#I just... I talked to them again and realized that I took that one thing to mean ''everyone hates you and is just pretending to be nice''

[anantaru]

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ hot things he does — love and deepspace

synopsis. hot things he does while doing it

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

warnings. fem! reader, oral (fem! receiving), fingering, cockwarming, dry humping, dirty talk, tit play, brat taming, petnames used: sweetheart, baby

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne + holding your body like he owns it

from what you've gathered, zayne always starts obsessing over your mouth while being in you first— his thumb carefully resting on your lip, tilting your face up like he's examining something delicate, quite precious, his darling, his life.

naturally, your cheeks rise in temperature beneath his grip, your skin dewy with sweat and pheromones and the way he looks at you was just so steady it made your belly twist tight. yet zayne doesn't need to say a lot, in fact, he doesn't have to, he just keeps his eyes locked on yours forevermore, watching every flicker of your lashes, every shiver that rolls down your spine as his cock pushes in with slow, thick and dragging thrusts, making you feel the strong tremors in your thighs.

"you feel that, you feel me?" he asks huskily, but not gentle, you notice there was something seething beneath it, something tight, like it took him insane effort not to filthily fuck into you, "that shake in your legs, fuck, you can take it all like that for me? thats not fair, is it?" as you shake your head frantically at him, skin flustered when he smirks at you.

"that's your body giving in, you know?" and then he starts, thrusts after thrusts, hard and deep all the way in, hips sharp and pelvis grinding against your overstimulated clit with every goddamn drag— and in this situation, all you could really do was sob and twitch as zayne catches your noises with his palm on your mouth, still holding your face, making you look at him.

the way he fills you to the brim was nerve racking, the way every inch of his pulses like he's aching to come, but won't, not until you do as his thumb finds your clit and rubs fast circles through the protective skin of it, too intense yet you needed more when he just moaned out your name, loving your frame jerking under him, all from overstimulation and burning want.

"that's what i want baby," zayne grunts, voice fraying around the edges, "that exact sound, that exact fucking look," as a deep groan claws out of him when you tighten around his length, his hips snapping forward when you do it again.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier + becomes controlling over your pleasure

xavier doesn't touch you the way normal men touch, you see, there's no rush to his movements— no hunger on the surface as his breath remained even and his hands steady, his voice staying clinical as he sits at the foot of the bed, one hand pressed flat to your trembling inner thigh while the other disappears between your legs, fingers curling in filling strokes.

he watches the way your stomach flinches, the ripple of your thighs when he presses just a little deeper and the way your hips buck, chasing friction like instinct, and then jolt back in shame when you realize how carefully he's observing your entire frame.

"don't look away, you hear me," xavier's voice spills out like cold metal dragged across skin, remaining glacial at its core, "i want you to see what i see, how you fall apart for me, how you spasm every time i do this—" as he crooks his fingers again, making you choke on your breath as your toes curl, your cunt clamping down around him with a squelch so obscene it makes your whole body jerk upwards.

"you're soaked baby, fuck, have been for minutes, i've barely done anything," xavier's gaze alone pins you down, fierce and unblinking as his jaw ticks once— like he's bracing himself for the ruin he's about to make of you, "—and yet, you're trembling like i've fucked you raw."

well, okay, lets be honest here— you are trembling, in fact, your thighs just won't stop twitching even if you focus on them very hard.

the heat was just too much— sickly sweet and humiliating, a swelling ache that lived in your belly and climbed higher every time he curled his fingers up and rubs, fuck, you're soaking the sheets, desperately so, your slick dripping down his wrist and touching him up— quite hilarious, wasn't it? if you consider that xavier still hasn't even taken his shirt off yet.

you try to reach down and press his hand deeper into your cunt to find any friction on your clit, to relieve this maddening, building pressure that's leaving your vision white at the edges, yet his other hand shoots out— clamping around your wrist with enough strength to make you wince.

"don't," he says softly, but the warning inside was unmistakable, "don't, you're not allowed to interfere,"

you sob out his name in high tunes as your stomach tightens when he adds another finger, thighs shaking violently, you want, no, need, to have him closer, perhaps even have his tongue stroke through your hole to chase that spark building behind your ribs, but he won't let you.

"it's more interesting when you're desperate," xavier admits bluntly, withdrawing his fingers for a second— watching the way your cunt clenches around nothing, trying to hold onto digits, fluttering from the emptiness.

after waiting for a little, he slips them back in slowly, dragging them along your soaked walls, watching you flinch and twitch and cry out for him— and that's what ultimately made it worse, because xavier knows, he knows exactly how your body worked, exactly what it needed to cum, and he's purposely giving you just less than enough.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel + needs to cookwarm you

understandably, rafayel was panting even before he pushed himself into you, yet when he finally did— it's slow, thick, shivering with restriction which didn't last, "oh fuck," his adams apple bobs as he chokes on his spit, his head dropping against your shoulder with his voice hoarse of disbelief, "you're so tight, baby, so warm, you feel—" the man cannot even finish, truly, he can't.

his breath hitches instead, hips jerking deeper as rafayel curses again and again, low and against your neck, like each inch of you that swallowed him was tearing the sanity from his bones. he bottoms out once, twice, fucking into you faster to switch and choose between the perfect rhythm as he finally settles his entire shaft inside you, his body shuddering like he's about to cum then and there.

because the moment he fit his entire length in you, you clench around him furiously— tight and fluttering, pulsing with that needy ache as his mouth drops open with a broken gasp, "don't do that," he begs, barely above a whisper, "don't fucking squeeze like that— I'll fucking lose it," as he leans over you, forearms bracketing your head and forehead pressed to yours, hips twitching in shallow motions because even the smallest shift made you both cry out into each others lips.

"can i stay like this, baby?" he kisses along your jaw, "see how good we fit, how full you are, you're holding onto me like you never want me to leave," and then he thrusts up, fathomless and without restriction before dragging himself out just enough to feel the strong stretch of you, then sliding right back to the hilt— where he then stays, twitching inside with a sound closer to a sob than a moan.

you were so full at this point— achingly so, you could feel every vein of him, every curl and turn, the way his cock throbbed inside you like it's your own heartbeat as your legs shake around his waist from how heavy it made you feel, how close it made you too, fuck, how tight it got when your body flinched from the overwhelming pulses of him inside.

your stomach knots as your breath stutters, drinking in his moans again— helplessly kissing him as he completely took over your body, "can't even think about pulling out—" his hips move again, this time faster, barely pulling himself back, the drag of his cock so intense your back instantly arched from it, sparks flashing behind your eyes.

his hips slam deep, once, twice— and he's gone, voice catching as he releases with brutal force, cock pulsing as he comes inside you, deep, hot, thick, all of it, yeah? so much it spills back out with the next thrust— and still, he doesn't stop.

"again," he pants, "i'm not done, i'm not done, need you to keep me inside, don't let me go, don't let me fucking go—" rafayel kisses you, like he's trying to fuse into you, believing that if he can keep your cunt around his dripping dick long enough, he'll never have to leave.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus + obsessed with your tits

as one might expect, sylus doesn't even get your clothes off properly nor doesn't care if they tear, he's practically panting as he pulls your top down, lips already brushing hot over your chest before he even gets a full look, "fuck, fuck, you're so—" his breath hits your doused skin, his eyes wild and pupils blown, voice slurred like he's drunk on the barest sight of you, "you don't know what you do to me, you don't know how long i've thought about this."

then his mouth hits your tits and it's instantly wet, it's hot, all of it, it's filthy too, the way he latches onto your nipple with a groan so guttural it shakes through your ribs. his tongue rolls along your tits in slow circles as his teeth scrape, and when you arched into his body, twitching from how sensitive you were, he grins, "yeah, like that, that's what i wanna see," as he palms your tits with both hands and squeezes, pushing them together so he can bury his face between them and moan, like he's drowning in them, like he wants to live there forever.

your entire frame was on fire, thighs slick with your arousal, hips grinding into air— because he hasn't even touched you there yet, sylus couldn't find time, not properly, just the drag of his thigh between yours was enough he believed, or just the occasional graze of knuckles when he shifts to kiss the other nipple.

he wants it that way as he glances down once and groans— loudly like it's hurting him to wait, "you're messing up my pants," he smirks, rutting against your leg, leaking against your skin, "just from me sucking your tits like this? look at what a mess you are baby," sylus shoves his hand between your legs, fuck, finally, right? rubbing through your soaked pussy, smearing your slick up to your clit and back down, lazy and greedy all at once, "you want more? you wanna cum just from this?"

but do not mistake him because his mouth stays at your chest the whole time, he's addicted, mouthing one nipple while his fingers sink inside, scissoring your tight hole.

your back arches instantly and you're soaked, even more now and fuck, you're overstimulated from every side, your clit aching from how close you were yet he doesn't stop sucking on your sensitive nipples, doesn't stop grinding against your thigh like a man gone mad.

"you're perfect," he gasps, "you're perfect, let me have you like this, let me watch you come with my mouth on your tits— let me feel you fucking pulse around my fingers while i suck your tits, baby," as he grunts into your skin, "i'll ruin you like this, i'll make it so every time you touch yourself, you'll think about my mouth here— my tongue, my teeth, how fucking hard i came grinding against you."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb + cannot stop praising you

"you're so good," caleb whispers to you as if he's confessing something protected, his touch weighted with awe, a worship that trembles through his fingers, slithering up your thighs, then moving over to your waist, ultimately cupping your face, "so good, baby, I can't, i can't even—"

the sentence dies on his tongue because, well, he's too busy looking, you know? at you, in fact, at where he's inside you, at the way your lips part and your body arches up every time he shoves his cock inside you greedily.

and you feel everything, caleb made sure of that— the stretch, the slip, the depth, fuck, he's thick, hot, and so careful at first— so slow it's almost cruel, each inch dragging against your walls until your hands hold onto him for dear life, chasing more, chasing him.

caleb says your name through passion— like the pleasure was too good, too deep, so insane it might break him.

he's repeatedly brushing his lips over your cheek as he thrusts just a little harder, a little further so he could stroke over your sweet spot, taking your frame through new spots of awareness, "taking me so well, you're perfect, just perfect," as his voice cracks when you clench down, "you're so fucking good, too good— i'm not strong enough for you, sweetheart, not when you feel like this."

don't be afraid because, well, caleb will stop fucking you so slow and sensually at some point, even your boyfriend had limits and couldn't push back on his pleasure for eternity.

you whimper when he begins to slide against your sweet spot again, this time faster and caleb snaps, a groan ripping out of him, needy and raw as he's suddenly fucking you like he's starved for it— like you're the only thing in the world that made sense to him, his cock hitting so impactful your ability to breathe evenly was questioned, your back remained curved, your thighs shaking with every thick drag.

"you're so warm, so tight around me— fuck, i feel you everywhere," his hands grip your waist harder, pulling you against his pelvis as he thrusts, making it purposefully more extensive, messier too so you'll make those wet, nasty sounds for him, "you're squeezing me, baby, you don't even know what you do to me—"

your skin prickles from how much he worships you whenever you were intimate with each other, how he sounds ruined with gratitude, ruined with your cunt constricting around him ever so tightly, milking him, how he looked down and watches your bodies join like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen— your arousal and his cum spreading over your thighs, his cock glistening with every pullout as his breath stutters when he sees it, "you're making such a mess— i love it, i love you like this—"

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[baby-yongbok]

"Let Me Make You a Mommy"

SKZ Hyung Line x Reader

⤷ Smut | drabbles/hard thoughts

⤷ WC - 1.6k [total]

⤷ CW - Breeding kink, praise, teasing, overstimulation, anal sex, unprotected sex, power play, body worship

⤷ A/N: I started writing for one and then I just decided to do all of them... Maknae line will be posted next friday!♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Masterlist ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Chan

He’s buried deep inside you, slow and low, with his forehead pressed to your shoulder, groaning your name like a prayer that keeps getting answered.

You’re both so gone - sweat-slicked, sheets ruined, nails raked down his back. He’s been talking the whole time, voice dropping into that raw, ruined register that makes the filthiest things sound like gospel/

 So good, so tight, fuck, I missed this, made for me, you’re mine.

And then-

“Gonna make you a mommy.”

It slips out so fast he doesn’t even realize it at first. It’s not until your breath catches and your body freezes that he catches himself. And then he’s frozen with you, silently trying to find a pathetic cover up he knows won’t work. You pull back just enough to look at him, wide-eyed. 

“What…?”

Chan blinks. His mouth opens -then closes.

“I -uh…” A breath. “I didn’t… mean to say that.”

But you heard it. The way his voice cracked, the way his hips stuttered like the thought of it nearly made him come.

“You sure?” you ask, soft, curious. Not judging. Just listening. 

He groans, burying his face in your neck. “Don’t do this to me,” he mutters.

You laugh. “You did it to yourself.”

He’s still inside you. Still hard. Maybe harder after what he’s said. So you press your hips up just a little, clench around him, and ask, “You want to make me a mommy, Chan?”

“No,” he growls. Then again - less convincing, “Yes.” Then, quietly, “God, yes.”

He kisses you like he’s overflowing, confessing a deep dark fantasy. Maybe he is and it’s hot. The look in his eyes as he conjures up every single thought he’s ever had about breeding you full. 

“I think about it,” he admits. “When I’m alone. When I’m fucking you. When you smile at me in the kitchen like I wouldn’t drop to my knees for you.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I want you full. Round. Mine.”

You’re soaking now. And he feels it.

“You’re not letting this go, are you?” he murmurs.

You smile. “Not a chance.”

He growls again, grabs your wrists, pins them above your head.

“Then I guess I better make it worth it.”

And this time when he says it - “Let me make you a mommy” - he says it on purpose.

Minho

“You want it that bad?”

Minho’s voice is honey laced with venom, seeping into your spine as his hand pushes you down, face to the sheets.

He’s been working you open for what feels like hours, patience laced with punishment. Slick, stretched, and aching - but he still hasn’t fucked you where you need it most.

No - he took your other hole instead. Buried himself deep there, groaning like a sinner at the altar, while you writhed and begged beneath him.

“God,” he mutters, dragging out slowly, just to push back in with a ruthless roll of his hips, “this tight little ass’s already trying to milk me. But you want more, don’t you?”

You whimper, trembling, broken open and empty.

“Minho, please - please-”

He stills. Entire body locking up, voice turning cold and dark.

“Say it right.”

You blink, dazed. “W-what?”

His thumb brushes your lip from behind, a cruel mockery of softness. Then he thrusts just deep enough to make your eyes roll back.

“You want me to fill you up?” he asks, low and cruel. “You want my cock in your soaked little pussy? Want me to fuck you full and watch it take?”

You’re dizzy with it - with him - slick pooling between your thighs, untouched, throbbing. He knows it. You’ve been clenching around nothing all night.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say what you want.”

And then he drops it - just above a whisper, but it crashes through you like a bomb:

“Let me make you a mommy.”

You gasp - wrecked.

“Minho-”

“Say it,” he hisses. “Or I’ll finish right here. You’ll be dripping down your thighs, and you won’t get what you’re begging for.”

You're trembling. Desperate. You choke on it.

“P-please,” you whisper. “Make me a mommy.”

He groans - so loud it echoes in the room.

And in one breathless, brutal motion, he pulls out and thrusts deep into your soaked cunt, bottoming out so hard your body jolts. The stretch, the fullness, after so much denial. You scream his name like it’s a confession.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moans, heady and deep like his pace - already punishing. He’s got one hand in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. “Should’ve said it sooner.”

You’re sobbing now - too much, too good - each thrust tearing you in half and stitching you back together.

“Gonna fill you up so deep,” he pants, losing control now, “gonna stuff you full like you’re meant to be - fuck, baby, I’ll give you everything -”

You can feel it coming - his orgasm, yours, both tangled into something molten and terrifying.

And as you fall apart beneath him, tears streaking your face, voice shaking, he leans in close, breath hot against your ear.

“You’re my baby” he whispers, so sweet it hurts. “All mine, full and leaking.”

Changbin

He holds you like you’re breakable - even though you’ve already begged him not to be gentle.

The sheets are a mess. Your thighs are sticky, trembling from your second orgasm. Changbin’s flushed and breathless above you, gaze flickering between your eyes and the place where your bodies meet, like he still can’t believe this is real.

“You okay?” he whispers, thumb brushing your cheek, sweat-damp curls sticking to his forehead.

You nod, breath hitching as his hips roll again, cock dragging against your soaked, swollen walls.

“Too good,” you manage, “Feels too good - Binnie, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he says, leaning down to kiss your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. “You always take me so well.”

Then he slows, presses deep, and stays there, buried to the hilt, eyes locked on yours.

And in the quiet, he says it:

“Let me make you a mommy.”

You blink, stunned still.

His voice is soft. Barely a whisper. But it shakes.

“I want it,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. “I want to see you round with me. Full of me. I think about it all the time.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s still inside you. Still hard. Still there - every inch of him trembling with want.

“I want you like this forever,” he murmurs, slowly moving again. “Messy and mine. I want to come so deep you feel me for days.”

You moan his name, hips rising to meet his.

“You’d be such a good mom,” he groans, thrusts picking up. “So beautiful. So fucking sexy.”

“Binnie-”

“Let me give it to you,” he gasps, panting into your neck. “Let me fill you ‘til there’s nothing left but me.”

You come again with a choked cry, clutching at him like he’s oxygen. He follows seconds later, voice breaking as he spills inside you - hips stuttering, arms locked tight around your waist like he’s anchoring himself to the idea of you, forever.

And when it’s over, when your bodies are tangled and quiet, he’s still there. Still holding you like a promise.

Still whispering, “I meant it.”

Hyunjin

Hyunjin touches you like art. Slow, careful, like you’re something sacred he’s not sure he’s worthy of touching.

His hands move like he’s sculpting you, thumbs pressing into the wet between your thighs like he’s shaping something that’s already his. His eyes are wide, lips parted, gaze so tender it makes your chest ache. Every breath is drawn out like he’s memorizing you all over again. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, kissing your belly, your hip, the soft underside of your breast. “I want to give you everything.”

You press into him, breath hitching, and he just melts - forehead to your chest, hands gripping hard at your hips like he’s scared you’ll slip away. “Shit,” he whispers, voice shaking. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

He lines himself up, cock thick and heavy, dragging through your folds until you're gasping, aching.

“Breathe,” he tells you. “I’ve got you.” Then, he’s pushing inside - slow at first, like he’s afraid to break you. His mouth presses to your throat, his breath warm and shaking.

“Fuck - you feel like heaven,” he says, voice already cracking. “Every time.”

He starts slow, almost too slow - hips rolling like waves, each thrust deliberate. It builds heat low in your belly, that unbearable pressure that keeps you pinned under him. You’re nails skin into his shoulder harder with each time he sinks into you, making love. 

And then - something shifts.

You say his name, soft and wrecked. You beg him to go faster. You wrap your legs around his waist and meet his thrusts with your own, and that’s when the calm snaps.

“I want it,” he pants, his voice breaking against your skin. “I want to fill you up - want to feel you take all of me.”

Your hands claw at his back. He thrusts again, losing the rhythm, chasing something primal.

His grip tightens.

His pace turns brutal.

And his mouth finds your ear, breath hot and ragged.

“Let me make you a mommy,” he rasps, voice wrecked and raw and so, so honest. “Please - let me fuck it into you, let me give you everything - every fucking drop.”

You moan, breathless, trembling under him, and that’s all it takes.

He breaks.

“You want that, don’t you?” he pants, fucking you hard now, rhythm punishing. “Want me to fuck you so deep you don’t know where I end and you begin?”

Every thrust is frantic now - deep, bruising, like he’s trying to imprint himself inside you. His moans turn into whimpers, praise falling from his lips between curses.

“So good for me - fuck, you’re perfect - gonna look so pretty carrying my baby, fuck-”

When he finally comes, it’s with a shattered cry of your name, forehead pressed to yours, his whole body trembling as he pours everything into you like it’s a prayer. A promise

And you believe him.

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[starlightswitch]

@flashfictionfridayofficial I've been sitting on this prompt for a while.

Corey’s phone went off and he checked it automatically. It was from Levi. A text. A long text.

If you’re reading this, that means I’m gone. I’m so sorry to have to tell you this way. You’ve been the best friend I could have asked for, the best friend I’ve ever had. Thank you.

It felt so sincere he expected Levi to actually be gone when he looked up.

But someone was still standing next to him, and when he looked up it was still Levi, leaning slightly on the railing, one hand wrapped loosely around the glass sitting on the thin strip of table. “What’s up?” said Levi. Then, reacting to whatever expression was on Corey’s face, “What? You look like you saw a ghost.”

“…are you a ghost?” said Corey.

“What?”

Corey moved closer to show him the phone, their shoulders overlapping as Levi leaned in.

“Shit,” Levi said in a slow whisper.

He did not sound confused. He did not sound surprised. He sounded dismayed.

He knew what this was. He was only sorry Corey had seen it now.

Corey looked at him, kept looking at him even though Levi wouldn’t meet his eyes. “What do you mean, gone?”

Levi’s mouth opened but no words came out.

“Talk to me!” said Corey. “What does this mean?”

Presumably, eventually, realizing Corey was just going to keep staring at him until he said something, Levi said in a tight whisper, “You weren’t supposed to get it yet.”

“Obviously.”

“My dumb ass set it for 3PM instead of 3AM.”

“You were going to text me at 3AM to tell me that you were gone? The fuck?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Levi mumbled.

“I’m the best friend you’ve ever head and you were going to do who knows what in the dead of night and I would never see you again and you don’t even want to talk about it?”

“Ssh!” Levi threw a frightened glance at the patio below.

Corey hadn’t realized his voice had risen so much. He lowered it. “What am I supposed to think?”

“You’re not supposed to know about it,” said Levi.

“Until you…”

“It’s not what you think. At least, what I think you think.”

“Well, are you going to tell me what it is? Or are you not the friend you thought you were?” If he’d thought a second longer he might not have worded that so harshly, but it was out and it was how he felt. He took a long drink and tried to think of what to do if Levi didn’t answer him. Thought about walking away, and tried to decide if he could really do it.

Levi leaned in again, just a little. “You cannot tell anyone, understand? I’m not supposed to tell anyone. No one is supposed to know. If you know, it will be obvious who told you.”

“Tell anyone what?”

“I’m not who you think I am.” Levi winced. “Entirely. I haven’t been acting different and I’ve never lied—just not told you things—but my name is not what you think it is.”

Now that Corey thought about it, he could think of more than a couple times that Levi had dodged away from telling him things. Like where he was from and where he’d worked before here. Why he’d moved here when he didn’t know anybody around here.

“And now I have to go. And I can’t tell you why.”

“Not when you’ve told me this much?”

Levi laughed weakly. “I haven’t told you much.”

Corey looked up, thinking. “Could you tell me if I came with you?”

Levi looked at him so hard that Corey looked him in the eye, and Levi’s eyes held his, deeply serious. “Do you really want to do that? Have no one know where you went? Never say goodbye, or say it and not tell them why?”

There was a spark of something in his eyes. Corey was pretty sure it was hope.

“If you do—and I’m not saying you should.” Levi looked away as he said that. “Then meet me here tonight. Late. Bring some clothes and be ready to go.”

Corey didn’t say he would do it. He couldn’t really imagine just leaving like that.

But then, he couldn’t imagine letting Levi go, never knowing where, never knowing why.

Your best friend has left their last message for you, lamenting that they are no longer in this world should you receive that last message. It would have been emotional and tragic, had said friend not standing next to you, alive and in good health.

[ozzgin]

How would the yokai harem react to you talking about a manipulative ex? content: gender neutral reader x various demons

Murasaki will silently listen to your rant with the same flat expression he always wears. Or was that a grimace you just spotted? Upon further inspection, he does seem more annoyed than usual. “At least you had the brain to walk away, I suppose,” he says with a huff. It doesn’t surprise him much, in all honesty; humans aren’t exactly known for their awareness, and you’re a particularly naïve one. He places a hand on your head and gives you a swift ruffle. Christ, you’re hopeless. Thankfully you won’t have to deal with that anymore, not under his watch. Had this happened in his presence, the offender would’ve been sliced in half.

Kiritsubo is very vocal throughout your retelling. They did what?! He’s so upset on your behalf, cheeks flushed and puffed up with indignance. After clarifying some details to him, you discover that the yokai is rather...oblivious himself. Good Lord, he would’ve fallen for it even harder. He pats his sword and declares he won’t ever allow it to happen again. You can’t help but chuckle at his confidence. Indeed, you might have to help him a little in recognizing the danger. You appreciate his good intentions, nonetheless.

Suma approaches your story with a very positive outlook, which is very much like him. With a laugh, he pats your back and praises you. “It’s a hard lesson, but a lesson still. Humans and demons are difficult creatures, eh? You can’t always read them, nor can you tell their intentions. To be aware of this and continue living with an open heart means you’re brave, not gullible.” That’s just the way things are. We get hurt and we learn from it. He’s proud of you for being here despite everything. “That’s not to say you have to deal with it alone,” he adds with a cheeky smile. “Let me know about it next time it happens, alright?”

Yuugiri is very unbothered, nodding along with a smile. Oh, you recognize that grin. A cold shiver runs down your spine as you realize your mistake. The serpent yokai is exceptionally vengeful, especially when it comes to you. Your ex-partner has now become a target for unknown terrors. Somewhere, sometime in the future, they will suffer. Yuugiri will make sure of it. No one messes with his precious little human and comes out unscathed. Oh, to think they took advantage of your innocence! Of course you’re easily manipulated, but it’s a gift that must be appreciated, not abused. He should be the only one with the privilege of...influencing you every now and then.

Sakaki scribbles in his sketchbook while listening to your rant. Truth be told, you’re not expecting much from him. He’ll probably tell you that it is indeed in the nature of most humans to be this devious, and misery is inescapable. Suffering is but an eternal part of life, from which only Death can free us. Gosh, you’ve been hanging out way too much with this gloom-ridden artist. You finally glance over his shoulder and notice the intricate pentagram. “It’s a curse,” he says with a flat smile. “I just need to find the guy, and then...heh. It’s not the poetic kind of agony, that’s for sure.” You’re his only source of happiness and hope, after all. There’s no way in Hell he’d ever allow anyone to interfere with it.

Sekiya is very similar to Kiritsubo in his reaction. His face begins to twist through a range of emotions. You know him so well, at this point, that you can already guess the stages of grief crossing his mind: he’d never treat you that way, and if someone else was to dare, he’d...he’d deal with them, right? Could a weakling like him even manage? Come, now, he’s still a yokai several ranks above the regular demons. Can he prove it to you, however? You stop his thoughts before they go any further, taking his hand in yours. “You’ll take care of me, right,” you ask. His eyes widen and his chest involuntarily swells up with pride. “Of course,” he barks loudly. Oh, to think you’d put your faith in him like that! He’s drunk with delight.

[no-onemournsthelesbians]

So in my long-ass oneshot, the one that’s definitely turning into at least 10k, I have a headcanon that when the guards grabbed Glinda in the attic they were so rough with her that they dislocated her shoulder. Madame Morrible was furious that they’d hurt her prized show pony, but realized pretty quickly she could use the injury to her advantage. The public was kept unaware of it, but Morrible refused to let it be healed by the palace doctors. This way she had a way to exert control over Glinda and have a consistent form of torture that wouldn’t mar Glinda’s face.

Glinda couldn’t set it herself, lest Madame Morrible make good on her threats to harm Glinda’s parents and even Fiyero, who Glinda hasn’t even been allowed to see since she and Elphaba left for Shiz. Glinda won’t risk it, especially since she’s considered herself to have already caused irreparable damage to her loved ones. So months later, when she inevitably meets Elphaba again (for what I don’t know yet) Elphaba learns the extent of the damage.

Here are some angst headcanons about it.

When Glinda and Elphaba finally meet again, of course it’s in the midst of chaos. There isn’t much time to talk, and all Glinda wants to do is escape with Elphaba. Elphaba is glad to take her this time, she even missed her, but part of her is still angry at her for leaving the first time and then participating in propaganda afterwards. So she’s a little pissed when they’re running and Glinda seems to slow down

She’s irritated so she snaps at her, and Glinda pushes everything down like she always has since everything fell apart, it doesn’t matter because she’s with Elphie again. Elphaba still makes it clear she’s irritated with how much it’s slowing them down, this being half out of nervousness and half out of pent up anger

So when they finally stop at Elphaba’s safe house it’s already an experience because Fiyero has been casually waiting there and is now ranting about how Elphaba disappeared and how it took forever to find her. Glinda is watching all of this, ignoring the fact that she taste words and hear colors, and she finally just collapses

Fiyero and Elphaba carry her inside, arguing because of the stress, and they end up putting her on Elphaba’s bed. When they can’t find anything wrong on the outside Elphaba rips open her clothes in a moment of sheer panic (it’s a funny story later) and they see the problem

All up and down Glinda’s right upper side, including her shoulder and back, are these truly awful contusions, some of which are definitely hematomas as they later find out. Fiyero, who grew up roughhousing with lots of brothers, can tell immediately that Glinda’s shoulder is dislocated but also that something isn’t right. A recently dislocated shoulder shouldn’t have severe contusions, especially not hematomas

Luckily one of Elphaba’s informants, a Fox, is a doctor but she couldn’t get there until dawn due to night witch hunting parties being particularly bad. The fact that Glinda doesn’t wake up at all during that time really scares them

When the Fox does arrive and looks at Glinda’s shoulder, she doesn’t like what she sees. She scolds Glinda, wondering why she would let herself maintain a dislocated shoulder of all things for months on end. Fiyero wonders the same thing, but Elphaba knows. It makes her sick to her stomach thinking about it

They do have to wake Glinda up to reset it, doing such a thing while she was sleeping would be foolish and dangerous. She’s still pretty out of it and Elphaba lets her hold her hand, telling her “hold out, my sweet.” It’s extremely painful, there’s a lot of screaming, and Glinda passes out again afterwards

The Fox refuses payment because of everything Elphaba has done, although she wasn’t fond of the fact that her favor was wasted on Glinda. She gives Elphaba and Fiyero instructions to take care of the injury, also reminding them that since the injury was so old Glinda will most likely have permanent tissue damage, severe muscle spasms, increased risk for fracture and even permanent mobility issues

When the Fox leaves Elphaba finally lets herself cry. She had every right to be angry and disappointed with Glinda, but she had been under the impression Glinda was safe and disgustingly comfortable in the Emerald Palace. The fact that she hadn’t even been allowed to set her own dislocated shoulder says the exact opposite, and Elphaba wants to vomit at some of the other things Madame Morrible and the Wizard might have put her through

The worst part, in Elphaba’s eyes, is when Glinda wakes up and is just fine with the fact that she was hurt for all that time, was just under the impression that it was something she signed up for and deserved because of the decision she made. Her self worth is wrecked and as someone who also has a terrible image of herself Elphaba has no idea what to do (she learns over time)

There is some fluff. Glinda jokes she’s glad it wasn’t her writing arm (I headcanon Glinda as being left handed) and joking that Elphaba will have to switch if they hold hands (see what I did there). Elphaba claims it’s not funny but sometimes she laughs

[ryuyejiho]

"When Our Paths Crossed" Han

Pairing: Han x Reader Genre: Smut, Fluff Warnings: 18+, Smut, Dry humping Summary: Two people, who are casually acquainted, meet by chance at a café on a rainy day. As they talk and share personal stories, their bond deepens, leading to a surprising and intimate moment. Word Count: ~1.9k

It had been pouring rain since early morning, and there was absolutely nothing to do, so I decided to head to the nearby café. It wasn't far, but I took an umbrella with me because the rain was really heavy. The joys of summer in Korea.

I walked quickly because just as I stepped outside, the wind picked up, making the umbrella nearly useless. I barely managed to open the café door and squeeze through the narrow gap as the wind pressed against it. I folded the umbrella and placed it in the stand. Looking around the room, I searched for the best spot—there was only one other person inside, so I had plenty of options.

A guy was sitting in the corner, opposite the windows. He was hunched over with his head down, holding his phone, but his gaze was fixed on the floor in front of him like he was deep in thought.

I decided to sit by the window, on the opposite side from him, but as I got closer, I realized it was Jisung. We didn't really know each other—just exchanged a few words here and there at gatherings with mutual friends.

I thought I'd go say hi and headed in his direction. As I got closer, he looked up and met my eyes. For a second, he stared like he was trying to remember if he knew me, and then he gave me a wide, surprised smile. He immediately moved his things off the chair next to him and invited me to sit down.

We had coffee together, chatting about all sorts of things until the café closed. We shared so much about ourselves and realized we had so much in common—similar interests, tastes, even life experiences.

When we left the café, it was still raining, but in a gentle, calming way. Jisung had a longer walk home, so I offered to lend him my umbrella. But as a compromise, we agreed that I'd walk him to his dorm, since I had planned to stop by the store anyway.

On the way, our conversation turned to deep, emotional topics. I found out how sensitive he was, just like me. We opened up to each other about our fears and comforted one another. The closer we got to his dorm, the more we started giggling and joking around. It felt like we'd known each other forever—like we were soulmates.

"And when he poured the mix of juice and alcohol, he wanted to shake it hard. But he didn't close the lid properly, and it spilled all over him—his clothes, his face—everywhere," Jisung said, bursting into laughter as he told a story about one of his friend's beach party mishaps.

We reached the entrance of the apartment complex where he lived with the friend he'd just mentioned. Both of us were wiping tears from laughter.

"And now what? You're gonna walk home alone?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"I'll survive," I shrugged. He stepped closer and jokingly cupped my cheeks in his hands.

"Go straight home. Don't talk to strangers. Don't take candy from them. Got it?" he said in a mock-serious tone. I nodded with my eyes closed. And when I opened them...

His face was much closer. Only a few centimeters separated us. My heart started racing when I noticed his eyes lingering on my lips. He glanced briefly into my eyes, and then his face inched even closer. Once more, he looked into my eyes, though it seemed like he couldn't tear his gaze away from my mouth.

Then it all happened so fast. I felt his lips on mine, our noses brushing. We kissed like that for a brief moment. He stood there with his hands in his hoodie pockets; I was holding the umbrella with one hand. We pulled away slightly. He took a step back, and we looked at each other in silence. After a few seconds, he suddenly stepped toward me again, quickly pulled his hands out of his hoodie, and wrapped them around my lower back, holding me close by the waist. At the same time, he kissed me again, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

He held me tightly, like he didn't want me to leave. His kiss was both gentle and intense. I completely melted into it. I stood there, getting lost in the moment as the kiss grew more and more heated. When we finally needed to breathe, he pulled back just a bit but stayed close.

"I don't know if you'll even want to see me again after this, but... maybe you'd like to come upstairs?" he asked, his voice a bit hesitant, a little desperate, but still confident. I struggled between trusting him and my heart or listening to my brain.

My heart won. And so we stood inside the building, waiting for the elevator under the suspicious gaze of the security guard. Our hands were intertwined, our breathing still fast and uneven.

When the elevator doors closed behind us, Jisung practically launched himself at me. He started kissing me again, like it was already his favorite thing to do. He pushed me gently against the wall of the elevator, his hands placed beside my head, never breaking the kiss.

When we reached the right floor, he pulled away and, acting like nothing had happened, we stepped out into the hallway, discreetly holding hands. I knew he was doing it to avoid trouble if someone found out, but I found it funny.

We walked up to his door. He punched in the code and motioned for me to go in first. The apartment was completely dark, only moonlight from the large windows casting a soft glow inside. He gestured for me to be quiet and pulled me deeper into the apartment toward a door. We entered, and he switched on some LED lights. Still holding my hand, he walked backward toward the bed, pulling me along. He sat on the edge of the mattress and tugged gently, so I stood between his legs.

He looked up at me, smiling wide. Looking at him made me smile too. I wanted to squish his cheeks. At the same time, I had the urge to kneel between his legs.

There was something about his smile—hot, sexy, and irresistible. I can't even explain it.

I wanted more. More kissing. More of him. But I was too unsure to make a move. He seemed to sense my hesitation and moved his hands to my waist, his pinky barely brushing the hem of my shirt.

"And now what?" he laughed, and somehow, even that sounded sexy as hell.

"I don't know. You decide. I'm all yours," I said playfully. Even though it was a joke, he raised his brows at my words, still smiling. He laughed and pulled me even closer. Resting his chin on my stomach, he looked up at me, chuckled, and shook his head.

"Where were you when I needed you earlier?" he muttered, maybe more to himself. He leaned back a little and slid his hands down my waist. His eyes locked onto my stomach as he slowly lifted my shirt, trailing his hands upward, touching my skin. He leaned in closer and blew softly on my bare stomach. Then he looked up again, more serious now, with an intense gaze I'd never seen from him before.

After a long moment of silence and eye contact, he suddenly stood up, cupped my face in his hands, and started kissing me again—passionately, fiercely, yet with care. I didn't even notice when our kisses turned into soft moans and breaths of pleasure.

He turned us around and breaking away from my lips, he gently pushed me down onto the mattress. As soon as my back hit the bed, he hovered over me, resting on his fists. He didn't wait long before our lips met again—first gentle brushes that quickly escalated into a passionate game.

I placed my hands on his broad shoulders, but he quickly sat up on the bed, knelt over me, and pulled off his hoodie in one swift motion. Then he was back above me. This time, his lips moved to my collarbone, and my hands slid to his bare back. I tried not to make any noise, but it was almost impossible. Han practically found all my sensitive spots right away, and with every moan of mine, he either sighed or let out a quiet chuckle

"This is in the way," he said and sat me up to take off my shirt. He smiled again, like earlier. "You seem a lot shier than before. Am I really making you that nervous?"

"Not true. If I wanted to, you would've been the one under me already," I replied, to which he just nodded and giggled. We were back in the same position, but this time, his face was even closer to mine. He pecked my lips, then started leaving kisses down my neck.

In response to his teasing, I lifted my knee and lightly pressed it against his crotch. His hips instinctively lowered, wanting more. I pushed my knee a bit harder, along with a loud moan when he suddenly pressed his finger to my clit—completely catching me off guard. Jisung quickly pulled back, laughed in surprise, and placed a finger on my lips.

"Shhh, do you want hyung to hear us?" he said, shaking his head with a grin before burying his face in my neck again, continuing to leave hickeys. His right hand rested low on my stomach, pressing down and slowly sliding lower. I matched his rhythm, raising my knee again and grinding in circles. He let out quiet moans that mixed with mine.

But that still wasn't enough for him. He sat up, positioning himself between my thighs so our crotches pressed together perfectly. He kissed me again, and the kiss quickly turned deeper, with our tongues joining the rhythm.

He moved his hips gently, but it was enough to bring us immense pleasure. Though it didn't last long—Han wanted more. He knelt again, keeping our crotches pressed, holding my legs against his waist, and moved faster. I couldn't help the sounds coming out of me. I came quickly.

Jisung didn't stop—watching me, feeling what I felt, drove him over the edge too.

Even though it wasn't full-on sex, we both felt completely satisfied.

We lay there in silence, lost in our thoughts. I knew I barely knew him and probably shouldn't be doing this... but I felt safe with him. Even now, with him lying on top of me, in total silence.

"Maybe you should stay the night. I'll give you some clean clothes," he said sweetly. I mumbled in agreement, and he reached up to brush hair from my face and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. Smiling just as warmly, he got up and pulled me with him, handing me the first clean shirt he found in the laundry pile.

"Can I take a shower?" I asked. He immediately turned around, smiled and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the bathroom and closing the door behind us.

[tommysbignaturals]

I have a big belief that Tommy is into Buck's curls, so:

♧: One character playing with the other’s hair

Thank you for the prompt! I know it's late but I hope you enjoy!

Buck sighed as he closed his eyes as he nuzzled at Tommy’s leg. 

Buck hadn’t meant for them to end up like this, him sprawled out on the couch with his head on Tommy’s leg while Tommy played with his hair as he watched Titanic that happened to be playing on the tv.

Tommy had come around on the weak excuse that he left his hoodie (Buck had so many of Tommy’s hoodies that he almost found it laughable he was looking for just the one after all this time), which he didn’t comment on as he needed the company.

They had just turned on the tv to change it to any of the streaming services at their disposal when a commercial of all things took Buck out at the knees.

It was one of those commercials for xyz medicine and it showed a father fixing his son’s tie as the voice over lady listed the million side effects of taking xyz medicine.

He suddenly remembered in a rush Bobby putting on his tie before his disastrous date with Abby where he choked on bread and his grief once again swallowed him whole.

He hated it.  His grief wasn’t all consuming as it was in the beginning.  He could go through a day without being reminded of the gaping hole in his heart and life that Bobby left.  But then stupid shit like a commercial pushed him down the canyon that was his grief that swallowed him whole where all he could do was fight to breathe.

Tommy had been there (Tommy was always there) and he held him as he cried.  Again.  When he had calmed down and tried to apologize Tommy had wiped away his tears and given him a look before telling him, “You never have to apologize for this, Evan.” 

That had broken something else in Buck’s chest that had nothing to do with Bobby and everything to do with Tommy being here with him.  They hadn’t talked about what they are or maybe what they could be, but Buck didn’t miss how Tommy showed up for him every time. 

Despite everything, Tommy was there and without Bobby there to help him remember what was real Tommy kept him grounded.

His grief had left him so empty and tired that all he could do was lay on Tommy’s lap as Titanic happened to come on and they had sat there in silence.  Tommy had been softly playing with his hair and every once and a while he quietly quoted the movie verbatim under his breath. 

The fact Tommy knew Titanic so well that he could do quote so well made Buck smile into Tommy’s thigh as Tommy wrapped a curl around his finger before releasing it and softly massaged his scalp.

“You really like playing with my hair.” 

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

His eyebrows furrowed when Tommy’s hands froze and he stopped mid quote.  After a moment Buck turned and opened his eyes with a raised eyebrow.

Tommy looked down at him with his own questioning eyebrow and asked in an even tone, “Do you want me to stop?”

Buck glared at him and practically growled, “Don’t you dare.”  And once again without thinking he turned his head and bit Tommy’s leg.  Thankfully Tommy was wearing jeans so it probably didn’t hurt him as much as it could have but the moment Buck realized just too relaxed he was that he forgot they were broken up his eyes widened in horror and he shot up in his seat.

What he didn’t expect was for his big head to connect into Tommy’s face and pain blossomed at the back of his head as he grabbed onto it.  When he was sitting upright again he rubbed at his head but then froze and slowly turned in even more humiliating horror as he saw Tommy holding his face in his hands.

“Oh my god did I break your nose?”  Before Tommy could say anything he pulled Tommy’s hands away and examined his nose.

When he determined his nose wasn’t broken he looked at Tommy’s eyes and stopped as Tommy’s eyes are practically shining with amusement.

Buck slowly pulled his hands away and said, “S-sorry.  I d-didn’t-” he paused then sighed as he tried to get his thoughts out of his mouth, “I didn’t to mean hit you or bite you.”

Buck felt his heart go to his throat as Tommy smiled enough that his laugh lines became more pronounced as he said good naturedly, “Oh, you definitely meant to bite me, but I’ll take the apology for the head butt.”

Buck made an exaggerated frown as he asked, “What if I say I’m grieving?  Will you forgive the bite then?”

Tommy looked up at the ceiling and pierced his lips like he was thinking about it before saying, “I’ll take it under consideration.”

Buck opened his eyes a tad more and tilted his chin towards his chest to give Tommy the full effect of his puppy dog eye look. 

Tommy immediately folded to Buck’s utter delight as he sighed and said a little bit too quickly, “Okay, okay.  All is forgiven.”

Buck couldn’t help his smug smile before he looked back at the tv (a commercial for laundry detergent was playing with a cute animation that DIDN’T break his heart) and sighed heavily.

“If you apologize one more time Evan I may have to bite you back.”

A laugh that surprised Buck left him as he turned to Tommy with a smile and asked, “Oh really now?” 

Tommy was all seriousness as he nodded and said, “Yes.  You’ve been doing too much of that lately.”

Buck smile dimmed as he said, “I feel like I have to apologize for a lot of things lately.”

Tommy stared at him with a considering look before he softly patted his leg.  Buck didn’t need to be told twice as he laid his head down on Tommy’s lap again.

Tommy threaded his hands through his hair once again careful not to catch any of his curls on his fingers as Buck sighed into his thigh.

“You never have to apologize to me, Evan.”

Buck laughed as he said, “I think most of the time it’s you I need to apologize to the most.”

“Why?”

Buck shrugged as Titanic started to play on screen again.  “I’m a lot and I keep putting things on you.”

Tommy was silent as music filled the room for a moment as old Rose started speaking.  “I think you’re fine the way you are.”

Buck snorted as he turned his head towards Tommy and said with a tad bit of sarcasm, “Oh, thanks, Mr. Rogers.”

Buck paused at Tommy’s expression.  Tommy was being completely honest and earnest as softly ran his hand through Buck’s hair and said, “I mean it, Evan.”

Buck felt his throat choke up with emotion as all he could do was look away then nod at Tommy. 

After a moment Tommy asked, “Do you want me to go?”

Buck shook his head and said sleepily, “If you get up I’ll make sure to break skin.”

Buck’s head bounced for a second and as Tommy did a full body laugh.  Buck smiled in triumph at making Tommy laugh as Tommy settled once more and said, “Got it.  I think, you need a nap anyways.”

Buck frowned even though he felt sleep coming for him.  “I’m not going to nap.”

In a deadpan tone Tommy said, “You always fall asleep when Titanic is on.”

Buck yawned wide as he rubbed his face against Tommy’s thigh in a poor attempt to shake his head no.  “I do not.”

“You so do.  Last time you didn’t even get halfway through before I heard you snoring.”

Buck shook his head and mumbled something about not having a crush on Leonardo DiCaprio before Tommy went off on a tangent that Buck mostly didn’t pay attention to as Tommy’s hands lulled him into a soft fuzzy space between sleep and being awake.

[eviesaurusrex]

Though I'm just halfway through Iron Flame and don't know how Xaden turns into a venin and of like rest of the fandom and Vi, as of now we don't know the cure for it too. I stumbled upon some 'venin-cure' theories and one of it inspired this idea so hear me out.

Ik Xaden turned into a venin for Violet. As per theories, if he can become one for his love, he has come into the realization and give up what he took (the direct power).

Finally the idea: the reader is actually pregnant. It's up to you if Xaden knew it earlier or not but maybe like idk they're in a war zone or whatever situation, he was going to kill somebody or whatever and at that moment reader faces Xaden. Telling him that she's not going to fight him, she let go of her dagger or sword, trying to remind him of himself, showing him his ring still on her finger. When she sees him calming down, she may take his hand and touch her barely visible (or visible) belly, begging him to let go of the power, reminding him that he's in control of himself, begging him to come to her and their baby.

summary: After Xaden turned venin, YN tries everything in her power to get the love of her life—and the father of her unborn child—back.

word count: 5.3k (whoopsie-daisy)

warnings: dragons, injuries, weapons, blood, pregnant!YN, incorrect events, my lacking knowledge about the majority of IF and OS, my take on the venin topic, angst, survivor’s guilt, fluff, Brennan being the older brother type of friend, venin!Xaden, post-venin!Xaden

author’s note: Thank you for the ask, dear anon! I haven’t read Iron Flame and Onyx Storm yet (I’ve started with IF a couple days ago), so this is my take on the plot and has nothing to do with the actual plot in the books. I hope you enjoy my silly ideas! (And please, don’t come for my head :x) I'm sorry it took so long to get this thing done—I just couldn't stop writing. The dividers are made by @enchanthings-a!

Startled, YN woke with a gasp, her hand instinctively flying toward her lower abdomen, touching the tightly laced flight leathers, and took one steadying breath when she felt the still unfamiliar tiny bump one could easily miss. It wasn't broad knowledge that she expected a child because if so, no sane member of the squad would allow her to continue flying out with them, fighting with them. Only one person knew of her condition—the one person she couldn't hide a thing like that from, not when he was to keep mending her injuries after a particularly gruesome fight. He had felt it the second his hand had touched her shoulder, and there was nothing she could've said in order to convince him of being wrong about it.

She had known for a while.

But she had more pressing matters at hand not to think too closely about what this would mean in the foreseeable future.

Finally, YN realized what had woken her, and her eyes immediately jumped toward the commotion in the hallway, the door ajar and not fully closed. Voices echoed into the dim sitting room she had chosen a few hours ago when she had returned from her patrol on dragon back, her body aching and filled with exhaustion. Only a few hours and then you wake me again, she had told Violet and Mira, but obviously, neither of the women had respected her wish. Typical. The thought crossed her when YN pulled herself up, quietly grunting when her feet still burned, and her back still struck her with searing pain.

Sleeping on a couch wasn't the wisest of the ideas she had in the last couple of weeks.

"No, Violet," Brennan's voice suddenly cut the air in a tone one rarely witnessed the eldest Sorrengail use. "But—" Violet tried to interfere, and with quiet steps, YN rounded the coffee table, heart galloping in her ribcage. "I said No." Another voice entered the conversation the woman had a hunch was about her. "She'd want to know, Brennan. If the report is true, it's Xaden, and we're talking about YN, for heaven's sake. She'd want to know," Garrick almost hissed behind the door, and her heart rate sped up even more, her breath hitching.

Xaden…?

The Sorrengail practically growled at that, and the shadow now stretching through the crack in the door was most definitely his as he stepped in front of it, blocking the way. "Let her sleep—she needs it. Have you seen her when she came back?! She isn't in the constitution to fly back into a battle which could easily end her life if it's really Xaden. Have you thought about that for just a second? What it would do to her? How distracting it would be because all she will think about is how to save him, but not herself?"

Brennan was right; even YN could admit that. But despite how much she had grown to like him—even love him as the brother she never had—he couldn't stop her from whatever she tried to accomplish, especially not when it happened to concern the one man she loved more than anything in this world. So it was easy to grab the sword resting against the armchair and push it into the sheath strapped across her back, the quiver and bow following closely.

The steps of her boots echoed through the room, not caring if anyone would hear her because she would be gone before they'd realize she had been awake to overhear them. She knew Riorson House better than her own home, so it was easy to open the double-sided windows into the morning hours of the day barely beginning, the sky tinted a pretty hue of pink and red. Her feet found the stone edge of the windowsill, and her hands grabbed onto the sturdy vines climbing across this side of the house, and with a grace she didn't feel like having in her tired body anymore, YN swung herself into the green and climbed down, disappearing into the city.

Her mind opened further and searched for the bond to her dragon, feeling his dark presence in the back of her mind, his focus sharp and unyielding. "Are we off to another battle, Stormy One?" If the situation were different, YN would probably huff at the silly nickname the dark beast had given her even before her signet had manifested. "Yes—and I don't want to hear a single word about not being allowed to do so anymore. I'm not made of glass all of a sudden." She would never sit behind just to please others, not when the happiness of her future was hinging by an almost nonexistent thread.

YN would never leave him behind in the dirt, having to fend and fight for himself like he had done for so long. No, she would move heavens and earths in order to find the one thing that would bring him back.

The dragon huffed into her mind, displeasure evident. "I am not one of your human friends, girl. I may not feel entirely content with flying into battles while you are carrying a child, but I will protect you both. Nothing will happen to either you or the little one." His words hung heavy between them; not only a fickle promise but a vow. "I will hold you to that," her voice only a whisper, her hand gently touching the leathers across her belly when she reached the outskirts of the city where the dragons rested.

Tairn was already in front of them, Sgaeyl right next to him, and both dragons watched the woman stepping closer, determination evident on YN's face. "It is him, girl, isn't it?" Her voice flooded her mind, and YN stopped before the blue daggertail, nodding at her question. "Yes." It was as simple as that. "I do not know how you gather all this hope in your heart, and I do not need to understand it. But if one can find a cure and bring him back, it is you, storm wielder." Swallowing, YN stretched one hand out when Sgaeyl lowered her proud head and pressed the side of it against the small palm, warmth seeping into her skin at the contact of the blue scales. "I cannot lose hope. I won't. Not with so much at stake."

It wasn't just her life that could be ruined if she failed, but the life of her unborn child as well. She didn't want the tiny being growing inside her to grow up without a father, without the man YN had learned to love so deeply; it seemed impossible at the beginning. This baby had a right to know their extraordinary father—not just through stories and whispered tales behind closed doors.

The ring resting on her left finger felt heavy at that moment; the promise they had made to one another was almost like a burden on her shoulders. If Xaden couldn't carry it, she would do it for both of them until they stood in front of a priest, blessing their union, and making them one in the eyes of the gods.

"YNN—fuck!"

The shouted curse made her turn, blinking against the rising sun to find Garrick stumbling uphill, almost losing his footing in the dewy grass. "YN!" His eyes found her when he stumbled across a stone, and his massively built body was almost floored to the ground. "And that one is bonded to Chradh?" Sgaeyl growled without a flicker of humor, but YN knew—the blue daggertail meant it that way. She had it in her—somewhere. At least Tairn huffed in amusement for a moment before his protectiveness demanded its place, and he took one earth-shaking step forward, growling in warning when Garrick finally reached them.

The brunet watched both dragons with raised hands before he stared at YN, almost pleadingly. Icy coldness flooded her body, and she slowly shook her head. "No," she said definitively. "You won't make me stay." She turned, ready to climb Tairn's leg and leave Aretia behind, flying into battle just like the other riders already in the skies. The sound of his steps made her stop with her hands on the black scales, followed by the words she didn't anticipate. "I'd never dream of it, YNN. I want to come with you." Turning again, the woman watched him, one of her closest friends, trying to decipher if he truly meant it. "You want to come with me?" It sounded more surprised than she had initially planned, and he seemed relieved by her question. "Yes. I know you have Tairn, and you don't need more protection than that, but let me be by your side, watching your back. Just in case. I want to help however I can because that's…—that's what Xaden would want me to do."

Hurt flashed inside her very being at the sound of his name, at the reminder of what she had lost all those weeks ago during the attack when he had tried to protect her with everything that he was, paying the ultimate price for her safety. It was her fault. YN knew that, and everyone around her knew it, too.

Swallowing against the all-consuming pain threatening to push the tears back into her eyes, YN slowly nodded, stepping closer and letting him pull her into a tight hug. "Thank you," was all she whispered into the leather protecting his chest, feeling a kiss pressed to the crown of her head. "We will find a way."

He couldn't possibly know that, and still, it warmed her heart that she wasn't the only one clinging to hope.

The sun had almost risen to its zenith when they finally arrived at the battlefield, already littered with bodies—both human and venin—and without having to tell Garrick her plan, he followed close when Tairn dove into a fall to rip a wyvern off of a green dragon and its rider. Chradh was close behind in order to grip onto the wyvern's wing, holding it in place with Tairn, and Garrick shielded his eyes as soon as he saw YN raising both her hands, calling for her signet. The energy gathering above her charged the air around them, and when she felt the now familiar sensation of it tickling her skin, she let the lightning loose, aiming at the venin screaming on their dragon and eradicating them in a silver flash, burned to the bones. The wyvern's distressed sounds quieted when its rider died, and both dragons let it fall toward the ground, roaring triumphantly.

YN's breath had grown shallow at the power cursing through her, feeling it eating on her energy and strength, but she couldn't stop. Not until she had found Xaden among their enemies.

"We need to find him!" She shouted over the fighting noise around them, echoing off the mountains surrounding the valley. Garrick all but nodded and let his dragon fly to the side of the valley, flying wide circles over the terrain. YN did just that as well, letting Tairn choose his own part of the area, knowing he would look out for any enemies to destroy them with her while also searching for his mate's rider.

After almost an hour, the woman pressed herself flat on her dragon, trying to catch her breath. "I don't know how long I can do this," she let the black shadow carrying her know even though he had already sensed it. "I know, Stormy One. You did well." His deep, rumbling voice was comforting in her mind, warm even at the praise. "We should not encounter much more, I promise. They are fleeing like rats," he informed her after another bend around the valley, the mountainside towering right next to them, and indeed, the commotion of the fighting grew fainter with each passing moment.

At least until Tairn roared in warning and leaped into a free fall, making YN scream in surprise before she gathered her wits again and pressed herself even tighter against the black scales underneath her, holding on tight onto the pommel of hardened dragon skin, tears straining her eyes despite the flying goggles protecting them. "Chradh," was all her dragon pushed into her mind for an explanation, and immediately, worry filled her. "Garrick," she whispered into the strong winds trying to push her off of her dragon, but her body was trained into perfecting flying, holding her right where she belonged as Tairn roared anew and spat out a wall of fire, separating Garrick and his dragon as he fought off a venin and their wyvern.

With a fighting scream herself, YN let the lightning gather its strength above them before it rained down on their enemies, the impact throwing the brunet several feet away, but the venin crumbled into dust, and the wyvern died in the dirt next to them. Without waiting for Tairn to land fully, she climbed off her seat and slid off his back, the jump straining her knees when she hit the ground and almost tumbled face-first into the grass but gathered her balance in the last moment. "Garrick!" YN shouted for him as she started to run, crossing the distance through the cloud of sand, dirt, and smoke, coughing when she finally passed it with a hand covering her nose and mouth.

The glint of a sword in the sunlight was the first and only warning she would get, her body and mind moving on instinct alone—her own sword drawing as she leaped into the space between a passed-out Garrick and his attacker, and the horrible sound of clashing sharpened steel traveled across the valley when they stood head to head. It took a moment too long for YN to realize the recognition coursing through her when her eyes wandered across the opposing steel, taking in the intricate runes hammered into the surface.

She knew those runes. She had seen them numerous times when she had watched him cleaning and polishing his sword in the courtyard of Basgiath or their bedroom in Aretia. She had memorized them every time she had watched him train with one of their squad mates. She had kissed each and every one for strength and protection before he had been sent off into battle.

Her gaze jumped, traveling in dragon speed up the familiar body while her heart stopped for several long beats; the organ clenching painfully in her chest when she reached his handsome face, now lined with red veins, his once onyx eyes now tinted an angry shade of red.

She had done that to him.

Only because of her very existence did Xaden take too much and turn into their worst nightmare.

It's all my fault.

The sentence echoed through her mind, bouncing off the walls in every direction possible, making the pain and the loss almost unbearable.

Their swords still met between their bodies, pushing against one another in a silent fight, both staring into each other's eyes, unmoving. "Xaden," slipped past her lips in a desperate plea, trying to make him realize who she was, what she once had been to him not that long ago. The red in his eyes grew in its intensity at the sound of her voice, and he bared his teeth to her, growling, but he didn't use his entire strength to push her blade into moving toward her very own throat. "Xaden, please. You know who I am—I know somewhere in there is a part of you that knows me, just how I know you." It was merely a hope in the form of a silly blade of grass she clung onto now because she couldn't possibly know what still lived inside him and what had died that day. Sgaeyl wouldn't tell her if Xaden still communicated with her because this would ultimately mean that some part of him had survived.

Tears spilled over her cheeks, and her hands around the hilt of her sword started to shake at the strain in her muscles, forcing a sob out of her. "I have to believe that something remains in you, Xaden. Something I can fight for. You did this for me; you fought to keep me safe and alive, and now it's my turn to do the same. Do you understand me?" He leaned in closer for a heartbeat or two, taking her in, but not a single word left his lips. "I would never abandon our promise," YN whispered, and with one final push, she threw her sword away, somewhere to her right, way out of reach. Tairn tried to invade her mind, but all she could do was block him out.

She couldn't do this.

Her hope shriveled into a meager little sapling, prepared to turn brown and die.

Pulling off the ring Xaden had gifted her six months ago during a starry night filled with laughter and love, she held it up between them, the light blue aquamarine—his birthstone—catching the sunlight. "You gave this to me as a promise of a future together when all this is over. I promised you the same in return—a life filled with joy and happiness because that's what you deserve." He paused at that; only for a moment, but it was there, she knew it. "I won't fight you because I keep my promises. I always have."

Slowly, YN raised her other hand, pulling the bow and quiver off her back and letting it tumble to her feet; her daggers, strapped across both ribs and thighs, followed close. He watched her with an almost unnerving intensity and made her skin crawl, but it was still Xaden—somewhere deep down, it had to be him. Vulnerable as she was, she didn't expect him to raise his sword again, not when he had been almost calm, and she knew she would die—just like her hope and her baby. Their little one.

Another tear slid down her face when YN kept staring into his eyes, not letting him out of sight. He seemed to struggle against his own mind, his muscles flexing and trying to fight off whatever it was. The sword came closer and closer, the sharp blade almost nudging the skin at her neck when his movements stopped anew, his breathing hard and fast, and a droplet of sweat rolling down his temple.

"I won't fight you, Xaden," YN whispered again, never breaking their gazes, never moving an inch away from the death sentence that was his blade. "I have loved you for so long, and I will love you even after my death." Nothing in this world or beyond could take that away from her, not even Xaden himself.

One of her hands wrapped itself around the deathly steel, and YN didn't even flinch when she cut herself; the pain immediate and burning, the blood trailing down it, catching at the runes on its way to follow gravity. His eyes widened a fraction, now watching her blood, her injured hand, his chest heaving. She gripped the sword tighter, the red of her life essence spilling between her fingers, marking the moment when the sword he had sworn would always protect her, hurt her. "Look at me, Xaden." It was both a demand and a plea, and Xaden looked back at her, something like shadows curling in his red irises. "I know you're still in there, Xaden Riorson. Somewhere a part of you has survived, a part that did not succumb to the power, that could not hold on to it."

Gritting her teeth, YN pulled at the sword, feeling the steel digging deeper into her flesh, more blood seeping out of the wound, drenching her arm, and she only stopped when she felt it right against her neck, resting on the vulnerable vein pulsing right underneath her skin. She knew she couldn't cling long enough to this life to be saved when the man she loved decided to nick the skin, and she would pay the ultimate price in her pursuit of saving him.

She watched as Xaden's swirling eyes jumped to the point where they were joined, watching the blood trickle down, watching her hurt herself for him. His still handsome face contorted in confusion, in agony, in despair; the emotions so clear and almost palpable, YN could reach out and feel the pain radiating off his body.

"I know you can let go of it, Xaden. You are so strong, so incredibly brave. You overcame things no human being should even have to overcome. You are the best of all of us, you carry the burden and still live for a codex only the worthiest of men can live up to."

He was so close now that she could feel his warmth through her flight leathers, feel that ratchet power cursing through him.

"You never wanted this, you never strive for the absolute power, Xaden. This is my fault, and I would happily accept this burden if it means freeing you from it." A quiet sob forced its way out over her lips, and Xaden bent infinitesimally closer, the shadows claiming more of his eyes, fighting against the venin-red in a bitter fight for dominance. YN wanted to kneel in front of him, to beg every deity, every power in this world for guidance, for help, but instead, she continued to stare up at him, continued to bleed for him.

Perhaps she would pay the ultimate price for being too hopeful.

Shakily inhaling, her other hand softly, gently touched his wrist, feeling the warm skin, the electricity still dancing between them whenever they touched. "I need you," was all she could whisper when she had coaxed his hand from the corded hilt of his sword, his arm easy to maneuver in her hold as if his mind had to fight its battle without forcing him to withstand and fight everything he faced in reality. "We need you, Xaden."

There wouldn't be a kick for a long while, but the swell of her belly was unmistakably palpable for a hand as big as Xaden's, for fingers so long they almost entirely covered her front. Without moving or even breathing, her eyes watched him gazing down at their point of contact, skin touching skin, and his eyes flashed red, but his hand didn't move from her stomach, from where they had created something magical without knowing it.

"Please… Let go of it, my love. If not for me then for them. They deserve to know their incredible father. They deserve to grow up in a household filled with love, laughter, and strength. They deserve to know you."

Xaden's fingers that were pressed into the leather covering her body slightly flexed at those words, the red still warring against the shadows trying to reclaim their master, the veins pulsing angrily at the sheer force of power trying to eat him alive. His sword shook in her hand, and when he let go of the hilt, YN quickly abandoned her own hold on it, cupping his face in her hands, her warm blood covering his cheek. A deep growling groan escaped him as she pulled him down towards her, holding him right there, their foreheads pressed to one another.

"You are in control of yourself, Xaden—you always have been. Don't stop now when we need you the most." Whispering against his lips, YN kissed him despite everything, his hands flexing around her wrists and his lips moving in muted words, tears streaming down his face.

"Let go."

It was her last and final plea—perhaps both Zihnal and Dunne had mercy on them. Maybe it was sheer will. Despite not knowing what had changed, YN didn't question it when the mountain of a man fell to his knees and looked up at the sky, crying tears of blood and salt, an anguished battle cry escaping him. The force of power exploding around him pushed her backward, and instinctively, YN wrapped her arms protectively around her middle when she hit the hard, unyielding ground and rolled over stones and weapons before lying completely still.

Blinking against the ache and pain inside her body, she waited for something—anything.

And then—movements. Crunching stone under moving limbs and a deep sob traveling across the short distance.

“No. No, no, no, no! YN!”

She couldn't move, not daring to do so, when his oh-so-familiar voice entered her ears, and his warm body settled behind her, his warm hands grabbing her shoulders to gently roll her over. Coughing against the settling dust and squinting against the bright sky, YN looked up into his hovering face, one of his hands now cradling her neck and pulling her into his lap, sheltering her with his broad body.

"Xaden…?"

Another sob escaped him, tears of blood still streaming down his face where vein after vein slowly retreated, and the red in his irises being swallowed whole by the familiar onyx black specked with flecks of gold and amber. She still couldn't grasp it, not until his hand raised hers to his lips, kissing one blood-stained knuckle after the other.

"It's really you," YN whispered and smiled tiredly, her own tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. His nod was all but a confirmation; her hope starting to blossom into something more sturdy and permanent. "Whatever you did, it pushed the part of my soul still left behind to fight harder than before." His voice was hoarse from the lack of use, but he kept her close to his chest, ignoring the shakiness in his arms. "Thank you." It was barely a mumble, but she still heard it despite the sounds from behind them.

"Don't you dare drag me again like some kind of massive bone! YN! Hey, woah. No, no, no! Stop killing your wife!" Xaden rose with her in his arms and turned to a reawakened Garrick, staring dumbfounded at his best friend. "Don't be mad at him," YN all but whispered softly, trying herself on a smile for their friend as he shortened the distance between them and took them both in, eyes widening and mouth almost agape. "I'm not." And still, she could clearly hear the hurt in his rough voice, which would take time to disappear. She would be there, though. For everything that might come in the aftermath, whatever he needed to overcome to close this chapter.

Tairn growled when his massive body landed, and his burning eyes settled on them. "I will not allow you to commit such miscalculated stupidity again, girl. I will not tolerate it! And do not dear block me out ever again!" Too exhausted to argue with the angry black dragon, YN all but nodded and allowed Xaden and him to carry her onto her seat, wanting to escape this place as soon as possible.

She needed to bring Xaden home and far away from here—so that's what they did.

The sensation of soft sheets was the first thing he picked up on when sleep finally evaded him, and he woke with a groan. Even softer hands, one wrapped in something aching to a bandage, immediately took one of his hands between hers, and the mattress dipped slightly when her weight settled onto its edge. He knew without looking that it was YN right at his side, just where she had been when he first arrived back at Riorson House, half delusional from the exhaustion.

Home.

When he opened his eyes, Xaden groaned yet again at the brightness filtering through the windows, the curtains barely containing the light from a properly beautiful day outside these walls, and blinking, his eyes searched for her face. He found her immediately, the worry-etched lines between her soft brows deepening, but still, she tried to cover it up with her smile illuminating his entire world.

His heart ached when he thought about what she had been through—what they had been through—he barely could look into her eyes even though he knew there was not a single trace of accusation to be found. Yet, he felt guilt eating at him for putting her into this situation, the danger. Xaden once had vowed to protect her with all that he was, and all he had—and that vow had been turned to dust.

"Hi." Her soft whisper, still edged by insecurity and disbelief, pulled the Riorson back, made his mind shut up in an instant as it pinpoint-focused on her. "Hi," was his quiet return, and both squeezed their hands simultaneously, pulling strength out of the small touch. "How are you feeling? Are you thirsty?" Already trying to pull away to fill the glass waiting on his bedside table, Xaden stopped her with another squeeze of her fingers, making her look back at him. "I'm all right," he promised because, despite the exhaustion still rattling his body and his muscles feeling weak unlike ever before, he was all right. More so than that.

He finally felt like himself again. And she was the sole reason that he still was here.

Gently coaxing her bandaged hand closer to him, the man pressed a gentle kiss to the covered palm. His memories from that day were foggy at best, but he vividly remembered seeing her blood spill—it was the moment when he dared to fight harder than he had ever done so in his life to get back to her.

"I'm so sorry."

His voice grew raspy and even deeper, the distress clinging to his words. He did all that to her. To them.

"Don't you dare apologize for something you would never choose willingly, for something you couldn't control, Xaden Riorson. I won't allow it." Her words came immediately, and he sucked in a deep breath, feeling her hand gently cradling his face, the pad of her thumb caressing his cheek. He felt his eyes as they grew glassy, and blinking against it, Xaden pulled her hand off his face to press it against his steadily beating heart while his eyes traveled down her body until his gaze rested heavily on the barely there curve of her stomach.

"How are you?"

A soft laugh escaped YN at his question, making his lips twitch in growing joy. "We're okay. More than that now that you're with us." Lacing their fingers, YN let his hand cover the tiny bump hidden behind her flowy tunic, sighing deeply when Xaden's fingers flexed above it. "I think I heard Brennan shouting in the hallway last night," the Riorson mused, watching her roll her pretty eyes. "He spilled the secret, and now everyone knows of my… condition. That's what he did."

They both knew the Sorrengail only acted from a place of worry and love; YN didn't have to spell it out for him.

"I'm glad there was someone who took care of you and the little one when I couldn't," Xander murmured, making her look at him. "But I am here now. I will renew my vow to always protect you and our child, mo chroi. You two are my home, my everything." His voice broke at the last word, and she was there immediately, claiming her place at his side, allowing him to wrap her in his arms, pulling her incredibly close. Xaden felt her soft, warm lips press gentle kisses along his neck and jaw, like the touches of butterfly wings when they strove too close and her fingers buried into the short hair at the nape of his neck. "You are our everything, too, Xaden," YN whispered back, gently coaxing him to look at her where she was pressed to his body, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. "Whatever comes, we will be a family. We will be one. I will protect you with everything that I have and everything that I am—you and our child."

Those words still amazed the Riorson, his mind still reeling every time he dared to think or speak them, not yet entirely at ease with the thought of their existence in this world filled with war, battles, and enemies. But he would protect them—he would protect them with his life.

Nothing would come between him and his family.

Never again.

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving a like, a reblog, and a comment—it would mean the world to me <3

[fallen-w1ngs]

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 02 : get a grip ]

|| pairing : james "bucky" barnes x florist!reader

|| warning : none , bucky's an awkward guy <3

|| wc : 2.2k

Clint’s birthday went wonderfully, at least, in Tony’s eyes. There was a big celebration in the Tower, lots of people were invited. Well, actually most of them were just Clint’s friends from SHIELD as well as the Avengers. Even Peter and his aunt were invited! It was a fun celebration.. Well, to everyone but Bucky.

It wasn’t like Bucky hated parties, no in fact he loved them! At least, he was supposed to, back in the 40s, he loved to go to parties before.. Everything. Ah, but now? He was sitting at the bar, silently drinking some alcoholic drink that wouldn’t make him even the slightest bit tipsy. The only people here that were completely sober were the spider kid, his aunt, and Bucky. Even Steve was drunk from whatever Asgardian drink that Thor had brought this time. Not that Bucky minded, he loved seeing Steve happy. No, what was bothering him was that the spider punk was bothering him now.

“Oh! And- and one time there was a bank robbery back home and they were all wearing masks of everyone- well, not everyone everyone. But! They were wearing Mr. Stark and Mr. Roger masks and other Avengers,” Peter rambled on, swirling his apple juice in one hand as he leaned against the bar table.

Bucky just nodded along with any story that Peter was talking about.. In all honesty, Peter reminded him of his little sister.. But more annoying.

“But I took them down! It was actually really easy! Except that they had this weird weapon, like really weird! It went all boosh!” He made finger guns and pointed them at Bucky. “Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky bit back a sigh and just grunted in response as he took another swig of vodka. Might as well have the strongest drink and not get drunk, right?

“What was it like back in the 40s?”

Bucky spared a glance over to Peter, his eyebrow raised. He didn’t expect this, didn’t expect curiosity from the kid. “It was.. Different.”

“Liiike?”

“Loud. But not like it is now.” Bucky shrugged, in all honesty, he didn’t remember much due to the whole brainwashing thing, but what he did remember were.. Pictures, sounds. He remembered the music and how it made him feel. He remembered things from his childhood. “Steve ‘n I used to skip school a lot. Steve, uh, hated doin’ it, but I forced him to.” Bucky chuckled as he remembered, maybe he was getting tipsy ‘cause usually he wouldn’t be so open about his past. Or maybe the kid was easy to talk to, easier than the other avengers.

“We used t’skip and go to the greasy spoon a block away from our school, buy an ice cream soda with two scoops for us both. If we were lucky, we’d run into some dames and take a powder to the nearest place we can go for a dance.” As Bucky reminisced of the past, his inner Brooklynn boy came out and he started spitting slang from back then left and right. He didn’t even realize until he turned back to Peter who had the biggest smile on his face, but was so confused.

“That sounds fun!” Peter chuckled and took a sip of his apple juice, an awkward silence forming between the two before he asked. “Do you miss it?”

Bucky took a second and shrugged, he didn’t know if he did. It was simpler, yeah, but nowadays he has freetime. Didn’t have to fight every second of the day when he woke up. Didn’t have to worry about HYDRA controlling him, sure, he struggled with episodes sometimes, but.. He had Steve, he wasn’t alone. Wasn’t in the trenches.

“I don’t miss the war if that’s what you’re askin’, kid”

Peter chuckled and opened his mouth to speak again before May tapped his shoulder. “C’mon, Peter, it’s getting late, you still have school tomorrow.”

“Awe, man” Peter huffed before jumping off the barstool. “I’ll see you later, Mr. Barnes!”

Bucky waved to both Peter and May, a small ‘bye’ leaving his lips before he turned back to his drink. Man, time to just be a wallflower and watch as everyone got absolutely buzzed.

–

The next morning came by in a flash, it helped that Bucky turned in early. Well.. Early was a stretch, he went to bed at 2 AM, even when everyone was still preoccupied with the festivities. When, said, man left his room at 8 AM, he found everyone passed the hell out on the couches.

He didn’t wanna wake anyone up, so he just went to the kitchen and looked for something to eat. Something about the modern days was that it was easier to cook something! Not just boiled, though he did miss the bread pudding.

“Shit.” he muttered to himself as he found out, yeah no the guests raided the kitchen.. Or maybe it was all the passed out Avengers. Might as well go on a run and get some groceries. He hated doing errands, but no one was telling him to do it, no pressure.. Might as well buy some stuff.

In a few quick moments, he put a hoodie on and a nice pair of jeans on with his gloves nicely placed on his hands. He didn’t like showing off his hands, let alone his metal arm. Hated scaring people. Bucky made his way down the Tower and left. Taking a deep breath in the early morning air, he walked down to the nearest grocery shop.. Which was 20 minutes away, or 25 on foot. He didn’t mind, he liked walking.

–

Soon enough, he made it to the grocery shop. With it being 8:28 AM, and being a Tuesday, it wasn’t too busy. In fact, there was barely anyone.. Barely anyone.

He made his way through the aisles, and there he saw.. The cute florist from before. Except no apron like before,, they were just wearing a lazy day outfit, they were struggling with grabbing something on the top shelf but god they still looked-

You glanced up and saw Bucky, a flash of confusion on your face before you snapped your fingers and pointed to him. A big smile dancing on your lips as you exclaimed, “James!”

“Hey-” Bucky stopped himself and cringed internally. He may have been non-stop thinking about you and your face, but he was an ass to not have asked your name. “Y-You..”

They’regonnahatemethey’regonnahatemethey’regonnahatem-

“Pff- ha!”

Instead of what Bucky assumed, you shook your head and started giggling at Bucky’s awkwardness. He looked so mean ‘n scary, but here he was acting like a huge dork!

“The name’s [Name],” You went back down from your tippy toes. Man, you were just really cute- DAMNIT! Get a grip, Sargeant. “Hey! You’re like a giant, think you can grab that for me?”

You pointed at the box on the top, which was a box of fruit snacks. Cute. “Yeah, sure.”

Bucky grabbed the fruit snacks, glanced at the cover.. It was Avengers inspired fruit snacks. He raised his eyebrow and looked over at you with a slight hint of curiosity. Embarrassed, you snatched the box from Bucky’s hand and shoved it into your basket.

“They’re good-” You muttered. “The snacks and the heroes, I mean.”

“You like the Avengers?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“The bad guys.” He shrugged, and you laughed.

You kept laughing for a few moments, Bucky was just.. Admiring you. The way the corner of your eyes wrinkled, the way your cheeks flushed just the smallest bit.. Man, why was he acting like this? Barely knew you, yet his mind was reeling. Sure, he flirted back in the 40s.. A lot, but.. I dunno, there’s something different about you.

“James?” Your voice snapped him out of his trance. Sure, he was absolutely enamored right now, but his face looked like he was just annoyed. “Wanna just shop with me? I-I’m probably just gonna get junk food if I’m alone, so-”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay!”

With a new pep in your step, you led him down the aisles. Checking over the produce section, he grabbed a few carrots, a package of lettuce. In turn, you grabbed some veggies as well.. It was more out of peer pressure (despite there not being any pressure), at least the plan was working. He inspired half of your purchases that day, and honestly, that’s a good thing. It seemed half his food was real healthy shit..

“Do you live alone?”

“Wha? Oh,” Bucky looked down at his basket before nodding. “I live with.. A lot of people”

“That makes way more sense, didn’t peg you for a-” You glanced into his basket and a small smirk tugged at your lips. “Pop tart, beer, and toast guy.”

Bucky shrugged and scratched the back of his head. He was just buying things from the usual grocery shop list. Pop tarts for Thor, beer for.. Half the Avengers, toast just for everyone, etc etc.

“My roommates are foodies”

“I can tell!” He watched as you hummed and grabbed one last item. “That should be good for me! You done?”

He nodded.

“Great! Where d’you live?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you realized what you said. “I-I’m asking ‘cause maybe after we pay I can walk you home! Or- somethin’.. I dunno, sorry-”

“Oh.” The tall man in front of you shuffled in his spot. “No need. I live a few blocks away, it’d be a hassle.”

“Oh, well, that sucks! I was hoping to talk with you more!”

Bucky walked besides you as you both walked to the self-paying cash registers. Man, your words made his heart start beating faster. How could you be so.. Smooth with this? Maybe you didn’t realize, it could just be something you see as platonic. He didn’t know.

“I can.. Give you my number.” Bucky muttered, he knew that’d be seen as flirty. Or at least hitting on you.. But, he didn’t mind. Maybe he wanted that? NO. No, Steve told him to make connections, this is just to make a new friend.

Your eyes lit up at the offer and you nodded quickly. Quickly finishing up at paying for your groceries and took your phone out. “You can put your number in my phone after you're done paying?”

Bucky nodded again. You watched as he put everything away and.. Okay, admired his arm. Even under the hoodie, you can tell he worked out. James was really handsome, but so mysterious at the same time! Not much of a talker, but you could do all the talking.. You wonder, would he talk in bed- NO WAIT! Get a grip, goddamnit. This was all supposed to be innocent, he’s just a new friend.

As quickly as your grocery shopping came, the two of you walked out, side-by-side.

“It was nice seeing you again, James!” You waved back and walked away, one new number in your phone.

–

By the time Bucky got back to the Tower, everyone was already awake, but hungover as hell. The only ones who weren’t super hungover were Steve, Natasha and Thor.

“Hello, one-armed man!” Thor waved over to Bucky and gestured him over to join, said, Steve, Natasha and him over to the kitchen table.

Bucky gave a short nod and put the grocery bags on the table.

“You better have gotten-” Natasha looked through the bags and let out a huff. Not of annoyance, one of thanks. “Thanks.”

She waved the bag of pistachios in the air before opening it and started eating them up. She loved pistachios.

“Man of one arm, you have done wonderfully!” Thor grabbed one of the three boxes of pop tarts and started eating one. “As thanks, I will make tea!”

Bucky nodded, even though he’d rather have coffee than tea, but he’d rather not correct Thor. He’s one of the only people who weren’t a part of the Civil war, the other was Bruce Banner.

“Thanks for the food, Buck,” Steve opened the bread and spread a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Bucky just grunted in response and took a bite of a piece of bread in which Steve made for him. Just a simple piece of white bread with peanut butter. He took his phone out and checked it for a moment.. You texted him.

Florist : hey, james :3! sorry if this is quick, just wanted to make sure you had my number! if this isnt james this is rlly embarrassing

The corners of Bucky’s mouth quirked up, very quick, very faint. Didn’t last long, but he texted back.

James : It’s me, don’t worry. Hi, [Name], and don’t worry, this isn’t embarrassing.

“Buck?”

Steve’s voice cut him from his.. Trance of you. He hit send on the text before putting his phone away. “What?”

“Who y’texting?” The blonde leaned on the table and eyed him suspiciously. A small smirk on his face as he eyed Bucky.. He knew for a FACT the only people Bucky texted was Sam and him, and on OCCASION Peter.

“Nothing- no one. Don’t worry about it, punk.”

“You sure? You look pretty happy”

A small murmur came from Natasha as she leaned over to Thor. “He looks happy?”

“C’mon, you can’t lie to me, Buck, I’ve known you for years”

“Steve-”

“Is it a dame?”

“Shut it before I hit you, punk” Bucky glared at Steve and bit his bread before huffing. Steve rolled his eyes and put his hands up in defeat.

“Fine, fine.”

With that, he didn’t ask anymore. And Bucky decided; he’ll only text you when he’s alone.

|| i am quite enjoying writing for bucky <333 also, ily domestic avengers

[joyswonderland1108]

Imagine having a massive fandom and still flopping at basic strategy.

I can't believe i'm making yet another post about this but here we are.

You know what's absolutely wild to me? The fact that Jimin fanbases are now out here joining forces with other fandoms because BTS's own damn fandom couldn't get their act together when faced with the simplest test: two members in the same poll.

Like... Hello? How is it that a fandom famous for being "so big" and "so organized" suddenly can't manage basic strategic thinking? Where did all that OT7 brainpower go? Took a collective nap?

Let's be real, we all KNOW there are solos out there voting for either Jimin or RM. That's whatever, solos will solo. But the rest of you, the so-called OT7s.. Where the hell were you? Sitting there frozen because you "couldn't decide"? Babe. It's called splitting your votes evenly until the deadline is near, and THEN throwing your full weight behind whoever needs the push.

It's not rocket science. It's literally common sense. Balance. Logic. Teamwork makes the dream work. Heard of it?

But nooo, instead we get this situation where an actual BTS member's fanbase has to go BEGGING other fandoms for help, because "ARMY" were too busy being indecisive or messy.

Tell me that's not the most embarrassing thing ever. I'll wait.

Honestly, the fact that this is even needed to be said..

Embarassing is not even strong enough. Tragic.

Let me just drop a tutorial based on the current events:

How to lose a poll in 3 easy steps: a Masterclass by OT7s Step 1 : Have TWO members in a poll. Panic. Forget how voting works. Become a "deer in headlights" for 5 business days straight. Step 2 : Let the solos do all the work while the so-called "OT7s" sit there twiddling their thumbs because "OMG who I pick?? both are precious uwu. But do you think RM deserves the win this time? Or is it Jimin?" (Spoiler: you pick BOTH if you're that indecisive and not trying to be shady with one member. You divide your votes evenly. This is preschool-level math.) Step 3 : Watch one fanbase realize the Titanic is sinking and have to go beg OTHER fandoms for help because BTS's own fandom was too busy being confused or forcing others to vote for one member instead of letting people do whatever the fuck they want or at the very least come up with a fair strategy. Congratulations, you played yourself.

Meanwhile, a logical person seeing this mess:

For those not wanting to choose between the two, vote 50/50 until deadline approaches.

See who's closer to winning.

Dump all votes there.

Go outside and touch grass because it's literally not that hard.

But no, let's make it humiliating! Let's make it so bad that ARMY, the fandom known for eating awards, has to phone a friend because they couldn't handle a poll with two members without self-destructing, failing miserably at finding the best fair and square strategy. (Again this is not about solos who are already decided on who to vote for, or those who individually already decided who to go for, i'm talking about stupid ass OT7 accounts who are creating division in the fandom, forcing others to vote for who THEY decided is best suited or according to them is best deserving to win this time. Bfr)

Honestly, peak comedy. I would laugh if it wasn't so secondhand embarrassing.

[tvtoontime]

Hey I've seen that you've not been active recently, I like the comic so far, so I have a question why haven't you been active?

Sorry for not answering questions as of late! I have a few answered ones in my draft!

I DO APOLOGIZE IF THIS POST MAKES YOU FEEL UNEASY OR UNCOMFORTABLE. This post is mostly for anyone who’s curious about the lack of posts. I don’t need any comfort, compliments or reassurance, trust🫡.

(I’ve been meaning to talk about this topic in detail for a while but i know people get uncomfortable with this kind of negativity!)

“STRAIGHT FORWARD” ANSWER:

I’ve been a little less motivated to draw, thinking every drawing or comic isn’t worth looking at. Im not consistent with my art and want to change up everything if i’m not satisfied with it which makes it confusing for everyone else. Dandy’s design is a big example of that.. Lots of comparing comes into play too. I do NOT have a pretty art style what so ever. dgmw, It’s not meant to be pretty but i get embarrassed when I draw something that’s meant to be somewhat pleasing to the eyes but turns out cringy.(dandy & astro comic). There’s such pretty art out there and it feels like im destroying the beauty of the characters. I also feel like I disappoint others consistently since i have high expectations for myself. I want to improve faster and faster so i push myself. At this point i might’ve accidentally over done it. I took a break to see if that’d help things but when i came back there was a TON of negativity on tiktok.(where i started out) which also pushed me away further to draw since i liked seeing positive things about dandys world! I’m not giving up just yet, because i want to live my art and keep inspiring younger or even older artists to draw different angles and so much more!

(I will also point out, whenever I draw, it takes a lot of time. i am unfortunately a slow artist..sigh.💔)

MORE DETAILED ANSWER WITHIN:

TW: LOADS OF SELF NEGATIVITY & NEGLECT.

Let’s start from the top.

HAPPINESS?

Tiktok was where i started posting comics. (i never made a comic before, so that was my “first” time) All i really wanted to do was post relatable dw experiences for the fun of it.

I didn’t realize people would actually like a simplified, horribly colored, comic. Either way, I was having fun.

I got this really weird motivational high when others wanted more or the “next part”. i literally couldn’t fall asleep and wasn’t eating from all the thrill. I couldn’t tell if I was happy or really anxious from the attention.

I got a little afraid once i reached 10k or something like that. I didn’t have a story for the “AU” nor did i ever create one in my life. I couldn’t tell if people liked filler episodes or random episodes or if they really liked the lore/plot.(everyone was angry at qwel for not showing any lore so I got worried about that happening with me and wasting everyone’s time.)

GROWING GUILT.

At one point i took a break from the comic to create some silly little christmas special which,, i should have planned out beforehand. It felt like I made a promise to post every night for december like a christmas advent calendar(that was the plan basically).

Big mistake. I already had an insecurity/fear of disappointing others. I believed i could make these silly little shorts every night. I once again struggled to sleep and eat but this time from guilt that was growing. I finally called it quits on the 7th day(sad ik i only made it to 7 days lol) since a lot of people were concerned once i was late and i seriously didn’t want to concern anyone. I still had ideas but i couldn’t keep up with the days.

OVERWHELMING SUPPORT.

The support from the familiar faces was and still is overwhelming. Everyone was/is so nice and yet i still felt like i let everyone down? I felt like i needed to give more or try harder as thank you for supporting and being there and for treating me like a human being especially when other creators had people pushing them to make their comics. No one asked me to try harder but i felt/feel the need to push myself, or to make a better version each time.

I don’t know how to take compliments. A small thank you doesn’t feel like enough. I want to do MORE but I know I can’t.

TOOK A BREAK.

I didn’t want to take a break, but it was needed. I also needed to take advice from the familiar faces i saw because they were right. I thought I was ready to come back because, I had a story, had a plan to go at my own pace, say a simple thank you for the support, and move along. I also wanted to step out of my comfort zone and become one with the community. (Idk if this was such a good idea tbh LOL. I feel invasive like rodger or shelly.)

FANDOM NEGATIVITY.

I loved the community and how silly we all were back when it was growing. The way people portrayed the characters in their aus, created lore, ships and their names were creative, ocs, and so much more to create a somewhat healthy community. It was Dandy’s world’s prime time for me.

However,,, During March, All i saw was negativity.

No one was negative in my comments, however, whenever i went on tiktok, all it was, was(and still is) negativity. I’m not talking about slimetok or some shit hating on “us” and changing the “💔” emoji to a rotting flower, I’m talking about our OWN community hating on the new updates, hating on certain characters, on aus, on ships, hating on ANYTHING that helped create the community. Some of the community members are also something else. All of this negativity really killed my motivation(personal stuff too). Dgmw, people can have opinions, but holy shit? How much negativity are you gonna diarrhea out???????

We’ve got bigger problems in the world. I already know this! But we kind of need to be happy here and there or else we’ll all be depressed or some shit.(an escape basically.) Unfortunately I used DW to cope which is probably why i’m feeling sad about all of this negative change.

OVERTHINKING DISAPPOINTMENT.

Due to the popularity on tiktok, I felt as though i was disappointing those large amount of numbers. I do feel like i should only focus on the people who are “closer” to the account, but i’ve had another issue with that too. Anyone I feel closer to, I feel like they’re going to be more disappointed not only in the art but they’ll get bored with my personality too? I’m still trying my hardest not to care so much about disappointment but it’s been a little tricky.

Unfortunately I look at my art differently now, hating everything i post and judging myself too quickly. I spent over 150 hrs on the two long comics “Abc song” “Snowballs coming your way” or something like that, and despise them. I also disliked the gigi/flutter/looey comic even though that one had gained the most attention on tiktok.

THE POSITIVE…?

I’m still drawing/posting since people get inspired by the art/perspective and it still makes me feel worthy enough to continue the comic/drawing. I too want to like my art again, so i’m not giving up. also my little sister took my ipad for school projects so i can’t exactly draw much rn…🧍

[sagereeid]

scars that never healed. - s.r. - chapter 3

a/n - hi guys i had an awful day today but hopefully yall enjoy. please comment your thoughts. love yall

warnings - none really. bitter!spencer, angst, lily and derek friendship, maybe some cussing. let me know if i missed something.

Once Hotch dismissed the team, they all staggered out of the roundtable room. Spencer ensured he was the last one out, not in his usual spot next to Lilith.

Truth is, yeah, he has been avoiding her. He’s doing it for a good reason. Or at least that’s what he’s telling himself.

He came to this realization when he was at Lilth’s house yesterday. Every time Spencer got close, everything got ruined. It blew up in his face. His mother won’t take the pills that will help her get better. Meave got killed right in front of him. And if one thing is for damn sure, he cannot lose the one person that has been getting him though all of this.

Spencer cannot lose Lilith. He cannot even think about it. So, he thought the best idea was to push her away. Maybe if they’re far enough away from each other, neither of them will be around for the explosion.

He made a beeline for his desk and grabbed his go bag, which he kept under his desk. He could hear Lily behind him.

“Spence?” She spoke in that soft voice she always uses while around Spencer. A small part of him was enraged that she was talking to him because he would only have to work harder to shut her out.

“Yes?” He asked, shoving a few extra things in his duffle bag.

“Are you okay?” She questioned. Spencer could tell that she‘s concerned, but it is fueling the fire inside him even more.

“I’m fine,” He said, not turning around.

“Spence... " she responded, her tone softer than ever. Lily reaches out and places a warm, familiar hand on his shoulder.

He freezes. He doesn’t let many people touch him, even in passing. Lilith was different, that was until now.

Spencer shrugs off her touch and spins around so fast that he feels like he will fall into his desk chair.

“Don’t call me that. Don’t touch me.” He looked into her eyes, which were rigid, cold, and unmoving. Lilith stared at him with confusion, hurtfulness, and a tad bit of fear.

They stood there momentarily, staring at each other; the tension eating them alive. Eventually, Spencer pushes past her without another word and hits her with his shoulder.

Lilith stood there temporarily, her eyes not moving from where Spencer had stood only moments ago. She felt a sob well up in her throat, and she tried her best to swallow it down. She tried to ignore the few tears that slipped out, but she grabbed her things and left the scene.

She walked to the plane silently and tried not to even look at Spencer, sitting in the spot they usually sat in together. She walked past him without saying anything, swallowing the lump in her throat yet again, and sat in a random corner far away from everyone.

This wasn’t uncommon on the jet; if you sit by yourself and look like you don’t want to be talked to, you usually will get left alone. Typically, people just read books or slept, but Lily’s throat felt tight right now. She thinks if she opens her mouth, she’ll erupt into tears.

She took yet another steadying breath. Why is this affecting you so much? This is so stupid. So what? Spencer gets mad at you once, and you’re going to cry? She chants in her head.

Lily sighed and looked out of the window, ignoring the pair of eyes she felt on the back of her neck, which she knew most definitely belonged to Spencer.

It takes all her power not to turn around. The sadness has quickly faded, only to be replaced by anger and annoyance. What is his problem?

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, letting all her thoughts fade away, and she finally drifts off to sleep.

A few hours later, the jet landed in Minneapolis. Spencer stood up and grabbed the bag for the overhead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lilith fast asleep in her seat. He wanted to walk over to her, tuck the hair on her face behind her ear, wake her up gently, and give her a warm smile. He ended up standing there and staring at her until his gaze was broken by Derek standing in front of her.

“Chicka, wake up.” He chuckled while gently shaking her shoulder.

“Hm?” Lilith asked as she fluttered her eyes open.

“We landed.” He said, giving her that signature charming smile. She smiled back with her warm and inviting one. Yet a fake one. One that hid the pain inside of her.

“Oh.” She sits up some more and rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

“You okay there, hot stuff?” He chuckled, and his touch lingered on her shoulder.

“Yeah, sweetie. Just didn’t sleep too well last night.” She joked back.

Spencer stopped. He was trying and failing to listen in on subtly. He felt like all the air was sucked out of his lungs. Sweetie? He thought to himself. It felt unnatural coming from her mouth, especially while talking to Derek.

He felt his blood boil for a reason he didn’t know himself. Jealousy. Lilith watched as he stormed off the plane and looked back to Derek in confusion.

They both look back at each other, and Derek is the first one to speak.

“What is up with him?” He asked. Lily sighed.

“I have no idea.”

[emakataken]

Controlled Burn Part 2

Idea: After a chance meeting at a firefighter bar, Tommy Kinard a guarded Air Ops pilot and Buck, a restless academy recruit, fall into something neither of them saw coming.

~~~

Buck stares at the ceiling, the bass from the party downstairs rattling the cracked plaster above his head.

He exhales into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. The ten-by-ten room he rents feels even smaller tonight. It smells like cheap detergent and old pizza. The mattress creaks when he twists, reaching for his phone, still warm from the shower he took.

He can still feel him, Tommy’s stubble scraping his neck, the rough drag of his large hands that knew exactly how to take and still left him wanting more.

Finally, Buck drags his phone off the milk crate he uses as a nightstand. His thumb hovers, then swipes the screen open. One message waiting.

Hey.

Simple. Waiting.

Buck swallows. He thumbs out a reply before he can talk himself out of it. I can’t get you out of my head.

He almost deletes it. Almost locks the screen and tosses the phone across the room. Instead, he breathes shallow, and hits send with a quiet, “fuck it, be honest.”

It takes a minute a long, brutal minute before his phone buzzes again. Good. Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.

Something eases in Buck’s chest, loosening a knot he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He grins a little small and aching and types back before he can think too hard about it: You’re the kind of cool I used to wish I could be.

The bass thuds under his mattress. His phone buzzes again almost immediately.

You’re cooler than you think, kid.

Buck huffs a breath almost a laugh and drags a hand through his damp hair. He doesn’t know what this is. But it makes him smile.

Night, Kinard, he sends.

The reply comes quicker this time. Night, Evan.

The next night, a little past nine, Buck’s phone buzzes again. How’s it going?

Buck reads it standing in the messy kitchen of his house share. While eating straight out of a peanut butter jar with a plastic spoon. His hands are still scraped raw from a day spent running drills, scrubbing hoses and hauling ladders in the yard. His arms hum with the kind of exhaustion that feels stitched into his bones.

He taps out a reply one handed, spoon dangling from his mouth. Good. Busy.

It takes longer for Tommy to answer this time. Buck pictures him camped out by his rig, gear half-on, waiting for the next call to rip him out of whatever half-sleep he's trying to steal.

Same, Tommy sends back.

Buck leans his hip against the counter, thumb hovering. Typing. Deleting. Typing again.

Long shift? he asks finally.

The reply comes fast this time. Forty-eight. Just hit fifteen hour mark.

Buck winces. He knows what that feels like not from firefighting, but from another life, different uniforms, different dirt.

You holding up? he texts.

Tommy’s answer is a little slower this time. Alive and ugly. Same as usual.

Buck huffs a quiet laugh, sets the peanut butter down.

Bet you still look better than me, he sends back before he can think better of it.

A minute passes. Bet you’re wrong, kid.

Buck smiles too tired to keep it off his face and before he can second-guess himself, he lifts his phone and snaps a quick selfie. Messy hair. Sweat-smeared academy shirt. One black eye blooming ugly under his left brow, courtesy of McDaniel panicking during a ladder drill.

He frowns at the picture but it was too late he already hit send.

The read receipt ticks over almost instantly.

But the reply takes longer. You’re still the best thing I’ve seen all day.

Buck swallows hard. The smile tugs wider without permission. Another message buzzes through a moment later. Go to bed, Evan.

The words feel like a hand at his back, nudging him towards what he needs.

Goodnight, Kinard.

Tuesday drags by in a blur of drills and lectures and a sore elbow he doesn’t have time to ice. By the time Buck finally collapses into bed, muscles buzzing with exhaustion, his phone buzzes against the pillow.

Survive another day, kid?

Buck huffs a quiet laugh into the dark, every part of him sore and humming.

Barely. You?

It takes a little longer for Tommy to answer this time. Buck flips the phone over in his hand, thumb skimming the edge, pretending he’s not waiting.

Still breathing.

The words sit heavy on the screen. Not a joke. Not quite a comfort either. Just a truth.

Buck does the math in his head, slow and tired. Tommy’s reaching the forty-hour mark of his forty-eight. Still standing. Still breathing. Buck knows what that can cost.

The soft hum of the party downstairs. His mattress creaks when he shifts, pulling the blanket higher as he reaches for his headphones.

He thinks about typing something else something stupid, like Stay safe but his fingers don’t move.

It fizzles after that not awkward, just heavy. They’re both buried in their own shit and shifts, and Buck tells himself he’s fine with the silence.

That it’s better this way. That it’s safer not to expect anything more. He flips the phone face-down on the pillow next to him, closes his eyes,

Wednesday night, he’s halfway through a gas station dinner protein bar, trail mix, Gatorade when his phone buzzes.

His heart rate jumps as he reads Tommy's message. Wanna work out? Equinox. Say an hour?

Buck frowns at the screen, wiping his hands on his sweats. I don’t have a membership.

Got a buddy pass. La Brea location. I’ll meet you out front. Bring your gloves.

Gloves?

For the bags.

Buck’s pulse kicks up.

He checks the clock enough time to lace up his runners and escape the chaos brewing downstairs. He grabs his gear and slips into the night, restless energy sharpening into something clearer, something real.

The gym is all sleek black tile and mirrors, too polished, too LA. Buck doesn’t care. Isn't as impressed as he should be. He’s too busy searching the lobby.

Tommy leans against the front desk, casual in a fitted black tank and loose training shorts, arms crossed like he owns the place.

Buck’s mouth goes dry.

Tommy glances up and smirks. “You gonna stand there all night, or you wanna hit something?”

Buck blows out a breath. “Lead the way.”

Tommy tosses him a pair of wraps. Starts winding his own with muscle memory easy and sharp. Buck watches the flex of his forearms, the way the veins stand out under the lights.

“Ever trained before?” Tommy asks, eyes on his hands.

Buck tightens his gloves. “Yeah.”

Tommy’s gaze flicks up, assessing. “Show me,”

Buck steps up to the nearest bag and hits sharp, brutal, a fast three-piece that makes the chain rattle.

Tommy lets out a low whistle. “You don’t move like a rookie. Not even close. So you have hit something.”

Buck wipes his mouth. “Told you.”

Tommy steps in behind him, close enough that Buck can feel the heat of him. “Your form’s decent,” he murmurs, voice rough near Buck’s ear. “But you’re dropping your left.”

Buck tenses. “Yeah?”

Tommy’s hand lands on his hip, adjusting his stance with a firm tug. “Yeah.” His thumb brushes the bare skin above Buck’s waistband, just for a second. “Try again.”

Buck’s heart kicks. He hits the bag harder.

They move to the mats after that. No headshots. No cheap shots. Just sweat, grit, and quick hands.

Tommy’s good. Really good. Fast on his feet, sharp with his reads, pressing Buck just hard enough to make him forget to hold back.

By the third round, Buck’s soaked through his shirt, breathing heavy.

Tommy’s barely winded, “all your energy is going into holding back,” Tommy says, circling him.

Buck wipes his brow. “Maybe I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Tommy grins wider, wild and bright. “Try.”

The gym showers are all steam and echoing tile, water washing away the sweat from Buck’s skin. He tips his head back under the spray, the water is hot and the pressure is to die for, he closes his eyes, muscles loose for the first time in weeks.

He cracks an eye.

Tommy’s silhouette is a dark blur through the fogged glass door, close enough that Buck can hear the hitch of his breath over the water.

“You good?” Tommy’s voice is rough.

Buck exhales. “Yeah.”

Tommy creaks the door open, a few inches. His hand slides in, palm up. An offering. A challenge. A dare.

Buck knows he should hesitate. Should play it cool. But he reaches out and grips Tommy’s wrist, yanking him into the stall.

The glass shudders as the door snaps shut behind them. Tommy stumbles forward, catching himself against the tile with one hand, the other landing on Buck’s hip to steady them both.

For a second, they just breathe.

Tommy’s close enough that Buck can see the exact moment his gaze drops down his chest, over the water-slicked planes of his abs, lingering on the jagged lines of scar tissue curling around Buck’s right hip, up his ribs, sprawling out across his stomach and back.

Buck goes very still.

Tommy’s thumb brushes the edge of it a question he doesn’t voice.

“Teenage me fucking around a construction site,” Buck says, too fast. “Fell through some old flooring. Got lucky, honestly.”

Tommy’s eyes flick up, searching. He doesn’t call bullshit. But his mouth tightens just a fraction, like he’s filing away the lie for later.

He doesn’t press.

Just drags his palm up Buck’s chest slow, deliberate, grounding.

“You’re full of surprises, Recruit Buckley,” Tommy murmurs, voice almost steady.

Buck’s pulse kicks. “Yeah?”

Tommy leans in, mouth grazing the shell of Buck’s ear. “I was Army,” he says low. “10th Mountain. Then 160th SOAR.” His teeth scrape skin, almost thoughtless a brand, a warning, a confession.

Buck’s breath catches.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. The weight of it settles between them the scars they’re both not explaining. The things they’re choosing not to ask. Not to tell.

His heart thunders against his ribs. He turns his head, just enough that their mouths hover a breath apart.

“I’m a fast learner,” Buck says a little too raw, a little too young.

Tommy huffs a low laugh against Buck's lips. “Bullshit,” he murmurs. His grip tightens on Buck's hip, pressing him back against the cool tile as the warm water glides over them.

"Fast learner?" Tommy's voice drops to that low, knowing rumble. “You flinch like someone who knows what it costs.”

Buck’s pulse jumps where Tommy’s thumb presses against his carotid. “YouTube tutorials,” he lies, rough and easy.

A sharp grin flashes across Tommy's face. He drags his nose along Buck's jaw, inhaling sharply like he's trying to catch the scent of gunpowder under soap and sweat. "That a fact?"

Buck’s muscles coil, torn between pushing forward and breaking away. The stall feels suddenly too small, the air too thick. His brain frizzles.

Tommy's knee slides between Buck's thighs, pinning him in place. "Let me guess college boxing team? MMA hobbyist?" Each word punctuated with a roll of his hips.

Buck's head thunks back against the tile. His hands find purchase on Tommy's shoulders, fingers digging into the scar on the older man's collarbone the kind you only get from shrapnel or a hard landing.

"Something like that," Buck grits out. Then he kisses him, deep and claiming, and Buck lets himself forget.

They don’t talk about it. Not in the locker room. Not in the parking lot, where the night air cools Buck’s skin.

Tommy just claps him on the shoulder, a touch lingering too long to be casual. “Next week?” he asks.

Buck meets his eyes. Sees the crackling smile directed at him. The grin that melts his brain and makes him stupid. “Yeah,” Buck says.

Tommy nods like that’s that.

When Buck gets home, there’s already a text waiting.

You’re fucking lethal, kid.

Buck grins into the dark, heart hammering, feeling maybe for the first time in a long time, alive.

[cranberrymoons]

WAIT can you drop some wisdom on changing your life at 32 im 33 and i know SOMETHING needs to happen but i feel so trapped in my life TT TT (also oblogatory i think that buck calls eddie papi as a joke one time but it blows eddies mind and cue buck bouncing & squealing on it etc etc)

hi yes of course! I will acknowledge the privileged position I was in to have the freedom to do this (no spouse, no kids, mediumish financial stability) but to be really honest it was not easy and has not been a straight linear path. it was way more mental work than anything else, and I think the key to success at least for me really has been like a compilation of random things picked up from miscellaneous internet users "don't let yourself give up on yourself" "the time will pass anyway" "your fear of looking stupid is holding you back" "who cares what other people think about what you do with YOUR life" "the things you do during the day is how you are currently spending your life" "do it scared" like these are all random throwaway comments but I have actually repeated them to myself so so so many times. and said them in the mirror. and spoken them out loud in my car while I'm on my way to do something that is really really scary for one reason or another. and they have all genuinely helped me.

long rambling story below the cut lol also the papi thing is not my personal journey tbh but yay forever re buck bouncing on it 😌

about 18 months ago I had the Thing happen to me where your job that's been remote since covid suddenly decides they want everyone to be in the office. and so I had to decide if I wanted to move halfway across the country to do that, or if I wanted to lose my job. woohoo. :)

and so I started thinking about it and it kind of made me realize I actually fucking hated that job 😭 I'd been there for OVER FIVE YEARS and there were so many things I did notttt like that I had just kind of gotten used to? but as soon as I decided I didn't want to move for this job, it was like I could not stop noticing the things that had been like. low level annoying me for a really long time.

and so I started looking for a job and looking and looking and realized like. I don't actually want to do these jobs. the idea of taking another job like the one that I had was literally making me feel sick to my stomach (it was a vague email job where I had like a "project manager" type of title but even though I had that job for 5 years I honestly do not really know what I did all day or what my job really was. one of those like extremely fake office jobs that still somehow manages to give you anxiety because everyone else is always talking about how BUSY they are etc)

and anyway long internal personal journey blah blah blah, I started to say to myself like. you are 31-32 YEARS OLD!!!! it is time to finally be an active participant in your own life instead of just doing what everyone else wants you to do. but also like – okay, so you don't want to do this vague officey email job, but you have to do SOMETHING so what do you want to do??

and eventually I noticed this pattern in my life of like, I have always sort of done the thing that's *next to* the thing I actually want to do. if that makes sense? like – I've always done the thing that "makes more sense" for what people expect of me, or the easier option, or the thing that feels safer. idk. so I was like okay – moonshot, you can do whatever you want, life is just an open world video game (again, I am unmarried and don't have kids, so there's no one directly depending on me to take less risks, which makes this a little easier). if you could do anything, what would you want to do.

and so over the past year and a half, I quit my job, took a pay cut to take an easier/chill fun job in the meantime while I went back to school, started to get super in shape for literally the first time in my life lol, became an EMT, and now I'm planning to start with a fire academy at the end of the summer, which is like 70% something I have actually always wanted to do but was embarrassed about for some reason / 30% hyperfixation so strong it became a profession. which – turns out! – is a profession that I am actually super good at and love in a way that I have never loved a job before. like, looking back at my life 2 years ago it is unrecognizable to what I'm doing now. yay.

[matts-girlfriend]

It’s You I Welcome Death With- Chris Sturniolo

TattooArtist!Chris and MakeupArtist!Reader

chapter 6

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 warning this series will contain, substance abuse, angst, arguing,tension,swearing, mentions of absent family, blood, abuse (not from chris). smut, oral, this is a warning for all chapters

It had been a week.

Seven whole days since the party. Since that stupid not-a-kiss on her neck. Since the blood, the broken glass, and Ava’s sobs clinging to her hoodie like ghosts.

Y/N hadn’t heard from Chris—not that she was expecting to. That wasn’t his thing. Ghosting and girls were practically tattooed on his damn knuckles.

But that didn't matter once she got a text from the older triplet.

Nick S:

You alive? its been a while. come hang out for a bit? It'll be chill.

She stared at the text. Her instinct was to say no. She didn’t trust chill. Chill always turned into something.

But Ava had just left to sleep over at Kiera’s. First one in weeks. She was excited. Safe.

Y/N wasn’t used to having a night off.

She chewed on her lip, staring at the text.

Y/N:

what time?

⸻

The house was quieter than usual when she walked in. No music. Just the low hum of voices from the living room.

Nick grinned from the couch, socks mismatched and drink in hand. “I was starting to think I imagined you agreeing to come.”

Matt looked up from his phone. “She did say she had better things to do. Like rearrange trauma.”

Y/N snorted, kicking off her shoes. “You wish my trauma was that organized.”

She flopped onto the couch beside Nick, letting herself breathe for the first time in days.

They talked shit for a while—TV shows, bad tattoos, Nick making fun of Matt for the girl he’d been texting nonstop.

Matt rolled his eyes and finally gave in. “Okay but like—she’s different. She’s like… quiet but not boring. And she laughs at my jokes.”

“She’s a unicorn,” Y/N deadpanned. “You must marry her immediately.”

Matt pointed at her. “Okay, but like—if you were me, what would you say back to this?”

He held up his phone, and Y/N leaned over, reading the message. She helped him send something that was 20% sweet, 80% not-a-walking-red-flag, and by the end, Matt was blushing like a teenage boy.

“God,” Nick muttered. “Now you’ve got him simping.”

“He’s always simping,” she smirked.

And that’s when the front door creaked open.

Chris.

Hair messy, hoodie hanging off one shoulder, eyes glassy in that lazy, high way he always wore like armor.

“Damn,” he said, voice gravel-smooth as he dropped onto the couch across from them. “Didn’t realize we were having a group therapy session tonight.”

Matt rolled his eyes hard. “You can shut up now.”

Chris grinned, already sparking a fresh blunt. “Are you still mad I fucked Madi? I said you could have her.”

“Shut up, Chris.”

Nick’s phone buzzed, and he groaned dramatically. “If this photographer flakes again, I’m gonna tattoo ‘send files’ on his forehead.”

He stood, grabbing his laptop as he answered the call, walking out of the room with a sigh.

Matt got up too, muttering something about needing water and “not sharing a room with egos on legs” before heading upstairs.

Just like that, it was the two of them.

Chris shifted to sit beside her, the air immediately heavier.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just took a hit and passed the blunt without looking at her.

She took it, inhaled slow. Tried not to think about how close he was sitting. Or how their thighs were almost touching.

“You always run away like that?” he asked finally, voice quiet, almost too casual.

Y/N froze.

“What?”

“After the party. You didn’t even say bye.”

She shrugged, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. “Shit happens.”

“Yeah. But most girls don’t run from me unless they’re tryna pretend they didn’t feel something.”

She turned to him, sharp smile curling at her mouth. “You really think you’re God’s gift, huh?”

He grinned back, lazy and smug. “Not God’s. Just yours.”

Y/N laughed—dry, amused, a little sad. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

Chris leaned in a bit, eyes flicking to her mouth. “You didn’t answer the question.”

She sighed. “I got a call. My sister needed me. That’s it.”

The way she said it—flat, unbothered—made Chris pause. Like he knew there was more but wasn’t sure if he should push.

He offered the blunt again instead. She took it.

They smoked in silence for a few minutes, the tension thinning slightly with every exhale.

“My mom left when I was nine,” Chris said, eyes fixed on nothing. “One day she was just gone. Took off with some guy. Didn’t even leave a note.”

Y/N blinked, thrown off by the shift.

“I used to think I did something wrong,” he said, voice steady. “Like maybe I was too loud. Too much.”

Y/N passed him the blunt gently. “You weren’t.”

He met her eyes for a second. Something raw flickered and vanished.

She leaned back. “My mom died when I was six. Dad wasn’t around, so my stepdad took over. And by took over, I mean… drinks till he can’t walk and blames us for still being here.”

Chris didn’t flinch. Didn’t try to comfort her. Just listened.

It was weirdly nice.

She didn’t even realize how close they’d gotten until her knee brushed his. He didn’t move.

Neither did she.

Chris leaned in slightly. His gaze flicked between her lips and her eyes.

Y/N’s breath caught.

And then—footsteps.

Nick.

They jumped apart like guilty teenagers getting caught making out.

Nick didn’t even notice, launching straight into a rant about the photographer and how he keeps missing deadlines.

Y/N tried to steady her heartbeat while Chris lit another blunt like nothing happened.

Hours passed. Somehow she was still there.

The couch got comfier. The air got softer. The chaos of her house felt miles away.

Nick threw her a blanket without asking and said, “Just crash here. Too late to go back.”

And weirdly… she nodded.

She didn’t know what she was doing.

But for the first time in a while—

She didn’t feel alone.

a/n: sleepover....hm.... taglist: @courta13 @m4gz-png @lezleeferguson-120

@h3arts4nat @izzylovesmatt @sturnioliolo @hsemeria @sturniqloo

@venusbabysblog @chrisslut04 @crazy4weeed @chriscokewhore @chrisswaffles @urfavvvnyasee @sturnzluv @freshluvr @mattthemunchh @poolover123 @pleasantdelusionbear @carpentersturns @emosexyvirgin @emillionaireee @shamelessmilkshakefest @xoxochrissgf @sturniolodollx @joyfulheartwhispers @cutseylady @oopsiedaisydeer @steph1106

@laylaluvsu2000 @lvrsturniolo @chloe444 @yamommmasman @55sturn @whenlovesaround @luvs-booksss @vampyyluv @snowysosturn @moth-feeet

[hikato-chan]

I just realized that the apothecary diaries Ao3 has no time travel (fix it?) fics, which is one of my favorite tropes, so:

AU where at some point in the story, Maomao, Jinshi and maybe some others travel back in time! Maybe back into childhood which would be nice. And kind of funny.

So, obviously these children will do their best to stop the current conspiracy to happen! Unfortunately, I haven't read the light novel so I'll have to be vague about this.

So, Maomao is back at her adopted fathers apothecary. She knows she needs to get back to the palace, but she has time for now. And really, it wasn't something she should randomly stick her nose into. The only reason she was going to help was because she can't leave Jinshi completely alone to deal with it. He almost died to that incident during that ceremony after all.

So she goes on about her days, considering, and then it's time to get her mother her medication. Her mother isn't as bad, but she's not doing well by any margin and Maomao realizes that that is something she can change for the better. It will bother her, but it is the right thing to do. She needs to talk to Lakan.

Now, Lakan might have traveled back too. It would in fact be funny if he did, but I don't think that it would make a difference either way for the story if he knows or not. He will still support his daughter with anything she sets her mind to. So she goes and talks to him while he passes by to catch sight of her. Tells him what is going on and to go and buy her mother because that's what they both want. Lakan will want to bring her too, and she will want to bring her adoptive father.

I don't even think that this will be an odd family arrangement for them. But, funnily, Maomao would now be the acknowledged daughter of the second biggest family. Her origins are odd, yes, so she's not as high in the social ladder as Roulan but she is openly loved by her father and that holds weight.

If he remembers, they will figure out how to get her into the palace. Even if he doesn't, she will manipulate him into it and he will be so charmed that he goes along with it because his daughter is asking him for something! Maybe she just goes to visit at first. Maybe Jinshi hears about it and sneaks out to meet her.

Maybe they make a plan to get her into the palace permanently because he will need her help, and she enters the palace as a concubine for the crown prince. That depends on how far we are in the story, of course, and how long it took for them to meet again. Are they already teenagers? Is maomao almost at marriageable age?

I just think it would be fun for both of them to hide their status as crow prince and concubine and still go around just as they did in the story, just with one added secret identity! Shisui would be a very funny parallel. And everyone would be so confused when Lakan offers his daughter not to the emperor but the crown prince, and the crown prince agrees! If she always wears a veil how would anyone know she's also the servant running around the highest ranked eunuch? There's a chance for even more shenanigans!

And of course, if they're not careful the current arc the anime just arrived to might still happen...