#I had to tell a couple of them not to get up so I could get all my pictures admittedly XD

[p1astr81]

Casually mentioning being watched could be hot and oscar arranging for Lando to watch the both of you as a birthday treat.

warnings: exhibition, voyeurism, lando has a gay awakening😭, unprotected piv (just wrap it mate), oral (f&m receiving), rough sex, reverse cowgirl, dacryphilia

Oscar didn’t go out often, but when he did, you were sure to take advantage of it.

The congested crowds, loud music, people too engrossed in their own conversations to pay attention to what was going on around them. It all made it too easy for you to rile Oscar up, get him all hot and bothered so by the time you make it back to the hotel, he’s handling you like a rag doll.

This time, you were standing with your back to his chest. Your ass purposely rubbed against his crotch, and you could feel him grow harder with every sway of your hips. His hands found your curves there, halting your motions. He lowered his lips to your ear. “Lando’s watching.” He muttered.

Sure enough, lando stood with Alex and George across the room, pretending to nod along to their conversation. Unfortunately for him, his wandering eyes weren’t very secretive.

Nor was the tent in his dress pants.

You bit your lip, looking over your shoulder. “I think he’s rather enjoying the show.” You pointed out.

But Oscar didn’t notice Lando’s excitement at the scene. That was thrown to the back of his mind when you ground your ass against him harder than you had previously. “I think you’re enjoying his gaze.” He chuckled.

Spinning on your heels, you faced him now, arms tightening around his neck. “Hm, I don’t know.” You shrugged, pulling him down to whisper in his ear. “I think being watched could be hot.”

When you pulled away, he laughed at the wicked smirk on your face. His gaze flicked from your eyes to Lando. Oscar could tell the older man was now trying desperately to not turn his gaze back in the direction of the couple.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth on you.”

“Even dirtier mind.”

The hotel door was thrown open. It hadn’t even clicked closed before Oscar pounced on you. “Happy birthday,” he rasped into your mouth, swallowing the moans that escaped you when he squeezed your ass.

“Thanks, winner.” You grinned, hands trailing under his shirt before you pulled it over his head with a practiced ease. He cocked his head at that, hands on your hips, taking control easily. Your legs hit the bed, falling to the mattress with a gracious ease, hair splayed like a goddess. A ravenous groan vibrated his chest while his hands snaked under your dress to curl his fingers around your lacy panties. He didnt need to ask questions, you were already moaning in anticipation, “please, Osc I need you so bad.”

He chuckled, shoving the dress over your head, but taking his sweet time to pull your panties down your legs. He couldn’t help the moan that left his lips at how wet you were.

“Please,”

He didn’t make you wait any longer, dipping his head between your legs. The usual teasing kisses to your folds was skipped and he dove his tongue right into you. “Oh, fuck!” You shouted, shocked at the intrusion.

Like a lion starved, he devoured you from the inside out. The air was filled with the sounds of his slick while he messily ate you out and sucked on your clit like it was his own personal lollipop. Your hands thread through his hair, back arching off the bed, hips grinding against his face. “Fuck, you’re so good a this,” you gasped, trying—and failing—to catch your breath.

His hands found purchase in your thighs, fingertips digging into the skin there. “Osc! I’m so close! Please-“ you gasped, the both of you pausing at the knock on the door.

Pulling away, Oscar’s mouth and chin were coated in your juices while he grinned at you. He wiped his face with his middle two fingers before slipping them into his mouth an sucking them clean, all while keeping his eyes on yours.

A loud whine escaped you involuntarily. You shooed him off to the door when there was another knock, then scrambled up the bed, legs curled to your chest in an attempt to cover your most intimate parts.

Lando stood in front of a shirtless Oscar, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I heard you already started.” He attempted to ease his own nerves by getting Oscar to laugh. For Lando’s sake, thank god he did.

“Yeah, come in.”

Your brows furrowed hearing Oscar’s words, scrambling for the sheets. They were tucked in place, leaving you vulnerable to the lustful gaze of your boyfriend’s partner.

“Lando-“ your eyes searched the room for an answer.

Oscar graced you with one. “You said you thought it would be hot, so…” he gestured to Lando, “happy birthday.”

“Are you both okay with this?”

The older man groaned, his eyes hadn’t left your partially exposed pussy. “Fuck yes.” He gasped, jumping to the bed and trying to crawl up it to get a taste of you.

Your foot hit his chest, keeping him at a distance. At the same time, it exposed more of you to him and the boy fucking whined like a wounded puppy, palming himself through his pants.

Oscar grabbed him by his collar, effortlessly removing him from the bed. “I said you could watch. Not join.” He booted him off to the couch adjacent to the bed. It was a perfect view.

You sat for a moment, pitying the fool. “Perhaps if he’s good?”

Scoffing, he shook his head. Not a disagreement, but bewilderment. “You’re a filthy girl.”

“I think you secretly love it.” You whispered against his lips before kissing him. It was messy, all teeth and tongue and filthy moans.

You were distracted, and he took the opportunity to stuff two of his fingers into your crying cunt. You cried out as his long fingers repeatedly slam into your g-spot. “Fuck, fuck,” you panted, gripping onto his arms. “Hmmm! I’m gonna-!”

He moaned as he felt your liquids gush all over his fingers, your back arching off the bed while your mouth hung open in a silent scream.

One hand of his continued to pump inside you, slowing, helping you come down. The other ran up and down your side, soothing you. “That’s it,” he encouraged, soft kisses finding your face.

He let you come back down to earth before flipping you over, mangling your body into reverse cowgirl. “Look at him,” Oscar muttered in your ear, his hand steady on your jaw. At who? You’d almost asked before your eyes found Lando. You forgot he was there. “Look at how bad he wants to join, how hard he’s gripping that couch. God, his knuckles are turning white.” His teeth grazed your ear. “Bet you want him to join, huh? Show me what a filthy girl you really are, how much of a slut you can be.”

You whimpered, feeling his hard dick pressing into your clit. “Please, Oscar,” you breathed, head lulling back to rest on his shoulder.

“Yeah? Want him to fuck you in front of me?”

You shook your head quickly. “Want you.”

Holy fuck, Lando’s brain was going crazy. He didn’t know what to focus on. The curve of your tits, how perky and on display they were for him—that was the obvious answer. But fucking hell, the way Oscar spoke to you in that low voice and commanded your attention so easily, that really seemed to do something to him.

Oscar didn’t wait for you to beg any more, lifting your hips and slamming you down onto his cock. “Oh, fuck!” You gasped, eyes rolled to the back of your head at the sudden intrusions

“Cmon baby, you want it?”

You nodded.

“Then take it.”

You tried to, you really did. Tried to bounce on his dick and show him that you were only a slut for him. But your attempts were feeble, too clouded by the pleasure—you just couldn’t get more than a few bounces in before stopping because it felt too good.

“Already fucked out and you’ve only cum on my fingers.” He feigned sympathy.

Hands gripping your hips, he took control. The speed at which he was forcing you to ride him made it evident he didn’t care about prolonging the pleasure. He just wanted to see how quick he could make you break.

It was a welcome switch up from his usual form in bed. He tended to be more gentle, favoring to make it feel more like a connection than a simple pleasure escapade.

He let your body drop, propping your ass up and fucking you from behind. He used your hips as leverage, pumping his cock into you like you were merely an object for his enjoyment. Gasps and moans of his name were the only coherent noises you could make.

It felt heavenly, and tears started to brim your eyes. Moans were punched from your lungs with every harsh thrust of his.

Lando—forgotten about by you, but not by Oscar—was fully losing it. He couldn’t stop squirming. He should’ve looked away, spared himself some of the torture. But he couldn’t. And truthfully, he was beginning to question himself. He didn’t know if he’d rather be in Oscar’s position, or yours.

“Touch yourself.” Oscar commanded of him.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He shoved his pants down his feet, along with his boxers. A shuttered moan left his lips as he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. “Fuck,” he whispered, matching the fisting of his cock to the pace of Oscar’s thrusts. He was losing himself quickly, his moans mixing with yours and Oscar’s grunts and the lewd wet squelches.

God, if anyone were to walk by…

A new sound joined the symphony—a choked cry, followed by a desperate plea of Oscar’s name.

Lando gripped his cock harder at the sight of tears rolling down your face.

Scared he’d hurt you, Oscar slowed down. “No!” You interjected quickly. “Don’t stop, I’m so close!” You balled the sheets up in your fist as Oscar’s thrusts sped up again. His hand snaked down to your clit, fingers pressing hard and rubbing in tight circles. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, please Oscar!” You cried, feeling his full fingernails dig into the skin of your hip.

Your eyes focused on lando, then trailed lower, lower until-

“Oh, fuck! Oscar, yes!” You came with a shout, the sight of Lando getting himself off to your activities pushing you over the edge.

Oscar spilled inside of you as soon as he felt you squeeze around him. He groaned your name, the loudest sound of the night. He fucked through your highs until he heard your little whimpers of overstimulation. He was careful when pulling out, planting soft kisses up the curve of your spine. “Did so good for me, my pretty baby.” He muttered into your skin, earning a soft mewl.

Across the room, Lando was still trying to reach his own orgasm, whimpering with each stroke of his own hand. He was desperate for it, you could hear it in his noises, and see that in the way his head was thrown back and his eyes were squeezed shut.

When Oscar stepped out of the room to retrieve a towel, you crawled from the bed. You stopped right in front of Lando, on your knees. He hadn’t noticed you.

Your boyfriend returned and you gave him the widest, biggest doe eyes you’d ever given him. “Os,” you whined, pouting.

Lando’s eyes shot open. He hadn’t even known you were there—lips inches from his leaking tip—until you’d spoken.

“Go on, help him out.” Oscar gestured.

You gave your doe eyes to Lando while you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock. “Huh, fuck,” he groaned, involuntarily thrusting into your mouth.

“Nah uh, let her do the work.” Oscar instructed, nodding to where you were now bobbing your head up and down his length. Still giving him those big glassy eyes. Oscar sat next to Lando.

The older man was approaching his peak quick, faster than he’d ever before. “Fucking hell, she’s good.”

Oscar chuckled, “I know. Who do you think taught her?”

What a stupid question, lando thought—only because it put an equally stupid image in his head: Oscar sucking him off instead.

“Oh!” Lando shouted, spilling his release down your throat without warning. He wasn’t even thinking, and grabbed hold of Oscar’s throat, kissing him.

Your brows shot up, moaning around Lando dick at the sight. You felt him soften in your mouth, releasing him with a pop. You giggled at the stunned look on both men’s faces.

“Mate I’m not-“ Oscar started.

“No, no I know.” Lando interjected. “I think I’m into guys.” He confessed, panting.

You hid your giggle behind your hand—albeit, not that well. “You think?”

[inkfire-scribe]

I walked by the 7-11 every day on my way home from school. I always had, really, but this spring I've been actually looking forward to it, because I would see the 7-11 dragon.

She wasn't huge, as dragons went, which was probably why the manager didn't try to chase her off. She was obviously nesting, though, and that made them nervous. Me and some of the guys got together to tell the 7-11 manager we wanted her to stay, and if they just let her nest up there we'd come by a few times a week and get soda and candy and stuff. I mean, we were gonna get soda and candy and stuff anyway, but getting them at the 7-11 wasn't too big an ask.

So they let her stay, and we got to watch her build her nest and get comfy. We even shared our snacks with her sometimes. She especially likes Flamin Hot Cheetos, but we were careful not to give them to her every day. She needed real food.

Dougie even climbed up there to clear away the bones and stuff when it started to smell. She let him do it because she got a whole bag of Cheetos out of it, I'm pretty sure, but Dougie refuses to admit that's what he did. I know, though. I found the bag.

I've been stopping by every day for a month now, and honestly it was impressive how big she was getting, her tummy ballooning over the last week or so as her eggs started taking up all the room she had. She got grumpy a couple days ago and hasn't been accepting any snacks, so we thought that meant she was about ready to lay her eggs.

And we were right!

Today I stopped by to see her and she was sitting up where I could see her, catching the last of the evening sun. She was so skinny compared to just yesterday I almost didn't believe it. She spotted me almost right off and whistled - it was her happy whistle. I think she was actually inviting me up to see her nest.

I'm scared of heights, so I didn't go up, but Dougie says there are 8 eggs in the nest now, all of them big and leathery.

I can't wait until they hatch.

The 7-11 dragon laid her eggs! 

You can watch the process of this painting under the story highlight “Process 20″ on my Instagram!

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[cipheress-to-k-pop]

beauty and the beast (m.r.)

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Word Count: 9.3k

Summary: Mattheo Riddle, the infamous heartbreaker, gets his heart broken.

A/N: this is my first fic ever for matty but basically what happened was i read @redeemingvillains's amazing amazing fic called 'Dove' and it made me feral and i wrote this when i was supposed to be studying for my finals

im not so sure abt it lol because i feel like it's all over the place but this is what happens when i get depressed and get inspired at the same time

so, i hope you enjoy the product of my academic burnout and procrastination

also vee i hope you like the fic cuz ur most definitely my celebrity crush hehe 👉👈

Mattheo Riddle and you made an odd couple—at least, that’s what everyone said.

He was the son of the Dark Lord, Slytherin’s crowned king. All sharp edges and smoldering glances, more beast than boy. Mattheo solved problems with fists long before he used his brain, and even then, he was more likely to headbutt the issue than think it through. Fights, bruises, bleeding knuckles—he was practically the poster child for them.

You, on the other hand, were his opposite in every imaginable way.

Hufflepuff’s sweetheart. A sunbeam in human form. You were always wrapped in soft pastels with flower crowns tucked into your hair, hands sticky with sugar from baking treats or speckled with soil from planting herbs. You loved baby animals and warm tea, and your hands only ever got dirty in the name of creation or care.

So when Mattheo Riddle—the dark moon to your warm, gentle sun—started showing interest in you, your friends were quick to intervene.

Mattheo loved flustering you. Whether it was a cocky compliment or a teasing nickname, he’d always say something just to catch that bashful blush on your cheeks. He’d lean in too close, grinning like a devil as you tried to hide your smile.

“Ah! You’re just so cute. Muah!” You giggled one afternoon, pressing a kiss to the head of a tiny kitten. You’d found a litter of them near the castle grounds and built a makeshift shelter, lining it with soft blankets. To your delight, your friends had fallen in love with them too, helping feed and cuddle the kittens when they could. You came today for the usual dose of kitten therapy.

“Wow, where’s mine?”

The deep voice startled you so much you nearly toppled over from the crouch you were in, silently praying to Helga that your arse wouldn’t land on a defenseless kitten.

“Woah there!”

Luckily, someone caught you—one hand steadying your back, the other gripping your elbow just enough to stop your fall. The kitten in your arms squirmed and you realized you might’ve squeezed it in your surprise. Loosening your grip, you gently pet between its ears with a single finger, smothering it with kisses as an apology.

“You really know how to make a bloke jealous, sunshine,” Mattheo said, his voice a low purr near your ear, “I save you, and you’re still more invested in the kitten.”

You turned, only to find him inches from your face. You squeaked again, your blush rising fast as you looked away, tucking your face into your shoulder. Mattheo grinned.

You cleared your throat, trying to gather yourself, “Well, if you recall, you’re the reason I almost fell in the first place.”

His smirk widened, one brow arching—the same brow with the notch he’d gotten in a fight just a few days ago. You’d heard about it in passing, less concerned about the fight and more about whether anyone had been seriously hurt. Your friends had smiled gently at your concern, telling you you were too sweet for this world.

“I didn’t realize I distracted you, princess.”

The nickname was your undoing. Again.

You turned away, hiding behind another kitten as your cheeks burned. You couldn’t understand how someone like Mattheo Riddle found so much joy in tormenting your poor, flustered heart.

You cleared your throat, flustered, “So… you came to see the kittens too? Don’t they just cheer you up after a long day?”

Mattheo gave you a look—something between a smirk and a genuine smile, an expression that made your heart stumble over itself before he even opened his mouth.

“I am cheered up now,” He said, his voice low and warm, “But I must say, it’s not because of the kittens, Sunshine.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Your friends had immediately tried to intervene—purely out of concern for you, as you came to realize that night in the cozy safety of your dorm room, when Mattheo Riddle’s name was brought up.

“We just want you to be careful,” Lila said gently, her dark curls falling into her eyes as she spoke, “Mattheo isn’t exactly a stranger to other girls’ beds, (Y/N). He’s gone all the way with them—four bases, easily. Hell, with him, there’s probably an extra base we don’t even know about.”

Imani winced, “And well… we know you aren’t as experienced.”

You felt your cheeks flush. They weren’t wrong.

They were referring to the fact that you were a virgin. You’d never dated anyone. Never even had a boyfriend.

“…Is that bad?” You asked softly.

The girls’ eyes widened and they immediately jumped to reassure you.

“No! Not at all!” Lila said quickly.

“Of course not!” Imani added, shaking her head.

“That’s not what we meant,” Daisy chimed in, reaching over to squeeze your hand, “You just… you deserve someone who’s patient with you.”

“Mattheo’s part of a rough crowd,” Evangeline said, hesitating. She always chose her words carefully, “I don’t want to sound mean or make you feel like we’re judging him, but… I’ve been overthinking this whole thing. And you really can’t be sure he’s not doing this as some kind of cruel joke. Or a dare. Or something equally awful. I wouldn't put it past some of his friends.”

She looked you right in the eye, her voice softening.

“I feel bad assuming the worst, I really do. But I also don’t want to trust just anyone with someone as precious as you.”

That made you smile despite yourself.

Evangeline. The mother of the group. Always looking out for everyone. Always making sure you were safe, happy, and loved. She deserved something in return for how diligently she cared for you all.

You made a mental note to bake her favorite strawberry jelly pastries as a thank-you.

“I understand what you’re all saying,” You said, voice warm, “Thank you… for looking out for me.”

Thus began the excruciating process of trying to remind yourself of everything your friends had said—every time Mattheo began to flirt with you.

You returned his charm with a polite smile. You laughed at his silly jokes. You reminded yourself, this probably isn’t that serious to him.

He could have any girl on his arm—any girl who actually knew what she was doing. What business would Mattheo Riddle, famed Slytherin heartbreaker and rumored womanizer, have with someone like you? Someone who wasn’t experienced. Someone who needed emotional connection to feel safe. Someone who couldn’t even tell whether this was real or just another one of his games.

It all came to a halt the day Mattheo—so casually it could have been mistaken for a joke—suggested you two actually go out.

It happened in passing, half-directed at someone else in the conversation. But you noticed the way he paused. The way he looked at you afterward, as if waiting—hoping—for an answer.

You stared at the hand he extended toward you, palm open.

Then your gaze lifted, meeting his eyes. Wide. Hesitant. Innocent.

He laughed, trying to play it off, “What? Don’t you trust me?”

You froze.

The corner of your mouth dipped downward, a subtle but telling movement. And Mattheo noticed instantly. The playful spark in his expression faded, replaced by a chill that settled into his shoulders like dread.

“Oh.”

“Mattheo, I—” You stopped, unsure what to say as you tugged anxiously at the edge of the shrug you’d crocheted, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t, princess,” He said quietly, shaking his head, “Truth is… I’ve never given you a reason to trust me.”

You paused, chewing your bottom lip nervously. The sight of it made something sharp and aching stir in Mattheo—an urge to pull your lip from your teeth with his thumb and press his own mouth to yours, just to stop you from doubting yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Mattheo gave you a gentle smile.

It was a sad kind of smile—soft, genuine, and far too forlorn for someone who was always so cocky and sure. Seeing it on his face made something twist in your chest.

“Don’t be, princess.” He said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

The next couple of days were filled with a Mattheo-shaped hole in your life—and it left a heavier ache than you expected. You tried not to dwell on it, but it was hard not to overthink. Had he only wanted one thing from you? Had your rejection truly been enough for him to discard the little friendship you’d built?

Was that all he ever wanted? Was that all anyone wanted?

Still, the thoughts didn’t consume you completely. You had your friends. You had your kittens. You had the little chaos garden you were growing with Professor Sprout’s permission just beyond the greenhouses, where wildflowers grew beside pumpkins and honeybees lazily floated between blooms.

That was enough… mostly.

At least until Mattheo found you in the library.

You were seated near the back, flipping through your Herbology notes, when he strolled up and set a small vial down on the table in front of you. The clear liquid inside shimmered faintly, catching the candlelight. You looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

Mattheo’s chest was puffed out in obvious pride. He looked like he expected you to gasp or leap into his arms or start clapping.

But you just stared between him and the vial.

His posture deflated slightly, “Come on, princess. At least pretend to be interested. I spent days trying to get my hands on this.”

You bit back a smile, secretly amused by the way he still spoke to you like nothing had changed. Like you hadn't broken his heart—or at least bruised it. The fact that he was here at all made something flutter in your chest.

You gave in with a curious tilt of your head, “Alright, Mattheo. I’ll bite. What’s in the vial?”

“Veritaserum.”

Your eyes widened, but before you could even think to stop him, Mattheo uncorked the tiny bottle and downed it in one go like it was a shot of Firewhisky. He slammed the empty vial back onto the table and leaned forward, smirking.

“I’m completely at your mercy now, sunshine. Ask me anything. I’ll prove I’m not messing with you.”

You blinked, taken aback by his dramatic display. Then you pouted a little, your lips tugging downward as your eyes softened.

“How do I know that was actually Veritaserum?”

He laughed, grinning at you, “Trust issues much, princess? I respect it. Go on—ask me something I wouldn’t answer unless I was under the influence.”

Your eyes flicked over him, unconvinced. That was when you noticed the fresh cut across his nose—no doubt from yet another fight. It should have made you concerned, should have made you check him over for any other bumps and bruises. Instead, you had the completely embarrassing thought that it looked… sort of adorable.

You cleared your throat and hummed, thinking, “Your best friend is Theodore, right?”

He smirked, already cocky again, “Of course. Come on, angel. Give me a tough one.”

You tilted your head, pretending to ponder. Then, as sweetly as ever: “Have you ever thought about kissing Theodore?”

Mattheo froze.

His entire face lit up in a furious blush, red blooming across his cheeks and ears, “I—I mean, yes—but I wasn’t fantasizing about it or anything!” He sputtered, “It was just… a random thought that popped into my head once, I swear!”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, giggling uncontrollably. “Well,” You managed through your laughter, “I guess it really was Veritaserum.”

He covered his face with one hand, groaning into his palm, “That was embarrassing. I am embarrassed.”

You paused, your laughter fading into a soft frown as concern overtook your expression, “Mattheo… if you regret it, it’s okay. I won’t ask you anything else until the serum wears off, you don't have to answer anything else.”

He peeked at you through his fingers and smiled, slow and sincere. “You really are too good for this world, princess.” He let his hand fall and leaned forward, eyes never leaving yours, “No—I don’t regret it. I want you to trust me. And this was the only way I could think of doing it.”

You let out a breathy laugh. Of course it was. Of course the way Mattheo Riddle tried to earn your trust was something absurd, reckless… and somehow incredibly endearing. Just like him.

You hesitated, then asked the question that had been sitting on your chest for weeks, “All those compliments you give me… when you say I look beautiful… do you really mean that?”

His expression softened so much it almost hurt to look at. “Without a doubt,” he said without missing a beat.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. A blush crept up your neck, spreading across your cheeks like warm sunlight, “…Do you really want to date me?”

“More than anything.”

You swallowed hard, “Is this possibly part of a joke? Or a dare? Or something else I should be scared of?”

Mattheo didn’t even flinch, “Believe me, princess, I would rather fall twelve stories from the Astronomy Tower than ever do something like that to you.”

Your breath caught. You’d been cold earlier, the drafty corners of the library nipping at your sleeves—but now you felt hot all over, your skin tingling like you’d been dropped into sunlight.

You blinked, “…Are you using me as a beard to hide your true feelings for Theodore?”

“(Y/N!)” He exclaimed, utterly scandalized, your name leaving his lips for the first time ever instead of a teasing nickname. The outrage on his face was so genuine that you couldn’t hold back anymore—you burst into a fit of laughter, face falling against his bicep as you tried to muffle your giggles.

Mattheo was still huffing beside you when you finally peeked up from his arm, and the expression he wore—soft, amused, fond—made your breath hitch all over again.

You shifted nervously, “Do you… like me?”

“More than you realize.” He said, quiet but certain.

You lowered your head, flustered, heart pounding as you fidgeted with the sleeves of your jumper. You weren’t usually so forward. Asking him all those questions had taken a surprising amount of courage. And now that you had your answers, you didn’t know what to do with them.

Mattheo tilted your chin up with a featherlight touch, catching your eyes. He glanced at your lips, then back into your gaze with so much reverence it almost made you dizzy.

“Will you go out with me, sunshine?”

Your lips curled into a shy smile, “I’d love to, Mattheo.”

His smile widened, something boyish and sweet in it that you hadn’t seen before. But before you could let yourself fully sink into the glow of that moment, the nagging voice of self-doubt tugged at your courage.

“I… don’t know if you know this about me,” You started hesitantly, “but I’ve never really done this before. Dated, I mean. So… I might need to take things slower than what you’re used to. Is that okay with you?”

There was a beat of silence where your heart was convinced it might just split in two from the pressure. But then Mattheo leaned in, pressing the gentlest kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

When he pulled back, his eyes were soft with something so genuine it made your throat tighten, “We’ll go as slow as you need to, princess.”

You smiled, chest loosening as you leaned slightly into his side, your hand brushing his.

It wasn’t until later—when you were curled up in bed, running back through every detail—that you realized something.

He had never actually clarified if that pace—slow, careful, uncertain—was okay with him.

He had said you could go slow.

But you didn’t know if he wanted to.

***

It had been about three weeks since you and Mattheo started dating, and even now, it sometimes didn’t feel quite real. Not because he didn’t show it—if anything, Mattheo Riddle was a surprisingly attentive boyfriend. He brought you little things he thought you’d like (a flower he saw outside Greenhouse Three, a charm that reminded him of your favorite animal, a quill in your favorite color just because you said yours was running out). He always waited for you outside class, always carried your books if your bag looked even slightly heavy, and never let a day pass without calling you by some new sweet nickname.

But more than that, he never pushed.

On your first date, you'd gone to the edge of the Forbidden Forest—somewhere quiet and peaceful with just enough sunlight trickling through the trees to give the illusion of safety and magic. You’d spread out a blanket, shared pumpkin pastries and pumpkin juice, and talked about anything and everything. Mattheo hadn’t even tried to hold your hand until you'd gently brushed your pinky against his, and even then, he’d waited for you to fully intertwine your fingers.

Since then, it had been a slow rhythm of delicate moments: shoulders brushing in the corridor, pinkies linked under the table, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with careful reverence. He never took more than you offered. Never asked for what you weren’t ready to give.

Even now.

Now, it was late—past curfew—and you stood with him in a shadowed alcove near the Astronomy Tower, where moonlight pooled like spilled silver. The castle was hushed, and your heartbeat was the loudest thing in the world.

Your hand touches his cheek, featherlight, like you’re still unsure if you’re allowed to touch him this way. Your voice trembled at the edges when you spoke—

“Can I kiss you?”

Mattheo’s heart stops.

“You—you wanna…?” His voice catches, and he mentally curses himself because he’s Mattheo Riddle, for fuck’s sake, and now he’s stammering like a schoolboy.

“I want to kiss you,” You admitted, voice soft and just a little shaky, “But… I’ve never really done this before. I mean—not really.”

Mattheo’s expression softened immediately. He reached out, his fingers ghosting along your cheek before curling gently around your hand, “Me either.”

You blinked, “You’re kidding, right?”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head, “No. I mean—I know what people say. I know what you’ve heard. And yeah, I’ve kissed girls before. But those… they didn’t matter. They didn’t mean anything.”

You stared at him, skeptical, “But you’ve done things, Mattheo. With other girls.”

He didn't deny it. Instead, he took your hand in both of his and guided it to his chest, just over his heart. The steady thud was frantic beneath your palm.

“You’re the first one,” He said, voice quiet and steady, “who’s made me feel like this… from just being around me.”

Your breath caught. And then, slowly, you rose onto your toes, brushing your lips against his.

It was tentative, uncertain—but real. So real it made your knees wobble and your heart race.

Mattheo barely moved, just kissed you back softly, reverently, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he wasn’t careful. When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling like you’d just handed him the stars.

“Still nervous?” He whispered.

“Only a little.” You replied, cheeks warm.

And then he leaned in again like you were sacred.

Not like a boy kissing a girl. Like a sinner kissing a prayer.

He didn’t grab. Didn’t take. He just kissed you like it was all he ever wanted to do, like your kindness was the only thing that had ever made him feel clean.

When you finally parted, your breath was uneven, your hands still trembling faintly in his.

For the first time, you understood what people meant when they talked about wanting. The way your heart kept whispering more in the stillness. The way you leaned closer without even realizing.

“I think,” You said, barely louder than a breath, “I might need some more practice.”

Mattheo grinned, brushing his nose against yours, “Good thing we’ve got time, then.”

And he kissed you again—just once more, until you asked him for more—like you were the only thing that had ever made his heart beat like that.

***

The morning sun poured lazily through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, casting golden light over half-finished bowls of oatmeal and drifting owl feathers.

You slid into your usual spot at the Slytherin table beside Mattheo, nudging his side lightly with your shoulder, “Good morning, Matty.”

His lips quirked up immediately, voice still raspy with sleep, “Good morning, baby.”

A chorus of greetings chimed around the table.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Theodore greeted, already mid-sip of pumpkin juice.

“Morning,” Lorenzo added with a grin, elbow-deep in toast and marmalade.

Draco gave you a nod, lifting his chin. “(Y/N).”

You smiled sweetly. “Hi, Theodore, Lorenzo, Draco.”

Mattheo tried to hide the way he preened, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. His hand casually slid onto your thigh under the table, his thumb brushing tiny circles there. You weren’t one for PDA-heavy nicknames in front of the boys, so the fact that he got a "Matty" while everyone else got their usual names? That was better than syrup on pancakes. And he was smug about it.

“What are you guys talking about?” You asked, pouring yourself some tea.

“We’re just messing with Draco,” Lorenzo said with a snort, “Apparently Pansy invited him to go flower picking in the Far East Forest.”

Your eyes lit up, “That sounds like fun!”

The table went silent for a moment—and then all three boys burst into laughter.

“You’re so precious,” Lorenzo wailed, wiping a tear.

Theodore leaned in, “Oh, it is fun. Just not in the way you’re thinking.”

Your brows furrowed, “Huh?”

Mattheo snorted, clearly amused, “Flower picking in the East Forest is a very hands-on activity, sunshine.”

Draco looked smug, “It's basically a date with, uh, extra-curriculars.”

You gasped, “Ew! Draco!”

Mattheo leaned closer to you with a smirk, his voice dropping suggestively, “If you’re that interested, I could take you flower picking sometime…”

Your head whipped toward him, scandalized, "There’s a whole brood of sweet little ducklings that nest there! Don’t you dare snatch their innocence!”

The boys lost it.

Draco buried his face in his hands, laughing helplessly, “You sound like a disappointed forest fairy.”

“I am!” You declared, scandalized, “Honestly, I hope that every time you try to do anything with Pansy out there, you open your eyes and see a baby duckling staring right at your soul. Judging you. Silently.”

Lorenzo practically choked on his juice, “Even her threats are innocent!”

Mattheo couldn’t stop grinning. He looked at you like you’d personally hung the moon, brushing his knuckles against your cheek affectionately.

Just as the laughter around the table began to settle, a familiar voice called out from the entrance of the Great Hall.

“(Y/N)! Come on, we’re gonna be late!”

You turned to see Evangeline waving you over, with Lila and Imari flanking her, each holding an enchanted picnic basket floating obediently beside them.

Mattheo let out a quiet groan beside you, letting his head drop gently onto your shoulder. “Where are you going? It’s not even time for class yet. It’s so early…”

You giggled, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “I know, but we haven’t played with the kittens in days thanks to that Charms essay. I promised the girls we’d have breakfast outside with them.”

He sighed like it was the worst tragedy known to man, looking up at you with tired eyes and a pout. “So you're ditching me... for a bunch of furballs.”

“They’re our furballs,” you said with a soft smile, standing and brushing off your skirt.

Mattheo looked up at you—his hair a mess, his expression still sleepy, but his eyes so warm and full of something you couldn’t name. You leaned down and pressed a featherlight kiss to his cheek. It was barely anything, just a brush of your lips, but it had heat blooming across your cheeks.

“Bye,” You said quickly, “Save me a seat in Charms?”

He nodded, watching you trot off toward your friends with a smile so dazed it made him look a little lovesick.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Theo let out a low whistle, “Mate. You’re gone.”

Lorenzo leaned in with a grin, “Did you just blush? Over a cheek kiss?”

Draco raised a brow, amused, “You’ve had girls snog you senseless behind greenhouses. 'The Hufflepuff Sweetheart' kisses you on the cheek and you look like you're ready to write her a sonnet.”

Mattheo blinked slowly, still smiling like a right fool, “It was a very good kiss.”

Draco smirked, “She barely touched you and you look like you’ve been hit with a Confundus charm.”

None of them noticed the two girls lingering near the entrance—eyes narrowed, arms crossed—who’d heard every single word.

***

You weren’t supposed to hear them.

Their voices were just a low hum at first—giggling, whispering—coming from around the corner as you walked the quiet corridor. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop. You weren’t looking for trouble.

But the words found you anyway.

“Mattheo Riddle? Merlin, he’s such a fuckboy,” One of the girls said, her voice dripping with judgment, “He’s probably seen more girls naked than he can remember. And now he’s with her? Sweet, innocent little thing? She doesn’t stand a chance. I mean, how could someone like her—so sweet, so innocent—keep up with him?”

Another girl snickered, her tone mocking. “It's probably just a corruption kink. He’ll get bored as soon as he realizes she can’t give him what he really wants.”

You paused mid-step, your heart sinking into your stomach. The words struck you harder than you could have imagined.

“She doesn’t have what it takes, though. Look at her—so naive. You think she even knows what to do with a guy like that?” One of them continued, “You really think she knows how to keep someone like him satisfied?” The rest of their words faded, but they’d already done their damage. The words had been carved straight through your chest.

You hadn’t meant to listen. But now you couldn’t unhear it.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel the sting of tears burning behind your eyes, the cruel weight of their words crushing your chest.

You wanted to shake it off. You wanted to tell yourself it didn’t matter. But their voices stuck to your skin like smoke. You weren’t enough. You never would be.

You felt stupid.

You’d been so blind to think someone like Mattheo, with all his past, could ever truly want someone like you. You weren’t like the other girls. You were soft, innocent—too innocent, it seemed. You knew it, deep down, but hearing them confirm your worst fear was unbearable.

You didn’t even know how you managed to make it to your dorm. Everything blurred—walls, portraits, passing students—until finally you reached your bed and collapsed onto it, curling in on yourself like you could disappear. The tears came hard and fast, soaking into your pillow no matter how tightly you shut your eyes.

You couldn’t shake the image of Mattheo and his past. Of all the things he’d done, of all the girls who had been in his life. And here you were—so different from them. You were certain he deserved someone who could keep up with him, someone more experienced, more capable of handling whatever it was that he needed.

What if Mattheo needed someone more experienced—someone who could match the fire in his veins, not melt under it?

Could he really be happy with someone like you?

The ache in your chest tightened. You tried to brush it off, to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that Mattheo wouldn’t care what those girls said. But the words kept echoing, louder with every breath: He’ll get bored. She’s not enough. She can’t keep up.

You’d always known you were different than the girls he'd usually chased. You thought he liked that about you. But… maybe you’d been delusional to think he could feel the same way. Really feel it.

The sadness settled over you like fog—thick, inescapable. You tried to reason with yourself, tried to dismiss the ache as insecurity, paranoia, nothing real. He told you he didn’t mind. He’d said it plainly, truthfully—Veritaserum coursing through his veins, no way to lie. You could take all the time you needed. He liked you, chose you, in spite of your hesitation.

And still, the doubt crept in.

Maybe he had meant it at the time.

But maybe he’d change his mind.

Maybe one day he’d wake up and realize what he was missing. Maybe he’d grow tired of your softness, your innocence, your quiet kind of love.

The ache deepened, dull and steady, like something inside you had cracked and wasn’t going to heal quickly. You curled tighter under the blanket, trying to shut it all out—the voices, the doubt, the image of Mattheo with someone who could give him more than you ever could.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

You told yourself to stop.

But the feeling wouldn’t leave.

***

The next morning, when Mattheo met you in the corridor, he noticed it instantly.

There was a weariness in your eyes that hadn’t been there before—an invisible weight pressing down on your shoulders. The usual lightness in your step, the spark in your smile, your warmth—all dimmed, like someone had drawn a curtain over you overnight.

“Hey,” He said softly, tilting his head to meet your gaze, “You okay?”

You forced a smile, but it felt brittle—like glass about to crack. “Didn’t sleep well,” You murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear as you looked anywhere but at him. The floor suddenly seemed very interesting.

Mattheo’s brows pulled together. He didn’t press, not yet, but the shift in your energy felt like a punch to the ribs. You were always open with him. Bright, effervescent—sunlight in human form. Seeing you closed off like this, hiding behind half-smiles and lowered eyes, made something twist deep in his chest.

He leaned in for your usual morning kiss—your quiet tradition, simple and grounding. Mattheo loved giving affection, and you adored receiving it, but he’d always let you close the gap. Let you decide. Whether it was a quick kiss, a lingering one, or just a soft touch on the cheek—he followed your lead, always careful not to push your boundaries.

It was something that had always made your heart flutter. His patience. His gentleness with you.

But this morning, all you could think about was Fifth Year—when he’d grabbed the girl he was dating at the time and snogged her senseless in front of half the Great Hall. No hesitation. No care for who was watching. His hand had been tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist like he needed her closer, and when she’d giggled against his mouth, clinging to him like he was gravity itself, he’d laughed—carefree, cocky, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It had been effortless for him then. Confident. Public.

Your heart seized.

How much did he have to restrain himself now? How many times had he accepted your fleeting pecks, when he might have wanted more? How often had he pretended it was enough?

A wave of guilt washed over you. You wanted to reach out, to grab him by the tie and kiss him breathless. Maybe then the whispers wouldn’t matter. Maybe then he wouldn’t get bored. Wouldn’t leave.

But even with that desperate thought flickering in your mind, your body didn’t move. There was ice in your veins. Fear anchoring your limbs. So instead, you leaned up just enough to brush your lips against his, featherlight. Barely there.

Mattheo froze.

You always smiled after your kisses—grinned and scrunched your nose, sometimes added a ridiculous muah sound that made him roll his eyes but secretly love you more. But now…

Now, you didn’t even look at him.

“Sunshine,” he said gently, “are you sure you’re okay?”

You sighed, and this time the smile didn’t even try to reach your eyes. “Just feeling… tired,” you murmured, the words barely above a whisper.

He didn’t believe you. Not for a second.

***

The next few days felt like a slow drift—like two ships caught in different tides.

You weren’t as quick to meet him between classes anymore, often ducking into the crowd or lingering behind with classmates until he was gone. You still spoke when you ran into him, but only when he spoke first. Your voice lacked its usual lilt, and the pauses between your words were longer. Heavier. When he asked to see you, you hesitated. “I’ve got homework,” you’d murmur, “I think I’m getting sick.” Excuses—flimsy, transparent.

You didn’t even show up for breakfast.

Your absence was glaring, something his friends immediately picked up on.

“Where’s your sweet little princess, Matty?” Theodore teased around a mouthful of toast, “Too busy with the mice and birds baking a pie?”

Mattheo didn’t answer.

Because in all honesty… he didn’t know where you were. Just like he hadn’t known yesterday. You’d slipped through the day like a ghost, nowhere to be found, avoiding every place he’d looked for you.

He’d even sent an owl that morning. A soft, simple note: Missed you at breakfast. Meet me after class? I miss you.

All he got back was a short reply scribbled hastily on parchment: Sorry, slept in. Was up late. Just really tired. Maybe later.

There was no little kiss-mark of your lip gloss. No sweet spritz of your perfume clinging to the paper. Not even a heart at the end of your sentence.

And it hurt him—visibly, deeply. More than he could ever admit.

Mattheo wasn’t stupid. If anything, he was painfully perceptive when it came to you. He noticed the way your eyes didn’t light up when you saw him anymore. The way you flinched—subtly, but undeniably—when he reached for your hand. How your laughter came less often. How your smile no longer reached your eyes.

You were pulling away.

At first, he tried to play it cool. Maybe you were stressed, maybe you just needed space. He’d seen you have bad days before. But the quiet between you kept growing louder, stretching taut with everything unsaid. Every time he reached out, you slipped further from his grasp—like sand slipping through his fingers, no matter how tightly he tried to hold on.

And it scared him.

Because this time… you weren’t just hesitant. You weren’t just unsure, or overwhelmed, or waiting for him to take the lead.

You were running away.

And he didn’t know why.

***

It had been nearly two weeks.

Two weeks of avoiding his eyes, his touch, his voice. Two weeks of skipping dinners and brushing past him in corridors like he was a stranger. Two weeks of burying the ache in your chest and pretending like you didn’t feel the pull of his absence every second of every day.

And now… you were here.

Standing outside the boys’ dorm, your fist hovering just inches from the door.

You hesitated—long enough to wonder if this was a mistake, long enough to feel the lump rise in your throat again—but then you knocked. Once. Twice.

It creaked open immediately.

“Oh—hey,” Theodore said, surprised but smiling, “Uh… Mattheo’s inside.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

Around the room, the other boys lifted their heads. Recognition dawned quickly—followed by an awkward shuffle of movement. They exchanged glances, and then, wordlessly, began to file out.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” Lorenzo said with a wink, nudging Blaise toward the door.

Draco gave you a small, kind smile as he passed, brushing your shoulder gently, “Good to see you again, (Y/N).”

And that made it so much worse.

You swallowed hard. Guilt pooled in your stomach like lead.

When you finally stepped inside, Mattheo was sitting on the edge of his bed, a book abandoned in his lap. His head snapped up the moment he saw you.

“(Y/N),” He breathed, standing quickly, his eyes searching your face, “You—you’re here. Are you okay? Are you finally gonna talk to me?”

He looked so hopeful. So relieved. Like your silence had just been a bad dream he was waking up from.

You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I wanted to talk,” You said softly, “Can we sit?”

He nodded quickly, motioning for you to sit beside him on the bed. You did, folding your hands tightly in your lap.

He sat close—close enough to touch, to reach for you—but you shifted slightly away, just enough for him to notice.

His smile faltered. “(Y/N)…?”

You forced yourself to breathe, to speak the words that had been lodged in your throat for days. To finally speak the words that had been festering inside your chest like poison.

“I think we should break up.”

Silence.

You couldn’t look at him.

It took him a moment to react—like the words had hit, but the meaning hadn’t quite registered yet.

“What?”

Your heart cracked in your chest.

“I don’t think we’re right for each other, Mattheo.”

He flinched—actually flinched—like you’d slapped him, “What are you talking about?”

“I just…” You struggled to keep your voice steady, “I think we’re too different. You and me. It’s not working. I don’t want to waste your time.”

He was staring at you now—like you’d just confessed something absurd, “You don’t want to waste my—(Y/N), what are you saying? You’re everything to me.”

“Mattheo—”

“No.” He stood suddenly, running a hand through his hair, pacing a few steps like the motion might help him make sense of the spiral, “You’re lying. This isn’t you. Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it. Is it something I did? I can change. I will change. I’ll do anything. Just—don’t do this.”

You stood, too, voice quieter now, “That’s the thing. Even if you change…it wouldn’t make a difference.”

Because I’m the reason everything is falling apart—but you couldn’t say it.

And Mattheo was standing there like the wind had been knocked out of him.

He opened his mouth—but no words came.

So you left.

You turned on your heel, walked out the door, down the stairs—your legs trembling the entire way. You were halfway across the common room before—

“(Y/N)!” His voice tore through the air like lightning.

You froze.

Then you felt it—his hand wrapping around your wrist, desperate and trembling, pulling you gently back around.

His friends were there, scattered around the couches, watching with wide eyes.

“Can you just please tell me what’s going on?” He asked, breathless and hurting, “I’m not mad—I just… I don’t understand. You don’t even look at me anymore, you’re avoiding me, and now this? If you want space, I’ll give you space. If you need time, I’ll wait. Just… please. Tell me the truth. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what I broke.”

You looked up at him then. His eyes were shining, lips parted, pain carved into every inch of his expression.

And it shattered you.

You shook your head slowly, tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

“You didn’t break anything,” You whispered, “But some things just…can’t be fixed.”

And that was all you gave him before you slipped your wrist out of his hold and walked away—this time, for real.

He didn’t chase you again.

Mattheo stood there, unmoving, eyes locked on the spot where you’d stood.

“What the hell was that?” Blaise asked quietly.

Mattheo didn’t respond.

He just stared at the door, still trying to catch his breath.

“We just broke up,” He said hollowly. Then he sank into the nearest armchair, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His fingers threaded through his hair, trembling as he blinked rapidly—like the world was spinning too fast, and he couldn’t keep up.

***

It had been nearly a month since the breakup. And every second of it had been hell.

Mattheo wasn’t just off—he was unrecognizable.

He stopped showing up to class unless someone physically dragged him. On the rare occasions he did, he’d sit slouched in the back, hood up, glowering at the floor, snapping at anyone who dared speak to him. He skipped practice. Ignored meals. Picked fights for no reason.

And when Quidditch rolled around? It was brutal.

He played like he had nothing to lose—like every match was a battlefield, every tackle a personal vendetta, every swing of his bat a desperate attempt to release something festering inside. Players left the pitch bruised, limping, bleeding. Referees issued warnings. Professors whispered behind closed doors. Students started walking on eggshells whenever he passed, careful not to catch his eye.

But still… even through all of that, he searched for you.

Every time he walked into a room, his gaze found you. Across the Great Hall, surrounded by your friends. In the courtyard, hunched over your journal. In the corridors, where you kept your head down and your footsteps quick—where you avoided him like it physically hurt to meet his eyes.

Because it did.

Once—just once—you ran into each other between classes.

You turned a corner and there he was.

His steps halted. Your breath caught.

“(Y/N)—” He breathed, his voice low and hopeful, like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming.

But you couldn’t look at him. You ducked your head and brushed past, your heart hammering in your chest.

You kept walking, fast, willing yourself not to cry.

And just before you rounded the corner, you paused.

Just for a second.

You glanced back, hoping—aching—for even the smallest sign that he was looking back.

Mattheo didn’t see your heartbroken gaze.

But Evangeline certainly did.

***

“This is ridiculous.” Theo muttered one night, slamming his book shut.

Blaise didn't look up from his game of exploding snap with Enzo, “He didn’t even show up to practice today.”

“He was out back,” Enzo said quietly, “Feeding her cats at the shelter again."

The tension in the Slytherin common room was already thick when the door opened and four girls stepped inside.

Evangeline, Lila, Daisy, and Imari strode in with a kind of urgent determination that made every conversation falter mid-sentence. Heads turned. Even Draco glanced up from where he sat lounging by the fireplace.

When him and the others saw the girls heading straight for them, their expressions shifted from curiosity to mild alarm.

“You lot,” Evangeline said firmly, folding her arms as they approached, “We need to talk.”

“Uh…” Theo blinked, “Hi?”

Lila didn’t waste time, “It’s about (Y/N).”

That got their attention.

Blaise sighed and put down the Exploding Snap cards.

“She’s not eating,” Daisy said quietly, “I’ve been sitting with her at meals, and she hardly touches anything. She’s barely there. Her eyes are dead, and I know she’s been crying herself to sleep every night. I can't watch it anymore."

Imari added sharply, “And she won’t tell us what happened. All we know is that she broke up with Mattheo, and ever since then, it’s like we’re living with a ghost.”

The boys exchanged glances—uneasy, guilt-ridden glances.

“Well,” Theodore exhaled, running a hand through his curls, “if it makes you feel any better, Mattheo’s not exactly thriving either.”

Draco snorted, “Thriving? He’s on the verge of a full mental collapse.”

“He’s stopped going to class,” Blaise muttered, “He’s smoking like a chimney again. Got detention twice last week for fighting.”

Lorenzo chimed in, “He damn near took someone’s head off at Quidditch. We’re this close to him being benched for the rest of the season—or expelled.”

Evangeline’s expression softened slightly, “So… they’re both miserable.”

“Clearly,” Theo muttered, leaning against the arm of the couch, “But what are we supposed to do about it?”

That’s when Imari stepped forward, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She fixed the boys with a hard look, “You all know Mattheo better than anyone. What the hell is he doing to fix this?”

Theo’s eyebrows shot up, “Why does Mattheo have to fix anything? (Y/N) dumped him out of nowhere and shattered his heart! Some Hufflepuff sweetheart she turned out to be!”

Lila stepped forward defensively, “She must’ve had a good reason! Mattheo must’ve done something—he’s obviously in the wrong!”

“You shut your Hufflepuff mouth,” Draco snapped, standing up as the tension in the room heightened.

“Enough,” Evangeline snapped, eyes flashing, “This isn’t about blame. We’re not here to fight—we’re here to help them. Or did you all miss the part where they’re both completely wrecked without each other?”

Theo blinked, “…Damn. I like an assertive woman.”

Evangeline didn’t even look at him, instead turning her attention back to the boys, "We need to help them. They’re both falling apart, and if we don’t do something now, it’s only going to get worse."

Imari glanced at the guys, her eyes narrowing as she thought for a moment. Then, a smirk tugged at her lips. She stood up straight, crossing her arms as she looked them over, "I’ve got an idea."

***

It was just past sunset when you heard a stampede of frantic footsteps charging up the stairs to your dorm room. You barely stirred from bed, buried deep in a cocoon of blankets and silence.

Then the door burst open.

“Does anyone have gauze? Or a healing salve? Lila, where’s the bloody first aid kit?!”

The chaos jolted you upright.

Imari was digging through drawers like her life depended on it. Daisy was pacing, hair a mess, muttering under her breath. Lila had inexplicably opened your wardrobe and was rifling through your jumpers. Evangeline was trying—and failing—to look composed.

You blinked, “What’s going on?”

“We found a baby owl,” Daisy rushed out, breathless, scrambling to your bedside, “Abandoned on the Astronomy Tower. Its wing’s all bent—it can’t fly.”

“—and it was crying,” Lila added dramatically, dabbing at imaginary tears, “Little squeaky hoots, like it was calling for help.”

Your heart lurched, “Wait—what? Is it still up there?”

“Yeah, we didn’t want to risk hurting it more by moving it,” Imari said, voice sharp with urgency, “We were grabbing supplies, but honestly, you’re the best with animals, (Y/N). Could you go? Please?”

You were already tossing off your blanket, “Of course. Where?”

“Astronomy Tower,” Evangeline said, “By the west-facing window.”

“We’ll be right behind you with the kit,” Lila added, pushing the nearly empty first aid box into Imari’s arms.

“Go on,” Daisy said gently, “Poor thing’s probably terrified.”

Without another word, you slipped on your shoes and bolted for the door.

The second you were gone, the girls sagged in relief.

“We’ve been trying to get her out of bed for weeks and all it took was a fake injured animal?” Lila muttered.

“She’s too pure for this world,” Daisy sighed.

“I love her for it,” Evangeline said softly.

“Right?” Imari smirked, “Now we just need the guys to hold up their end of the bargain.”

Meanwhile, in the Slytherin dorm…

“Oi, Mattheo,” Blaise called casually, leaning against the doorframe, “Fancy a smoke?”

Mattheo didn’t even glance up. He was slouched in his desk chair, hood up, fingers twitching idly. But after a pause, he sighed and stood, “Sure.”

They walked in silence, the kind that made everything feel heavier. No jokes. No jabs. Just thick, uncomfortable quiet.

Halfway to the courtyard, Theo suddenly froze, smacking his pockets, “Shit.”

Mattheo frowned, “What?”

“My lighter. Left it in the dorm.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, “Use your wand?”

Theo blinked, “Uh… right. That would make sense.”

Mattheo stared at him.

Draco stepped in, cool as ever, “Ignore him. Dropped on his head too many times as a child. Just head up to the Astronomy Tower—we’ll catch up.”

Mattheo’s expression tightened, “Why the Astronomy Tower?”

“Best view. Less wind. Good vibes,” Blaise said, waving him off, “Go on. We’ll be right there.”

Mattheo looked at them for a long second. Suspicious. Then he turned and headed toward the tower alone.

As soon as he was gone, the boys broke formation.

“Do you think he’s going to punch someone if this goes wrong?” Lorenzo asked.

“Definitely,” Draco muttered, “I’m blaming that halfwit Imari. This plan is ridiculous.”

“I don’t know,” Theo said thoughtfully, “Evangeline seems like she knows what she’s doing.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, “Theo’s kink is women telling him he’s stupid.”

Theo shrugged, “Not denying it.”

***

You ran up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, lungs burning, trying to quiet your breathing so you could listen for the pained hoots of an injured owl.

But then you saw him.

“Mattheo?” You breathed, freezing in the doorway.

He leaned against the far wall, bathed in the fading light of sunset, his posture tense, eyes sharp with disbelief, “What are you doing here?”

“I—I didn’t know you’d be—”

The door slammed shut behind you with a heavy clang.

You both spun around, “What the hell?!”

“YOU’RE WELCOME!” Came Theo’s smug voice, muffled through the thick wood, “Not unlocking this ‘til you two sort your shit out!”

“DON’T BOTHER SCREAMING!” Imari added cheerfully, “It’s soundproofed!”

Mattheo stormed to the door, yanking at the handle and pounding his fist against the wood, “This isn’t fucking funny, Theo! Open the door!”

You stood frozen, caught between panic and the overwhelming urge to melt into the floor.

“Mattheo—”

“Honestly, what the fuck were they thinking?” He snapped, pacing now, furious, “Let’s just trap us in a room together, yeah? Brilliant. Force her to spend time with the monster she couldn’t wait to get away from.”

Your chest clenched, “You’re not a monster.”

He laughed bitterly, “Right. That’s why you couldn’t even look at me when you ended things.”

You flinched.

“You didn’t even say anything real,” He continued, voice rising, “Just some vague crap about how we weren’t compatible—like that wasn’t a complete lie.”

You stared at the floor, throat tight, “It wasn’t about you, Mattheo.”

“Oh, no?” His voice cracked, “Could’ve fooled me.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, “It wasn’t you. It’s me, okay?!”

He froze, “What?”

You couldn’t stop the words now, even as your voice wavered, “It was me. I’m the problem. I can’t give you what you need. I’m inexperienced and clumsy and it was only a matter of time before you realized you deserved better—someone who could give you the kind of relationship you actually want.”

He looked like you’d just struck him.

“I didn’t want it to get to my head,” You whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks, “But I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wasn’t making you as happy as you made me. I wasn’t enough. And every time I saw you, it hurt… and I just didn’t want it to hurt anymore.”

“(Y/N)…” He breathed, shaking his head, “I told you so many times. I promised you—we wouldn’t go faster than what you wanted. What you needed.”

“But what about your needs?” You cried, voice cracking, “Why should you have to restrain yourself and ignore what you want just because I’m too scared to give it? What makes me worth that sacrifice?”

Mattheo was stunned silent.

Then, in the quiet, his voice broke through like a prayer, “Because I’m in love with you, (Y/N).”

You froze.

“I love you for who you are. There isn’t another girl in this bloody castle—or the world—who’s as kind and selfless as you. I told you before—I’ve never felt like this with anyone else. And I don’t want to. I’m not going anywhere.”

He stepped closer, voice softer but no less intense.

“I don’t love you in spite of your caution—I love you because of it. Because every time you trust me, even just a little, I know I’m getting a part of you no one else has. That means something to me. That connects me to you in a way I’ve never felt with anyone else.”

His eyes searched yours, earnest and unwavering.

“So if you want to take things slow? That’s fine. If you want to join a convent and die a virgin—I’ll turn into a priest.”

That startled a teary laugh out of you.

“All I need is you, (Y/N). In whatever way you can give me.”

And then, in a blur of movement, he crossed the room and wrapped you in his arms so tightly it knocked the air from your lungs.

“You stupid, beautiful idiot,” He whispered into your hair, voice shaking, “You think I’d ever stop loving you?”

You sobbed into his chest, gripping the back of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” He murmured, “I don’t care if you’re scared, or shy, or awkward—I. Don’t. Care. You’re mine, (Y/N). That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I just didn’t want to disappoint you.” You hiccuped.

“You couldn’t,” He said fiercely, “You never could.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face—his eyes were glassy, rimmed red, but so, so soft.

He cupped your cheek, kissed your forehead. Then your temple. Your cheek. Every inch he could reach without letting go.

“I love you,” He whispered, like a vow, “And I’m gonna keep loving you—no matter how long it takes you to believe me.”

“I—I love you too,” you whispered back, trembling.

And this time, you kissed him first—wrapping your arms around his neck and molding your lips to his, harder than ever before. Not because you felt like you had to, but because you missed him.

You missed him so much.

The stars above bore witness—not to an ending, but a return.

***

Bonus:

You stirred your cup of hot cocoa lazily, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you watched both groups of your friends awkwardly glance at one another. The kitchens were warm and buzzing with laughter, but a hint of tension from earlier still lingered in the air.

“Unbelievable,” You said, looking more upset than you were considering your eyes were still red and your cheeks were still blotchy, “Lying about a poor injured baby animal like that.”

Lila, ever the spokesperson, threw her hands up with an exasperated groan, “We’re sorry, (Y/N). But you were so depressed! It was horrible. We didn’t know what else to do.”

You raised a brow, grin deepening, “So you told the depressed girl to go to the only place in the castle with a balcony?”

The room went dead silent. Everyone exchanged panicked looks as the weight of that unintended implication sunk in.

Then—your laughter broke the silence, bright and sudden, echoing off the stone walls. The sound was so unexpected that they all visibly relaxed, joining in with nervous chuckles.

Mattheo, seated beside you, leaned in and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his voice quiet and steady. “Don’t talk like that,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin, “I don’t like hearing it.”

You blinked up at him, momentarily caught off guard by the tenderness in his tone. His gaze was soft but serious, full of something fiercely protective.

A quiet warmth spread in your chest, and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Okay,” You whispered, your smile softer now.

Across the table, Theo let out an exaggerated groan, “And now we have the pleasure of witnessing the tooth-rotting fluff. Again.”

“They’re adorable. Stop being mean,” Evangeline shot back, smacking him lightly on the shoulder.

Theo perked up, undeterred, “Maybe I wouldn’t be so mean if I had some teeth-rotting sugar of my own.”

Evangeline looked genuinely disturbed, “I’d rather third-wheel their disgustingly cheesy romance, thanks.”

“Alright, alright,” Daisy cut in, raising her mug in a faux-toasting motion, “How about we all agree to be mildly happy for them and get back to celebrating the fact that they’re no longer moody shells of human beings.”

“Agreed,” Blaise added, lifting his own cup with mock solemnity, “For the greater good of us all.”

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

[bullet-prooflove]

The Incident: Frank Langdon x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @julessworldd @yousigned-upforthis @travelingmypassion @julius-ceasar

Summary: Frank's world is thrown into turmoil when he learns about your attack.

Companion piece to:

Ivy - Frank gets a tattoo to commerate the woman he loves.

Hypocrite - Frank struggles to make amends for a past wrongs.

Crash - Almost getting you fired wasn't the lowest point of Frank's addiction.

Rock Bottom - Frank hits rock bottom when he sees the devastation his addiction's caused.

Little Black Dress - Frank starts to spiral when he realises you're dating.

Every Damn Day - A drunk text leads to a confession.

Wet Dream (NSFW) - Frank sometimes dreams about the life you had together.

War Stories - A realisation about your coping habits leads you to Frank's door.

The Three Cs - Frank and you finally discuss your issues and pave away towards the future.

The Wall - A date at the climbing wall leads to a revelation from Frank.

Commitment - You create a fun way of showing Frank your commitment to the relationship.

At Your Alter - You discover Frank's tattoo when you undress him for the first time.

All In (NSFW) - You and Frank take a big step forward.

Slut (NSFW) - Frank gets a little bratty after a bad day.

Nightmare Fuel - Frank’s been waiting for the fall to come.

Boo Fucking Hoo - Your forced to defend yourself after you’re attacked outside the hospital.

Frank finds out about ‘the incident’ when he walks in on one of Gloria and Robby’s arguments in the corridor that leads to the ambulance bay. He’s on his way to meet you for a break when he almost slips on the smear of blood on the tiles, tuning into their conversation.

“You need to take Ivy’s fucking photo down from the website like I told you to when you decided to put the fucking things up. She’s the only SANE in this hospital and you just put a target on her back. It shouldn’t take two incidents for you to actually listen to me. This guy could have killed her.” Robby snarls at their Chief Medical Officer, his hands on his hips. “You are damn near lucky-”

And that’s when Robby sees Frank standing there, the colour draining from his face because that first incident, it still haunts Frank. It took him a long time and a lot of therapy to chase away the flashbacks of seeing you coming out of that stairwell, scrubs covered in blood, your whole body trembling as you begged for help.  

He can’t describe how it feels to know that something so fucking horrible happened to someone you love. How helpless it makes you feel, how devastated, how angry.

 “What the happened to Ivy?” He erupts, barging between the two of them, his voice edged with hysteria. “Tell me what the fuck happened to Ivy?”

Robby shoots Gloria a hostile look before his hand grips Frank’s shoulder, steering him towards one of the empty treatment bays.

The story he tells does nothing to put his mind at ease as he paces the confined space like an apex predator, stalking back and forth.

“She’s been taken upstairs for a head CT.” Robby says, his eyes following Frank’s motions, waiting for the moment he unravels. “She says she’s fine but she threw up a couple of minutes after I stitched the wound on the back of her head so we just wanna make sure there’s nothing else going on there.”

“What about Him?” Frank snarls, his furious gaze turning onto Robby as he rakes a hand through his dark hair. “What about the asshole that hurt her?”

Robby clasps his hands together behind his head before looking up at the ceiling as if he can see through the five floors above him.

“He is up in Urology having surgery to have one of his testicles removed. She managed to rupture it so badly they didn’t have a chance in hell of saving it.” Robby informs him. “Officer Underwood is in the waiting room up there, ready to read that son of a bitch his rights as soon as he wakes up. He says with the video it’ll be in his best interest to plead out so she won’t have to go to court.”

That had been the worst part last time, reliving it. As soon as you felt like you were putting it all behind you, the court date had come up and you’d had to face the man who tried to hurt you, the one that had stabbed Jesse three times in the abdomen for intervening. Your fellow nurse had lost a kidney and almost his life stopping that attack. You’d struggled to reconcile with it in the aftermath.

“Look.” Robby says, clasping Frank’s shoulder, stilling his movements. He ducks his head, making direct eye contact bringing Frank back here to the present. “This isn’t like the first time. I looked her over myself and she’s ok, I promise you.”

You’d been so fucking traumatised back then, the nightmares hadn’t stopped for months, not until you and Jesse had a heart to heart. You’d felt so damn guilty because you’d frozen when it happened.

It had started when the husband of the patient you’d been working with tried to kiss you on the stairwell. You’d told him it was inappropriate and it was like a switch had flipped. You hadn’t expected to jam his hand between your legs, to try to tug off your scrubs.

Jesse had interrupted the whole thing on his way back down from Psych, doing bed reconnaissance. He’d torn the son of a bitch off you and ended up being stabbed three times with a utility knife before being shoved down the stairs and left for dead. You’d tried to suppress the bleeding the best you could before you went for help.

“There’s three responses when something like that happens.” You had told Frank in the aftermath, your entire body vibrating against him as he cradled you close. “Fight, flight or freeze and I froze because it was the last thing I expected from the man who had just been told his wife may be paraplegic.”

Sexual assaults they’re all about power. That man was losing his so he decided to take yours. He’s now serving twenty years for his actions while his wife recovers in a rehabilitation facility Kiara helped set her up in.

“I know that this is hard.” Robby’s voice filters through Frank’s thoughts drawing his attention back to him. “But she’s really gonna need you to keep your shit together after something like this. She can’t be worrying that you’re about to go off the rails while she’s trying to process it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Don’t use this as an excuse to go on a bender.” Frank summarises as he catches a flash of that Medusa tattoo through the glass. “Yea got it.”

“Frank…” Robby begins but Frank’s already out the door, striding towards you.  You’re standing in front of the screens depicting today’s patient lists, your arms folded tightly over your chest.

He takes up residence alongside of you like a sentry, standing close enough to be reassuring, to let you know that he’s there if you need him.

“Everything good?” He asks, tilting his head to study the profile of your features. His jaw tightens as he takes in the figure marks that blemish your throat, their dark stains bleeding into your skin.

“No brain injury or concussion, the vomiting was a reaction to being in that position again.” You inform him, your voice barely more than a rasp as you gesture towards your throat. “I sound like a phone sex operator.”

“Or like you smoke 80 a day.” He counters, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a strained smile. “You want me to take you home?”

“No.” You say shaking your head. “I wanna finish out my shift, return in a few days, do it all again.”

Frank gets it. It took you a month to come back to The Pitt last time and now you’re terrified of sliding back into that place, of letting the assholes win again. Your resilience, it astounds him, he feels like he’s falling to pieces and you’re still standing strong.

“You got any objections to working the rest of your shift with me?” He prompts, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I’m okay Frank.” You assure him, tilting your face up to meet his tempestuous blue eyes.

“I know.” He says softly. “But I’m not.”

He needs to attend a meeting after this. He hates that Robby’s concerns back in the treatment room were valid. Something like this is the perfect excuse to pick up a couple of benzos to take the edge off, his fingers are already twitching thinking about it. Your hand slips into his and for the first time since he heard about ‘the incident’  it doesn’t feel like there’s an 18 wheeler slowly rolling over his chest.

“You'll be ok.” You promise him, squeezing his hand tightly. “Just like I will be too.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[qiu-yan]

#i think this is the interpretation were supposed to be getting imho#i read the novel having no horse in thus race#up until wwx comes back - the whole story is about wwx and jc#all i knew about mdzs were pretty pictures of wangxian and people gushing about the cute couple they are#i thought - welp svsss was fun lets try this i stayed for the political intrigue and the background characters#and this is exactly the read i had in this whole situation - a conflict engineered in an exact way to leave wwx without jc's support#because we know that he will jump into fire for wwx if the only cost is himself#we see him do it#we know he absolutely hates losing and seeing his loved ones in danger - we've seen him in these situations#the fact he could admit “there is nothing i can do for you” when before their relationship leaned towards jc cleaning up wwx's messes#and he'd grumble about it but still do it#he would stand up to his mother in protection of wwx - the person that has the most influence on him ever#the fact he admits in the burial mounds that he cant do anything - it startlingly honest and simple#and it had to cost him a lot to admit - it had to come at the end of going through every scenario available to him and coming up blank#we KNOW jc doesn't let go of the people he loves#the fact he was forced to let go now tells us what we need to know#from a literary perspective this is blindingly obvious#but reiterating - jgs may be an old lecher but he is politically astute enough to make a successful grab for power#and the moment wwx and wn murder jzx it's pretty much over for the burial mounds team#even if jc allied himself with wwx - this was a sect leader's ONLY SON#no one would stand with them#jc's feelings about the wen and wwx are moot at this point#his best friend just murdered the president's only son - there's only one way this can go#jzx was popular and respected - there was no way there wouldn't be fallout from that#mxtx doesn't get into the exact politics of her world a lot and i can respect that - it's a lot#she also seems to be balancing between making the world and characters believable - and at the same time the leads In The Moral Right#because the moment you start to think about it beyond the simple “but wen remnants didn't have weapons uwu” and apply real-world logic#it all kinda falls apart - and we are reading a romance goddamnit so it's not a moral thesis she's writing#all scenes lead to the next scenes - character decisions lead to decisions down the line#nothing exists in a vacuum

tags via @whumpbby

just to be clear, my own position on the issue of post-sunshot yunmeng jiang is as follows:

post-sunshot yunmeng jiang was politically weak. yunmeng jiang - which had suffered the near-absolute massacre of all of its personnel, fought through an entire war, was occupied by the enemy for a significant period of time, was now led by a teenager with almost no political experience, and was now the sole great sect excluded from the alliance implied by the venerated triad - was weak in terms of manpower, available resources, and political position. yunmeng jiang was not "flourishing" after the sunshot campaign; the mere 2-4 years between the fall of lotus pier and wei wuxian's defection from yunmeng jiang does not provide enough time for yunmeng jiang to recover to a stable position from near-absolute annihilation and lengthy enemy occupation. the claim that [the draw of wei wuxian's demonic cultivation singlehandedly resurrected yunmeng jiang's manpower and political power] also does not make logical sense, because wei wuxian was not actually teaching anyone demonic cultivation.

by contrast, post-sunshot lanling jin was the strongest and most stable political entity in the cultivation world, given that lanling jin was the sole great sect still led by a politically experienced member of the previous generation instead of a teenager, given lanling jin's prewar levels of wealth, given that lanling jin did not suffer a direct attack by the wen like yunmeng jiang or gusu lan, and given lanling jin's relatively low levels of participation in the sunshot campaign.

post-sunshot yunmeng jiang could not have politically afforded to officially protect wei wuxian and the wen remnants after wei wuxian liberated said remnants from the jin-run qiongqi pass labor camp. officially shielding wei wuxian would entail keeping wei wuxian as the head disciple of yunmeng jiang; therefore, officially shielding wei wuxian would mean that the head disciple of yunmeng jiang attacked and killed members of lanling jin and other affiliated sects. this in turn would then entail yunmeng jiang making an enemy out of lanling jin. furthermore, given that public opinion was already turning against wei wuxian, and given lanling jin's ties to the other three great sects through the venerated triad sworn brotherhood, this in turn makes it highly likely that yunmeng jiang would end up standing against the rest of the entire cultivation world - which is not a situation the weakened yunmeng jiang could survive. in better-case scenarios, consequences of this could include yunmeng jiang paying massive restitutions to lanling jin and/or all the other sects whose members wei wuxian harmed; in the worst-case scenario, this would entail a second fall of lotus pier.

yunmeng jiang is a political entity made up of human beings. yunmeng jiang is not some shiny bauble that exists solely for jiang cheng's personal satisfaction; rather, it is an organization made up of human beings whose lives have moral value. to say "yunmeng jiang would be put into danger" is to say "the disciples of yunmeng jiang would be put into danger;" to say "yunmeng jiang would not survive" is to say "the disciples of yunmeng jiang would die."

a leader's first and foremost duty is to his own people. by the social contract theory, the people consent to give up a portion of their freedoms to the state in return for protection of their rights by the state; the state is afforded the authority to govern the people only through the agreement that the state in turn acts in the best interests of the people and their rights. jiang cheng's mandate to rule the disciples of yunmeng jiang as sect leader jiang, therefore, is derived from the mutual understanding that he act first and foremost in their best interest - that he put their safety and their wellbeing above all else. while an individual hero is free to choose a moral framework that does not center consequences as the source of moral judgment, a leader instead is duty-bound consider the consequences for his people. if jiang cheng had yunmeng jiang side with wei wuxian despite the danger this would put yunmeng jiang into, and/or if jiang cheng left yunmeng jiang to stand alone with wei wuxian, then he would be abandoning his duty as sect leader jiang to protect his people.

both wei wuxian and jiang cheng understood all of the above. when jiang cheng goes to confront wei wuxian in the burial mounds after wei wuxians' attack on the qiongqi pass labor camp - a situation in which jiang cheng has no reason to be dishonest - jiang cheng does not call the wen remnants evil or say that they deserve to die. rather, he says that "if you insist on protecting them, then i cannot protect you" - to which wei wuxian replies that, in that case, jiang cheng should let him go. this specific word choice implies that what stops jiang cheng from siding with wei wuxian is not hatred of the wen remnants alone, but rather the knowledge that he does not have the power to successfully protect wei wuxian and yunmeng jiang if wei wuxian insists on protecting the wen remnants. jiang cheng's words are an admission of his own lack of power, not his hatred.

i believe that multiple interpretations of the text are possible, as is the case with almost all fiction. the above is my own interpretation of the text and what i believe the text most logically implies.

[sunskisser]

STRICTLY BUSINESS — BUCKY BARNES

⭑ congressman!bucky x stripper!reader — wc 2.8k

⭑ summary: you're bucky's informant, strictly a business partner. nothing more, right?

⭑ cw: not nsfw but a few mentions of the word sex, fluff, hurt/comfort, bucky is a gentleman

This is louder than what he’s used to, much louder.

Neon signs and posters of sex icons lined the graffitied walls. The air reeked of smoke, weed, and booze. Groups of drunkards staggered this way and that, and Bucky skilfully swerved to avoid getting into fights he didn’t have time for.

Poppy music blasted from clubs and bars, a harsh contrast to the sounds of throwing up and making out — dirty people being dirty all over the streets.

Bucky kept his vision focussed straight ahead, taking it all in from his peripherals. He looked sort of strange in his suit, like an animal out of its natural habitat — he was surrounded by people in skimpy skirts and shiny tights. But he’s done this far too many times to care.

The door to the strip club creaked as Bucky pushed it open. It was darker here than it was outside, the only source of illumination being the disco lights gliding around in time with the sensual music.

A performance was ongoing, some woman in a tight corset and sparkling panties moving around the stage seductively. It seemed these were her final pieces of clothing; dollar bills lay all over the stage, a mini skirt and top discarded. Bucky didn’t spare the scene a glance.

He approaches the counter, handing the receptionist the small wad of cash. “My usual room.”

She nods mindlessly, taking the money and computing it. Bucky doesn’t wait for her to lead him there, turning on his heel and making his way to the private rooms at the far end of the club.

He thinks he’s done a pretty great job of convincing the staff of his credibility so far. In this club, he’s just a depressed widow desperate for sex. And they believe he’s a regular of your room, either because: a. he’s stupidly fallen in love with you, or b. you’re the only one who fulfills his desires. Either way, the managers don’t care — to them, he’s just a horny man helping in paying their bills.

Bucky knocks on your door, hearing your quiet grunt as an invitation as he turns the knob. Cold air hits him as soon as he enters the small room, the small disco ball above glinting with light.

His eyes land on you immediately, casually sprawled out on the bright red cushioning lining the circumference of the room. Your glance up at him. “Hey, handsome,” you grin.

Bucky can never tell with you. You’re surprisingly nice for a business deal, funny and flirty and incredibly lovely. Maybe you’re trying to seduce him, but that isn’t something you’d do, he thinks. He’d like to think he knows you well enough for that.

You’d been Bucky’s informant for a couple of months now, a pair of eyes and ears on the inside. He’d gotten a tip about Valentina some time ago, and had been on her trail. Everybody knew of this area, this club — especially Valentina’s men, who were regular customers. Bucky paid you to get whatever information you could and convey it to him on his weekly visits.

“Hi,” he mutters, unintentionally softening. He clears his throat, taking a seat a comfortable distance away before unbuttoning his suit. “What have you got for me?”

He can’t help but notice how you wince as you sit up. He won’t mention it, doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But he can’t deny the pang of concern that shoots through him, seeing you exhale through gritted teeth. Yet, you still have that stupid smile plastered on your face.

You hand him a file. “This is all I got,” you explain as he looks over pages of your hand-written scribbles, bits and pieces of information you’d managed to pick up. “She’s planning something with all the misfits that work for her, I think. Probably trying to get rid of them.”

Bucky hums in acknowledgment. He’s only half-listening, eyes flitting up to you every two seconds as he flips through the pages. He’s observant; he notices the subtle way your palm is splayed over your thigh, the short breaths escaping your lips. You look pained.

He knows he’s not supposed to care. 

“Strictly business,” you’d grinned with a wink when he first asked you for help. “I’m not giving you any services, handsome. Zero, nil, nada.”

“Strictly business,” he’d agreed, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Don’t worry. I’d never want your… ‘services.’”

You pouted teasingly. “Why not? Not pretty enough?”

All he’d responded with was an eye-roll, clearly meaning to say, ‘you know that’s not true.’

But he couldn’t help but care, worry about you. He couldn’t pretend not to know what happened behind these doors; legal services and illegal intercourse. The thought made something in his heart twinge. He knew how dangerous your job was, how much more danger you put yourself in just for him.

Bucky could hide behind nonchalance, peel off a layer and you’d find concern — but most of all, he felt anger. Anger on your behalf. Anger that you could sit here, looking so beautiful in all your pretty clothes and glowing makeup and softness, and all those perverts could think of was to pleasure you — or worse — themselves. 

Anger that he couldn’t be the one to hold you, to curl you up in his arms and never let you go. He couldn’t trace your lips, your sweet smile. Those lovely eyes which crinkled at the corners when you laughed, that heavenly body which deserved to be worshipped; not used and thrown away like a sex toy. Bucky couldn’t love you the way you deserved.

You arch an eyebrow as you catch him staring. 

“What?” you tilt your head to the side playfully. “Something wrong with how I look today?”

“Of course not,” he murmurs, eyes trailing over you from head to toe. Not hungry, not ravenous. Concerned, trying to spot where you’d been hurting. He sees it again — the way you hide the same area on your thigh, almost self-consciously.

“You’re hurt,” Bucky says bluntly, gaze moving upwards to meet yours. He tries to hide the worry in his tone, for both his sake and yours.

A flash of surprise flits across your face for a second, before you’re back to your usual collected self. 

“I’m fine,” you say airily. It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.

“Y/n.” He sighs, unconvinced. “You don’t have to hide it.” He reaches out like he means to touch you, then retracts immediately when he realises what he’s doing. He can’t.

You pretend not to notice. “I said I’m fine,” you reply curtly, smile still present but significantly smaller. “I’m all good.”

“You’re not. You’re in pain.”

“I’m not in pain, Congressman Barnes,” you reply sharply, sucking in a stilted breath. Bucky bristles. 

You swallow. “Sorry,” you mutter before he can respond. You rub your eyes, deflating. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped, I’m sorry. But you can’t… you can’t do this.”

He frowns. “Do what?”

“This,” you gesture between the both of you, almost apologetic. You hesitate, swallow. “You can’t… pretend to care. It’s not going to get you anywhere. I’m not —“ you inhale, blurt out what you’ve been thinking all this while, “ — I’m not gonna have sex with you, or whatever you want me to do. I can’t.”

Your voice cracks at that last syllable, and Bucky’s heart breaks with it. You don’t have to say it, it’s written all over your face, it’s in your glossy eyes — you feel hurt, betrayed. You think that the one man who’s never seen you as an object has changed his mind.

Bucky’s face contorts almost sadly, an ache tugging on his heartstrings. “Is that what you think this is about? You think I’m asking ‘cos I want your services?”

“Don’t you?”

“No,” he murmurs immediately, tone a colour of fond upset. He reaches out to smooth his palm over your forearm. When you don’t pull away, he presses his thumb into your skin, his way of reassurance. “No, that’s not what this is about. I’m asking because I’m worried about you, doll.”

“So you don’t just wanna have sex with me?” you ask again dumbly, head tilted in confusion.

Bucky can’t help but to indulge you. You poor, lovely girl, so used to being taken advantage of that you can’t fathom what it means to be cared for, to be loved by a man. Maybe loved is too strong a word, but seeing the look on your face right now, Bucky thinks he might just be in love with you.

He shakes his head, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “No, I’m not doing this to have sex with you.”

You blink, perplexed. It’s almost like you’re struggling to believe it. You take a deep inhale, letting it out through pursed lips. Bucky watches you do it a couple more times before looking at him.

He doesn’t push you, doesn’t snap. He just waits for you to speak, looking at you — through you with those soft, dark eyes.

“Wow,” you mumble after a moment, expression a mix of awe and relief as your eyes lock on his, visibly softening. Your heart’s a riot. “Wow, um… okay,” you say again stupidly. “Okay, I really didn’t think so. I’m sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head, chest hurting with affection. “Nothing to apologise for, doll.” He moves his palm down to your hand, letting your fingers fill the spaces between his. “Where are you hurt?”

The softness of his voice makes you want to melt into the plush couch. Your other hand brushes over the purplish-black bruise on your thigh, eyes flitting down to it. “Here.”

“Can I have a look?”

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. It’s hard to say no when he’s asking you so genuinely, so nicely.

Bucky kneels down beside you, hand leaving yours as his fingers move to hover over the bruise. Your skin misses his touch already.

It was strange, a suited congressman kneeling in front of a stripper. You think it might make a great poster.

He traces the injury with his index finger, frowning when you wince. For a moment, he doesn’t say a thing, he just observes it.

The suspense gets to you. Bucky can feel you tense up under his touch, anxious. He pats your other knee through the fabric of your fishnets.

“What happened?” he asks gently, a hint of concern and protectiveness in his tone. His gaze is still fixed on your bruise, like it’s physically hurting him to see you injured. “Who did this to you?”

You grimace, feeling your cheeks start to heat up. “No one.”

Bucky looks up at you with pinched brows and upturned lips. There���s the slightest bit of rage in the way he’s looking at you — though you know it’s not towards you, but for you. You’re suddenly acutely aware of how stupid you’re going to sound.

You let out a small, sheepish laugh, and his expression lets up a little. “It happened a couple hours ago. I, um… I rammed into the table by accident, during a performance. I wasn’t looking.”

Bucky looks at you like he’s trying to figure you, or what you said, out, eyebrows furrowing even more. His eyes narrow contemplatively. “Seriously?” When you nod shyly, he sighs, shaking his head and relaxing slightly. 

“You’re stupid,” he scolds, but it's lathered in fondness.

“I know,” you grin. “Sorry, handsome.”

“You’re sure no one hurt you?” He sounds just about ready to go punch anyone who did. You don’t think he’s realised that he’s mindlessly rubbing your knee, affection seeping even from his touch. You hope it doesn’t show on your face how it’s making you feel.

“I’m sure,” you agree softly. Bucky sighs again for good measure, exasperation almost audible.

You swear he’s trying not to smile. “Tell me you at least know where the first aid kit is.”

You bend forwards and reach under the sofa, fingers pressing the cushion to find the hidden drawer. You pull it open and take the first aid kit out before sitting back up, closing the drawer with your foot. “Here you go.”

Bucky nods in thanks, shifting so he’s kneeling more directly in front of you. You press your thighs together, suddenly self-conscious, but all he’s looking at is the bruise.

His elbows rest on the couch on either side of your thigh, one hand holding your leg in place as the other dabs antiseptic over it. His fingers press into your skin, gentle even when he’s not trying to be.

You watch quietly as Bucky disinfects the wound, muttering an apology every time you wince. His palm slides under your thigh to hold it up as he wraps the bandage around it. He feels warm, so warm, soft, and every lovely word you can think of, and he’s holding your thigh like that. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod stupidly. “Mhm, totally okay.” You don’t anyone’s ever held you with this much love since the day you were born.

“Bucky?”

“Hm?” he murmurs, looking up as he finishes securing the dressing. “Yeah?”

You think you’d like to drown in his gaze. You clear your throat, straightening up from where you’ve unconsciously been leaning closer to him. Your mouth opens and closes a few times, brain short-circuiting. 

You settle on, “Thank you.”

Bucky softens, the corners of his eyes crinkling a bit when he smiles. A strand of his slicked back hair falls forward onto his face, and you suddenly can’t stop thinking about brushing it back into place. “It’s nothing, doll. I’m just… glad you’re okay. Glad no one hurt you.”

He gives your thigh one last friendly squeeze before pulling his hands away, and you hate how much you wish he didn’t.

You nod dumbly. “Okay, handsome.”

You’d always used it teasingly, a placeholder because calling him Bucky had somehow felt far too intimate, too much familiarity for simply a business partner. Was that even what you were now?

Bucky’s smile turns more sly, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, but he won’t do anything about it. He’s waiting for you to initiate, because he knows how you feel. He’d never do anything you wouldn’t want him to.

Maybe this is all in your head, maybe you really are nothing but an informant to him. But you don’t think he’d be looking up at you like this if he didn’t like you, even the slightest bit, so you decide to take your chances.

The tension is so thick you could bite into it. You reach out, hesitating before brushing the stray strand off Bucky’s forehead. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst.

You’re about to pull away when his fingers wrap around your wrist. Gentle, yet tugging, almost like he can’t help himself. He’s gazing up at you inquiringly, kindly. “Can I kiss you?”

You still. This isn’t something you’re used to, though you know you deserve to be. You’re used to men throwing you around, used to pretending like you enjoy being touched by disgusting men with disgusting thoughts. This is different, you think. This is Bucky, the only man who’s ever acted like one, and he’s asking for consent to kiss you. You honestly wish he’d just do it already.

“Yeah,” you breathe softly, nodding. “Yeah.”

Bucky pulls you down gently by your wrist, his other hand moving up to cradle the nape of your neck. He kisses you, then, in a way that makes your knees buckle. If you weren’t already sitting, you’d be on the ground just about now. 

His lips are forgiving. Tender, like all he wants to do is take his time with you.

Bucky pulls away after a moment. His face is still achingly close to yours, and he looks almost like he’s trying to stop himself from kissing you again. You can feel his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“Was that okay?”

You crack a smile. “Yeah,” you murmur. “Yeah, Bucky, it was okay. It was, um…” you clear your throat, pretending to think. “I’d say it was like a 6 out of 10.”

“A 6 out of 10, huh?” he muses quietly, thumb starting to rub lines over your inner wrist. “That’s all?”

“That’s all,” you agree, smile widening. 

Bucky chuckles. “Okay, then, if it was that average, I’m assuming you don’t want any more.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “A one-time thing, then.”

“Hey!” you laugh. “That’s not fair. It’s a whole lot better than all the kisses I get in this place.”

“Then you should’ve rated it higher, doll,” he teases, but he’s already moving forward to kiss you again, and so are you. “That’s on you.”

So much for strictly business.

[lo1k-diamonds]

Bubbles 💜 Part 4

SX Seoul Series | Jungkook's Entry

“If you want to be with me.”

PAIRING: Jungkook x (f) Reader

SUMMARY: Jungkook did change - he learned from his mistakes. Did you?

WORD COUNT: 7.4 k

GENRE: Exes to lovers, smuuuuuut, angst, making up

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: arguing, crying, angst, making up, semi-public, fingering, orgasm control/denial, begging, soft Dom Kook if you squint, nipple play, mirror sex, unprotected sex, confessions

PARTS: [1] [2] [3] > [4] <

A.N. And here we have it! I'll miss this couple, they're intense 😁 Sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy it! 💜 (Thank you @eerieedits for the cool banner 💜)

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad

“So what do I get for you?”

You barely noticed the girl whose name you couldn’t recall, waiting for you now that the conversation about Jeon Jungkook had ended.

“A porn star martini,” you bit quietly, eyes quickly drifting to the couple just a few tables over, at the bar. Cold sweats chilled your spine as you watched Jungkook laugh and thank the bartender for the beer, all while the girl with him all but drooled all over his bicep.

“Stay calm.”

Youngjoo was the voice of reason, and it stung you. “I am,” you bit at her, glancing at her before staring at the scene again. You couldn’t look away, both dreading and anticipating how that would unfold. “I recognize her,” you admitted, giving in to the anxiety lacing its claws around your heart. “She was at the party, hitting on him a week ago. She is a model.”

“Okay, and what did he say about it?”

You whipped your head, glaring at her. “I told you before, he laughed it off!”

Youngjoo rolled her eyes. “I mean after that. Haven’t you talked about it after that?”

You looked away. “No.”

Youngjoo turned to you with raised eyebrows. “Why not? Are you guys not talking?”

You shrugged. “We’ve sent a few texts. We’ve been busy.”

“You’ve been busy?” she repeated, skeptically. “I mean, of course you have, but it’s not that. You went from not leaving his side to barely not talking?” You could tell by her tone that she was incredulous. “You need to talk to him! You need to be on the same page about all this. Don’t let some misunderstanding happen again. If it’s not meant to be, then it’s not. Just talk to him first.”

You clenched your jaw, finally looking at your best friend to avoid glaring at the girl clinging to Jungkook. “If he wants his fuck boy life, then—”

“Stop putting words in his mouth! So what if some girl hit on him? He went home with you!”

“Actually, he dropped me off so he could help his brother with the roof of his place…”

“Oh, m— Won’t you stop it?! Since when are you this insecure about him?”

You glared at her once again, snapping in a caustic tone, “Since he has models grovelling on their knees, begging for seconds!”

“But he chose you.” You straightened back up on the sofa, and she continued, “He could have them if he wanted, but he chose you.”

Your eyes were locked with hers as you silently fought her without a word. You doubted she was right, and she reproved the way you were handling things. You could see it in her eyes — you promised Jungkook and yourself you wouldn’t make the same old mistakes. When Youngjoo had asked you about getting back together after you had hurt so much over the last year, you had assured her you were more mature now; you both were. So what the hell were you—

“Hi.”

You turned, shuddering with the sound of his voice before you saw him standing there, black leather jacket, wet hair curling over his ears, and a half-drunk beer bottle in his hand. 

“Hi, Jungkook. How are you?”

Youngjoo put you to shame with the way she effortlessly made casual conversation while you couldn’t even say something. Instead, your eyes were on the girls around you, who were casually listening in and ogling Jungkook. 

They threw quizzical glances at you — do you know him?

They gave Youngjoo looks, too — can you introduce us?

But Youngjoo ignored them, and you did the same.

You heard your name, so your attention was pulled into the conversation. “—that she was coming with you and a few friends to the SX tonight, and I thought I’d join you.”

“What a great idea,” Youngjoo praised, probably with more emphasis than she should have. Same as your best friend’s, Jungkook’s eyes were also on you, but unlike him, you couldn’t seem to hold his gaze. Your stomach twisted as you tried ignoring your sweaty palms. You felt like a teenager, the furthest from mature you had ever been. “How about we go get a round of shots? My treat!”

She clapped for the others to follow her, and although the girls offered resistance, Youngjoo managed to drag them along. You got up, too, ready to follow after them, but Jungkook’s presence kept you locked in. Not that he touched you or overtly expressed anything towards you, but his presence next to yours, his arm brushing yours, your hands grazing as his cologne reached your nose, made you stay, standing on shaky legs.

Your eyes stayed fixed on the floor as you took a deep, soothing breath. 

“What’s wrong?”

His question made you finally meet his eyes, only to have your stomach drop. A week ago, you thought it would be best to talk directly and clear things out, but now you just didn’t have the guts. Maybe Youngjoo was right — you were too insecure about him and yourself. You needed that conversation, but not now.

You knew what he’d tell you — you could already see his gentle eyes as he drew you close and said, I know those eyes.

So you took a deep breath and replied before he could.

“I’m just tired,” you explained, attempting a smile. “I’m going home.”

He placed his beer on a nearby table. “I’ll take you home.”

“Stay,” you insisted. “You're having fun.”

“Fun?” he asked, shaking his head slightly with a smile. “Nah, no reason for me to stay. Besides, you don’t look so good. I’ll take you home.”

He gave you a nod to lead the way, and you made your way through the crowd. Once in the lobby, you took your phone from your purse to text Youngjoo about leaving with Jungkook and followed him quietly out into one of the many streets in Itaewon.

Jungkook turned around to check if you were still following and slowed down so you could walk side by side through the Friday night crowd.

“How’s the apartment?” he asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Fine, it’s quiet,” you confirmed, meaning to reassure one of the first things he worried about after sleeping there with you the first weekend.

“Good, that’s good. Maybe we just caught a neighbour partying that weekend.”

You nodded and kept going, eyes lost in the partying crowd, smiling and laughing, unlike you.

“What about the washing machine? Still giving you issues?”

“No, the plumber you called fixed it. Thank you.”

Jungkook smiled at you. “You can always do laundry at mine if it gives you problems again.”

You smiled back, closing your coat a little more to stop the winter cold.

“Are the elevators working again?”

“Oh yeah, they fixed it the morning you left. It’s only been two weeks, but I’ve already noticed that they keep at least one of them working.”

“That must be annoying.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I live on the second floor; I take the stairs most of the time.”

“That’s good.” His voice sounded distant for a second. “What about work? Is that other department head still giving you a hard time?”

“I’m still adjusting…”

Your smile dropped from your face, and he instantly reached out to grab your hand. “It’s a phase. Just wait until they get to know you and how good you are.”

“Thank you.” You squeezed his hand and smiled genuinely, noticing the stars in his eyes the moment he stole a glance.

But then he had to let go of your hand to get into the underground parking lot, squeezing in the narrow corridor to allow the many people wanting to reach the street to pass you in the opposite direction.

You asked him to lead, as you didn’t know where he had parked his motorcycle, and he did, unable to talk to you above the noise of roaring engines and loud people, who were excited to party. The same groups kept both of you pressed against the wall as you went further down the stairs, until you exited them on the third level.

It was suddenly much quieter, with faint echoes and the occasional sound of cars driving along the parking lot.

The silence almost gave you whiplash, your ears ringing faintly.

“And the—” Jungkook’s voice was so loud it echoed. He cleared his throat. “The team? Your colleagues, are they nice?”

“Very nice, actually.”

He nodded quietly as he led the way to his red motorcycle. Once beside it, he pulled the keys out of his black leather jacket pocket, then twirled them once.

“Should I take you to a doctor instead?” he asked, and you raised your eyebrows. “I mean, you said you’re tired a lot…”

“No, I’m not sick,” you assure him, noticing his eyes avoiding you. Suddenly, the silence felt heavy again. “Why?”

“Am I… Should I… I mean,” he tried, grabbing his keys firmly in a fist. “If I’m bothering you, I can… give you space.”

You paled. “What?”

“It’s okay, I understand that it’s a lot with the moving back and the new job and… we have our issues, too. I’m sure it’s difficult, I don’t want to make it harder for you.”

Your blood ran so loudly in your ears that you didn’t know if you heard him clearly. Yet, this one word caught your attention. “Issues?”

Your eyes instantly teared up, and your guts twisted. That was it. You knew it, he was done with you.

“I don’t mean—” His wide brown eyes as he waved his hands tried to interrupt your thoughts. “No, I mean—”

“So things aren’t going well,” you thought out loud, feeling a chill up your spine.

“Wait, that’s not what I’m saying.”

In a split second, your eyes were full to the brim, and there was a sob about to shake you, and you instinctively spun on your heels to hide it. “We can talk about this later—”

“No,” he cut in and caught your arm before you could make an escape. Instead, he spun you around, making the back of your legs collide gently against his bike. “I’m never going to let you walk away without things being clear. Never again,” he promised, looking deep into your eyes. Your guts twisted for an entirely different reason. His eyes were puffy but firm, and suddenly your heart ached; you missed him so much. “I’m just… I’m worried. You’re quiet and distant, and I don’t want you to feel like you have an obligation to be with me or something.”

The blood drained from your face. “You— You don’t want to be with me?”

“Of course I do,” he scolded with a hint of a frown. He cupped your cheek. “What nonsense are you saying? Would I even mention it if I didn’t want to be with you?”

Your breath hitched. “You just said something about space.”

“If you need it because—” He looked straight into your eyes, drawing his thumb over your cheek in a caress. “Because I don’t want to be something you worry about.”

Your mouth opened to object — he wasn’t a problem, he was home — but then you closed it as your eyebrows drew closer together.

“So I am,” he said quietly. “Something you worry about.”

Your eyes lowered stubbornly, even as tears pooled again. But then his hand dropped from your face, and it unintentionally stung your heart.

So you raised your gaze sharply. “You’re right, you are, so I’ll just get it off my chest.”

As soon as you said it, you were breathless, watching his glistening eyes. The fear of everything falling apart froze you for a second, but then you swallowed dryly and decided to open up.

“I don’t think I’m a jealous person, I just— I think I have healthy boundaries, that’s all. In the end, I can’t, nor do I want to, control you or anyone you do whatever with. I don’t want to deny you freedom or whatever, either. But I don’t see how I’m supposed to keep quiet. If you need multiple women to give you attention and hit on you, then maybe restarting just isn’t a good idea.”

He just looked at you the whole time, not interrupting, not moving. He listened attentively to every word you said, until he raised an eyebrow. “Wait, is that the problem? You think I want that? Is that why you’re acting distant?”

You crossed your arms over your chest to hide the tremble. “I’m not…”

“Is that why you text me less and are tired so often?”

“I’ve been really tired…”

He took a step closer to you. “Is that why you don’t come to mine anymore?”

You pursed your lips, looking away. Now that he said it, you had to admit that, once again, you were a coward in many ways.

“Is that why you say you’ll come to a party with me and then don’t show up?”

Your eyes found his immediately, and your hesitation must have been evident in your face. By the way he looked at you, you knew there was no use in keeping secrets.

“I did show up. Remember Soyeon? She helped you with a class one or two years ago? She was there. And Haechan? He graduated with me. He was there too.”

Jungkook nodded slowly. “I know, I saw them.”

His patience was enough for you to know he was waiting for more, and you pressed your lips before letting it out. “I arrived before you did. I saw you arrive, and by the time I got to the kitchen, I overheard Seungkwan saying something about you needing to be free and not doing relationships and all that…”

Jungkook groaned loudly, covering his face with his hands for a moment before suddenly wrapping his arms around you to let his forehead fall to your shoulder.

“You gave me such a scare.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused about his reaction but happy to hold him, too.

“I thought you were giving up on us.”

You scoffed playfully. “And your reflex is to give me space?”

He snapped back up to look at you. “I don’t want to push you away!”

“Well, you are! Or would,” you corrected, biting your tongue. “Shouldn’t you be pulling me in instead of—”

He pulled you in by the waist. “I am.” You pressed your lips again, and he sighed. “Why would you listen to anything Seungkwan says? What does he know about what I want or do? I’m guessing you didn’t stick around to hear my reply.”

You blushed and looked down at his chest. “I… did not… So what do we do now?”

“About what?”

“About how I feel.”

He hummed, looking up as though recalling. “You mean about your jealousy?”

“Yes,” you said, still looking away. “Maybe I don’t even have the right to be jealous…”

“You do.” He pulled your arms around his neck. “If you want to.”

You scoffed. “If I want to be jealous?”

“If you want to be with me.”

Your mocking smile dropped before the seriousness in his eyes. “You know I do.”

He nodded. “I do, but… Can we be more?”

Your eyebrows quirked. “More than together?”

“Officially together,” he whispered, looking at you as your guts twisted again.

“We aren’t? I mean, I thought— We’re either together or we’re not,” you pointed out, swallowing hard.

“Right, that’s good.” He squeezed you closer. “No, forget I said anything.”

“No, that—” Your breath caught as you pressed your palms to his chest, grounding yourself. “What does that mean?” you asked, seeking clarity while your sight grew blurry. “I never thought of it in any other way, did you—” Your voice wavered with a pain you couldn’t hold back. “Did you— Those girls—”

“No. Look at me,” he urged, searching your eyes now full of tears. “No. I didn’t know how you felt about us, but—”

“We said we’d try again!” you exploded, the tears streaming down your face. “What do you think that means?!”

You were trembling, unable to keep your pain and fear from lashing out, but he didn’t even flinch. He kept you close and guided your foreheads to touch. “It means we love each other. I know that. It means you’re mine, just like I’m yours. I know that,” he insisted. “But I needed to know how you thought about it. I… You’ve been so distant for the past week.”

“You could have asked me about it.”

“We should have talked, clearly,” he instantly agreed, looking deeply into your eyes despite your snarky comment. “If you knew how much I want to be with you, you would never have gotten jealous like this. You would have never ignored me after you just saw me talking to someone—”

You smacked his shoulders. “Can you blame me?!” It was hard not to cry, but suddenly you were angry all over again. “I thought you were keeping your options open or regretting giving up your fuck boy life!” His hands were firmly on your waist as you tried not to sob. “You knew how I felt and still—!”

“I didn’t know you felt like this.”

“I told you!! And you laughed!!”

Jungkook frowned, about to shake his head and deny ever laughing, when suddenly it hit him. “You mean at my work dinner party? No, but I didn’t think you were serious!”

“What? Why not?!”

“Because there’s no way I’d ever look at someone else,” he deadpanned, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Not when I have you back in my life, it’s just— I thought you were joking!”

You caught your breath, realizing as he tried defending himself that you were crazy angry. You had tears on your face, red cheeks, were panting, and your throat felt rough.

“Well, I wasn’t,” you managed to mutter after calming down. Meanwhile, you could see Jungkook thinking about things as well, and he looked calm and sober, never taking his eyes or hands off you.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I can’t stop anyone from talking to me, but I have told anyone who asked that I was taken.”

“At the party, you introduced me as your friend.”

“That’s exactly why I wanted to make sure!” he blurted out, and as you frowned, he rushed to add, “Not because I’m not in it one thousand percent, but because I don’t want to put words into your mouth or go too fast! Remember? I don’t want to put you in that position again.”

Your lips trembled as your heart ached. You were clearly the one who hadn’t learned from her mistakes.

“And tonight? The girl you saw?” he continued. “She asked me if I was lying about being with someone because she hasn’t seen me with anyone in a while.”

Your jaw hardened as you grumbled, “Well, then. Let’s go back to the club and give her a show—”

“No,” he cut in and stopped you before you could leave the comfortable position you were in, between him and his motorcycle. “I don’t care about what anyone thinks, but I do care about us. I’ll just give your name next time, you fight it out.”

“You want me to fight her?” You raised a skeptical eyebrow as he hugged you.

He chuckled, “No, obviously. I want to walk in with you hand in hand and hug you and kiss you without worrying that you won’t like it because we’re going too fast.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?” You were in disbelief. “I’d always like it.”

“Always?” He looked into your eyes, and your knees were weak. You nodded. “You wouldn't think it's too fast?”

You shook your head eagerly. “No! I want to be with you, the whole deal, the whole package. It's not too fast,” you raised your hand to caress his cheek, “if anything, it's too slow. We need to make up for the time we lost.”

He nodded quietly, licking his lips. “Can we pick it back up where we left it?”

You grabbed his leather jacket and pulled him close. “Yes. Just kiss me, I miss you—”

He captured your lips in a kiss, and you were never so happy to forget about whatever you were saying. You dove headfirst, showing him you were as desperate and crazy about him as he was about you. You could barely breathe, and all thoughts about where you were flew out the window. All you cared about was licking the lingering taste of beer still in his mouth while you grabbed his hair just as firmly as he grabbed yours.

The more he consumed you, pushing his tongue past your lips and sinking his fingers into your hips, the more heated you became. Your thoughts were clouded as you got intoxicated — his taste, his scent, his touch, the lip ring grazing your lip, his hair curling around your fingers. You weren’t thinking, you just had a visceral need to be his again. Not just to correct your wrongs, but to rewrite history.

His hand on your hip raked your dress up to squeeze your ass and you did the only sensible thing possible — you sat on his motorcycle. Instantly, your leg laced around his waist, pulling him closer to you. The hard-on grazing your core told you everything you needed to know; it was your carte blanche.

“Kook, don’t make me wait,” you begged once he gave you a reprieve and kissed down your jaw.

He wasn’t shy about humping you, gripping your leg around him so firmly you were sure it would bruise. “What do you want, bubbles?”

“Need,” you corrected, unapologetically grabbing his head and squeezing your tits between your arms in the process, hoping he’d notice what was right under his nose.

“What do you need?” he breathed, dragging his lips over your chest until he hid in the valley between your breasts.

The anticipation alone was making you throb and clench, gluing your underwear to you while you wished you had no clothes separating your skins. “You. Inside me,” you moaned, feeling his tongue licking every stretch of skin he could while he ground against you roughly. If he were inside you, you’d be undone by now. “Please,” you begged, your voice wavering as you writhed. You leaned in to speak as closely to his ear as possible. “I need to be yours again, please.”

Your voice faded into a whimper when he bit down on one of your tits, yet it wasn’t that that made you gush between your legs, bracing yourself for what you wanted most. He placed you on the bike more firmly, wrapping your other leg around him, then pushed your underwear to the side and skimmed your dripping folds ever so lightly. Enough for you to moan and for him to groan against your chest.

“Fuck… bubbles,” he sounded muffled but you didn’t care, proud that he knew you were more than ready for him.

You weren’t shy from incentivizing him to continue, whispering in his ear, “Feel that? For you,” you moaned, trembling from the sensations shaking you. “I’m so ready for you, you’ll feel so good, please…”

You squirmed, trying to make his fingers touch you more firmly where you needed them, but as usual, Jungkook did what he pleased. He chose to pull his hand away despite your request, and as your pleas shifted to whimpers, he pushed your coat over your shoulder. You shimmied, easily taking it off.

Then, he slid the zipper of your dress down your back and pushed the straps down your arms. Your skin tingled under his touch while you were dazed by the hickeys he was leaving across your chest. Even feeling him unhook your bra didn’t startle you; you only realized his goal when he pushed away all barriers and finally got a nipple inside his mouth.

You had to make your best effort not to let your moans echo in the parking lot. It was so hard, you started trembling, sinking your nails into his scalp, when his hips snapped forward as though he wished he were inside you right now. You showed him you wanted the same by helping him dry humping into you, the fraction of friction enough to have you begging yet again, but he had other plans.

He kept nibbling and torturing your nipple in his mouth while his free hand got under your skirt again, unabashedly going straight for your core.

Your efforts to suppress your moans made your very bones shake as his thumb gently drew circles on your clit. Every new motion elicited a new shudder, to the point you were holding your breath and letting your body unfold along with the pleasure. It was so singular and soft, immediately contrasted by his mouth suckling, making your toes curl.

“Kook, please,” you cried as soon as you could, surfacing to draw a quick breath before sinking into it again.

“What do you need, bubbles?” he asked again, nuzzling and pecking all over your chest as though he was so lost in you, he no longer knew what you needed.

As if that was possible.

“You. Inside me,” you managed to say through the shivers, making your lower belly coil. Every lap of his thumb was a threat to your sanity, pushing you closer. You sank your nails into his scalp and crossed your legs behind him so he’d stay as close as possible. “I need you, I missed you… Kiss me, please.”

Your desperation was obvious in your breathy words, and your heart thumped when his lips left your chest to acquiesce. His mouth was quick to slot in with yours, instantly seeking your taste with his tongue as though being inside you meant in every way possible. You kissed him harder, knowing it would bruise your lips. His thumb disappeared momentarily as he adjusted the clothes between your bodies, and you moaned breathlessly in anticipation. Only what suddenly invaded you was not his hard dick as you had hoped, but two fingers that he curled inside you.

You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut further when he started playing with your slick, getting his fingers properly coated by pulling away and pushing back inside you multiple times.

“How— How could you—” you complained, finally managing to open your eyes.

His eyes sparkled mischievously as he kept you as close as could be with your foreheads pressed together. He chuckled sensually, and you throbbed around his fingers. “Did you forget where we are?” he asked. Your lashes fluttered as you tried to think, but it was impossible while he fingered you with that deliciously slow and consistent rhythm. “Besides, I have to make you a good girl. Make you earn it first.”

His playfulness made your stomach flutter, clenching around his fingers before you even realized how close you were. You gripped him harder, closer to you, so needy you couldn’t think further than him, right there, with you.

“Tell me what you want,” you whispered, trembling with want. He ghosted your lips as you breathed, “Whatever you want, I—”

Everything happened so fast. Your mind was invaded with possibilities of what he might have wanted, from you getting on your knees to suck him to him turning you around and fucking you raw, either way covering your insides white. As if your fantasies weren’t enough, he raised his thumb, trying to give you extra friction. For a split second, you were sure you’d come in seconds.

But then the loud noise of a door slamming open broke through your haze, and everything stilled. Jungkook’s hand stopped as he hugged you closer, hiding your face in the crook of his neck with a possessive grip that quickly turned into a soothing caress.

You heard the laughter and steps of people entering the parking lot not so far from you while your racing heart calmed inside your chest. Jungkook’s scent and embrace were enough to keep you relaxed, but then his hand slid off you slowly, and you cried out quietly. His neck muffled it, but still.

“No…” You whined. “I was right there.”

“Sorry, bubbles.”

You sulked hard and pulled away abruptly to glare at him, but your chin dropped instead. He was casually licking your slick off his fingers while the group of people got inside their car a few rows behind you.

You blinked, befuddled, and before you could say something, he was already kissing you again. The way he pressed himself to you, hard, hot, and tasting of you, scrambled your mind entirely. Licking your taste on his tongue made you grab him close and press him to your needy core. It was enough to move your hips, dry humping him while his hands grabbed your ass and helped.

You were so turned on that the lightest touch was enough to set you ablaze. “Fuck, please… Jungkook, please…”

“I want to, bubbles.” He groaned, kissing down your jaw. “You drive me fucking insane.” You agreed eagerly, nuzzling him while your hands tried to search for his belt. “But I want to take you home.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed, unbuckling his belt when he stopped your hands. You faintly heard tires screeching as a car left the parking lot, but your mind was focused on Jungkook.

“Now,” he clarified softly, raising his hand to brush your hair behind your ear. “I need to take you home.”

Suddenly, the lust dictating your every move receded. Your mind was brought to a conversation you two had one month ago, and everything was clearer.

I hate that I brought you here 'cause I wanted to see you here, in my home, as if that could bring back what we once were.

Jungkook always needed to bring you home because you were the woman of his dreams. The one he loved with his whole heart, whom he could never hate.

You cupped his cheeks and nodded, kissing him tenderly. “Take me home, Kook.”

His precious smile meant everything. He quickly helped you fix your clothes and put your coat back on before buckling his belt and giving you the extra helmet he always kept under the seat. Once seated behind him, you kissed the back of his neck before putting your helmet on and holding onto him.

As usual, as soon as the motorcycle engine roared, you let all thoughts fade from your mind. There were no more worries or doubts, just Jungkook taking you back home, as if you had never left.

The way to his home was paved with tenderness and care. He drove carefully, not too slow, not too fast, grabbing your hand on his chest whenever he had to stand still at a red light. You responded by pressing yourself flush to him, molding to his body like a blanket. You knew by the way he touched your leg sporadically or squeezed your hand that he loved every second.

When he parked in the underground garage of his apartment building, no words were exchanged. Not even all the way up to his apartment. You both moved in silent tandem, storing the helmets away, then holding hands and making way to the elevator. You stood close, easily curled up to his chest while you waited, and the familiarity of that moment soothed you. It was just like three weeks ago, just like one year ago; thankfully, nothing had changed.

When you entered his apartment, you hung up your coat on the coat hanger, the same one he had kicked to the floor in a fury one month ago, when you fought. When you drove him insane because, despite the words out of his mouth, the one thing Jungkook never wanted was for you to leave.

You smiled at the memory. “I’m home,” you sighed, stepping in.

His living room was just as you remembered; the blanket you used to snuggle on the couch was still there, as was your favorite coffee mug next to the coffee machine in the kitchen. 

Before you could turn around and tell him how much those little things made you feel at home, his arms wrapped around you from behind. And just like that, you were more than welcomed back, more than safe.

You pulled his arms further around your middle, making him drape over you like a blanket this time.

“Bubbles…”

His whisper in your ear was enough for you to turn around and meet his waiting lips. He didn’t relent his hold for one second; instead, he pulled you flush to him, kissing you gently before softly picking you up from the floor. You held onto him with arms and legs, sighing into his kiss as he carried you.

He placed you gently on the bed, and you were quick to get on your knees so your lips would stay connected to his at all times. You were so heated, pulling his shirt so he’d take it off and welcoming him straight after when he returned his mouth to yours, that you barely noticed his deft fingers sliding your zipper down. Yet as soon as you did, you peeled the dress and everything else as quickly as possible. The moment your lips connected once again, he was unbuckling his belt, and the very sound made you clench unapologetically. You wanted him so much you wouldn’t be able to think until all of him was all over you.

You tried to move, but your foot got stuck, forcing you to turn and look. Your heels were getting tangled in the sheets and you chuckled, sitting back on your butt to take them off. Jungkook smiled too, never taking his eyes off you as he stripped naked. Yet, your eyes drifted from him to the mirror behind him after throwing your heels on the floor. Not just because of the view of his round ass and sculpted back, but the whole image — you on the bed, naked, waiting for him. It reminded you of the first time you got back together, when he moved the mirror on purpose so he could see you.

Before he could put his knees on the bed and embrace you again, you got on all fours and reached out your hand to him. He grabbed it instantly, letting you guide him behind you to face the mirror too.

“I want you to see me every time you look into this mirror,” you told him, kissing his hand before putting it on your body. “Even when I’m not here.”

He brushed his hands down your curves slowly, admiring you in front of him as he got on the bed. Soon, his whole body was a blanket again, covering you from head to toe. His strong chest pressed to your back as his broad shoulders framed you, leaving nothing to the imagination, not even his excitement.

Yet your mind didn’t go there immediately. Instead, you basked in his sweet caresses and kisses as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I always have, bubbles…”

Your heart thumped loudly inside your chest as you shuddered, knowing he was telling the truth. Knowing that was how deep you were for him.

Jungkook didn’t take long to trace, kiss, and nuzzle every bit of skin you left for him to find, taking pleasure in nibbling and tickling you so you’d squirm and chuckle. Meanwhile, you had no gripe with pressing yourself further into him, scratching his arms, and bucking your hips, trying to get him to align with you. 

At first, he chuckled, playing along, but eventually, he grabbed your hips. “Eager?”

“I’m a good girl, and we’re no longer in a parking lot,” you replied. He nipped your shoulder in retaliation, but you weren’t taunting him. “We’re home, so won’t you come home to me?”

He groaned, grabbing your hair to turn your head so you’d meet his lips. His mouth was needy, almost rough on yours, and you matched him. You were busy meeting his tongue and trying to lick his lip ring when you felt him pressing the head of his cock to your entrance.

Your chin immediately dropped, turning a needy kiss into a messy one, especially when he thrusted shallowly, trying to stretch you to his size. You both groaned, loving the searing pleasure climbing your spine as he bottomed out.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and you whimpered. His fingers started drawing gentle circles on your clit and your hips buckled against him. You could feel him sliding so well, melting under the strength of his arms and the sweetness of his lips. “You’re so wet…”

You bit your lip, letting the way he fit inside you override your senses. It was so easy to let go and forget everything when Jungkook kept whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he rubbed your clit slowly. His hips were even slower, barely moving while he stayed perfectly hard inside you, as though telling you how amazing you felt was more important than fucking you.

It drove you wild; the more gentle his touch, the more you needed more. The more he told you how much he wanted you, the more you craved him. To the point that when he bit your earlobe playfully, you snapped your hips back, making him reach deep and bottom out again.

His hand automatically striked your asscheek, but you felt it like a caress.

“Needy,” he whispered, nibbling your shoulder, and you sighed.

“Only for you.”

His hand darted from your ass to your hair, pulling ever so slightly so you’d arch your back. His hips gained a rhythm, snapping to yours more vehemently while he suckled and took nips at your neck. 

You grunted, dazed and happy. You wanted everything, from his kisses and teases to the way he rutted into you and caged you in like you were his. His fingers left your hair to your core again, knowing how to softly pave the way of your pleasure while your walls clenched around his length, feeling him slide into you so well. The sloppy sounds made you proud.

Until he slowed down and bit your ear again, knowing your squirms were because he was keeping you on edge for far too long.

You were about to call him out when he whispered, “I want to look at you.”

You raised your head to look into the mirror, having completely forgotten about it, and met his gaze. His eyes glistened sweetly, trained on you while his hips kept a sweet rhythm, and you sighed. This was all about you two, not whatever he did before he found you again.

So you raised a hand and guided his sweet lips to meet yours, telling him with a slow kiss that you loved him. You could always have hot, frenzied sex, but right now, you wanted that sweet loving only he could give you.

He understood you perfectly. He pulled out and sat on the bed, grabbing your hand to keep you close while giving you the choice of what would happen next. You rose to your knees and smiled at him, unable to hide how much your heart thrummed with his gentleness toward you. Then, you leaned back, splaying your hair on his pillow while pulling him over you. His eyes eagerly took in your silhouette, including your smile, as you spread your legs and welcomed him. You belonged in his bed, on his pillows, and he belonged to you.

He instantly crushed you to the mattress, sweetly wrapping your legs around him as he kissed you deeply. He didn’t just love you with passion; he lived it too.

Aligning himself with you took a second, and sliding into you, filling you whole, was instantaneous. You gasped as he pecked your cheek and moved with him, knowing this was it. He wasn’t just enjoying feeling you, nor guiding your pleasure in ways that blew your mind. He was looking at you with love and desire unfolding with every thrust. Every time your bodies pieced together, stealing your breath away between one moan and another, his starry eyes stayed on yours, locked together, strengthening the foundations of your commitments until you were ready to cry out.

“Kook…” you breathed, quickly squinting your eyes. You wanted to look at him, but as your insides coiled, ready to be released at any moment, it was harder and harder.

“I’m here, bubbles,” he assured you. He grabbed your hands, pressing them to the mattress next to your head, and you knew that look. Knew that angle, recognised the snap of his hips, and soon the burn stretched through your body, making you keen. He knew you so incredibly well that you weren’t surprised when he sharpened his thrusts. There was no hesitation, just pure want and something deeper and gentler.

Your nails sank into the back of his hands as you bucked your hips, helping him to the last of your strength. Your breathing changed, and so did your moans as you arched your back, and he sank into you. He searched for your mouth, kissing your lips once, twice, with the same cadence as his hips until you collapsed. 

You arched against him, unable to keep your eyes locked with his or that sweet kiss any longer. Your climax floored you, making you scream and tremble as you felt everything. The way he groaned as he hid in your neck, the way his body framed yours with as much gentleness as fucking that need allowed him, and finally, the way he throbbed inside you, releasing warm ropes of cum to make you feel complete.

His lips peppering your neck with kisses quickly reached your own, pressing gently before he lay beside you. 

He pulled you into his arms as you both caught your breath. You rested your head on his chest, and he grabbed your hand. 

“I love you,” he whispered, brushing your knuckles with his lips.

You could hardly be happier. “I love you, too,” you said, kissing his sweaty pec. 

“I need you to know it,” he insisted, looking into your eyes. “When you came back, I felt pathetic. You reminded me of how happy I was before you left me. Of how much it hurt to lose you. Of what I did to try to forget you and how it changed me. So much so, I almost lost you in this whole thing. Even when I knew, as soon as I saw you again, that I wanted no one else. That I wasn't happy with the way I was doing things. That I still love you and want to spend my life with you, even if you tore my life apart when you left.”

You frowned. “Kook—”

“No, I’m saying it because that’s where I stand. This opportunity with you is not just… a gamble or giving it a shot. I love you, I want you, my life isn’t complete without you. No one could ever take your place. It’s been two years since I met you, and this is still true. I want to be with you and be the Jungkook who loves you. Because when you’re in my life, I’m happy and strong enough to live as I dreamt. You're part of all this, of me,” he whispered, kissing your fingers again. “I want you to know that.”

“Kook,” you called, with tears in your eyes. His teary gaze met yours, and you jerked forward to hug him with all your heart. “I love you, too, and I want you too, so much! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I… I should have talked to you immediately. I let it all get to my head. It won't happen again, I promise.”

He nodded, petting your hair as he held you to his chest. “It's part of trying again, right? As long as we figure it out together, I'm happy. But you know what could help?”

You withdrew to look at him with a furrowed brow. “What?” 

He grinned. “A certain ring.”

He pressed his lips to your fingers again, unable to hide a playful smile, while you chuckled.

“One thing at a time.”

He chuckled. “Maybe next year.”

[rainyhideoutnight]

Hii I’m not sure what you’re comfy with but could you do Lottie x fem reader first time fingering preferably you fingering Lottie

fingering lottie for the first time. cw. fingering, praise. dom!reader, sub!lottie (but lottie guides you through it). mdni.

your bodies are a tangled mess on the bed, both of you laying on your sides as you make out. lottie invited you over to watch a movie and eat some snacks, since her parents were away for the weekend, which quickly turned into something else. a few touches here, a couple kisses there, and soon you both found yourselves in her bed.

"need you so bad." she murmurs breathlessly between kisses, clawing the front of your shirt desperately. you waste no time taking off your clothes until you're both left in only your underwear. you push her back to hover above her, trailing kisses from her neck down to her stomach. lottie knows what you're going to do, she knows you wanna go down on her, but she had other plans in mind, so she stops you. "w-wait—"

you immediately stop, looking up at her. "what's wrong, baby? i'm sorry, did i overstep?" you apologize, but she quickly reassures you. "no, i just... wanna try something else." she murmurs, a faint blush tainting her cheeks. you look at her with curiosity, giving her the space to speak.

"i... want you to use your fingers." she says, and it makes your head spin. you had sex a few times, but it always involved either humping each other or eating her out. she's never taken your fingers until now, and you can tell she's nervous. your brain's too dumb for her already, so you nod and mutter a small "okay". of course you'd never deny lottie anything she asked.

you lean down to kiss her again, as your hand trails down her body. she's soaked through her underwear, which makes you gasp softly against her lips. you pull away momentarily to pull down her panties, and she shivers slightly at the action. you place a kiss on her forehead as the pad of your middle finger gently circles her clit. "it's okay, just relax."

lottie sighs shakily, spreading her legs further. "please..." she whispers. you watch her for a moment, entranced. her hair's a mess on the pillow, her lips swollen from making out for so long, and her chest moves up and down with each heavy breath. she always looks gorgeous, but right now she's got that twinkle in her eyes that says fuck me.

you gently probe inside, watching her face intently for any sign of discomfort. her face scrunches up and she has her eyes closed, getting used to the intrusion even if it's one finger. your finger's only halfway through before she lets out a squeak, making you falter your movements for a moment. "you okay?" you ask softly, searching her face for any unspoken feeling, before she grabs the back of your head and tugs you down for a kiss. it's messy and desperate, your combined desire making you both needier, and she whispers between kisses. "more."

so you obey. your finger goes all the way inside, making her whine loudly. "move." she says in a breathless voice. all her commands, even if spoken softly, send a pang of pleasure right to your core. you start pumping your finger in and out, slowly at first, until she's clawing at your back, begging for another one.

you give her what she asks for and insert another finger, the burning stretch making her squirm slightly and let out puffy moans. "god, so good, so good—" she praises right against your ear, as her warm, gummy walls clench around your fingers, as if trying to milk them. the mixed stimuli proves too much for you, making you moan instinctively. you feel the sudden urge to put your mouth to good use, so your free hand pulls down lottie's bra enough for her tits to spill out, before taking one nipple into your mouth and suck as your fingers never cease their repetitive motions, her hand grabbing your hair to keep you in place.

"fuck, good girl. you're doing so good, keep that up, yeah? nngh—" lottie's cut off by your teeth grazing her sensitive nipple, making her hips start to grind on your fingers, a telltale sign of her impending orgasm. you keep pleasuring her until her walls clench around your fingers, her hips flailing around as she lets out a long moan.

she takes a full minute to come down from her intense orgasm, before carefully slipping your fingers out of her. she pulls you down to rest your head on her chest, listening to her heart thumping as her hand caresses your scalp. "you're amazing, baby. you did so good." she murmurs, feeling your cheeks burn at the praise.

a/n. i'm so sorry this took me so long anon! </3 thanks for your request and i hope you like it

[monsterontheoutskirts]

I care because of things I saw happen when I was in a residential treatment facility as a teenager. We had boys and girls dorms, but with the approval of a resident's parents and therapists, a transgender resident could move to the dorm of their choice regardless of sex.

On the girls dorm, we had girls, girls who considered themselves nonbinary, trans female-to-male individuals who lacked the parental approval required to switch dorms, and male-to-female transgender individuals. There was also a feminine biological male who identified as a gay guy but had been placed on the female dorm for reasons that never became clear.

During my time there we had around five residents on the girl's dorm who identified as male-to-female transgender. Most were attracted to guys. Most were lovely and self aware individuals. One became one of my closest friends there (I miss you, S.)

However, one of these individuals was attracted to girls and it became clear to me from our first encounter that I should not find myself in a room alone with him. This guy wore makeup, pink shirts, and leggings but besides that did not look or act the slightest bit feminine. He ended up sexually assaulting multiple girls on our dorm, many of whom already were dealing with trauma from previous sexual assaults. It took way too many of those incidents for him to be moved back to the guys' dorm, where he immediatedly started re-identifying as (surprise!) a guy.

This guy and I ended up in the co-ed step down house together, where he began pursuing one of the girls there who had come from a different facility and had no knowledge of his past. I had warned enough girls in the past about this guy and not a one of them had taken me seriously, so I figured there was no point in telling this girl.

Anyway, this guy raped her and they ended up both getting kicked out of the program. I was getting kicked out at the same time for a general inability to follow rules. During the last couple of days before we were due to leave, she and I talked about what happened. I asked her if she would've believed me if I had warned her about the guy.

She said no.

I was friends with a lot of questionable individuals when I was at the main facility. I was a big believer in "keep your enemies closer." This guy and I remained friendly throughout the whole time I was there, even when I knew what was going on. I wanted him to see me as a friend, not a pursuit. I also identified as straight at the time so that helped. This approach worked and he never touched me. I have memories of us playing ping pong together, writing a short story for class together. He knew I saw right through him and that I was one of few who did. We had an unspoken agreement not to step on each other's toes.

I did what I had to when I was there. I figured out how to play the social game. Residential treatment saved my life, period. Please do not listen to the likes of Paris Hilton on this topic. But the handling of the situation with this guy by staff was the absolute biggest disappointment of my entire time there. Everyone knew what was going on. Everyone allowed it to happen.

Personal experiences in my life have made this issue an incredibly nuanced one for me. But this is why I care. Because the status quo is unsustainable.

it doesn't affect you, so why do you care?

i care because women are being put in danger.

i care because women and children have their faces put onto pornography without their consent.

i care because violent pornography and humiliating acts is glorified, and an easy way to make money.

i care because sexual harassment is so common.

i care because women are being actively pimped out and exploited by the pornography industry.

i care because we have reverted back into stereotypical gender roles.

i care because women and men are more than the gender roles society has placed in them.

i care because women are undergoing cosmetic surgeries that lead to health problems that they regret.

i care because language is being policed.

i care because there aren't many studies on the long term effects of HRT children are taking.

i care because policies that can hurt women are being passed.

i care because i believe women deserve a voice.

i care because us as women are sacrificing out peace for a small minority.

i care because the actions of the tq are ruining the lgb.

i care because i don't believe in staying silent any longer.

[beanarie]

part 2 of buck takes a mental health break, in which i try to nudge the other characters into the family role they've played onscreen multiple times in the past. spoiler: eddie's still being a fuckin knob because he's got more growing to do.

~

He tells the team, because no matter what happens to him, he never wants to be the person who leaves without a word.

He cooked, not at the station in case it would be a busy shift, but he reheated it there. They all took some lasagna, and even sat together at the table. They're doing better. They'll be all right.

Hen is the first to sense something off. "You're not eating?" she says.

"Oh," Buck says, grabbing a roll. "I, uh."

"It's not poisoned, is it," Chim says with a snicker. He doesn't stop eating.

Buck doesn't now what to do with that. He just comes out with it. "Today is my last shift. I'm taking some time off, a few months at least."

Someone drops their fork. "Whoa," Ravi says.

"Is this like last time?" Hen asks, ignoring Chim's confused noise. "You're not- Buck. No one, no one blames you for Bobby."

A lump rises in this throat. Buck can only shake his head.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie says. "So you're getting back at me."

"What, for leaving?" Ravi says. Everyone's lasagna is getting cold.

And Eddie has to say, "Maybe that, too."

"Eddie," Hen says, calmly but with a discernible edge. "What did you do?"

Eddie looks away, his jaw clenched. Funny, how he doesn't feel right saying it to everyone else who was there, but he had no problem saying it to Buck.

They shouldn't have to hear it, though. Buck takes Eddie's attention back with a shrug. "I'll be driving cross country, and doing that right takes a while. Out there, just. If I'm all I got, it's okay if I make things all about me."

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Whatever. You haven't chosen to take a day off in your life. We'll see you in three days, drama queen."

Hen looks between them and lands on Buck. "Are you okay, really?"

"I will be," Buck says, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels.

~

A familiar shout/scream of "Uncle Buck!" punctuates the car that pulled in front of Buck's short term rental. He opens the door to the entire Han family. Maddie already looks misty. Hoo boy.

"Hey, guys," Buck says, waving them in and letting Jee climb him like a set of monkey bars.

"Coffeemaker's in the kitchen, yeah?" Chim says, toting a knocked-out Bo in his carseat. "Come on, Jee. You come from a long line of caffeine addicts. Gotta start sometime."

For him, it's very smooth.

Maddie takes Buck by wrist and leads him out to the tiny patio. They sit in the uncomfortable lawn chairs that the last tenant (or ten before him) left behind.

"You were never looking for a permanent place," she says.

"I thought about it, at first." When he realized Eddie and Chris wanted their home back. "Something with less strings just felt right."

She breathes out very slowly. "Okay."

Buck watches a couple of sparrows flitting about the fence. He's not asking permission.

"How bad has it been?" she says, choked up.

"I... can't really put it into words," Buck says. Not without some bile getting out, and he doesn't want that, not for her, especially not now.

"Evan," she cries. He could never take that tone from her. He pulls her to him, letting her tuck herself into his arms.

"We'll talk, okay? When I'm on the road, you'll- you'll get sick of hearing my voice. I just need some distance, perspective, all of those things."

"And you are coming back," she says, half in question. "I need you."

It would've been better if she'd stabbed him in the stomach. For a second there he can't breathe.

"What? Buck, please talk to me."

"No, you don't," Buck says in a ragged voice. "I'm- I'm not-"

She takes his face in her hands, like when he was six, like when he was twelve, like when he was nineteen. "Listen. If this is not the place for you anymore, I will understand. But you and me? That can never change. I told you, you are never alone as long as I've got the ability to do something about it."

"Okay," Buck says, sniffling. "Okay."

Just after Maddie takes the carseat and the toddler out the door, Chim wraps around Buck and squeezes hard. "I'm sorry," he says thickly. "We really thought he had you."

It was a reasonable assumption. Eddie had been there after the tsunami, after the lightning strike. After Tommy. But losing Bobby shattered something in Eddie, and the sharp edges cut whatever exists between them.

"Thanks," Buck says (instead of No one asked. Why didn't anyone ask?) and he means it.

[tobesolnelyx]

hello!! i saw your fratboy shauna and lottie posts and i am obsessed with them. could you please make a mellisa one? no rush, i just think your writing is amazing and would love to read that!!

— so american || fratboy and g!p melissa headcanons 🌻

a/n: the og fratboy!! thank you so much anon <3

summary: she’s human version of overexcited golden retriever whenever she’s around you. and she’s very proud of that. modern college au. girlfriend!melissa.

warnings: NSFW content - MDNI

★ — if melissa had a tail, it would wag everytime she sees you. her ears would perk up, carefully listening and waiting for your orders. really.

she belongs to those frats, obviously. plays soccer, throws parties, always sneaking in alcohol. she tries to be all tough and smug as others, but if it comes to mel…she’s more of a softie than real cocky asshole. an very awkward, a bit dumb, but still somehow endearing.

★ — in the begging, she has a big crush on shauna, until, well, she realizes it’s not what she wants or needs. and when she’s all ready to give up on having crushes at all, cause, let’s be real, her romantic life isn’t as excited as the rest of frats, she meets you.

★ — okay, not exactly meet. she talked to you. once. but it was enough to develop massive, massive crush on you. you were asking her about teachers or something, she didn’t know. she could just nod and pretend she listens to you instead of dumbly staring at you. she was focusing on your voice, well…on the sound of it. not the words exactly. her cheeks were flushed in seconds and she swore all she wanted to do, was to tug her cap tighter and scream. god, she never were so fucked.

fortunately, you thought it’s cute. the way she stuttered slightly around you. always tried to be close to you. even if she wasn’t the most confident and flirtatious, she was treating you like you were the most precious thing on the world. she lingered — always there to hold your small mirror when you were fixing your make up, always sit next to you, laughing at your jokes a bit too hard.

★ — others mocked her. about the fact that she got it that bad and she didn’t even try to hide it. but it worked, you’re dating now. besides, you’re gorgeous and she’s ready to tell the whole world that you’re, in fact, couple.

“no, really, it’s pathetic,” some of her friends scoffs. she stares at them, brows furrowed as she fixes her cap.

“pathetic?” she repeats, trying to made sense out of it each time. always failing. her friend nods and she shakes her head. “obviously, that’s my…

her friend groans, stopping her before she can starts talking about you. cause once she begins, she won’t stop until she’ll be sitting here, soft smile plastered on her face, thinking about you for the rest of the day.

★ — do i really have to mention it? yes, melissa has weird amount of hats. yes, she’s wearing them all the time. but what about melissa having a thing for denim? especially denim jackets. they’re clinging to her the way hats do.

★ — the fact that she’s not so smug and bratty, doesn’t mean she’s not possessive. god, she is. probably more than rest of the frats. it has something to do with hers clinginess. she’s not just touching you, she’s barely letting you go alone to the bathroom. always wrapped around you — from behind, at your side, in bed — doesn’t really matter. as long as she can touch you.

★ — she’s not beating up people, who hits on you. no, she simply gets whiny, being annoying and needy until you pay attention to her. and if you finally do, there’s few minutes before she drags you to her bedroom to finger you.

★ — speaking of — she loves to hump you, too. your thighs, to be specific, groaning into your neck, whimpering your name. she doesn’t need a lot to shamelessly cum, messing her jeans and boxers inside. usually, she smears cum accidentally on your skin or pants, too.!

“jesus, mel—“ you start, glancing at the sticky stain on your skirt. she’s still pressed to you, now in a bit uncomfortable position. it’s all hot and her cum clings to you.

“im sorry,” she murmurs into your neck, still trembling and panting. she refuses to let you go, caging your leg between her own. pressing softening cock to your leg. “i couldn’t help myself,” she mumbles.

★ — oh, she’s awful at holding back orgasm. always cumming a bit too quick. she doesn’t exactly knows if it’s because you smell so good m, or your skin is so soft. her cock just erupts after few minutes despite the fact that she’s pretty experienced. in one second she’s fucking you deep and hard, and in the next one, she’s whining, cumming into you (fist, mouth, pussy — whatever)

★ — for some reason, she has a weird thing for cum. hers, yours, mixed together. not exactly a breeding kink but she likes to push white ropes inside you, when it leaks out. spreads your cum all over your thighs and belly — only to lick it clean later. she just loves the taste of it.

★ — she’s just a needy puppy. goes anywhere you go, overexcited whenever she sees you. but can you blame her? she loves you, you’re her first serious relationship. naturally, she’s obsessed.

★ — she braids your hair. it’s her way to tell you i love you. some evenings, she just sits with you and with careful hands, she makes cute braids on your head. she kisses the crown of it at the end — after you end your gossip about everything and everyone at college.

★ — oh right, she’s walking you to your classes. make sure that you’re not gonna get lost somewhere. as if it was possible.

“melissa,” you say half amused, half annoyed. “im not a toddler, i can walk alone…”’

“yeah,” she says but her hand is already around your shoulders. marking what belongs to her so everyone on the hallway can see. maybe walking with you it’s her weird way to say that hey, losers! this one belongs to me! “let me be your gentleman,” she grins and you just shake your head with a smile.

★ — oh yeah, she’s making awful jokes. mostly dirty jokes. and you swear, they’re so stupid that…makes them funny. you feel like you’re embarrassed by yourself everytime you laugh at them. she’s always so proud of herself tho.

★ — is willing to do absolutely everything for you. small things like making you breakfast, buying something you can’t, picking up your package. and those who means way more to you. always going with you to the cinema because you wanted to see particular movie. finishing your homework when you’re too tired. she just wants to be there for you.

★ — you’re her favourite person. no matter how much her friends tease her for being a simp, no matter how many times you’ll be arguing over small shits. is she over clinging? absolutely. what’s more, sometimes she’s just a dummy in her cap, knowing only how to kick ball around. but you wouldn’t have this any other way.

[lc-birdie]

What if nurse!reader likes Dennis but is scared to tell him until she overhears him asking Robby for advice on how to ask her out

For once it was an almost slow day. Holidays always were. Small issues could wait another day and besides some burns from first time holiday cooks there wasn't much for everyone to do. Thanksgiving was just one of those holidays.

It left everyone to try and fill the time as the day dragged along with no patients to distract them. Which led to the current situation, small groups congregating around the Pitt.

You were catching up on charting the last patient, an unfortunate soul who didn't fully defrost their turkey and led to some second and third degree burns up his arms. It wasn't the most entertaining way to pass the time, much preferring to hear the latest updates of the ED from Princess and Perlah. However, it did give you an excuse to avoid a certain Med Student.

Dennis Whitaker. A slow growing friendship that had begun to morph in the last couple of weeks of working together into something more. The flutters of an almost school-age crush that made words unobtainable in those brief moments, heart racing to unhealthy paces, and an inescapable heat up your neck and ears.

The way his eyes always seemed to shine with this glint of anticipation and positivity. The way his face seemed to never show the hard lines of negativity or anger. The small quirk of his lips that would turn into an occasional smile. The little face he would pull when-

"Hey," your train of thought was cut off as your name was called. Donnie walked up to you. "Can you help me clean up this patient real quick?"

"Yea I gotcha." You follow him into the room.

"Alright sir we're all done just hit that light if you need anything." You pull off your gloves as you exit the room, swinging the door behind you. Reaching your hand out to get hand sanitizer you freeze mid motion as you catch the tail end of a sentence.

"-and if you're sure that this is the person for you, take the chance. You only have so much longer in this rotation. Don't hold out and miss your opportunity." It was Robby.

"Yea I just-what if they don't feel the same? I don't want to mess this up..." Almost on cue you crane your head around the corner as Dennis continues, "they're just so cool and like good at what they do. They're just incredible and I'm out of my depth here."

You make eye contact with Robby as he begins to fight back a smile. "Well I think the best thing that you can do is just tell them," he states as he slightly nods his head towards you, over Dennis' shoulder.

His head whips back as his face flushes a bright red. "umm-I-uh..."

"I'll leave you two to it." Robby jokes as he pats Whitaker on the shoulder before making his exit.

"I'm sorry-I didn't umm know you were going to hear that." Dennis admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You smiled at him, grin splitting your face. Reaching forward, you brushed your hand up his arm to where it landed on his bicep. "Well if you really mean it, I'm free after work tomorrow..."

"Yea absolutely I'd love to-its-um-its a date then", he stammered out as he smiled.

[jjwolves]

REDACTED FOR SAFETY ꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷

What: 5 Coral Glasses X Reader Headcanons Where She Helps You Hide a Crime

Who: Coral Glasses from ENA Dream BBQ (By Joel G)

How Much: ~800 words, ~4 mins

Credits: Image Banner -> Joel G

Warnings: Accidental Robot Murder (?), Crime (?)

Coral Glasses was sweating—that is, sweating more then usual. Normally it’d be enough to fill a shot glass or so in a minute, but you were pretty sure she was producing quarts now. Standing at your side, she began biting her nails as she observed the carnage. A Keeper, one of the overworld’s guardians, had been reduced to nothing but rubble as if it had been exploded from the inside and, as a result, was smeared across the crude kitchenette you were using earlier. “Ohh… This is really bad. P-please tell me you didn’t do this!” You did. Coral Glasses freezes for a moment before you continue, eye growth pulsating with her heartbeat. You begin to explain how this was all an accident.

A few hours ago, a Keeper wandered into the building you were inside. It wandered on spindly, robotic legs and stared at you a with a detailed bust resting on top of it. “Present identification,” it droned. You set your teapot on the flame and got out an ID, allowing this strange creature to scan it. Who knows what would happen if it was denied. Thankfully, it seemed to accept your form just fine. “Confirmed. Shut your face and go in peace.” Phew. Just as it was leaving, however, your teapot began whistling as a plume of steam began to erupt from it. You rushed to the teapot, but your attention was stolen by the now malfunctioning robot who had yet to take its leave. “Pitch—indicated, high, pitch, steam error—too, pitch,” it gritted out. The next thing you knew, it exploded and you screamed as its head landed on your stove.

You meekly ask if Coral Glasses is going to bring you to jail now. She runs a hand through her greasy hair and plops down onto a crystal chair, baffled. You wonder if she was considering it—handing you over. “I’m not qualified for this… Any of this. Um. But if it’s you, then, I won’t. Hand you over, I mean. You can’t go to jail. We have to find a way around this.” Find a way around this? What did she mean by that? “I-I don’t know. I don’t know. Maybe we can hide this. Not hide! Maybe we can cover it up? Gah, that sounds worse!” She hides her eyes behind a pale hand. You take her free hand, not knowing how to reassure her. You say that maybe she’d be safer if you turned yourself in to the holy authorities. Still nervous, still sweating, Coral Glasses’s eyes take on a hard, serious quality you hadn’t seen before. Her coral growth’s colored ring pulses slowly and deliberately. It gives you a chill, even if her voice wavers. “N-No. That is not going to happen.” You feel a little better as her moist hand squeezed yours.

Thinking on her feet, Coral Glasses leads you through a frantically-executed plan. You two get shovels and dig holes around the kitchenette, hauling the robotic limbs and dumping the Keeper’s remains into them. She tries to lift the stone head, but her legs shake when she manages to get it off the stove, and her hands are too sweaty to hold it in place. You slide into position to carry it for her. “Phew. T-thanks. I didn’t see any lifting requirements under this job’s qualifications.” Afterwards, you wipe down doorknobs, chairs and the teapot for fingerprints and wash the glowing blood off the walls. Coral Glasses pries open the Keeper’s chassis and retrieves a blinking microchip before burying the “torso”. You both wander for a couple minutes until you find a suitably tall valley to drop the microchip into. It’s a hard day’s work, but you get it done. “Maybe one day we’ll get around to fulfilling our actual responsibilities, but… Um… It’s good that I could help clear that up for you, I think.”

It’s not too long after that you both get back from your misadventure. The hub is the same as you left it, no robots nor geometric angels hunting you down for revenge. Just your job. That is, until Froggy stops you with a hand on your shoulder. “What were you doing?! You’re two hours late! Were you partying at the Crowd Door or something?” Coral Glasses tenses, sweat production going into overdrive. She grips your hand tightly. “No! We weren’t doing anything! We had to, um… Meet with a valid Genie candidate! Yes! We’re just doing our job!” Froggy narrows his eyes before shrugging. “Alright, that’s fair. You need to keep me posted if you’re going to be doing things like this in the future though. I had no idea where you guys were!” You answer with a sir, yes sir. Once you and Coral Glasses are out of earshot, you thank her for helping you. She has a soft expression on, and her reef begins to pulsate quickly, an omen for a very quick kiss on the cheek before she whirls away and begins running back to the Hub. “N-no problem! Back to work!” You feel your cheek and look at your hand, now marked with a smudge of ink. It's better than having Keeper blood on you, at least. A lot better.

From the Chaos Fic Poll.

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 ⭑.ᐟ

miya atsumu x f!reader

atsumu catches you dancing in your bedroom to a certain viral song.

part five of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college au featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.

a/n: this is a very unserious drabble you guys. i needed something lighthearted and fluffy to get me through the work week! ( ╥ ᴗ ╥)

You didn't even like the song at first.

A couple girls in your university dance troupe were gushing over the music video before practice the other day, crowding around someone's laptop like fraternity boys did for playoff sports games.

"I can't believe they switched up their style so quickly," one of them lamented. "Their last song was better. Much easier on the ears."

"I dunno. I kinda dig it," another argued. "Sure, the lyrics are a little unhinged — but people don't make this kind of music to wax poetic. They do it so they can shake ass."

"Oh, this dance is going viral for sure," a third agreed.

"What are we watching?" you asked her, slinging your dance bag on the studio floor. You were 99% sure her name was Mina.

"Gnarly by Katseye! Have you heard it yet, Y/N?"

“I haven’t. Is it new?”

“They just released it yesterday,” Mina replied, scooting over on the hardwood floors to make room for you to sit. “The Internet is going wild about it.”

"I see," you murmured, squatting beside her as each member of the global girl group started twerking onscreen in perfect unison. Frowning, you asked, "Why are they holding sandwiches?"

"Couldn't tell you. But it's making me hungry," Mina mumbled. "Anyone wanna grab McDonald's before we start?"

That was two days ago — and you hadn't been able to get the song out of your head ever since. It was everywhere: your TikTok feed, other people's Instagram stories. You'd even heard it at the damn grocery store.

Now, as you sat at your desk trying to analyze the lines of a Shakespearian sonnet, you couldn't help but mumble the words to Katseye's Gnarly instead.

The inner English major in you was livid. Out of all the poetic compositions in the world, you had to be fixated on the Internet's most unserious song? Virginia Woolf would be rolling in her grave right now.

Tossing the book of sonnets onto your bed and opening your laptop, you pulled up the music video on YouTube and cranked the volume up. Maybe if you listened to it enough times, you would finally get it out of your system. Maybe if you overplayed it to death, you could finally focus.

You had never been more wrong.

Meanwhile, Atsumu had just returned home from his evening run, keys jangling as he let himself in and kicked his shoes off by the front door. He heard the deep bass thrumming from your bedroom, and for a second, he thought he was back at the fraternity house.

"Y/N?" he called out to you over the music, taking his AirPods out and peeling off his sweaty t-shirt. He flung the latter onto the couch, making a mental note to pick it up before you had the chance to kill him. "Y/N! What the hell are ya listening to?"

He ambled over to your side of the apartment and rapped twice on your ajar bedroom door. When it was clear you hadn't heard him, he opened it just enough to poke his head through.

His jaw went slack.

Now, Atsumu knew you'd taken dance classes in the past, had even encouraged you to audition for a university dance troupe so you could meet more likeminded people. He knew how formative it would be for you to find community in something you clearly loved to do, just as he'd found his community in volleyball.

What he hadn't known was just how good you were.

In fact, as Atsumu watched you flip your hair and body roll in beat to the most heinous song he'd ever heard, he started questioning whether he knew you at all.

He pushed the door fully open and leaned his bare shoulder against the doorframe, smiling lazily as you performed your heart out in the middle of your bedroom. You were ridiculously cute, what with your tousled hair and confident facials and the way you spun around in your socks —

"Fuck!" you reeled back, the sight of your half-naked roommate nearly sending you into cardiac arrest.

You hit the space bar on the performance video you'd been dancing to for the past twenty minutes. The silence that followed was deafening. Chest heaving, you pressed your hand to your now-racing heart and shot Atsumu the most offended glare of all time.

"Why are you shirtless?"

"Why are you gyratin'?" he asked in an equal amount of disbelief.

You crossed your arms. "I'm taking a study break."

"And what the hell is this song?" Atsumu performed a deep lunge so he could take a closer look at your screen. "Gnarly by Katseye..."

"It's just this silly viral song that's been stuck in my head," you said, collapsing onto your bed. Face pressed into the mattress, you mumbled, "I swear, I don't like it."

"Well, ya liked it an awful lot just a second ago," Atsumu replied amusedly. You peeled your face from the comforter just in time to see his smile turn saccharine. "Where'd ya learn to twerk like that?"

You shucked a pillow at his face.

"What?" he cackled, catching it with ease. Atsumu laughed the same way the sun burst through a dense billow of clouds — warmly and unapologetically. "Ya sure as hell didn't learn it from those damn books of yours."

"None of your business," you quipped, staring daggers at him from across the room. "Shouldn't you be out on a run or something?

"I ran fast," he chirped. As if his sweaty, frustratingly chiseled physique weren't enough of an indicator. "And I'm so glad I did."

"We are never talking about this again."

"Fine by me," he drawled, tossing your pillow back. It hit you with a pathetic thud. He was already halfway out the door before saying, "Oh, and Y/N?"

Your jaw tensed. "What."

He flicked his sweaty hair out of his eyes and shot you his signature shit-eating grin. "Just for the record, I think yer way hotter than a bag of Takis."

Great, he was quoting lyrics now. This was worse than him reading your smutty short stories.

"Out," you growled behind bared teeth, curling into a fetal position as Atsumu's retreating laugh engulfed you like a seismic wave. "And put a shirt on!"

Once you heard the door to his room slam shut, you turned onto your back and unleashed a whimpering sigh.

Atsumu had seen you dance.

To add insult to injury, he'd seen you throw it back.

Fuck. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt your face flush.

You were never going to live this down.

Two days later, Atsumu ran into his teammate at the student rec center.

"Sakusa," he said, dumbfounded. "The hell ya doing here?"

The wing spiker perked up at Atsumu from where he was furiously disinfecting his press machine with a Clorox wipe.

"Atsumu," he started, glancing between the setter and the piece of gym equipment. Almost as if he'd been caught red-handed.

"Flu outbreak on the team?" Atsumu guessed. His teammate's shoulders slumped.

"The student athlete gym is disgusting," he grumbled honestly. "Everyone keeps coughing. At least here, there's room to breathe."

"Fair," Atsumu admitted, setting his stuff down and taking the press machine next to Sakusa's. Beside him, Sakusa eyed him carefully.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice tense. Tentative. "You ready to come back next week?"

Atsumu paused. It had been three weeks since his coach had put him on mental health leave, and while Atsumu had done all the perfunctory steps — sticking to his gym routine, getting enough sleep — a small part of him wondered if he'd lost his spark. If that fierce, relentless flame of his that only ignited on the volleyball court was forever extinguished by what had happened to him.

"To be completely honest? I don't know," Atsumu admitted, looking around at the student rec center he'd been banished to for the past month. He once thought it sad, borderline plebeian of him to work out anywhere but the student athlete gym. Now, he found himself here every day.

Sakusa considered him for a moment.

"If you're embarrassed about being kicked out for a month, don't be," he said matter-of-factly. He may as well have dumped scathing hot water down Atsumu's back. Softening, he added, "The team's got your back."

Shoulders relaxing, Atsumu said, "Thanks, Sakusa."

His teammate fiddled with the Clorox wipe in his hands. "The team also sucks without you, so you better come back ten times better. Else your leave of absence would have been for nothing."

At that, Atsumu chuckled. "Don't stroke my ego too much."

Shoving an AirPod into each ear, Atsumu pulled up his workout playlist on his phone and hit play. Little did he know his Bluetooth hadn't connected yet. His music blared from his phone speaker like a fire alarm.

"Hottie, hottie! Like a bag of Takis, I'm the shit! I'm the shit — !"

Atsumu slammed his finger into the pause button.

The silence that followed was deafening. A couple girls on the stair masters snickered. Meanwhile, Sakusa shot him the most judgmental glare he'd ever seen.

After a moment, Atsumu said, "Please don't tell anyone."

"Hey, whatever it takes for you to heal, man," Sakusa said, though his lips frowned in displeasure. After finishing his sets, he stood from the press machine, wiped it down, and said, "See you next week?"

"Yeah, man," Atsumu sniffled, trying to act like he wasn't just caught listening to the world's most viral girl group. "See ya."

Once Sakusa was out of his line of sight, Atsumu mouthed a silent 'FUCK' and hid his face in his hands.

He hadn't meant to get addicted to the song, but after catching you dancing to it the other day, he started listening to it out of morbid curiosity. On his runs. During his workouts. Hell, he even listened to it in the shower when you weren't home. He knew he wouldn't hear the end of it if you found out.

Still, it didn't stop him from hitting rewind once his AirPods reconnected.

"They could describe everything with one single word..."

He bobbed his head to the beat as he gripped the handlebars of the press machine and began his set.

If anything, the song had given him the unexpected confidence boost he needed before his return to volleyball.

And if he had even a shred of the confidence you had when you danced, that would be more than enough.

@miyasmagnolias, 2025

[skyracha]

The Babysitter

[Felix]

RQ: @tayschaufert

“Could you write a cute/fluffy oneshot where Felix is helping us babysit?”

if you’d like to make a request, look here :)

Content: honest to god pure fluff, married!!, pregnant!reader

a/n: turned out kinda short i apologize

My Library HERE :)

Tags: @cowboylikemalika @encoredesires @my-neurodivergent-world @itvenorica124 @0sunshinecryptid0 @lov3rachan @synesthesia-fics @dieklienesuesse

“Thanks again for helping me out. You guys are lifesavers.” My sister in law thanked me again as she handed me my neice, Josie.

She called me earlier asking if Felix and I could babysit since my neice was now 11 months and her and my brother felt she was old enough for them to be able to go out to dinner.

They hadn’t had a night out alone since she was born, so I jumped at the opportunity and Felix was just as excited. “Of course, I’ll never pass up the chance to see my pretty girl.”

Josie’s little grin when I say that makes me melt and my sister-in-law cooes at her one more time before she leaves with my brother.

“Okay, are you ready?” I say as I turn to Felix.

“Oh absolutely who wouldn’t be ready to hang out with this little cutie.” Felix tickles her and she lets out a couple coos in response, which Felix nearly collapses from.

“She said Josie just had a food container and a diaper change, so we should be good for a little while.” I bounce her to get her higher up on my hip. She’d grown so much since I last saw her, she was getting hard to carry.

“Let’s go find a toy to play with huh?!” Felix takes her from me and goes into her nursery to sit on the floor with her.

I grab a few of her favorite toys, and Felix naturally grabs the little toy piano. He plays a couple notes while she looks up at him. Before he can notice, I snap a quick picture. “Want me to go order dinner while you have her occupied?”

“Sure babe- order whatever you want and use my card. Let the baby speak for you.” I laugh and put a hand on my stomach as I walk to go find a takeout menu.

Felix and I had been married for a little under 2 years now and expecting a little one of our own. I wasn’t too far along, only 3 and a half months, but I saw this as a practice run to see how we’d do.

I wasn’t nervous about the baby, I was excited if anything. I knew Felix would make an amazing dad, that was a no brainer, but more so how we’d do together. I was the youngest in my family out of all the grandkids and cousins, so I don’t really have any experience with kids while he does.

I rub my stomach again and decide to order a pizza, my cravings telling me I need something greasy. As I’m ordering, I hear Felix’s excited shouts as he rounds the corner. His pointer finger is wrapped in Josie’s little hand as she walks next to him.

My heart melts at the sight and I finish ordering and hang up, turning to crouch down. I beckon her over to keep walking and eventually she lets go of Felix. “Good job!!” I pick her up to sit on my hip.

She claps and points to me, “Y/Nnie” She hasn’t mastered words quite yet, so my name has been substituted as ‘Y/Nnie’ instead of ‘Aunt Y/N’.

I point to Felix, “Uncle Felix.”

She points “Fe,” is all she gets out and I can’t help but giggle. She whines to be let down, and when I do she takes off into a half run while giggling. Felix jogs after her and I decide to go get some toys for her to play with in the living room.

When I come back out, Felix has her on the floor with the changing mat out. “She smells like pee, so I was gonna change her. It’s been awhile since I changed a diaper though.”

I smile at him, setting the toys down and sitting next to him. “You’ll need all the practice you can get. First undo those straps.”

I walk him through all the steps to change the diaper, and he lays down a fresh diaper, when suddenly she begins peeing, all over his hand.

He sets her back down on what was meant to be a new diaper, and I can’t help but laugh. “Go wash, I got this.”

I grab her little feet and lift her up again like Felix had her, removing the diaper and taking baby wipes to clean her up. I put a new diaper on and redress her before Felix can come back.

Josie is the only kid I’ve been around consistently. I did a couple of babysitting jobs as a teen, but they were all older. “All better huh?”

I move the changing mat and put it in a laundry bin, then come back and sit Josie up so she can play with the toys I brought out.

Felix comes back and joins us. “You’re quick with that.”

“You did half the work for me.” I smile and he looks at me for a long moment.

“I’m so excited to have our own.” He puts his hand on my stomach and looks down at the growing bump. “I can’t even express how much they mean to me already.”

“Me too baby. You’re going to be a great dad.” I plant a kiss on his lips as a knock sounds at the door. “That must be the pizza.”

“I got it.” While he’s gone paying for the pizza, Josie makes grabby hands at me, and I stand so I can pick her up. She’s always been a clingy baby, always wanting to be held. But now that she’s getting bigger, she’s harder to hold up, putting strain on my back.

“You are a sack of potatoes girl!” I grab the TV remote and decide to put on a show for her, hoping it’ll entertain her long enough for Felix and I to eat.

“This smells so good- did you get the meat lovers again?” Felix comes in and I sit on the couch with a transfixed Josie in my lap.

“No, I got the restaurants signature. I don’t even remember what’s all on it. It just sounded good in the moment.” I shrug and grab a piece out of the box when Felix sets it on the table in front of the couch.

“Do you want me to hold her while you eat?” Felix holds his hands out. “I don’t mind.”

I sigh with relief and hand her to him. She immediately turns in his arms and laces her little fingers in his hair, fisting her hand and pulling. I lunge for her hand as Felix’s head snaps down at her surprising strength. “Josie no! We don’t do that!!” I get her hand untangled and brush Felix’s hair back into a small bun. “We do not pull hair ma’am.”

She giggles in response as if she knew what she was doing.

—

The evening goes well, and now Felix is trying to put Josie down for the night while you clean up the wreck that was now the house. Josie definitely caused you both to get your cardio in with all her taking off and throwing toys everywhere.

When you finally make it to the nursery to check on Felix, you find them both asleep in the rocking chair in the corner. Josie is sprawled against Felix’s chest and you take the moment to snap a picture before slowly taking her off and putting her in her own bed. You gently wake Felix. “She’s out, why don’t we go lay on the couch?”

Felix smiles lazily and follows you to the living room where you both snuggle up on the couch waiting for your brother and sister-in-law to get back. “I think we did well.”

“Me too.” You giggle as Felix plays with your hair. “I’m exhausted though, and it was only a few hours.”

“Same, she’s a little track star though.” You both laugh. “But I’ll stay up and wait, you get some rest.”

You go to protest but he cuts you off. “You’re the one carrying our baby, you deserve the rest my love.”

He begins to hum softly while tracing shapes down your spine and before you know it, you’re fast asleep.

You dream of when you’re own baby comes along, and what life will look like with Felix.

[heretohavenone]

Okay. I've been pondering Jack Slash for a bit. Slimy basted he is, and Number Man, the weirdo HE is. I've come to a couple conclusions after reading through Worm and most of Ward (working on it you'll all be getting my dog gruel opinions on it after) and some of Jack's Backstory via Wildbow posts. First I'll talk about Jack, since he needs more piecing together, for me at least.

Jack Slash is essentially a grifter/shitty salesman when he's speaking 99% of the time. Hes trying, almost without even putting up an act to get you to believe there is some philosophical point he's reaching towards, or some reason why what he's doing means Anything greater than just plain old being a dick. He'll put on different hats to tell you Why he's killing, but in the end, the only thing he wants is to make the world worse and to cause conflict. And that's it. 100%, honestly it. He'd probably kick a puppy if he thought that'd actually help make more people do Worse things, and get him into more conflict. For almost his entire interlude he doesn't really think of himself in terms of what he gets in goals, he simply observes others and thinks of how to best pressure them to continue making things worse while under his control. I think its pretty evident from how much he throws himself into chaotic situations and tries to make things so complicated he can't keep up that Control isnt really what hes most into.

Let's now put this into the context of his past, and more importanty, what Shards want. His past is pretty interesting: locked in a bunker by abusive parents, and told the world had gone to war. They told him a story about how bad everything had gotten, kept him in there for a Long Long time, and he triggered when he left the bunker and he realized it was a lie. Specifically, the thing that broke him wasn't the fact that his parents lied to him. It was that the world was Sane, and Safe, and Not at war. Something he'd grown used to, and absorbed into himself while in that bunker. Essentially, he torn apart by the fact everything was Okay when he was convinced utterly that it had all gone to shit, and people were in senseless conflict like he thought. His worldview got flipped, everything felt wrong, and he triggered. He only thinks the world makes sense In conflict, he had the ability to really process a healthy, constructive world severely damaged to him when he was young.

Jack's desire for conflict make a little more sense with that, but his shard Loving his ass makes a hundred times more sense. He's literally trying to cause humanity to act divided, just like the Shards want, and to create conflict testing. No wonder it likes him so much, that's about as ideal a host as any shard could net, ever. Its like a weapon tester finding a group of suicidal combat junkies. Like. Exceptionally lucky. So Jack is rewarded for his instincts by things Working for him, and gets in a loop of conflicts that are their own reward by making the world as horrible as he thought it was, and making him Comfortable. It's his natural environment. Anything actual push to be constructive and grow attached probably feels alien to him, or just gets contextualized as a tool to create conflict, because he no longer really would know how to do anything but be a grifting jackass hurting people. Even his games are shows of this, every rule meant to be broken and unfair, because you're supposed to stop thinking about them as Rules and more like tools to fuck eachother over. The game Is cheating the game. The point isnt anything he says, it's trying to Kill him.

This is what makes his relationship to Number Man maybe the top five ????? Things when I first read it. He liked the person who's entire sociopathic, utilitarian goals were: Helping The World and Making Order. Seemed contradictory, but Jack did like him as a person, not necessarily his philosophy. Still. They're people who think back on each other fondly, despite what they've become. While Jack doesn't know Where Number Man went, he's not being hunted or hurt or even being pitied for not following conflict like Jack.

They seem to be like Wildbow's fucked up little views on systems and those who take them down rather than working on them, which I disagree with, but they're still fascinating. As much as Number Man is a monster like Jack, who would do everything Jack does if given reason to by finding it the best way to improve people's lives, Number Man is mature by trying to be constructive with his views on what is and is not important, while Jack is purely deconstructive of everything. Their similarity though is how they both seek out their version of thing purely for their own satisfaction, and that's the reason they both seem to admire eachother. Theyre both entirely selfish people.

They're also, hilariously, both killed by people who are both out-doing them in their field. The only Parahuman who hurt Jack Slash was Gray Boy, someone who didn't care about anything but his own selfish ideas of fun who found Jack 'boring', and a disappointment, and that Might have actually thrown Jack off enough it let Gray Boy hit him with a time loop. Number Man got factored in as an uncared for number in Contessa's plan to defeat Teacher. I'm very curious if this one of Worm's few narrative punishments for both's wrong deeds, or just coincidence. Whichever, it's pretty interesting to look at these two freaks' dichotomy in terms of the story, and what Caulron does vs what those who fight against systems in the story do.

But, I like Jack Slash tbh. Cartoonishly evil as he is, he wasn't really didnt do anything else than what he sent himself out to do, and he CLEARLY enjoyed himself while doing it. And Number Man took some time to grow on me, but I also enjoy how he's kind of the opposite in how he shows himself to be very simply then pulls some marble slingshot bullshit to lobotomize someone a mile away.... OKAY I'm still a lil shocked by that.