yet, not without you. For you know what they say, dearest Cody, home is where your heart is, but my heart was never here. I never said it aloud but just know I thought it every day, I love you, Cody. I think from the very first time we met. I continue to live and shall end my days with the hope I shall see you again, be it in this life or next. All my love, Obi Wan Kenobi

Cody can't help but stare at the letter for several more minutes. Re-reading and analyzing every single word on the paper. Throughout reading the letter, many of the warped places on the page were joined by twin marks right beside them. Cody had been mourned. That should bring some comfort, shouldn't it?

It doesn't. He hadn't been there. This house wasn't his, the chair on the front porch sat empty beside its partner. If he closes his eyes he can imagine what could have been, mornings beginning with tea out on the porch waiting for the pitter-patter of little feet to shatter the quiet of a peaceful sunrise. Cody knows Obi-Wan was good with kids, he raised Anakin and practically raised Ahsoka, if everything had gone the way it should have, would that have even been in the picture? Cody had never allowed himself to wonder. They would have adopted, of course, found children who needed a home.

After finishing the letter and replacing it in the wall with the others, He doesn't spend long in the bedroom; the sight of the robes still in the closet and the single wilted sunflower on the bedside table promise nothing but more tears.

Stepping back into the main room, the house now fully explored, Cody stands alone. Not an uncommon occurrence, but now the feeling is greater than ever. He had missed his chance at life. The years he had been given were short and most had been spent searching for what could never be found. However as he looks around the house that still sits in slight disarray he realizes that whatever the next years will bring, Obi-Wan has made him a home. Albeit unknowingly he had prepared this space that felt lived in and loved and cared for and now Cody will live just as Obi-Wan did, alone but with the knowledge that his partner had left him a haven. Away from the galaxy and the fight, no need to search any longer, for Obi-Wan is not lost and neither is Cody.

Now done with his search and feeling more at peace than he had in well his entire life, Cody makes his way back to the front of the house with a cup of tea in each hand. He sets one down next to a pot holding a newly blooming sunflower, reflecting the rays of the suns finally setting. Still holding the other, He sits in the rocking chair on the left looking out upon the planes of desert sand. He puts his hand on the armrest of the other chair and for one fleeting moment, he feels another hand on top of his. As he closes his eyes and finally relaxes, he does not know about the blue figure beside him that tells him "Welcome home dearest."

[cupidbedsy]

▷ a will smith surprise ; the film effect

➪ summary: it's gabe's last game of the season and will, of course, is not going to miss it

➪ warnings: none !

➪ word count: 0.8k

➪ file type: the film effect blurb

➪ cupid's notes: for my sweet reyrey ( @fantillisgirl ) after i made her upset with the ice bound fic :(

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

It’s only been a week since Gabe and Molly had last seen their boyfriend, and they were already missing him like crazy. The two weeks they were able to spend with him - cuddling 24.7, going and watching Gabe’s games, playing Mario Kart - were the best two weeks the three have ever experienced. But now, Four Nations has ended and the season is back in full swing, finishing the last two months before playoffs. 

The same could be said for Gabe, after playing three games since Will went back to San Jose, it’s finally his last one of the season, or at least for the regular season. Molly has shown her endless support for both of them, sporting both her Perreault and Smith jerseys like they were permanently attached to her, but she knew that both of them wanted the other two to be there too. 

Which is why, Will convinced his coach to healthy scratch him from tonight’s game so he could watch Gabe’s final game of the regular season and cheer him on from the stands. It had taken a lot of talking and a lot of persuading but Will pulled it off and now here he was, sitting next to Molly in Conte Forum as they watched BC play Merrimack, both of them wearing Gabe’s jersey proudly.

Will had always been one for surprises, whether it was the one surprising someone or the one being surprised, it seemed to be a constant thing in his life and this was just another one to add to the list. He had planned to tell his boyfriend he was coming, but holding out the little piece of information was worth seeing his face.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Molly’s voice was soft but he could recognize it anywhere.

Will turned to grin at her, kissing her head, “Me neither, but I’m so happy I’m here… with you.”

As much as the three loved spending time together, they enjoyed the little moments that were shared just between two of them. For Molly and Will in particular, it was moments like these, where they could just stare at each other and share little bits and pieces of their day without having to worry about anything else, it was just the two of them.

“I love you.” The confession caught her off guard, but it made her grin widely, leaning over to kiss him.

“I love you too.”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The two were too excited to stand around in the arena any longer, so with a quick text to Ryan the two made their way outside and started making up a random handshake as they waited for their boyfriend. 

They got halfway through their mostly confusing handshake when they heard voices and footsteps coming from behind him. Molly was quick to usher Will behind the wall, grinning like a fool as she rocked back and forth on her feet, watching as Gabe and his teammates walked closer. 

Gabe came to a stop in front of her, placing his hands on her hips, “Hi baby.”

“Hi.” She continued smiling, placing a few kisses across his face before pulling away.

“What’s got you so smiley, hm?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips, “Oh yeah? And what’s this surprise you got for me? Chocolate? A sweatshirt that you’ve stolen from me? Or a-”

“Gabe! Shut up and let me show you.”

He laughed, allowing her to lead her wherever she was going, covering his eyes with his free hand, “Tell me when I can open them.”

They stopped further down and Will’s hand replaced Molly’s but Gabe didn’t even seem to flinch at the sudden change of temperatures. He tapped his foot impatiently, groaning slightly, “Molls c’mon. Don’t leave me hanging here, baby.”

“Okay okay, open them!”

When he did, his eyes found Molly almost immediately and looked at her slightly confused, “I don’t see a surprise here, sweetheart.”

But it didn’t take long for him to put the pieces together when he noticed that he was standing to his right but his left hand was still holding onto something. He glanced to his side and his mouth dropped open at the sight of his boyfriend, “What’re you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”

Will gave him a boyish grin, bouncing excitedly on his feet, “I might’ve convinced coach to scratch me.”

“You are insane, William.” Despite his words, he brought him into a hug, holding him tightly.

Molly squeezed herself into the middle of them, wanting nothing more than to be sandwiched between her two favorite people. The two let her wedge her way in, hugging her even tighter than they had hugged each other.

Will Smith’s surprises were Gabe and Molly’s favorite thing in the universe… well third favorite thing in the universe.

꒰ THE FILM EFFECT TAGLIST ꒱

@winterbarnesblog @delilaahh9 @digitalhughes-jpg @rowdyluv @fantillisgirl @macklin-celebrini-71

THE FILM EFFECT MASTERLIST ; AU'S

TAGLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

[sinostra-fico]

Romeo’s expression didn’t shift immediately, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him—Taiga’s words—sharp, teasing, and laced with that maddening fondness—had a way of hitting their mark, and Romeo hated how often he let them get to him.

As Taiga pressed his lips to the back of Romeo’s hand, he froze for half a second, his breath catching before he could reel it back in. He quickly schooled his features, his free hand moving to brush a strand of silver hair away from his face as though he were bored rather than flustered.

“Soft? For you? Don’t flatter yourself, Taiga. LYP. You’re lucky I’m too stubborn to let you die in a puddle of your own stupidity, that’s all.”

He stepped into the room as Taiga pushed the door open, his sharp gaze sweeping over the usual mess before flicking back to the man beside him. Romeo’s fingers stayed laced with Taiga’s for a moment longer than necessary, his thumb brushing lightly—almost absentmindedly—against his skin before he finally let go. He turned toward the cluttered desk in the corner, picking up an empty glass and sighing loudly as if the weight of Taiga’s chaos were his cross to bear.

“Maybe I do enjoy yelling at you. Did that ever cross your mind, you ridiculous, reckless moron? Someone has to keep you in line, and God knows no one else is stupid enough to try.”

He set the glass down with a deliberate clink, then turned back to face Taiga, his arms crossing over his chest. His eyes softened just a touch as they settled on him, taking in the exhaustion still etched into his features despite the grin plastered across his face. Romeo let out a long, measured sigh, the kind he only ever gave when Taiga had worn him down entirely.

“But don’t get used to it, alright? You’ve got a long way to go before I start letting you off the hook that easily. Just because you’re a disaster doesn’t mean you get a free pass to turn me into one too.”

His words were harsh, but there was no hiding the warmth in his gaze, the way his voice softened ever so slightly at the end. He took a step closer, his tone dropping low as he leaned in just enough to meet Taiga’s eyes directly.

“And for the record? If I was getting soft, it’d still be your fault. So don’t go thinking you’re off the hook for that either.”

He straightened, brushing invisible dust off his blazer with a dramatic flick of his hand, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the edges of his lips. It was fleeting, subtle, but unmistakable. Romeo didn’t wait for a reply before turning toward the chair near Taiga’s bed, settling himself into it with an air of practiced ease.

“Now, hurry up and get some sleep before I change my mind and drag you to Mortkranken. You look like hell, and frankly, I’m not about to sit here all night just to make sure you don’t bleed out. I’ve got standards, you know.”

Despite his words, Romeo didn’t move, his magenta gaze following Taiga’s every step with quiet vigilance, as if daring him to call him out for staying longer than necessary.

<<5 new messages from Taiga>>

Hey Lulu

Be a darling and bring me some anomalous meds

[Photo attachment: a nasty bleeding gash on his side that he's done a botched job of sewing halfway closed]

Can't hold the needle properly

Vision is getting kinda blurry lol

@blundering-thoughtless-hooligan

<<5 subsequent replies from Romeo>>

TAIGA YOU BTH—!

Stop trying to do it yourself

you're going to leave permanent scars that not even laser skin resurfacing will be able to repair.

Put the damn needle down

I'm coming ASAP. idiot.

[imaginethisisagoodname]

This is my idea for what a interns trauma candy salad might looks like

Bart: “hi I’m Bart and I raised a kid when I was 8 because neither of us had parents and I brought the bowl”

Mudd: “Hi I’m mudd and my memory got wiped by a bunch of rocks and I’m bringing the dirt”

Gum Gum “Hi, im gum gum and my mom is a god and I’m bringing the gum”

Kyborg “hi I’m kyborg and my entire village got murdured and my arm got chopped off by quadron and I brought the sour patch kids”

Bart “hi I’m Bart again and my parents got taken by a shadow queen and I brought the skittles”

Mudd “hi I’m mudd and my mentor tried to kill me and my dad and I brought more dirt”

Gum gum “hi I’m gum gum and one time I ate a worm and it was really wriggly and scary and I brought the skittles”

Kyborg “hi I’m kyborg and I spent 30 years in a forest without any other people mourning my family and i brought the gummy worms”

Gum gum : “ WORMS?!”

Kyborg “yeah???”

Bart “didn’t you know gum gum is afraid of worms?”

Kyborg “no?”

Gum gum “ BART HELP THE WORMS ARE COMING TO ATTACK ME” * starts running around and swinging his axe*

Bart “Don’t worry they’re just candy, see” *eats a gummy worm*

“ NOW THEY’RE GOINF TO KILL BOTH OF US!!!MUDD YOU KNOW ANIMALS, HELP!!!!”

Bart “don’t worry buddy, I’m fine”

Mudd *eats a gummy worm and then turns into a worm*

Gum gum “ OH MY GOODNESS MUDD HAS BEEN TURNED INTO ONE OF THEM”

Kyborg *stunned*

[simcardiac-arrested]

wait, that elias?

[leviiackrman]

I just found out what happens to dabi at the end of mha. Don’t talk to me.

[steviescrystals]

i seriously need to get a new job and start making money again asap bc i cannot keep living at home much longer it’s driving me insane

(wrote an entire essay in the tags without meaning to oops)

[navybrat817]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—in which toji is constantly fucking women and disturbing your peace. your complaints lead to you becoming one of them.

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! college reader

cw: smut, breeding, daddy kink, size kink, age gap, toji being a cocky prick, unsafe sex, ass slapping, mentions of cervix touching

Ever since you heard about your next door neighbor Mr. Fushiguro going through a divorce, things have been hell. For you.

From the day he first moved into the apartment, constantly arguing on the phone with his ex wife about whose turn it was to watch his son, Megumi.

When Megumi is over, everything’s quiet, and you finally get a chance to rest your head and relax in peace. Doing some studying and cleaning in the quiet atmosphere.

You wished the black haired boy would stay for just a day longer, because Toji is back to his usual self hours later. Bringing in young college girls one after the other. Fucking them hard against his headboard as they let out loud cries of daddy. It was annoying. You could even stay inside anymore to get work done.

At every hour of the day he seemed to be active, fucking through all sorts of women, the shaking of your thin bedroom wall never coming to an end as high pitched moans echoed through.

It was getting to the point where you couldn’t take it. You were so fed up. Didn’t he ever get tired? Tired of promising these young desperate girls to call them back only to throw away their numbers and fuck their friends the next day.

Weeks go by and nothing changes, Megumi coming over for a silent three days then leaving again. Giving his father enough time to fuck any feelings for his ex wife out of his system.

You swore you couldn’t take it, you had barely been able to study, occasionally spending an hour or two in a nearby café between classes. When you noticed your grades slipping, your eyes having prominent bags at the lack of sleep, you groan loudly in frustration. Finding your legs moving before you could even process it.

Your fist raising to knock on the man’s door once, then twice, with no answer. You huffed, going in to knock a third time before the door swung open. A tall, muscular man towering over you with a scowl. “What?”

Your eyes widened as you scanned over his body, his perfectly sculpted face, broad shoulders, defined abs, and the very distinct outline in his sweats.

The man cleared his throat, a smirk gracing his face when he startled you out of your intense drooling. “Now, what do we have here?” he chuckled deeply, tilting his head to the side with crossed arms as he rested against the door’s frame. “Here to get your turn doll?”

You gulped, finding it harder to spit out your words as the Fushiguro man stared you down. “I.. I’m here to ask you to keep the noise down, some people have actual work to do.”

Toji whistled, “Oh? A bold one huh? I like it,” His hand reaching under your chin to make you look fully up at him. “you’re a pretty little thing you know,” he spoke, running his thumb along your bottom lip, “wonder what you’d look like ruined underneath me.”

You ignored the flutter that went off in your pussy, clenching your thighs discreetly as you glared. “Just keep the noise down okay old man? I'm trying to study.”

Toji could feel his cock grow harder, you were just what he needed. “So i’m an old man now? That’s a first, usually girls like you just call me daddy.” he shrugged, “but it’s okay, you’ll get there.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked away from him, annoyance written all over your face to mask the arousal swirling in your stomach. He’d probably fucked the entire neighborhood by now, including the campus, so you weren’t gonna fall for his sick charms. You just hoped he complied and kept the place quiet, you didn’t need that usual noise the day before your big test.

Toji had surprisingly did as you asked, and you sighed in content as you read through the pages of your notes. Your pen in your hand finding itself in between your teeth as you bit down softly. You got what you wanted, so why was your mind running wild with thoughts of the Fushiguro man’s hands on your body as he fucked you like all of those other girls.

You shifted in your seat, one leg over the other to bring stimulation to your needy clit making you whimper softly. You couldn’t let yourself give in.

Another week passed and you once again found yourself in the same noisy predicament. Your mind couldn’t help but wander to the man more than twice your age. Way too old for you yet just so.. hot. Toji Fushiguro had become your fantasy.

And it was unbearable.

Hearing all these moans day and night. Hearing Toji’s loud grunts and groans as he no doubt left them with the best fuck of their lives.

It was Thursday, and Megumi would be coming tomorrow per routine, so you’d finally get a break then. But, you couldn’t deny the fact that you wanted an excuse to go over there. Your face serious as you banged on his door.

You waited a minute, a shirtless Toji emerging into the door frame as it flew open. Toji smirked, “Ah, you again.” His sweatpants hung dangerously low beneath the start of his v line, black hair messy as his tongue darted out to swipe across his lips. “Finally came to your senses?”

His last fuck had left right before you came, coincidentally of course.

“N-no.” you objected sternly. “I’m here to ask you again to just be.. what are yo-“

You swallowed hard when he began stalking towards you, a sinister grin on his face as you were backed up against a wall. His breath fanned your head as he bent his neck. Hands on the walls near each side of your face. “Your face says otherwise, doll.”

“No it d-doesn’t.. you’re just a cocky old man preventing me from getting things done.”

Toji’s brow raised with a deep hearty chuckle, “Back to that nickname i see,” His hand grabbing hold of your cheeks and squeezing them together. “Gonna have to clean that mouth of yours, teach you how to be a good girl.”

You whimpered lowly, feeling wetness pool between your legs as you looked up through your lashes. Toji’s eyes trailing to your glossy lips as he inhaled sharply. “Don’t worry, this dirty old man’s lips are clean”

Pressing his lips roughly to yours, your eyes widening as you gripped the edge of your skirt with a moan. Toji smirked against your lips, his hands hooking beneath your legs as he lifted you up. Your frame so much smaller in comparison to his larger one.

Toji was quick to bring you inside. And you found yourself sitting on the man’s lap, your skirt bunched up at your hips as he hammered up into your wet cunt with brute force. His hands kneading into the flesh of your ass each time you ground your hips onto him.

You let out a loud mewl, his thick cock stretching you out and grazing against your gummy walls as he fucked you deep. Feeling him within your stomach when you cried out. “Fushiguro-san— ah, so- ngh g-ood.”

“That’s not my name doll, try again.” he growled deeply, landing his palm onto your ass in a hard slap. And you whimpered tearfully at the sting. “T-toji—” Another harsh smack burning through your flesh making you let out a cry. “Last chance.”

You moaned loudly, your back arching as Toji slammed into you. “D-daddy, ahh daddy, o-oh fuckk—,”

Toji hummed in satisfaction, “Look at you, thought i was a dirty old man hmm?” His teeth biting softly at the delicate skin of your neck, his pelvis hitting your red puffy folds relentlessly. “Moaning for me like a little slut, so fucking pretty.”

You let out a shaky cry, “Haah— F-fushiguro-san,” Your pussy clenched down on his girth, his rough hand making its way around your throat, squeezing the sides and forcing you to look at him. “Not gonna fucking tell you again.”

You mewled, “‘M sorry— nngh,” Your back arching when Toji bullied his cock deeper into you.

“Still waiting doll.” he grunted, eyes dark as his grip on your throat tightened, your moans and whimpers loud as his thighs noisily met your sticky cunt. “D-addy— ahh- so good,” you cried, feeling his angry tip forcing its way to your cervix, kissing the entrance with each harsh thrust.

“Good fucking girl, you’re getting there” he grinned with a groan. A creamy ring formed around the base of his cock, your pussy gushing messily onto him as loud squelching sounds filled the room. “Pussy’s so fucking tight— better be on the pill cause i’m botta cum in that pretty pussy, shit.”

“Ah— nngh daddy, ‘m close- gonna cum.” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back and your lips parting in a string of incoherent babbles, Toji’s thrusts sloppy as he groaned.

“Gonna cum on this old man’s dick yeah?” He teased cockily, “Had so much talk for someone who’s falling apart on my cock.” Toji grunted, “Bet ya sat there listening like a lil perv, your hand down your panties hmm?”

You shook your head no with a cry, “Uh uh- ahh— wasn’t.”

“Sure about that? Sure you didn’t sit there and fantasize about me fucking you like a little slut?” His hand reached down to rub at your clit, a loud moan escaping your mouth.

Your breathing sped up as you felt a coil buildup in your stomach. Your body shaking with pure ecstasy. You let out a high pitched scream, the stimulation to your g spot making your head go fuzzy. Vision turning white as you clenched down tightly on Toji’s cock.

“O-oh fuck— ‘m cumming— ah, cumming daddy.” Toji’s hand pressed down harder on your throat, the pressure restricting your air flow making you let out a choked mewl. Tears welling in your eyes as his heavy balls smacked against your ass.

“Nngh—” The ring of white thickened at his base as you let out whiny cries. Toji’s hand working small circles on the sensitive bud before he brought his lips to your ear. His voice deep and gruff as he groaned. “Fuck doll- squeezing me so tight, come on and scream for me.” He breathed, “make a mess on my cock.”

Toji’s mean pace became too much, a tight pull in your stomach as your mouth fell open, legs trembling with loud cries as an unfamiliar feeling washed over you.

It was heavenly, your brain going dumb and your pupils disappearing behind heavy lids as you screamed loudly, head falling back and nails digging into his shoulders as you fell off the edge.

Toji never slowing the movement of his hips, still hammering up into you despite the mess you were making on his thighs. Your pussy spraying streams after streams of clear liquid as you arched your hips, grinding back and forth to ride out your squirting orgasm.

“Even fucking louder than any of my previous fucks.” he laughed, “Wonder what the neighbors would say, went from being a whiny little bitch to being the same thing you complained about.”

You let out a whine, Toji flipping you abruptly onto your back, his hand still around your neck as the position allowing him to hit even deeper. “Fuck,” he grunted, his words in between each thrust. “gonna fucking breed that pussy so deep.” Letting out a low groan at the last thrust, his lips meeting yours in a sloppy kiss as he bottomed out.

A whimper fell past your lips into his when you felt him fill you up, his cum shooting in hot thick spurts along the walls of your cunt.

He smirked as he pulled away, watching you pant heavily. “Would make such a good breeding bunny.” Dipping his fingers past your lips and resting them on the back of your tongue. “Might have to keep you around, can’t be disturbed if you’re the one making the noise now can you?”

You shook your head tiredly, forcing your eyes to stay open as Toji pulled out of you. His sticky cum seeping out of your fluttering pussy slowly. Your brain was still so clouded, blinking in and out of blurry vision.

Toji hid the smile threatening to creep up onto his face, his face neutral as he plopped down onto the couch next to you. “Rest if you need to, then leave.” He said nonchalantly, trying to seem like his usual self despite the fact that he had not kicked you out yet. Which was something he never did, let a girl stay any longer than a second after sex.

The man would never admit it, but there was just something about you.

He wanted to make you his pretty little doll.