#alter bridge fic

[ascendthisday]

Driving Rain

gif by veilofmegiddo

Pairings: Myles Kennedy/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,200~

Info: Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Married Sex, No Vaginal Sex

Summary: “Jeez, I can’t see the road through this damn rain,” Myles mumbles, flexing his grip on your thigh. His other hand holds the wheel tight and straight. “Why don’t we pull over and wait for the rain to thin out a little bit?” You smile, placing your hand on top of his.

Authors Notes:ITS MYLES BIRTHDAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABYYYY!!! we love you so much, here's something myles orientated for just for him <3

“Jeez, I can’t see the road through this damn rain,” Myles mumbles, flexing his grip on your thigh. His other hand holds the wheel tight and straight. “Why don’t we pull over and wait for the rain to thin out a little bit?” You smile, placing your hand on top of his. Your silver wedding bands clink together. He grunts softly and nods. Carefully, he guides the two of you off into the shoulder. The headlights of your humble Hyundai illuminate a wide path of yellowed rain, yet they can only go so far. The vehicle comfortably glides to a stop.

“You look handsome.” You grin, looking over at your husband. He’s got all of his hair pushed up into his woolen beanie which gives you a comfortable view of his face. His cheeks and nose are sweetly flushed from the wisp of cold air floating around the car despite the heated air blowing out of the vents. Myles is bundled up almost comically with a large puffer jacket stacked on top of a few jackets and a nice scarf wrapped around his neck. Beneath that scarf is something only the two of you know of: a handful of hickeys you had sucked into his sweet skin the night before. “You, too. Or uh- you look beautiful, I mean. Oops.” He nervously stumbles on his words. It was sweet, he was just as sweet and nervous as the day the two of you met. He was so in love it was almost painful.

“Ah, you’ve got such a way with words.” You tease and snicker at his embarrassment but go in for a kiss anyway. He goofily smiles at you and leans into your body, closing his eyes as your lips touch. You let your eyes flutter shut but quickly let them open to undo your seatbelt. Once you're given more leverage, you lean over the center console and gently trail your hand across his jawline. It’s soft and delicate, almost like him. “Sorry about the weather. Sucks, it's throwing off your birthday plans.” You mumble, breath gently brushing against his lips as you slightly pull away.

“Yeah.” He nods in agreement, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. The two of you are silent like that for a moment, just cradling each other's faces and taking each other in. Then, you speak. “You know what? I think I could make up for the weather if you let me.” You suggestively grin, trailing your fingers down his cotton-covered chest and toward his belt buckle. “Here? What if someone sees?” He coughs out, embarrassed and weirdly turned on by the risk. “You can always keep watch and tell me if someones coming over here, but I doubt anyone else is driving in this weather.” You hum and begin to nimbly undo his belt. The large metal buckle clanks against the prongs as you pull the leather open.

You draw your legs under your body in the car seat and maneuver your body to face him, throwing your torso over the center console. He sighs as you undo the button to his pants and tug down the zipper. You carefully slide your fingers into the fly of his boxers and pull out his half-hard cock. you could never get sick of Myles- ever, but if you were to, you’d still love his cock. It’s just outright pretty! It’s a solid six or so inches, cut, and a soft pale pink at the tip. He’s got one mole near the base of it that you’re just absolutely obsessed with. Myles is clean-shaven from the neck down, including his pubic hair. You had always found it funny, but he had a good reason! He firmly believed having a big bush coming out of his uber-low-rise pants would look ridiculous.

Normally, in any other situation, you’d take your sweet time teasing Myles and reducing him to a whimpering mess, but giving head in the car gets uncomfortable fast! So, you settle with getting straight to the point. You give a soft, almost experimental kitten lick to the head, absorbing the salty flavor of sweat and precum on his skin. That's something else you’d never get sick of, the way he tastes. It’s just so distinctly Myles. Then, you lick a firm strip from the start of the underside of his cock to his tip. He shudders almost dramatically when you finally put it in your mouth. You’re gentle yet firm as you suck him off, bobbing your head in an almost rhythmic manner.

“So good for me.” He moans out, gently lacing his fingers through the roots of your hair. He doesn’t pull or lead you around, just simply rests his hand there. You tease your tongue around that soft spot he’s got on the underside of his cock, just below where the tip meets the shaft. Myles groans and grabs your hair a little tighter, letting his nails scrape across your scalp ever so slightly. You moan around his cock, causing him to desperately flex every muscle in his body. He holds back the urge to come on the spot, but he can’t help the way his legs shake and shiver.

One of your hands carefully comes up to cradle his balls, although his jeans and boxers keep two thick layers between the two of you. He still can’t deny how good it feels even with the blockage. “You are- ah, so… Fuck!” He moans out as you play out a few more of your tricks upon him. He can feel that electric feeling creep up in his guts, beginning at the tips of his toes and dancing along his nerves toward the lower half of his stomach. He tries to warn you in a series of intelligible moans, but it only spurs you on further.

“Shit! Baby, I’m- fuck!” He groans out as his peak slams into him. You don’t even pull away, just let him come into your mouth. Part of you wants to enjoy that feeling of him shooting warm white across your cheeks, but the idea of tasting him in whole overpowers that idea. This is a taste you’ve been long acquainted with, and yet, it never gets any less pleasant. You aren’t normally quite obsessed with the way a dude's spunk tastes like, but come on! It’s Myles! His thighs desperately twitch as you blow him into overstimulation. That firework feeling in his stomach is yet to fade. He whines and huffs out a series of moans as you finally pull away.

“Ah, God. You’re gonna kill me one day.” He almost sobs as you look up at him. You’re a little slobber-mouthed and your mascara has started to run, but you just look absolutely beautiful. “I’d kiss you right now, but I for one am not the biggest fan of eating my own semen.” He snorts, too lost in his post orgasm haze to be nervous. “Hey! I swallowed, so you’re only really getting an aftertaste.” You tease him, patting his thigh.

“So, is that a good birthday celebration?” You giggle. He nods and blushes, his shy attitude sliding over him once more.

“Looks like the rains cleared up some, how about we go do those birthday things now?"

[strayheartless]

Listening to ‘Watch over you’ by Alter Bridge and now I’m thinking of sad -realised it was love too late - Soriku and now I’m in pain.

Something like Sora makes his choice. He chooses Kairi, and he is happy… ish. He loves her he really does, and they are good together, but he looks up one day and see’s the hollow look in Riku’s eyes.

He sees the pain and the resigned acceptance. He watches his own memories like a movie of his life and realises that Riku has always been there; that it should always have been Riku and his heart brakes.

Now I’m not saying it shouldn’t have been Kairi AND Riku, but what I am saying is that in this fucked up little sad fic that’s bugging me, Riku goes on mission with Terra and… doesn’t come back alive.

And it’s just Howling pain. Screaming, gut wrenching, agonisingly vicious pain.

“Who will save you when I’m gone

Who’ll watch over you…”

Just Sora seeing his entire life flash before his eyes, and all he can see is Riku. Riku saving him, and watching over him; devoting himself to Sora. And Sora should have SEEN it, but he saw it too late and now there’s nothing left but a broken heart and a body.

A shit I’m crying 😢

[risuola]

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe

[aikastales]

i’m drunk, i love you (jk)

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: with only a day before graduation, you make a promise that you will not only graduate from university, but also from your feelings for your best friend of seven years, jeon jungkook.

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: film student!jungkook x med tech student!fem!oc (named sola)

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾𝗌: heavy angst, unrequited love, jungkook as an isko agenda, set in the ph 🇵🇭

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: this story is fiction. it does not represent the members of bangtan or any of the idols here in real life. all resemblance to real life characters, institutions, associations, places, events, among others are either purely coincidence or depicted in a fictitious manner only. there’s really no warnings for this story other than it’s a self-indulgent fic to get me back to writing. the smut isn’t that severe. just kissing, nipple sucking, and grinding. this is based on the film, i’m drunk i love you, which i highly recommend you watch. i didn’t alter much of the plot & scenes bc i think they’re already great as it is, but i did tweak a bit here and there. i hope you enjoy! let me know what you think by reblogging/commenting. ♡

𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 5,784

You were never quite the believer in love at first sight, but what you felt that night was the closest thing to that feeling. 

He was one of the freshmen performers during your orientation, singing Adam Levine’s Lost Stars. Like the entire audience, you were captivated by his heavenly vocals and charisma as he performed on stage with an acoustic guitar one of the seniors lent him. Not only that, Jeon Jungkook wasn’t bad looking either—quite the opposite, really. 

However, after the orientation, you didn’t get to see much of the dark-haired handsome boy. You were studying at UP, the biggest state university in the country, and so your paths were bound not to cross. Until, your older cousin, who was a senior at that time, invited you to eat dinner with him and a couple of his buddies after seeing you strolling around campus alone. When you arrived at the eatery, you not only saw your cousin Yoongi’s friends—Yijeong and Woosung—you also spotted the boy who hadn’t left your mind since you saw him over four months ago at that time. 

You sat across from him and you tried your best not to freak out as Yoongi introduced the both of you. Apparently, he had already known Jungkook because he was the younger stepbrother of his other friend, Namjoon. During the course of your dinner, you and Jungkook didn’t really talk much. But you would muster up the courage to ask him some basic questions such as his program, why he went to UP, if he joined any orgs yet, etcetera. Jungkook was polite enough to answer your inquiries. 

He was a Film major. He went to UP because everyone in his family went to UP so it was the most obvious choice for him and he was a member of the Film society. In return, Jungkook asked the same set of questions. You were a pre-med student, Medical Technology, to be exact, and you went to UP because it was your dream school. You were also a member of the College of Arts and Sciences’ student council. 

After your meal was finished, Yoongi entrusted your care to Jungkook as they were going to meet up with some of their friends and you were both living at campus dormitories anyway. So, you hopped into his old army green Toyota Rav4 and needless to say, the ride back to UP was awkward. So, to get rid of the awkward silence, you asked if you could play some music. He said sure and handed you the aux cord already connected to his stereo. Once you had the other end connected to your phone, you played one of your favorite songs—Waltz of Four Left Feet by Shirebound and Busking. 

To your surprise, Jungkook also knew the song and just like that, the awkward silence was gone and you became inseparable ever since. 

Music became the bridge that connected you and Jungkook. Whenever you would hangout, it was always your topic—your favorite artists, songs, original scores in films, best albums, underrated artists, overrated artists, the current state of music, everything. He also became your gig buddy—seeking out mainstream and indie artists you both liked and going to their live performances downtown bars, jam packed arenas and stadiums. 

But your favorite would always be watching him perform. After his performance at the orientation, he naturally became one of the popular students at UP. He wasn’t popular like a celebrity or an influencer, but heads would turn whenever he walked around campus. Also, he still had the luxury of privacy on his side, but if you looked at the right places, you would find small accounts on social media dedicated to him. He didn’t care for the attention, though, and just went about his day as normally as possible. 

His performance did land him some gigs here and there. You found it cute whenever he’d turn to you to ask if he should accept the invitation or not, and you would always tell him to do whatever he wanted. Most of the time, he accepted, especially if it was at Route 96, a historic venue for aspiring musicians. 

It was here that he performed the first song he wrote by himself called Still With You. It was also during this performance that you began to see him in a different light—quite literally. He was performing with the bar lights off, only the lights on stage and the spotlight illuminated the entire establishment. When the spotlight on him turned purple, you felt a whole new admiration for your best friend. It wasn’t the “Oh god I’m so proud of my best friend” kind, rather it was the “Oh fuck I’m in love with my best friend” realization. 

But like every other story where someone falls in love with their best friend, you kept your feelings hidden, hoping someday it would go away. However, you soon realized, once you fell in love with Jeon Jungkook, there was no going back. It was a rabbit hole. 

The more you spent time with him, the more you fell in love with him and all of him—from the way he smiles to the sound of his laugh, how he would always annoy the shit out of you when you were supposed to be studying to how he would remember small things about you like your favorite snack at the vending machine, how you’d be the first to know his test results to how you’d be his first audience for the short film they needed to produce for that semester, how he would lend you his jacket when you ate bingsu because he knew you’d get cold easily to how he’d send you random memes he found funny out of the blue. 

It was so easy to fall in love with Jeon Jungkook. Thus, everyone else did too. For seven years, you watched on the sidelines as he dated several girls and loved them how you wished he’d love you. 

“In one day, you can finally lay your hands on Jungkook,” your best friend, Mingyu, teased as he took a sip from his beer. 

You let out a sarcastic laugh, head resting on your palm, elbow propped on the wooden table in front of you, a bottle of beer in the other hand. You were bordering on getting tipsy now as you had been drinking since you arrived at La Union with Mingyu and Jungkook in the afternoon. You didn’t even know why you agreed to your best friend’s idea of going to the province for a music festival when you had your graduation—the very graduation that was seven years in the making—on Sunday.   

“Fuck you, Kim Mingyu,” you told the honey-skinned man across from you with a chuckle. 

“What? Let this be your final test before finally graduating. Are you ready?” a lopsided grin appeared on his handsome face. 

Under the orange light, Kim Mingyu was easily one of the most handsome men you ever laid your eyes on. He was also tall, well-mannered, smart, capable, had a stable job while being a med student, and the textbook definition of a walking green flag. In another life, you could imagine yourself falling for him instead of Jungkook. But in the current universe you were in, he was one of your trusted friends who had known about your crush on Jungkook since first year. 

The waiter arrived to bring you your order of another bucket of Red Horse beer. Mingyu took a bottle from the silver bucket and opened it. “Happy horse for the happy whore,” he told you as he handed you the fresh bottle of beer. You gave him a middle finger. He laughed. “What? Am I not right?” 

“You’re the whore,” you replied. “I saw you with that cute chinito by the beach earlier. What happened to Mino?” 

He rolled his eyes at the mention of his ex—or you believed was his ex. You never really know with Mingyu and relationships. He was the complete opposite of you. While you were a hopeless romantic at heart, he didn’t believe in love—or so he says. 

“Seven years,” Mingyu mused, glancing towards the beach. “You didn’t stop falling in love with your best friend. Now, it looks like you don’t even plan to stop.” 

You sucked your teeth, tracing the water around the bottle due to the ice with your fingers. “Do I just throw it away?” You weren’t sure if you were asking Mingyu or yourself. “We make a good pair.” You laughed to yourself. 

“Except?” Mingyu pointed out the harsh reality. 

“Except,” you took in a shaky breath. “He doesn’t love me back. Maybe.” 

Mingyu sighed deeply, looking at his watch. “Time check: you still have your hopes up.” 

“It’s still early,” you argued. “I still have two days. Just give me time.” 

“Give me time?” Mingyu repeated, taking a sip from his beer. “What the fuck are you talking about, Sola? The universe has given you all the time. But you did nothing.” 

You groaned, throwing your head back as a realization hit you. “Fuck, Gyu, I just—I just realized. Is it right that we’re here? Was it the right decision to come here? My mom’s gonna be so mad once she finds out I’m in La Union.”  

“It’s all you. You’re a raging masochist,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway. Let’s just play a game. Let’s enumerate all the things you did with Jungkook. Those are seven years worth of memories, Sola. Game?” 

“Game.” 

“What year did you first meet Jungkook?” 

A smile immediately creeped up on your face. “2017.” 

Mingyu waved his hand at you. “Wow! You can do math! But I just thought of something—instead of just general memories. Let’s make them specific. Let’s list down all the stupid things you did for Jungkook for seven years.” 

“The fuck are you talking about?” you let out a scoff, drinking your beer. 

“What? Now you can’t remember?” he challenged. 

You clicked your tongue. “Fine, you stupid bitch. Ask away.” 

Mingyu grinned. “2018.” 

You hummed before saying, “Jungkook was heartbroken that year. I was back at home and he was at UP. But I rushed into the city to be there for him. I remember because I was supposed to attend this baptism with my parents but I snuck out and got an earful from my mother the next day. I was completely hungover too because Jungkook and I went bar hopping the entire night.” 

“Jesus Christ, Sola.” 

“Don’t judge me. It was my decision, okay?” 

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Okay. 2019.” 

You stared at Mingyu, laughing as you recalled the memory. “2019. Me and Jungkook walked from UP to Aurora Boulevard just to tell me how Song Areum became his girlfriend.” 

He shook his head. “2020.” 

“2020—he was sick. I had an exam that day, but I quickly answered it so I could buy him his favorite, Tapsilog from Tapsi ni Vivian, before it ran out ‘cos it runs out quickly, right?” Mingyu nodded. You licked your lower lip then let out a small laugh. “But when I got to his dorm room, his roommate already told me Areum brought him to the university hospital. And I failed my exam ‘cos I didn’t answer the back part.” 

“2021, go!” 

“I loved him for four years now and counting. Is that good enough?” 

“Okay. I’ll accept it. 2022?” 

“2022—I’ve been in love with him for five fucking years already, fucking shit!” you exclaimed, feeling the alcohol in you boosting your confidence. 

“Okay. We’re in the last year, girl. What about in 2023? What was the stupid thing you did for Jungkook last year?” 

You gulped. “I’m two years delayed.” 

Mingyu exhaled deeply. A moment of silence settled between the two of you. Then, she asked, “Sola, it all boils down to this: when will you end this?” 

You sat up straight, taking a deep breath. “You mean when will I stop with my foolishness?” Mingyu nodded. You purse your lips. “Maybe when I’m done with UP. When I’m done with UP, I’ll graduate from everything—including him. Especially him.” 

When you got back to your shared room with Jungkook and Mingyu, you were already tipsy. You almost fell face flat on the floor when you opened the door, feeling lightheaded, but luckily, your best friend was there to catch you. 

“You’re drunk, Sola,” Jungkook chuckled deeply. You could smell his expensive cologne—the one you bought for him for his birthday last year and it brought a huge grin on your face, knowing he wore it. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

“I’m fine, Guk. I’m not that drunk. But I do need to sit down,” you said followed by a set of giggles as you let Jungkook walk you to the bed you shared with Mingyu, and then you threw yourself on it, back against the mattress, arms spread like an eagle. 

Jungkook sat down beside you. “Are you still mad at me?” 

The question seemed to sober you up instantly. The truth was—you could never stay mad at him. For anything. Sometimes, you’d think he could do the most painful and hurtful thing to you, deliberately, and you would still forgive him even if he wouldn’t apologize. 

“I wasn’t mad. I was just… I just wished you would’ve told me the real reason why you wanted to come here,” you replied softly, biting your lower lip. 

“Would you have come? If I told you I wanted to go here because my ex wanted to reconnect—would you have come?” Jungkook matched your tone, looking over his shoulder to look at you. 

Instinctively, your eyes also darted towards his. The lights in the room were dim, only the lamp, the light coming beneath the bathroom door, and the moonlight outside illuminated the room. Jungkook looked especially beautiful in the dim light—long black wavy hair all messy from his habit of running his fingers through it, hooded eyes staring at you like he was memorizing every inch of you, the gentleness of his features made him look like an angel in this light. 

But then you’d see his dozens of piercings in his ears, eyebrow, and lower lip; his tattooed arm and hand, and the way he looked sexy as hell with his thin white long sleeved, sleeves rolled up to his elbow, and his white beach shorts that hugged his strong muscular thighs, and you’d realize he was more of a Greek god than an angel. 

“I’ll go wherever you go,” you told him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You know that.” 

Jungkook lied down beside you and you felt your heartbeat racing. His tattooed arm was brushing against yours. His head was tilted, close to yours. 

“Will you go with me to the moon?” he asked. 

A small smile ghosted on your lips. “I will, Guk.” 

“How about Saturn?” 

“I’ll be with you there, too.” 

“Law school?” 

You turned your head to him. He was already looking at you. “Law school? Why?” 

He brushed the hair on your face aside with his fingers, making you tense. But you kept your composure. “I passed UP LAE.” 

“But,” you began. “What about film? I thought you didn’t wanna become a lawyer like your parents.” 

Jungkook looked at the ceiling. “It’s not that bad. Being a lawyer. Besides, I like studying.” 

“You’ve always wanted to become a director, though.” 

“I’m not good enough for it,” Jungkook scoffed. “All my batchmates are already directing their films and showing them at festivals here and abroad—yet here I am. Still here.” 

You turned on your side, propping your elbow to support your head as you looked at your best friend. It was rare for Jungkook to open up. Even to you. He was always someone who kept all his innermost thoughts and feelings to himself. In the seven years you’d known him, it still felt like there was a wall around him that you never managed to climb on or punch through. For seven years, it felt like you simultaneously knew everything and nothing about your best friend. 

“It’s not the end of the road, Jungkook. So what if they’re showing their films at festivals? You can do it too. At your own pace, in your own time,” you said. You wanted to reach for his face, to make him look at you, but you were scared. “You’re a great filmmaker, Guk. The best direk ever.” 

He looked at you once again. “You’re drunk, Yu Sola. Go to sleep.” 

He sat up, carrying your legs over the bed. You let out a groan. “I’m not drunk, Jeon Jungkook. Why do you always do that?” 

“Do what?” he asked, chuckling. 

“You always cut the conversation when you’re beginning to open up. You always clamp up, Guk. I wish you didn’t do that. I’m your—,” you bit the inside of your lower lip. What right did I have to demand him to open up to me? “I’m your best friend.” 

“I don’t clamp up. I just have nothing else to say,” your best friend replied with a shrug, fixing his hair as he looked in the mirror across from your bed. “Go to sleep. You’ll get a massive headache tomorrow. I’m just going to meet with Areum and her friends.”  

Then, you blurted it out. It just happened. You didn’t even know how. You always had this grand idea in your mind to do it after the graduation ceremony, that way, you could immediately leave. That way, you didn’t have to see him all the time. You would have enough time to move on and move forward in your life. 

But nothing in life truly went according to plan. 

“I love you, Jungkook,” you confessed. Your heart felt heavy and you sat up, head hanging low as you picked on your nails. Tears were beginning to form in your eyes. “I’ve loved you for seven years now.” 

And you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. Then, moments later, you felt your hands being taken away from your face. You lifted your head and saw Jungkook kneeling in front of you, holding your hands. He let one go to wipe away the tears on your face, to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

And then, ever so slowly, Jungkook leaned in and kissed you softly. A tear rolled down your cheek. His lips were soft while yours were chapped and wet from your tears, but he didn’t seem to mind. You were still in shock. This was not the response you expected. Not even in your wildest dreams but it was happening. 

Jungkook held your face, tilting his head as he continued to kiss you more—only this time with more need and passion. Your body reacted. You began to reciprocate his kisses, hands wrapping around his wrists. He tasted of toothpaste and mouthwash. 

He pushed you onto the bed, one hand remaining on your face while the other held your waist. Your fingers curled the ends of his hair. You could feel his growing member on your stomach and feeling it was enough to make your cunt wet. His lips then traveled on your jaw, down to your neck. You were breathing heavily as he nibbled on your sensitive skin, making a soft moan escape your lips. 

His hand made its way under your shirt and your breath hitched, causing Jungkook to lift his head from your neck, and look you in the eyes. 

“You okay?” he asked softly. 

You nodded. “I’m okay.” 

“Okay,” he smiled, making your heart skip a beat. “Is it okay if I take this off now?” 

“I—,” you were at a loss for words. Was this really happening? It seemed too good to be true. But it was happening and you wanted it more than anything else. “Okay. Yes, you can.” 

Jungkook peeled your shirt off, exposing your naked chest. You didn’t wear bras; found it too much of a hassle and you always hated the feeling. Instead, you wore nipple tapes. 

“What are these, Sola?” Jungkook asked with a chuckle, making your cheeks heat up. 

“They’re nipple tapes, you dumb ass,” you replied, smacking his arm lightly. 

“Okay. Do I just take them off, like, tape?” 

He was adorably cute. “Yes, you just take them off like tape.” 

And so he did just that. The coolness of the room and your arousal instantly perked your nipples. Jungkook took your breasts in his hands, massaging and squeezing them, making you arch your back ever so slightly. Then, he dipped his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth while remaining to massage the other. 

The sensation was simply divine. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol in your system, your feelings for your best friend, or just Jungkook in general that made you feel so good at that moment. Your hands traced the outline of his toned biceps through his thin polo. 

You were so wet and when Jungkook began to grind his hard cock against your clothed cunt, you felt another wave of wetness. You wanted him—all of him—and so you began to rock your hips against him, making him release a moan. 

He lifted his head, staring at you with those doe eyes you have loved for seven years. “Are you sure?” 

Those three words held so much. Once you crossed the line, there was no going back, and both of you knew that. 

“I’m sure. I want this, Guk. I want you.” 

That was all he needed to hear to make love to you the whole night. Once both of you came, Jungkook laid beside you, chest heaving. For a while, the both of you lay in silence. 

“Will you be here in the morning?” you asked, turning your head on the pillow to face him. 

He did the same. “I will,” he promised. “Go to sleep now, Sola.” 

But he wasn’t. 

When you woke up the next day, the other side of the bed was empty. You sat up, burying your face in your hands. What the hell have I done? What the hell have we done? 

You left the bed, entering the bathroom, and proceeding to take a shower. In there, you cried, because nothing was going to be the same after last night. You couldn’t blame it all on Jungkook either. You also made it happen. You desperately wished it was just a dream—another wet dream you had of your best friend—but the traces of his cum were still on your inner thigh. 

It happened. There was no going back. Everything was going to be different now and most of all, you didn’t know if you still had your best friend. 

When you finished showering and getting dressed, you made your way down to the beach. You had texted Mingyu while getting dressed and he told you he was there with the chinito you saw him with, Wonwoo. Arriving at the beach, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket, about to text the honey-skinned med student when you saw Jungkook with Areum in the water, his strong arms that held you throughout the night, now wrapped around her waist. Fits of giggles escaped her lips as Jungkook wrestled with her in the water, a huge grin on his handsome face. 

Your heart shattered. 

You quickly looked away, a fresh set of tears forming in your eyes. As you were about to turn away, you heard Mingyu’s familiar voice which caused you to stop on your tracks. 

“Sola, hey, there you—what’s wrong?” The concern in his voice was palpable. You felt his arm around your shoulder as he pulled you closer to him. 

“I—I finally told him, Gyu,” you said, taking in a sharp shaky breath. “I finally told him.” 

Mingyu didn’t ask for more details. He knew. He led you back to your room, promising Wonwoo to text him later. Once you were back, you just cried on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything and neither did you. He just let you be until the tears finally stopped. 

“I’m sorry I pulled you away from Wonwoo. He seems like a nice guy,” you said after a while, voice raspy from all the crying. 

“It’s fine. We’ll be seeing each other often anyway,” Mingyu shared. 

You looked at him, surprised. “Really?” 

Your friend nodded, laughing to himself. “You know, all those times I teased you about your being a hopeless romantic and believing in love—I think it’s backfiring on me now with Wonwoo.” 

“You love him?” you asked. 

“I don’t know, Sola. But I know what I feel for him is different,” he answered. “It’s terrifying. How quickly someone can change your perspective on something.” 

You couldn’t argue with that. 

“What’s your plan now?” Mingyu asked. 

You sighed deeply. “I think I’m going to head back. My graduation is tomorrow anyway. Do you mind booking the bus ride home?” 

“I’m staying here, Sola. I—I want to be with Wonwoo more,” Mingyu confessed, smiling at you apologetically. 

“Gyu…” 

“Please be a friend to me now, Sola.” 

You pressed your lips tightly. Then, you nodded. You wanted your friend to be happy. 

“I’m gonna pack now,” you announced. 

“Okay. Just text me if you need anything,” Mingyu gave you a hug and kiss on top of your head. “I want you to know I’m proud of you, Sola.” 

Once Mingyu left, you began to pack. You didn’t bring a lot of clothes, but you were still biding your time. A part of you didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay here and never graduate. But that illusion was quickly broken when you saw your mom’s contact flashing on your phone screen. 

You sucked your teeth before answering, “Hi mom.” 

“Sola? Where the hell are you? Why haven’t you been answering my texts? Your graduation is tomorrow. Everyone is looking forward to it!” she exclaimed frantically. 

“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m in La Union with Jungkook and—,” 

“What the hell are you doing in La Union?! You better get back instantly, Sola. I’m not kidding. If you don’t graduate now, I really don’t know what I’m gonna do. It’s been seven years! Please let me graduate too.” 

“I’m already packing and I’ll catch the bus home soon. I just—Mom, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it in time for the ceremony ‘cos—,” 

Your phone was suddenly snatched from your grip. You looked up and saw Jungkook standing beside you. 

“Hey tita, it’s Jungkook. Yes. Don’t worry. I’ll take her home. She’ll make it in time. Yes. We’ll be home before the ceremony, tita. Okay. Bye.” 

He ended the call and sat down on the bed across from you, handing you your phone back. You grabbed it from him. “You don’t have to take me home.” 

“I already promised tita I will,” he answered. 

“You didn’t have to,” you muttered, folding your shirt. 

Silence. Jungkook was just staring at you the entire time as you folded your clothes and packed them inside your bag. Then, he said those two words. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You bit the inside of your lower lip. What was he exactly for? For having sex with you? For spending the night with you? For not feeling the same way as you? All of the above? 

As if reading your thoughts, he added, “For everything.” 

You nodded. “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” you told him. “It’s not your fault you don’t love me the same way.” But why did you kiss me? Why did you make love to me? 

Jungkook lowered his head. You zipped your bag. “Let’s go. I still have a graduation to chase.” 

“What’s this?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed when you saw Areum standing beside Jungkook’s car with her luggage and bag. 

“I’ll drop Areum on the way,” Jungkook announced, grabbing her luggage and putting it at the back of his car. 

You pressed your lips in a line. “Fine.” You stepped into the back passenger seat, quickly grabbing your phone and earphones from your bag, and plugging it in. 

Lowering yourself on the seat, you rested your head against the window as Areum stepped into the passenger seat while Jungkook sat on the driver’s seat. You caught him glancing at you from the corner of your eyes, but you didn’t look back. Instead, you turned the volume up. Moments later, he began to drive. 

You decided to sleep the entire ride. However, when you woke up, you immediately realized Jungkook wasn’t driving in your hometown. “Where are we?” you asked, taking one of your earphones off. 

“I’m dropping Areum first,” Jungkook replied. 

You frowned. “I’m the one chasing a graduation, remember?” 

“Shh, just go back to sleep. Here,” he threw something at you—your favorite candy, Butterball, landing on your lap. 

You grabbed it, tempted to eat it, but you threw it back at him and went back to sleep. By the time you woke up again, you were at Areum’s house. She turned to look at you, smiling. 

She was really beautiful and kind. You began to feel guilty for hating her so much the entire time. “Congrats on your graduation, Sola. I’ll see you around, okay?” 

“Thanks Areum.” 

After Jungkook walked her to her door, he came back to the car. “What are you doing there? Come here,” he said, patting the passenger seat. 

“I’m fine here,” you replied. 

“Sola, come on. Please? I drive better with you beside me.” 

For the rest of the ride to your home, you sat beside Jungkook. Unlike before, where your car rides were filled with music and random conversations, tonight it was silent. You didn’t plug your phone into his stereo and you kept your eyes closed the whole time, listening to your music. Once in a while, Jungkook would try to make small talk, but you would only give him short replies, then went back to sleeping. 

When you arrived at your family house, you stayed with Jungkook outside for a bit, both leaning against his car. 

“It’s your graduation in four hours.” 

“Are you not going to come to yours?” 

“I don’t see the point,” Jungkook replied. 

You nodded and pushed yourself off his car. “I’ll head inside. Thanks for the ride, Jungkook.” 

He grabbed your arm before you entered the gate. You stared into his eyes. You couldn’t quite place what held them right now. Maybe you never really knew Jeon Jungkook after all this time. 

“I’m sorry, Sola.” 

“Why do you keep saying sorry? I told you—it’s not your fault and I’m fine. I’m over it now. See you around, Jungkook.” 

You head back inside. Graduation was in four hours. 

You wore a traditional Filipiniana dress, a pair of white heels that were already scraping the skin at the back of your feet, your mother’s pearls, and your sablay when your name was called. You came up on the stage with your excited mother, shook hands with your Dean, and finally grabbed your diploma. You always imagined graduation to be something so spectacular, but the moment you received the piece of paper that confirmed you had, indeed, graduated—you just felt the same. 

After the ceremony, you went back to your house where almost all your relatives from your mother’s side were waiting for you. A tarpaulin with your graduation picture and the words, “Congratulations Yu Sola!” printed on it and hung outside your gate. You greeted everyone on your way, telling them thanks, before retreating in your room to change out of your dress and into more comfortable clothes. 

While you were slipping on your shirt, your phone buzzed on your nightstand. When you grabbed it, you saw Jungkook’s message on the lockscreen. 

Let’s go, it said. 

You knew it meant one thing: a beer and butterball at Route 96. There was still a part of you that wanted to go because you always went when you received a message like that from Jungkook. It was always a yes when it came to him. But now that you confessed, something shifted, whether he admitted to it himself or not. 

So, you put your phone in your pocket, and went down. But as you do so, you felt your phone vibrate again. You pulled it out of your pocket and Jungkook texted you another message. 

Please? One for the road. I’m outside. 

You bit your lower lip. Then, you made your way out. There, you saw Jungkook wearing his barong and sablay, leaning against his car like hours ago. He smiled as soon as he saw you come out. 

“You still have it,” he pointed to your shirt. 

You looked down on it and realized you had picked his shirt of all things. It wasn’t anything special; just something he bought at a boutique. But it meant a lot to you because he gave it to you after you spilled beer on your shirt years ago. 

“You attended your ceremony?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. He nodded. “I thought you didn’t see the point.” 

“I changed my mind.” 

You wished you were just as quick in having a change of heart. 

“One for the road?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. 

You took a deep breath and nodded. “One for the road.” 

“Shit, I forgot it’s Sunday. It’s closed,” Jungkook sighed, seeing the steel gate at Route 96. 

“It’s fine. Let’s just go,” you told him, grabbing the beer he bought beforehand and making your way up to the bar. Jungkook followed behind. 

You both leaned in the railing before you, beer in hands. Another silence. 

You couldn’t believe this was the culmination of the seven years you spent loving Jeon Jungkook. You thought, after confessing, you would never speak again. He’d distance himself from you but here you were—having a beer with him at your favorite place in the world. You wished you knew what was going on in his mind right now. You wished you could dissect his mind and learn every thought he had ever since you confessed. 

Because you never really knew Jeon Jungkook. You were just so in love with him and idealized who he was over the last seven years. Suddenly, all the stupid memories you shared with Mingyu flashed in your mind and made you laugh. 

“What’s funny?” Jungkook asked, chuckling. 

You shook your head, drinking your beer. “Nothing.” 

He nudged your side. “Come on, share it.” 

You took a deep breath and for the first time, you looked at Jeon Jungkook and saw him for who he was; not the man you have loved for the past seven years. 

“I graduated, finally.” 

↪˚ author’s note: if you want to donate to me via kofi or gcash <33 i would appreciate it a lot. thank you & see you in more fics later on.

↪˚ permanent taglist: @whoa-jo @kookieandjoonberries

all rights reserved. 2024. belovedguk.

[letorip]

hiiii! i loved reading “somethin’ stupid”, and I wanted to make a request for it. Not sure if it’s discontinued or not, but what abt reader when everything has healed and them being super insecure of their scars. Maybe getting bullied or harassed for them? And Wednesday comforting them, even though it’s not her thing + reassurance that she’ll always love them, no matter what. Ty for listening to my rant. :)

somethin’ stupid [iii]

“the time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red and oh, the night so blue”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: wednesday reminds you she loves you with an unending passion, even with the scars that you now wear for her.

warnings: mentions of bullying, body insecurities, percy hynes white the rat man himself existing, explicit words ig? if you can't handle cuss words idk what to tell you

word count: 3.9k

A/N: timeline a bit altered, there's about a week left before you return home for the summer, and xavier gives her the phone with this week left. thoughts are in red. i don’t usually accept requests from people but this was just too adorable to pass up, especially with the new season starting production. it kind of got away from me, in terms of length, but it was fun to write. next out will hopefully be the lottie matthews fic that i’ve been talking up

===+++===

===+++===

Scars were remarkable things. The way they stretched along the skin of your arms and right up almost to the tips of your fingers, or branched along the bridge of your nose and twisted along your jaw, it was as if a tree of your life was etched fundamentally into you, and Wednesday was transfixed.

It didn’t matter how many times she traced her fingers over the paths— two fingers, gentle, watching your nose twitch with every curve— she still thought they were, that you were breathtaking to look at.

“Wednesday, that tickles,” you hummed softly, eyes still closed. She frowned, tugging her hands away abruptly and raising her eyebrows at you.

“I was unaware you were awake," she said.

You lifted one eye open, smiling when you saw her, and though she would have still rather died than admit it, the gesture held a great, mystical power over her.

The skylight overhead leaked morning light into the room, flushing itself against the walls and beaming gently down, over your cheeks. It felt nice everywhere except for the new slashes that were still healing, and you rolled over, away from her to sit up on the edge of your bed and get out of the uncomfortable heat that pressed on those delicate places.

"How did you get in?" you asked, stretching out your arms and wincing a bit at the uncomfortable tightness. "You weren't here when I went to bed."

She watched you go, leaning back on the scratchy, woollen armchair next to your bed and shoving the stack of comic books already there to the side. “Your roof has a window, and I’m a very good climber. You should lock that, by the way.”

You turned to her and raised your eyebrows, looking miffed, but disgustingly adorable. “You could’ve just texted me, you know. I would’ve let you use the door.”

“And use that phone Xavier gave me? Believe me, I’d rather not,” she rolled her eyes with disgust, thinking about the interaction and how it took up time of her life that she'd never get back.

“You’d better, actually,” you said, turning to her with a smile and then wandering over to the set of drawers in the corner, clothes thrown all over the floor. Your whole room in general was a mess, largely from the bottles of medication and knocked over piles of books and things. It had been a rather stressful endeavour to get you up the stairs and comfortably inside, when you were still in your casts and there wasn’t an elevator.

“Why?” Wednesday challenged, watching you. She herself was already in her uniform, but she watched as you moved in your white pyjama t-shirt, the fresh scars almost dancing with your arms as they moved while you walked.

You grabbed a white button down out from the top one, shaking it a bit to get out a few wrinkles. “Because you’re sure as hell texting with me over summer break.” You shrugged, taking the shirt with you and walking behind the dividing screen you had next to your wardrobe. “That was nice of him to do for you, actually.” Your shirt went flying over the divider, landing on the ground.

Wednesday rolled her eyes. “You’re too kind to him. The snivelling rat only gave it to me so I would feel obligated to text him.” She could hear you rustling around behind the screen, messing about with your clothes. “Besides, why use the phone when I can visit you in person? Are you so braindead you need to rely on your phone for communication?”

The small noises stopped abruptly, and when you didn’t reply to that for a minute, Wednesday furrowed her eyebrows, standing up in her heavy boots that thudded against the creaky old wood of your floor. “What is it?” she asked, stepping forward towards the screen. You had made a fool of her with how much you made her worry, but she still desperately needed to know what was going on inside your head. She needed to be sure that you were okay.

She expected to see you have tripped maybe, or you had somehow collapsed into a pile of clothes and drifted back off to sleep, but the reality was a bit more mollifying. You were on the other side, just standing there with your button down shirt open in front of the mirror. You didn't say anything for a while, staring into it with a frown.

The scars over your stomach were perhaps the deepest, with raw, pinkish impressions still pressed into them and greenish-yellow bruises around the edges that were still straggling to heal up. The lines criss-crossed over your skin and up your chest, ending at the peaks of your shoulders that the white button down draped over. “They look bad on me,” you said, quietly.

She didn't particularly know what to say, watching your eyes continue to stare with a rigid dislike back at yourself. To get her to comfortably lean on you had been quite the effort, and now that you were officially together she was still becoming used to saying she loved you or kissing your skin whenever she so felt like it.

“They look like scars,” Wednesday replied. “The bruising will heal and the redness will fade, and-”

“But they won’t go away.” You said it with a flat disappointment. Wednesday blinked, confused by how you spoke of them. Were you unaware just how magnificent they looked upon you? The thought was vexing, and Wednesday was unsure what it was she could say to ease your mind, so she chose to say nothing at all.

You did the buttons up quickly, tugging on the collar to stand as tall as possible. It covered most of the scarring, but one could still see wisps of hurt skin on your hands and cuts across your face and jaw— Wednesday liked that one especially. You didn't seem to like any of them.

"We're going to be late to breakfast," she said, leaning with her arms crossed against the wardrobe. You shrugged again, going to grab your trousers.

"Go without me."

This caused her great pause. You were never one to miss breakfast. It was probably one of the most consistent ways someone could find you if they needed to. "It's your first day back," she argued. "And you're still recovering."

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you messed with the button of your pants, and it relaxed her a little bit, if the Addams could. "I'll survive without breakfast for a day, Wednesday. I need to get ready for class."

She narrowed her eyes at you. "Then I can survive without breakfast, too." You straightened up, sending her a look as you buttoned your trousers. You entirely knew the game that she was playing. The game she was winning, too.

"You can go without me."

"But I won't," she replied. You narrowed your eyes, grabbing some socks.

"Fine."

She glared right back, but not in an angry way. Just to let you know she was serious. "Fine." You rolled your eyes, stalking over, now that you were clothed and planting a gentle kiss on her lips. She leaned into it, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. Her thumbs brushed over the sensitive skin there.

"You win," you conceded, pulling away and looking down at her with a smile.

"I always do," she said, looking up at you with a shine in her dark eyes.

===+++===

I guess (Y/n) is back.

Oh my god, the rumours were true.

Jeeeesus Christ, that kid's face.

The thoughts flitted past you like passing trains as you walked to the quad, loud and unfiltered noise in the back of your mind that acted as a constant reminder of the new skin you wore. You wore them for her, the short girl walking next to you, but even with her right by your side, it was like she was a million miles away.

That must've hurt, holy hell.

They stared, the people you passed, watching you with a weird half-shock, half-pity, their thoughts running wild. The worst ones imagined the scenario for themselves, and within their heads you saw a dozen different replays in different ways of you getting absolutely torn apart.

How are you still alive???

Fucking jumpscare...

That was about all it took before you shut off your noise completely. Maybe for once, it was better not to know what other people were thinking. You sent a glance to Wednesday, who was walking next to you with her eyes facing ahead. When you felt the people still staring, you frowned, bumping her with your hand. You needed her to hold it very, very badly.

But she sent you a look, shaking her head once as if to say 'not here.' You knew Wednesday didn't like PDA of any sort. She still struggled sometimes to wrap her arms around your shoulders or pull you in by your waist. It wasn't natural, but you still couldn't help feeling a little bit disappointed. The imaginary distance between you both widened, right then, and other kids' staring felt amplified by ten.

Suddenly, a colourful blur came bounding across the quad and right down the hall, straight for you. "Enid— Enid, wait—" Enid tackled you in a tight hug, squeezing you against her with an unrestrained excitement and trying to shake you like a rag doll, it felt like.

"Oh my god! You're back! Oh. My. God!" She screamed, beaming from ear to ear, pulling away to look at you for a second before going right back to hugging you tightly.

You grit your teeth from the discomfort of pressure being placed on the delicate skin, but made no move to pull away, and instead did your best to smile through it. A hug felt nice. It was the warmth you needed in a place that was being so cold to you at the moment. Enid didn't care what marks you had.

"Enid, down," Wednesday said firmly, watching the exchange and carefully monitoring your expression. She had caught your grimace, sending you a wary look and crossing her arms, subtly trying to make sure you were okay. You sent her a quick nod, and Enid gently pulled away.

"Sorry," she said, wincing at realising her mistake. The expression only lasted a second though, before she was right back to smiling at you. "Wait, we're scar buddies!"

You laughed. It had been the first time you felt good about them since finding Wednesday tracing them while you slept. "We definitely are."

Enid's were a bit more healed than yours, blending better into the skin than those that protruded from the bridge of your nose and sloped down into your cheek. You saw yours and thought 'ugly'; you saw Enid's and thought nothing. But you would take it either way.

The girl grabbed your arm, tugging you harshly forwards and dragging you towards your usual table. "You have to see Yoko. Her and Divina were worried sick about you." You sent Wednesday back a look as Enid dragged you, and she shrugged, watching you go, not that she'd be able to do much to stop her.

By the time she had comfortably strolled over to the table, Enid had already dragged you into a seat, and was brightly recounting everything you had missed. Wednesday had already done so, when you were still in the hospital recovering, but you let her continue to talk. It felt nice. Like everything was back to normal for once. She slid down next to you, not saying anything.

Divina and Yoko were being nice about your scars. They kept on trying to brush past it, like nothing was wrong, but you knew when they looked at your face, it was the first thing to catch their eyes every time.

"Are you excited to be back?" Yoko asked from behind her sunglasses, leaning against Divina's shoulders.

"Making up the homework I missed out on? Super thrilled," you said dryly, putting your elbows on the table and leaning on them as you partook in the conversation.

"Well, everyone's missed you," said Divina, trying to smile, but her eyes shifted down quickly, to look at your hands and the cuts upon them before back up to you. "We're all happy you're okay."

You sent her what was supposed to be a smile, but by the look Wednesday shot at you, it probably looked a bit more like a grimace. Could you even call this 'okay?' This wasn't being okay. Being okay would've meant you looked the same as you did before, and that wouldn't happen. It had been permanently taken from you.

"So what are you all doing, for summer?" you threw out the question, more as a way to change the subject, and it was successful. Enid lit up like a Christmas tree, super excited to share about a trip she was taking to see her extended family. It wasn't that you didn't care, but you stopped for a moment, realising this was the happiest you had been in a while. At a table with your friends, and Wednesday next to you. Of course, that was when it was immediately ruined.

From behind Enid, you could see Xavier spot Wednesday and similarly light up, bounding over with a smile.

"And then we're going to the beach with my baby little cousins, and—"

"Wednesday!" he called out to her, interrupting Enid and looking across the table at the girl. Her hand crept up to your knee, placing itself firmly, in a way that told you she was dreading his presence. He looked around at you all, spotting you and failing to hide his disappointment at your return. Xavier quickly glanced back to Wednesday. "Did you get my text?" He asked, smiling again.

Wednesday stared back, unimpressed. "I did. I ignored it."

"Oh," his face dropped. "Well, I wanted to ask if you would tutor me on botany."

She blinked. "There's a week left of school."

"I know," Xavier shrugged. "But we have that end of year quiz on Wednesday."

"I would rather watch Legally Blonde." You had to stop yourself from laughing at that one. You had been the one to show that to her, and she spent the entire duration looking horrified.

"We could do that, then," he offered, and you suddenly realised you had been too nice to him in terms of pursuing Wednesday. Most people knew by now, that you two were officially together, not that it had been much of a secret, even when you were just hooking up. It was rather insane for his pursuit to continue, when you were right there.

"Xavier, I think me and Wednesday are busy, for at least the next couple days," you said, trying to let him down easy. He sent you a glare, before looking back at Wednesday like she would have a different response. She stared back, maintaining her deadpan expression, but squeezing your knee softly as if to say 'thank you.'

He frowned. "Fine. See you in fencing, (Y/n)." You smiled back at him, figuring maybe things were good now. Wednesday sent you a wary glance.

God, you couldn't have been more wrong.

===+++===

Wednesday Addams stormed through the halls of Nevermore with a fire under her feet and a rage in her heart. She pushed through the groups of people, storming up the stairs and down the corridors like she was about to explode. And she truly was.

When she arrived at your door, she was knocking heavily, small fist pounding on the wood with fury.

"(Y/n). Open the door."

No response. It was just about as quiet as it had been that morning, when she had caught you staring at yourself. It filled her with an unmatched worry, sending her back to the night when she had seen those red and blue police lights and thought she had lost you forever. "Open the door." She demanded again, pressing her ear up to it.

"Go away, Wednesday," you said from the other side. It was muffled, but she could still make out the pain in your voice.

"(Y/n), let me in. Now." It was practically a plea at that point, and she cursed you for bringing her to this place of utter weakness for you. "Either you let me in yourself, or I let myself in," Wednesday said, firmly speaking to you with her head against the door. She needed to know you were okay. It came first, right before the rage she felt for Xavier, and she so needed to know that you were still there— still hers to keep.

You didn't say anything though, choosing to continue to stay quiet in your room. Wednesday sighed, grabbing a hairpin from her pocket and reaching for the lock.

She got the door open in less than thirty seconds out of habit, pushing it open gently and letting herself in before she rushed over to you. You didn't even look at her, instead continuing to stare out the window and the sunny day, clouds floating by as if nothing were different. It felt out of place, now.

The part of your face away from the window was covered by the dark of your room. You hadn't even bothered to turn the lights on, sitting in the dark. She used to like the dark, but it felt out of place for you to be hiding in it.

"Look at me," Wednesday said, standing in front of your armchair. Her hand went to your chin, gently tilting your face up. There was a bandage right there, on your forehead, over what could only be a giant cut.

"Who told you what happened?" you asked quietly, your eyes a bit misty. You weren't a usual crier, and it made her uneasy to see just how much of an effect his actions had had on you.

"Yoko. It's about the only time that idiotic phone came in handy. I came as soon as I heard. He's not supposed to start mach when you're not wearing your helmets. Mark my words, I'll curse him until the end of time." It didn't seem to comfort you like it usually did, the pain in your eyes only worsening.

"Do you know what he said, when he cut me?"

She blinked in confusion. "He said 'Frankenstein, I'll give you one to match the others'," you finished, looking her in the eyes for the first time since she had entered the room.

"He's an asshole, I told you," she said, trying to stop you, but you jerked away from her touch for the first time.

"It's not just him. Wends, I see it all the time." Your voice broke a little bit, and you stopped to swallow before continuing. It hurt her heart, as if she was being left to die again in that crypt. "In people's heads, from their mouths, in the mirror. It replays like a fucking movie. I keep seeing myself almost die, and I'm starting to think it would've been better if I had."

No. That was enough. She firmly grabbed your chin again, eyes glinting with violence at the offensive proposition. "Never say that sentence ever again, or else."

"He's got a point though, doesn't he?" you said it slowly, your scarred hand reaching out to her arm and wrapping around her wrist. She flinched at the contact but did not pull away. "I'll never be the same 'me' as I was before. There's something— I'm wrong. And you know it, too. That's why you won't touch me when others are around. It's not me."

Wednesday stared at you for a long moment, as you began to cry. Then her hands went to your cheeks again, just as they had earlier, gently cupping your face in her hands, as if you were the world, because you were. You were her world. "You're an idiot. It appears I've failed to make myself clear."

"What do you mean?" Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Your simple mind fails to realise why I'm even here," she said, and then she leaned forward, clambering up into your lap and resting her forehead on yours. Wednesday had become accustomed to, and rather fond of, making a home there. She was far from the greatest at expressions, but she wanted to make you realise the obvious and that was more than enough motivation to try. "I'm here because I burn for you, down to my core and back up again."

"But I'm not me, not with these—" But you were interrupted by her hand, sliding up to cover your mouth.

"Hush, idiot. You are the same you as before, and I wouldn't stop loving you for anything. I have loved you for all you were before and all you are now. I would have loved you if the damage was worse, and I would still yearn for you if you had died. It makes no difference, (Y/n), you fool. You're still you, and you're still as... captivating as the first time I saw you and wanted you in my possession."

Her hand came to your cheek again, stroking gently the skin there and feeling all the ridges under her thumb. "You've placed a cruel curse on me, as if you don't already know yourself. I am indefinitely, irrevocably yours. My refusal to touch you in public is a personal discomfort, but one I'll...overcome, if it means that much to you. Even if I am not touching you, you must assume I want to, because I do."

She brushed a stray tear away, wiping it on your jacket, and your hands came up to wrap around her waist, tugging her against you like you were afraid she would melt through your fingers. "Are you aware of how I was almost killed, in the crypt, when fighting Crackstone?"

You shook your head. "You don't like to talk about it," you mumbled, burying your head in her chest. Her hands went to your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp.

"It was an...incredibly confusing dilemma. I used to patiently await death. My family and I hold it with a special regard. But as I was dying, I only felt lonely. Do you know why?"

You frowned against her, shaking your head again. Wednesday scoffed. "The obvious answer is you. It would be leaving without you. And as obnoxious as it is, I don't want to. Today, tomorrow, forever; I want to do it with you."

You sat there for a moment, thinking to yourself, and then you nodded. It was slow, but it was there, and when Wednesday felt it, she sat back to look you in the eyes. "Are we clear?" She demanded. If you said no, she would only double down. But instead, you nodded again, looking up at her. She held your heart in her hands.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

You leaned forward, kissing her with the most passion you ever had, and Wednesday only returned it, cupping your neck and leaning into you. She would crawl into your skin, if she could. She'd build a little birdhouse in your soul, if she could find a way. You pulled away again, after a long minute, nodding again. "Okay. Same."

She blinked. "Same? I spill my heart to you and you respond with 'ditto'?" You laughed and she rolled her eyes, attempting to get off your lap. But your arms came up, entrapping her there and holding her close.

"You've put it perfectly. I want you forever, too." And so she melted into your embrace again, hand going to your scars to trace them and you nuzzling into her hand. It was a while, before either of you spoke.

"We have to get him back, forever, this time," Wednesday said, cold and calculating.

"Agreed."

About two days later, you watched in absolute delight as Xavier ran down the hall in his bathroom towel, a poisonous snake trailing behind him and half of his head shaved completely bald. Call it an ode of Wednesday's love.

===+++===

this was fun! i'm unsure of where to, if i do at all, take somethin' stupid from here. this won't be the only wednesday fic, so unless you all have more ideas, this may be it for this series. anyways, cheers!

[fairyybngtn]

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Black Reader

Genre: Jealousy/Fluff??

Warning: use of the n word and slight smut

Note: this is my first time ever writing anything so it might not be good. I been wanting more Armando fics but people barely be uploading anymore so I had to step in lol. (Also I added Megan in it…am I the only one that seen Jacob and Megan together cause nobody is talking about it)😭

Summary: A night at the club with your coworker, whom you secretly had a crush on, altered the dynamic between you two. What was meant to be a one-time thing spiraled into a whirlwind of feelings you struggled to navigate. Everything shifts when a new girl joins the team, and Armando seems to take an interest in her.

Tired was an understatement. After countless hours debriefing and working on the latest case, all you wanted was to collapse into bed, pour yourself a glass of wine, and binge-watch Love Island. But it was your coworker and best friend Kelly’s birthday, and she was adamant about hitting the club. "Why don’t you invite Armando?" Kelly suggested, her excitement barely contained. You looked at her like she was stupid. “Armando? Really? He doesn’t seem like the type to hang out with coworkers, especially not at a club.” Kelly persisted, oblivious to your hesitation. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Kelly, I don’t even know if he likes going out, let alone to a club. And besides, he barely acknowledges me at work.”

“He doesn’t have to hang out with us,” Kelly pointed out. “Rita, Dorn, Marcus, and Mike will be there too.”

You considered her words, the idea starting to seem less far-fetched. Still, you were uncertain. “I suppose. But what if he doesn’t even show up? And what if things are awkward?”

Kelly gave you an encouraging smile. “Come on, just give it a try. It's my birthday, and I want all my friends there, including the mysterious Armando. You never know, maybe this will be the night everything changes." Reluctantly, you agreed, sending a quick text to Armando, half expecting no response. But to your surprise, he replied almost immediately, agreeing to join.

After work, you went over to Kelly’s house so that you two could get ready. You were wearing an oversized sweater and sweatpants and had no idea what to wear. Kelly said, "Girl, your body is literally banging. Let’s show it off tonight!” She pulled out a dress that looked too small for you to fit. It was a black, snug dress that hugged every curve. You hated wearing anything tight, but because it was your best friend's birthday, you wore it anyway. You did your hair, deciding to let your curls out instead of the usual slick-back bun, and fixed up your edges. Kelly looked you over and grinned. "You look stunning. Tonight’s gonna be unforgettable."

You two were on your way to the club. When you arrived, the place was packed, and the sound of Sexxy Red’s "Fuck My Baby Daddy" playing got you excited for what the night had in store. You walked until you found the rest of your coworkers: Dorn, Mike, Marcus, and Rita. Mike, flirting as usual, said, "You need to dress like this more often. If I were around your age, I'd be all over you."

You laughed it off, but you didn’t see Armando and assumed he hadn’t come. You sat down with Marcus and Rita, taking your time to warm up to the large crowd. As you did some people-watching, you finally spotted Armando leaning against the bar, and your heart skipped a beat. He wore a fitted black shirt and dark jeans, a gold chain glinting under the neon lights. His hair was freshly styled, and he exuded a confidence that seemed so different from his usual office demeanor. He walked up to the group, greeting everyone. His uncle Marcus said, "Damn, that Lowery DNA is a bitch," seeing the resemblance between him and Mike. Armando looked at you and smiled.

"You look amazing tonight," he said, his eyes lingering on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. This was the most he had spoken to you since you started working together. Your cheeks flushed under his gaze, feeling the magnetic pull between you.

"Thanks," you replied, your voice barely audible over the music. "You look pretty different outside the office too." His smile widened, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Glad you noticed."

"Want a drink?" he asked. You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. As the night went on, one drink turned into several, and your best friend Kelly soon interrupted your conversation with the others. Her song "TGIF" by Glorilla came on, and she pulled you to the dance floor. Normally, you wouldn’t dance so openly but after seven drinks you had no care in the world and now here you were in the middle of the club with your best friend Kelly twerking together.

Unbeknownst to you, Armando made his way towards you. The distance that usually separated you at work seemed to dissolve. Here you were, throwing it back on Armando, who was catching every movement. The heat between you was undeniable, a magnetic pull that drew you closer with each passing moment. His hands rested on your hips, guiding your movements as you swayed to the rhythm of the music. The crowded dance floor seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own world.

As the night wore on, the tension between you two intensified. The proximity, the stolen glances, the subtle touches – it all built up to a crescendo. When Armando’s lips finally met yours, it was like a spark igniting a wildfire. The kiss was urgent, filled with pent-up desire and longing. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, and your eyes hungrily traced the outline of his form. His bulging veins, the prominent bulge in his jeans – every detail fueled your growing desire. The kiss deepened, and the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving just the two of you in a whirlwind of passion and longing.

"Let's get out of here," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot on your skin. You nodded, your mind a haze of desire. He grasped your hand and guided you through the swarm of people and out into the cool night air. By the time you reached his car, you were already tangled in each other, the tight space only heightening the intensity of your longing. When you finally arrived at his place, the anticipation was almost too much to bear. The moment the door closed behind you, he pushed you gently against it, his mouth capturing yours in a fierce, heated kiss. His hands roamed over you exploring and memorizing every curve of your body.

You couldn't resist any longer you pushed Armando back against the arm of the couch as you climbed into his lap. He responded eagerly, his hands roaming up your thighs to grasp your ass, pressing you firmly against his growing erection. His grunts mingled with your soft moans as you grind against each other, but it wasn't long before his impatience got the better of him.

With a swift motion, Armando lifted you and carried you to lay you down on the bed, his gaze dark with desire as he took in the sight of you. He moved to climb on top of you, but you were quicker, grabbing his arm and pulling him down so that he was flat on his back, with you straddling his waist. His hard cock pressed enticingly against your clothed cunt, just waiting to be released. His hands gripped your hips tightly as you rocked against him, the friction sending shivers of pleasure through both of you. You could feel his hardness through the thin fabric, driving your desire even higher.

“Me estás volviendo loca" he growled, his thick Spanish accent laced with lust as his eyes locked onto yours.

"Good," you replied with a mischievous smile.

Your fingers worked quickly to undo his jeans, freeing his cock. His breath hitched as you positioned yourself, sliding your panties aside and sinking down onto him in one smooth motion. The sensation of him filling you was electrifying, both of you groaning in unison. Your hands braced against his chest as you began to move, riding him with a rhythm that drove you both wild. The sounds of his rough groans and the intense heat between you heightened the moment, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. Not wanting you to reach climax just yet, he flipped you over onto your stomach and pounded into you roughly. His hands gripped your hips firmly, and he leaned over to kiss along your jaw, his lips brushing your skin with each passionate thrust. The sound of his thick Spanish accent giving you praises, mixed with his low moans, pushed you over the edge. With one last powerful thrust, you both came together, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and entwined. When you finally sank into each other's arms, exhausted and satisfied, you knew your relationship would never be the same again.

The next morning, you woke up before Armando, the weight of what had happened hitting you like a truck. The whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you was overwhelming, and you left without speaking to him. Armando had always been a distant crush, someone you admired from afar. But now, the lines had blurred, and you found yourself tangled in feelings you didn’t know how to acknowledge. As you gathered your clothes, you glanced back at Armando, a pang of longing striking your heart. All you wanted was to stay wrapped in his arms, but the weight of last night’s events pushed you to flee. Checking your phone, you saw a bunch of missed calls and texts from Kelly, wondering where you had gone. With a deep breath, you dialed her number, ready to face the aftermath.

“Girl, where did you disappear last night?” Kelly's voice was laced with curiosity and concern.

You hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, “I left with Armando. We… ended up at his place.”

Kelly’s gasp was audible even through the phone. “No way! What happened? Spill!”

“Girl, I don’t even know where to begin,” you admitted. “All I remember is us dancing together and then going back to his place... We slept together.” The weight of your confession hit you hard. “I don’t know what to do now...”

“Wow,” Kelly said, stunned. “Are you okay?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” you admitted. “I just need some time to figure things out.”

Weeks passed, and finding a new normal became a struggle. The memory of that night lingered in your mind, a constant reminder of what had happened whenever you saw him. At work, things seemed to fall back into their usual rhythm, but the atmosphere was charged with an underlying tension. Armando barely acknowledged you, and when he did, his responses were curt and one-worded. Whether it was during meetings or on missions, he made a deliberate effort to keep his distance, intensifying the emotional strain of your interactions. You found yourself constantly thinking about him, the memory of his touch and the way he made you feel. It was impossible to focus, and the unresolved emotions gnawed at you, making it difficult to move on. Every interaction with Armando, no matter how brief, was charged with unspoken words and lingering glances.

One day, as you passed each other in the hallway, his gaze met yours for a moment longer than usual. There was something in his eyes, a mixture of regret and longing that mirrored your own feelings. But before you could say anything, he looked away and continued on his way, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest. The tension between you two was palpable, and you knew that sooner or later, you would have to confront it. But for now, you were caught in a limbo of uncertainty, waiting for the right moment to address the complicated emotions that had taken root in your heart.

The next day, Mike and Rita called a meeting to let us know a new person would be joining the tech team. Her name was Lana. When she entered, it was like a burst of sunshine filled the room. She had a vibrant, bubbly personality that instantly drew everyone in. It didn’t take long for everyone, including Armando, to take a liking to her. You watched from a distance as he laughed with her, their conversations flowing effortlessly. He never did that with you, but could you blame him? You never took the chance to talk to him, still holding a grudge against him for what he did to Captain Howard. Jealousy gnawed at your insides, a constant reminder of the unresolved feelings from that night with him.

One afternoon, you walked into the break room to find Armando and Lana in deep conversation so engrossed together that they didn’t even notice you walk in. You felt a pang in your chest, the reality of the situation hitting you hard.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound casual. They both looked up, and Armando's smile faltered for a moment before he greeted you.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked.

You forced a smile. "Good, just grabbing a coffee." As you turned to leave, you heard Lana ask Armando something, her voice light and teasing. You couldn't make out the words, but the laughter that followed felt like a punch to the gut. Tears clouded your vision, and you quickly left the room before anyone could see you cry. You ran to the bathroom and, with trembling hands, texted Kelly.

"Kelly, can you come to the bathroom? I need you," you typed, your fingers barely able to hit the right keys through your tears. Moments later, your phone buzzed with Kelly's response. "I'm on my way. What happened?" You tried to steady your breathing as you waited. When Kelly finally arrived, she found you sitting on the floor, your face buried in your hands.

"Hey, I'm here. What's going on?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

You looked up at her, tears streaming down your face. "It's Armando. I walked in on him and Lana. They were so close, laughing, talking... I don't know what to do."

Kelly sat down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "I'm so sorry. Armando is an idiot if he doesn't see how amazing you are. But you need to decide what you want. Do you want to talk to him and try to work things out, or is it time to move on?"

You sniffled, trying to gather your thoughts. "I don't know, Kelly. I still have feelings for him, but seeing him with Lana hurt so much. I'm scared of getting hurt again." Kelly hugged you tighter. "Whatever you decide, I'm here for you. Just remember to take care of yourself first. You deserve to be happy." You nodded, feeling a bit of comfort in her words. "Thanks, Kelly. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Anytime," she said, giving you a reassuring smile. "Now, let's get out of here and go get some drinks,” Kelly said, helping you to your feet. With some convincing from her, you agreed to head back to the same club. Though hesitant, not wanting any feelings about that night to resurface, Kelly's persistence won you over. Unknowingly to you, Armando was there too. You sat at the bar, waiting to get drinks for you and Kelly, lost in your thoughts, when a familiar voice interrupted them.

"Mind if I join you?" Armando asked, his expression unreadable. You stiffened, but gestured to the empty seat next to you. "Sure." For a moment, neither of you spoke, the thumping bass of Megan Thee Stallion’s “Thot Shit” filling the silence. Finally, Armando took a deep breath and broke the tension.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that night," he said, his voice barely audible over the noise. "I didn't want things to be awkward between us."

You looked at him, your heart pounding. "It's not just about that night, Armando. It's about everything since then. I know I left without saying anything to you, and I regret doing it, but it feels like you’ve been toying with me. Keeping your distance, giving me one-word responses... and Lana," you said slowly, locking eyes with him.

Armando's expression softened, and he leaned closer. "I never meant to toy with you. Lana and I are just friends. I didn't realize how it looked from your perspective."

"You didn't realize?"... “Nigga really?” you echoed, frustration bubbling up. "How could you not see it? Every time I see you two together, it's like a knife in my heart."

"I know, and I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I was trying to keep things professional and not make things awkward, but I see now that I ended up doing the opposite." His phone buzzed again, and you saw Lana's name flash on the screen. The sight of it was too much to bear. "See, this the shit I'm talking about just go be with her, Armando."

You got up to go back to Kelly when he reached out to grab your hand gently. "No, listen to me. Lana isn't who I want. You are." Your heart skipped a beat, but doubt still lingered. "Then why didn't you say anything before? Why let me suffer in silence?"

"I was scared," he admitted, his voice raw. "Scared of making things worse, scared of losing you. But I can't keep pretending. I have feelings for you, real feelings, and I want to be with you." The sincerity in his eyes made your resolve waver as this is the most emotional you ever seen Armando. “If that's true, then we need to start being honest with each other. “No more games and hiding how we really feel about each other."

He nodded, a look of relief washing over his face. "Agreed. No more hiding.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension start to lift. "Okay. But you have to prove it, Armando. Show me that you're serious."

“Mami, te puedo mostrar cómo puedo demostrarlo.” he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment. As the noise of the club swirled around you, a glimmer of hope began to stir within you. Maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.

Translations

“ Mami, te puedo mostrar cómo puedo demostrarlo.” - Mami I can show you how I can prove it

“Me estás volviendo loca - You’re driving me crazy

[damianbugs]

DEBUNKING SOME COMMON COMIC COMPLAINTS:

the funniest shit ever is when i say "oh hey friend you should give batman comics a try i think you'll like them!" and the response is "no thanks he's a bad dad in those i'll stick to fics." because like... i swear to you on my life Bruce Wayne Ao3 has done worse shit in fics than he ever has in canon.

"oh but you can just filter those tags/ignore those stories—" you can. do the same with comics... this man has been around for decades. do you think every story was exactly the same? not even the SAME writers write him the same way twice. (EXAMPLE: Frank Millers 'Batman Year One' has bruce jump off a bridge to save a baby. Frank Millers 'Batman and Robin All Stars' has bruce feed dick rats.)

"oh but fics are free—" so are comics 🏴‍☠️... unless ur a coward. whoever told you that you have to buy comics to read them or enjoy them is a liar and you should explode them. spending money and collecting is a completely personal (and life altering) decision.

"it's so hard to find specific comics/dynamics/tropes etc" the internet is truly a fantastic place. you can find a reading list or blog for the most niche of characters, so you will have absolutely no problem finding one for the bastard man who appears in every single comic ever published by dc. if not, ask your comic friends and not friends, comic blogs, tiktok comment sections etc. there will be one hyperfixated enthusiast eagerly awaiting the opportunity to give you their extensive guide.

"i just want to read/create my own story with them" you and me both buddy. reading comics doesn't mean you are not allowed to let yourself indulge in completely impossible fanon scenarios that heal or ruin your life. in fact, do you know the inexplicable euphoria that comes with stumbling upon a fic that rewrote a canon event? continued a badly finished comic story? it's life changing. fun to write too!

if you don't want to read comics for whatever reason, fine, literally whatever — but if you want to and certain things are holding you back from doing do, this is for you! who gaf about fandom discourse and "name me three batman comics"-ism, just don't hold yourself back from exploring this media even further! if anything, having a couple comics under your belt makes analysis and discussion far more genuine, and not like your chatting shit from out your ass.

[2baabbies]

🖤 seunglix x reader minific

seunglix being roommates has got my brain horny and stupid, so here’s a little smutty draft for these sexy nerds (500 words)

afab + gn!reader

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation or to train AI, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal! Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are always welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

Felix and Seungmin are absolute menaces together. They invite you over for some games and to ‘break in’ the new apartment. You forget about the latter half of that plan when you and Felix start an intense Mario Kart tournament. Although you are both enjoying the game, it isn’t much of a challenge. You’ve sweeped Felix in every race, steadily holding first place while he brings up second or lower.

If there is one thing true about Felix, it’s that he is competitive. If there is one thing true about Seungmin, it’s that he is not above cheating to get what he wants.

“What are you doing?”

Your voice is quiet, dismissive, as Seungmin slides into the spot behind where you are sitting on the floor. Felix is beside you, leaning forward like getting closer to the TV screen will help his tremendous lose-streak. Seungmin’s arms slide around your waist and he tugs you closer between his legs.

“I’m not doing anything,” Seungmin fibs.

You hum absentmindedly and lean back against him, your eyes still locked on the screen. It isn’t long before he becomes a distraction. His hands slip under your shirt then beneath the waistband of your sweats. You huff and buck your hips as the race finishes, then feel your eyes roll at the feeling of Seungmin’s fingers sneaking between your legs.

“Kim Seungmin,” You growl.

He shushes you and presses a brief peck to your earlobe as he continues his exploration under your pants. You huff and start another race, not without catching the mischievous smirk on Felix as he looks at the two of you.

“Losing focus?” Felix teases.

“N-o-”

You choke on a moan and throw your head back on Seungmin’s shoulder. You try to ignore him but you can’t, and by the end of the race you’re gushing around his fingers as your racer idles in twelfth place. You whine as Seungmin kisses your shoulder, then your cheek, then the corner of your lips. You are still dazed and whining when Felix crawls in front of you, and catches your attention with a teasing smirk.

“I won first place,” He provokes in a sultry voice.

“You cheated,” You pant out.

Seungmin withdraws his hand from your heat and inspects his fingers, before slipping them into his mouth. Felix groans at the sight and leans in, his hands cup your waist as he asks:

“Can I have a prize?”

“For winning one game?”

He pouts.

“I tried really hard…”

Seungmin turns your chin as you begin to answer and silences you with a deep kiss. You whimper and melt in his arms as Felix presses kisses to the side of your neck. Finally, they break away with soft pants to let you speak.

“I want to play a new game,” Seungmin challenges.

Felix’s eyebrow quirks up and he smiles, seeming enticed at the opportunity to win a challenge he may be more skilled at.

“What is it?” You mumble, pouting playfully as Seungmin brushes his lips over the bridge of your nose.

“Me and Felix versus you,” He murmurs, “If we can make you finish the most times, we win.”

“2V1? That’s not fair,” You protest, “And, you two have a head start.”

Seungmin smirks and Felix chuckles before suggesting:

“Well, we better get going then, hm? Wouldn’t want you to fall too far behind.”

[lemoncrushh]

Kiss Me Deadly

SUMMARY: The annual Halloween party at the local pub has Y/N excited when she decides to invite her boss at the University, Mr. Styles. But she soon begins to second guess her decision when Harry starts acting odd. Is Harry Styles really who she thinks he is? Will this Halloween be a fantasy come true…or the kiss of death?

WARNINGS: mentions of blood (I mean, it's a vampire fic lol), smut (oral - female receiving).

WORD COUNT: 6.4k

A/N: Happy Halloween! Sorry for the delay of this story. I had hoped to get it out last week, but I had some weird life-altering things happen that have occupied my mind. Hope you enjoy. FEEDBACK IS LOVE.

Harry removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting the large book on his desk. Rising from his chair, he called out to his assistant.

“Time to lock up, Y/N. I wanna get out of here before eight o’clock.”

“No problem, Mr. Styles,” she said, closing her own book in front of her.

Pursing his lips, Harry shook his head. Y/N knew what the look was for. For weeks now he’d been insisting she call him by his first name. But being his assistant, it felt odd to her, unnatural.

Not to mention the horrible crush she had on him. Truth be told, Y/N had a massive crush on him long before she ever took the position as his assistant. But up until then, he’d only been Mr. Styles to her, the attractive English TA with a British accent.

When Mr. Styles and Dr. Osborne had initially told Y/N about the position and that she’d be perfect for it, she’d been completely surprised. Teacher’s Assistants didn’t usually have their own assistants. But the university had a large English department, and Dr. Osborne insisted that more help was needed. Therefore, Y/N had been spending Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings this semester assisting Mr. Styles, and in turn, assisting Dr. Osborne.

“How many times is that now?” asked Harry, sliding his glasses back onto his face.

“Times?”

“Times I’ve told you to just call me Harry,” he commented with a frown. “Mr. Styles makes me feel so old.”

Y/N chuckled, “You’re not old.”

“‘Course not. I’ve barely got a few years on you.”

Trying not to blush, Y/N took the stack of books in her arms and turned toward the shelves to put them away.

“So why are you closing up early tonight? Hot date?” she joked.

Y/N heard Harry snort before she turned around and saw the strange look on his face. Embarrassment? Had she pried where she shouldn’t have?

“Not exactly.”

“Oh.”

“I have plans…but I wouldn’t exactly call it a date,” he added.

“Ah. I see.” Although she didn’t.

Y/N didn’t know much about Harry Styles outside of his job at the university. She always wondered who or what he went home to every night. Didn’t know if he had any social life, anything about his likes or dislikes that weren’t English related. He seemed to keep to himself, and Y/N respected that. But it didn’t mean she didn’t fantasize sometimes…

“Y/N,” she heard him say, breaking her from her reverie.

“Oh, um, yes?”

Harry chuckled. “Wow, you were zoned out. I asked if you were ready to go. I’ll walk you out.”

“Oh. Yeah!” Y/N stammered. “Hang on, just have two more books to put away.”

Shelving the last book in her hands, Y/N grabbed the two on her table and quickly put them in their places. Walking past Harry to the coat rack, she grabbed her jacket, getting a whiff of his delicious cologne. Y/N wasn’t sure what it was, and was always afraid to ask him. But every single day he smelled divine. Nothing like the boys in college.

“Ready,” she announced, slipping her arms into her sleeves and grabbing her shoulder bag.

Y/N followed Harry down the steps to the entrance of the English building. Spotting her friend Lauren across the pavement coming out of the library, she waved and called her name.

“Have a good night, Mr. Styles,” Y/N paused, “I mean, Harry.”

She caught the twitch of his lips underneath the dim campus light before he said, “You too, Y/N.”

“That guy you work with is so hot,” remarked Lauren after she and Y/N had both ordered drinks at their favorite local pub.

“Who?” Y/N asked, accepting her beer from the bartender, “Harry?”

“You call him Harry?”

“He asked me to,” she said. “But I still call him Mr. Styles.”

“Jesus, that’s even hotter!”

Y/N laughed, nearly knocking over her glass. “Well, you’re not wrong. He is hot. But he’s very reserved.”

“Ooh the nerdy, quiet type! I like! Maybe you need to pull him out of his shell.”

“I dunno,” Y/N smirked with a shrug.

“C’mon. I bet you’re just the girl to do it,” Lauren insisted.

“And how do I do that, pray tell?”

“Ask him out!”

“I can’t just ask out my boss! There has to be rules against that sort of thing, right?”

“Hmmm,” Lauren nodded, taking a sip from her own beer. “Maybe casually suggest something. Like coffee, or a drink after work. In a social gathering type place, like here. Oh my God!”

“What?”

“The Halloween party! He probably knows about it - he might even already have plans on coming!” squealed Lauren.

“I doubt it,” Y/N shook her head.

“You never know. It’s mostly a school event anyway. You don’t even have to ask him out on a date, just tell him you’ll be there and he should come.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Y/N muttered, chewing her lip.

“I know! I have brilliant ideas,” Lauren declared.

Despite the unusually warm night, Harry could see his breath in front of him, instantly dissipating into the air. He pulled the collar up on his black coat as he continued down the pavement. Stopping at the corner of the pub, he could hear the music and chatter from inside. But there was only one voice he wanted to hear. Only one person whose blood he could already hear pulsing through his eardrums.

The smell was intoxicating - her smell. His mouth began to water as he peeked through the blinds of the old family pub. He found her quickly, sat at the bar with that friend of hers, the one who’d ruined his plan.

He had hoped to follow Y/N home after leaving the English building. Watch her climb the steps to her flat and let herself in. He’d done it a few times before, but he wouldn’t call it stalking. He just enjoyed her aroma, the rushing of her blood through her veins. Then when he was sure she was home safely, he’d turn around and walk home.

This particular night, however, he had thought perhaps he’d get the courage to walk up to her. Maybe act as if it was a coincidence that he was in her part of town. He’d even conjured up a lie, saying his plans for the evening had gotten canceled, if she seemed happy to see him. Then he’d ask her to join him for a drink. A glass of wine perhaps. But not at this noisy pub, no. Somewhere secluded, more…romantic.

Blasted Lauren, or whatever her name was. He reckoned he’d have to wait for another night. But…time was running out…

Lauren and Y/N called it a night after only two beers. Y/N was tired and Lauren had an early shift at the shop where she worked. After giving her friend a farewell hug, Y/N crossed the street and headed for home. She noticed a bit of a fog, thinking it suitable for this time of year. Halloween was only a few days away. She hadn’t originally planned on going to the party at the pub, seeing as Lauren had a date and she didn’t want to be the third wheel. But now the prospect of asking Harry had made her change her mind.

Making a list of possible last-minute costumes in her head, she suddenly heard something behind her. Turning her head, however, she saw nothing but empty pavement. Continuing on her way, she’d almost reached her building when she heard something again. This time, she turned swifty, seeing only a cloud of pillowy smoke. Thinking it odd for the fog to circulate in that manner, she felt a chill run down her spine. Her eyes shifted from side to side as her body stood frozen.

“Hello?” she called out meekly.

When she got no response, she slowly turned back around, only to run into a tall frame of a man. She nearly screamed when two hands grabbed her shoulders, but her words stalled when she looked up into a pair of familiar green eyes.

“Oh! Mr. Sty- Harry,” she breathed. “What…what are you doing here?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Y/N,” he said, squeezing her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Still trembling, her heart beating loudly, Y/N blinked and nodded. “It’s…it’s okay. I thought someone was following me.”

“Oh, well now I do feel terrible.”

“No,” she swallowed, placing a hand over her chest. “Don’t, really. I was probably just paranoid. What with the fog and all.”

“Ah, yes. It is quite a foggy night, isn’t it?” Harry gazed around.

That was when Y/N noticed he wasn’t wearing his glasses. She chuckled nervously as she felt Harry’s hands leave her arms.

“So what are you doing here?” she asked, bracing herself to hear Harry reveal details of his evening.

“Well, I…” he echoed the nervous chuckle, scratching his forehead. “It’s rather embarrassing actually. My plans got canceled.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” Y/N remarked.

“I’m not,” Harry grinned.

Y/N felt the blood rush through her veins at the way he smiled at her. She’d seen him smile many times, but this was different. It was as though a sudden spark had ignited behind his eyes.

“I know there’s a popular pub nearby,” he added. “Fancy a drink?”

Y/N’s eyes widened. Was he seriously asking her? Now?

“Well, I…” she muttered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I um…actually just came from there. Had some drinks with a friend.”

Harry caught himself before saying, “Oh, right.” Don’t be daft, Harry. She can’t know. Not yet. Instead, he cleared his throat. “I see.”

God, you’re a moron, Y/N scolded herself. He’s asking you out and you’re saying no?

“But you know…” Y/N quickly thought on her feet, “I may have a bottle of wine at my place. It’s just up there.”

“Really?” Harry cocked a brow as he turned his head in the direction she pointed.

“Sure. That is, if you’d like to come up.”

Would I? “Um, yeah, that sounds…great,” Harry nodded.

Y/N tried to conceal her delight, giving only a casual grin as she turned toward her building. She could feel Harry’s presence behind her, his shadow taller than hers underneath the streetlamp. It made her feel safe, but at the same time a tiny bit apprehensive. She had never invited Harry - nor anyone from the university for that matter - up to her apartment. She didn’t even think he knew where she lived. And yet…here he was. Just when she’d been thinking of him.

When she reached her front door, she scrambled for her keys, dropping them on the ground.

“Shit,” she cursed, but before she could bend down to retrieve them, another hand held them out in front of her.

“Oh. Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes meeting Harry’s who was already standing beside her, his body so close that she almost gasped.

“You’re welcome.”

Y/N didn’t miss the way his tone was so incredibly low, she felt it vibrate in her chest. She also didn’t miss the way his gaze didn’t leave her face, even when she inserted the key in the door.

“I really need to use the restroom,” she announced as soon as they were inside. “I’m so sorry. That beer I had earlier went right through me.”

“No worries,” Harry chuckled.

“Have a seat,” Y/N gestured with a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she had shut the bathroom door, Harry slipped out of his coat, placing it on the armrest of a nearby chair. He then walked casually around the room, inspecting knick knacks and books on the shelves. Spotting a photo in a frame, he picked it up, Y/N’s smile gazing back at him as he felt a sudden rush. As though he’d been shocked with electricity, he quickly set it back on the shelf.

“Sorry about that!” he heard Y/N sing behind him.

He turned with a smile. Somehow in the few seconds she was gone, she had managed to make herself look even more…inviting. She wore an oversized jumper with the University logo on it and a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants. She couldn’t have looked cuter if she had been dolled up for a night out. But as she stepped closer to him, Harry got a massive whiff of her aroma and nearly stumbled backwards.

“So…wine!” she pointed at Harry with a giggle before turning for the kitchen.

“You know,” Harry swallowed, “we could take a raincheck if you like. I know you’re probably tired and…” His words stalled when he saw the disappointed look on her face.

“I just don’t want to put you out,” he finished.

“Oh, you’re not!” Y/N insisted. Then she reached for glasses in the cupboard, softly adding, “I’m actually glad you’re here.”

“You are?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, sucking in her lips. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Really?” Harry raised a brow.

Y/N felt the color rise on her face as she poured the wine. “I assume you’ve heard of the Halloween party?”

“I have. It’s at that pub, right?”

“Right. Are you going?” Y/N hesitantly handed Harry a glass.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip before making eye contact. “Um, hadn’t really thought about it, honestly.”

“Oh.”

“Why? Are you going?”

Y/N sighed as she leaned against the counter. “I wasn’t planning on it, but…my friend Lauren’s going, and her boyfriend Josh. A couple other people I know said they probably will…so…”

“You don’t have a date?”

Y/N stood up straight, her eyes wide. “Oh, it wouldn’t have to be like a date or anything,” she explained hastily. “Just…you know…thought you might like to go.”

“Ah,” a smirk grew on Harry’s handsome face. Damn it.

“I mean, I’ve never really seen you outside of school other than tonight, and…you totally don’t have to-”

“I’d love to,” he interrupted.

A loud exasperated breath blew from between Y/N’s lips. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Harry continued grinning as he walked around the kitchen counter to stand next to Y/N. “I like Halloween. And I like you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as Harry came closer, his last words hanging in the air. She was almost unsure if she’d heard him correctly. But when he lifted his wine glass to his lips, took a sip and lowered it revealing another smirk, she knew she had.

“You-you do?”

“Of course. I thought I’d made that pretty clear, no?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “actually.”

“Shit. I must be terrible at this then.”

Y/N giggled, covering her mouth. “No. I’m horrible at reading signals, I think.”

Harry’s smirk grew into a wide smile. “Well, I reckon that’s out there now. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Y/N echoed, lifting her glass. When she lowered it, she looked at Harry. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you without your glasses.”

“Yeah? Well, I…” he patted his chest, “have them in my pocket. I only really need them for reading.”

“Oh.”

“Of which we do a lot,” he added, wiggling his brows.

“Yeah,” Y/N chuckled through a sigh. “Well, you look nice. But you look nice with them, too.”

“Thank you.”

Y/N gestured toward the couch, and Harry followed, taking a seat next to her. As soon as he sat down, however, he got another intoxicating whiff of her aroma. He could tell she was nervous, her heart pumping fast. Closing his eyes, Harry took a moment to get his bearings.

No, not yet, he thought to himself. It’s not time yet.

“This is pretty good wine,” he heard Y/N say. Opening his eyes, he saw her gazing into her glass. “I’m not an expert, but I saw it at the liquor store and the guy there said it was good.”

“It’s delicious,” Harry agreed. “You made a good choice.”

“I have to watch myself though,” Y/N giggled, sitting back on the sofa. “I could easily get drunk on this.”

“Yeah?” Harry smirked.

“Mmm,” Y/N nodded as she took another sip. “I can already see myself going there, and I haven’t even finished one glass.”

Harry chuckled as he took his own sip, a rather larger one than hers. Then setting his empty glass on the coffee table, he scooted closer to Y/N. He could feel the heat radiating off of her, hear her pulse beating in his ears.

He watched her face as he reached for her wine glass and set it down next to his. Her beautiful, pouty lips matched the crimson shade of the wine, and his urge to taste them amplified. Lifting his hand, he ran his thumb across her bottom lip until she delicately opened her mouth, inviting his thumb to graze her tongue.

The contact nearly had him on his knees, his desire more than he could bear. Running his tongue along his teeth, he could feel his fangs emerging. He had to taste her. Now.

Now! Or get out!

The voice inside was getting louder. So much that he almost didn’t have the nerve to stop it. So he did the only thing he could do. The only thing that could possibly be done in that moment if he didn’t want to expose the truth.

No, not yet!

Snapping his hand back, Harry quickly rose from the sofa.

“I…I should go,” he said, his throat dry and harsh.

“Oh!” Y/N gasped as she looked up at him, ashamed and bewildered. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be,” Harry shook his head and grabbed his coat. “You did nothing. You’re…you’re enchanting. I just…I have to go. We’ll do this another time, yeah?”

“Okay.”

Y/N followed Harry to the door where he paused for only a moment to look back. She noticed his eyes were glassy, almost clear, bright. She took a step back, astonished.

“I’ll um…see you Monday,” Harry said, lowering his gaze. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Before she could reply, he was gone, like a cloud of smoke in the night. With a sigh, Y/N shut the door.

What had she done wrong?

Monday afternoon was going by slowly. Y/N looked at the clock. It was barely after five. Harry hadn’t uttered a word about what had happened Friday night. In fact, he was being his old self, very cordial and professional. It was driving Y/N crazy. She snuck a look in his direction as he concentrated on his laptop.

Fuck, Y/N sighed to herself. He’s so sexy with those glasses. And the sweater vest? Kill me now!

Harry suddenly looked up from his computer, his eyes locking with hers as if he had heard her thoughts. His lips began to do that little twitch again as Y/N dropped her pen, an obtrusive clattering sound when it hit the floor.

“What?” Harry finally asked with a smirk.

“Um, nothing,” Y/N scrambled, reaching down for her pen.

God, just ask him! Y/N screamed inwardly. What are you waiting for?

Sitting up at her desk, she noticed Harry had resumed his work, typing on his keyboard. With a sigh, Y/N clicked her pen as she tried to concentrate on something else. Something other than the taste of his stupid thumb on her bottom lip and the way his eyes had gone bright as he’d looked into her soul.

Suddenly, Harry chuckled. The sound was low at first, and Y/N wondered if he was reading something humorous on his laptop. But then the sound grew, and he turned his head to look at her.

“What is it, Y/N?” he asked again.

“What do you mean?” she stared, startled.

“You’re clicking that pen like a mad woman. Something’s up.”

Sitting up straight, Y/N slapped the pen down on the desk. “Sorry. I was just…wondering if you’re okay.”

“Me? I’m not the one acting crazy,” Harry joked.

“I mean…after Friday…”

“Oh…” Harry sighed, sitting back in his chair. Then removing his glasses, he rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, about that, I-”

“It’s okay,” Y/N interrupted, clearing her throat. Though she’d asked the question, she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for an answer. At least not the answer she figured she was about to get. “That was probably a mistake. Mr. Styles.”

“Y/N, no,” he shook his head. Then rising from his chair, he walked toward her, stopping at her desk. “Don’t think that. I just…”

His words trailed off as he surprised Y/N by perching himself on the corner of her desk.

“I like you, Y/N,” he confirmed. “I wasn’t lying about that, and it wasn’t the wine. I just feel the need to…take things slow with you.”

Y/N smiled softly. “I understand.”

“I shouldn’t have run off like that though; that was unfair to you. And I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Good,” Harry beamed. “So we’re still on for tomorrow?”

“Mhm,” Y/N nodded, biting her lip. “I hope so.”

“Brilliant. I’ll meet you there, yeah?”

Before Y/N could nod again, Harry leaned forward and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Then he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

“That’s to make up for Friday,” he remarked, his mouth only a whisper away from hers.

“Oh.” Y/N could barely breathe.

“Your lips are delicious. Like that wine.”

Pressing another kiss to her mouth, Harry let out a low, deep groan. Y/N’s chest shook as she was finally able to inhale. When he backed away, she opened her eyes to see his were still closed. She watched as he swallowed hard, his jaw set.

“Harry…” she managed to squeak.

He opened his eyes slowly, and that’s when she noticed. Instead of the glowing crystal shade they had been Friday, they were a deep, dark shade of midnight. Startled once again, she hastily scooted back, her chair scraping against the floor.

“Y/N,” he croaked, slowly blinking. “Please don’t be frightened of me.”

“Your-your eyes!” she gasped. “They k-keep changing.”

“Oh,” Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. They do that sometimes. When I get…excited.”

“Excited?”

“Nothing to worry about, darling,” he reassured her, rising from the desk. “I’m sort of a…freak of nature.”

Y/N could detect the humorous tone in his words. But still, she remained in her seat, a bit frazzled.

“C’mere,” he said, holding out his hand.

Y/N took it hesitantly, allowing Harry to pull her to her feet. Lifting a hand, he lightly brushed her hair from her shoulder. Then she felt him touch her neck, his large hand gliding across it.

“So lovely,” he cooed, his voice just above a whisper. “Delicate, like a China doll.”

When he pulled her closer, she could feel his breath on her cheek. Then he nibbled at her jaw, sending a wave of desire down to her core.

Holy fuck, what is happening?

She gasped when his tongue met her skin, his other hand gripping her waist. She dug her nails into the front of his sweater, not sure how or where to hold on. As he began to suck on her delicate flesh just beneath her ear, she cried out in pleasure.

“Harry…”

Almost instantaneously, Harry pushed her back against the bookshelves. The thud caused a couple of books to fall off and onto the floor, but Harry continued with his seduction. Y/N lifted her leg, wrapping it around Harry’s in order to feel the friction she now so needed. Running her hands through his hair, she heard him growl in her ear.

“Y/N…I need you.”

“Me too,” she gasped.

When she pulled him even closer, tugging on the waistband of his trousers, however, Harry froze. Then he let out a guttural cry, like a wounded animal.

“Aaauuuuggggghhhhhh!” he screamed. “No!”

Pushing himself away from the bookshelf, he stood before Y/N as she remained still, her eyes wide. Harry appeared to be shaking, as though he was willing himself not to go further.

“Harry?” Y/N whispered.

His eyes shut tight, Harry shook his head. Then gritting his teeth, he motioned toward the door. “Go.”

“What?” Y/N asked incredulously.

“Goooo!” Harry shouted.

“Harry, what’s wrong?”

Folded over at his waist, Harry looked like he was trying to catch his breath. Her fear magnified, thinking something was terribly wrong. Y/N stepped forward, reaching for him.

“No!” he cried.

“Harry, you’re scaring me…”

“Just go. Please. You’re dismissed.”

Quickly, Y/N grabbed her jacket and bag and ran for the door. Turning back, she saw Harry, his back to her as he gripped the edge of the bookshelf. She didn’t dare run back to him, though deep inside she wanted to. She was afraid, not for her own safety…but for his.

Y/N stepped out of the English building into the cool evening air. The sun was just beginning to descend. Before making her way to the parking lot, she looked up at the building, to the window she knew was occupied by Dr. Osborne’s department. She saw no sign of Harry. In fact, the lights had been turned off.

Crossing the street, she felt a cold chill down to her bones. What had just happened? Was Harry ill? Or was he really a ‘freak of nature’ like he’d said? Perhaps he was not the sweet, nerdy guy she’d pinned him to be. Maybe he had some serious demons. Though she felt concerned for him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

Harry watched her through the pub window again. She was dressed as an angel, of all things. This was too easy, too perfect.

But he might as well have had his eyes closed. He could hear her blood pumping through the glass. Her pulse was so loud, he could barely contain his excitement.

This was it. This would be the night.

“So you’re sure he’s not coming?” asked Lauren as they sat at the bar.

Y/N wasn’t going to show up herself, but she’d already put together an angel costume that she didn’t want to see go to waste.

“I mean, would you?” Y/N raised a brow.

She’d told her friend about the two episodes with Harry, and how both times he’d backed off. She didn’t go into details, though. Nothing about the eye color changing, or how he’d told her to leave. Some things were better left unsaid.

Lauren shrugged. “You never know. He might still show up.”

Josh returned from playing darts with his friends, declaring a new round of drinks was required.

“I think I might sit this one out,” remarked Y/N.

“No, girl, c’mon!” whined Lauren. “We’re here to have fun tonight. No matter what.”

“Okay, fine,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Two kamikazes over here!” her friend called out.

When Lauren swiveled around on her stool, Y/N caught the look of awe on her face. Then with a grin, she poked Y/N in the arm. Turning around, she spotted Harry entering the pub, dressed in black from head to toe.

“Yes, Daddy!” Lauren remarked under her breath.

“Harry!” exclaimed Y/N. “You came!”

“I told you I would,” he declared, stepping forward. “And I intend to keep my promises.”

“Look at you, man,” remarked Josh. “Great vampire costume.”

Harry looked down at his coat. He knew his fangs weren’t showing. Not yet. He checked his nails to be sure. Nope, clean and short. Raising his head, he heard Josh cackle.

“I mean, it’s subtle. But the eyeliner and clear eyes are effective.”

Ah. So it was the eyes. He couldn’t help that much. They had been glowing since he’d smelled Y/N’s blood. He’d let the lad think he was wearing makeup. It was Halloween after all.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” said Y/N, her sweet voice ringing out like the angel that she was.

Harry’s lips curled up in a smile. “Me too. Brilliant costume.”

The sound of Lauren clearing her throat cut through the moment before she handed Y/N her cocktail.

“What are you having, Mr. Styles?” she teased, giving Y/N a wink.

“Harry, please,” he insisted. “A glass of merlot would be divine.”

“Divine? Oooh, listen to this scholar!”

Y/N made a face, then turned back to Harry.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show up. After yesterday.”

“Yeah, I need to talk to you about that,” he said, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “But later, okay? In private?”

“Okay.”

After Harry received his merlot, everyone made a toast. As soon as “Thriller” began to play, Lauren cheered, pulling Josh off his stool to dance with her.

“They had a head start,” Y/N commented with a giggle.

“No, I’m late, and I apologize. But I can catch up,” Harry winked.

The evening progressed, the foursome sharing laughs and cocktails. Some other people from the university recognized Harry and came over to say hello. As the clock ticked on, however, Harry knew his time was getting limited.

“I need to talk to you now,” he told Y/N. “Walk with me?”

“Oh. Okay,” she slipped down from her stool and announced her departure to her friends.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Lauren teased before waving goodbye.

“Are you okay to walk?” Harry asked once they were outside.

“I think so,” she smirked. “You may need to carry me.”

“I could probably manage that,” Harry chuckled.

The cool night air seemed to help, however, and by the time they rounded the corner of the pub, the couple was holding hands.

“I had a great time,” declared Y/N. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Me too.”

“So what did you want to tell me?”

“First, I wanna show you something.”

Harry squeezed her hand, guiding her to the left behind the pub. Y/N chuckled to herself as she heard the beat of “Time Warp”, the volume getting lower before she and Harry came to the local park.

Harry gestured toward a bench, taking a seat next to her. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself.

“Are you cold?” asked Harry.

“A little. I didn’t bother with a coat because…you know, wings.”

“You’ll be much warmer soon,” he commented.

Y/N turned to give Harry a look but noticed his eyes were focused on the sky.

“What is it?” Y/N inquired.

“Just looking at the moon,” Harry replied. “It’s mystifying, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…I guess.”

Harry could feel his eyes changing already, his teeth sharpening in his mouth. Running his tongue across them, he swallowed hard.

“Do you ever wonder if you’re destined to be something else?” he suddenly asked.

“Um…yeah,” Y/N blinked. “All the time.”

“What would you do if you were immortal?”

Harry turned his head then, and Y/N noticed his eyes were dark, like they had been in the English office. She instantly scooted back on the bench, nearly falling off.

“Please don’t be frightened, my angel. I mean no harm to you.”

“Harry, what’s….what’s going on?” she croaked, her own eyes unable to tear away from his.

Harry reached his hand out, his nails now long with pointed ends. Y/N gasped, her mouth wide open.

“Let me show you, Y/N,” he coaxed, grabbing her hand. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, my love. It’s our destiny.”

Before Y/N could reply, Harry’s mouth covered hers in a deep kiss. He could feel her struggle to break free for just a split second before she melted into the kiss with him. Cradling the back of her head, he deepened the kiss further, his tongue wrestling with hers. He felt her moan against him, and that pleased him.

She grabbed hold of the lapels on his coat, pulling him closer. Wrapping his other arm around her waist, he held her tight as his mouth continued to devour hers. He heard her start to whimper, and he couldn’t help but chuckle low. His angel. She needed him.

Y/N gasped as Harry’s mouth moved to her neck. She felt him nibble along the delicate flesh, her senses reeling. Suddenly, he groaned in her ear, his voice deep.

“It’s time, my angel.”

Time? Time for what?

Before the words could escape her lips, she felt a sharp sting followed by the most blissful, orgasmic sensation she’d ever experienced. The blood in her veins seemed to rush so rapidly, and so loudly that she could hear it, like waves crashing in her ears. She threw her head back as Harry held onto her, his mouth never leaving her neck.

She thought she called out in ecstasy, though she was unsure if it was only in her mind. She grasped at Harry’s arms, needing to feel him, to hold him for fear of falling.

The pleasure began to heighten even more, Y/N’s nails digging into Harry’s coat until she was suddenly cloaked in darkness, as though the world had gone black. 

“Y/N…”

She heard the soft, low coo before she opened her eyes.

“Wake up, angel,” he said.

“Harry…” she whispered, her throat dry. “What…?”

Feeling her tremble, he pulled her close. “Shh, baby. Everything’s okay now. I’m right here.”

“Where are we?” she inquired, gazing around the dark room, filled with lit candles.

“My bed,” Harry grinned.

“Oh.”

And just like that, Y/N didn’t even question it. Being in Harry’s room, with him in his bed felt…natural. Almost like deja vu. Lush linens, the smell of plums and incense. Her warm, naked body next to his. It felt familiar. It was right.

Seeing that Y/N was now content, Harry smiled wide. Then sliding his hand up her side, he cupped her breast. Her eyelids fluttered as she let out a long moan.

“Ah, you’re ultra sensitive now, hmm?” Harry commented as he ran his thumb across her nipple.

“Harry…mmm…”

Rolling onto her side, she pulled him into a kiss, needing to feel him. She sucked on his tongue, grabbed his hard cock. She was hungry with lust.

“Easy, baby,” he panted. “We have all the time in the world.”

“But I need you now,” she explained with a pout.

With a raspy chuckle, Harry laid her back on the bed, hovering over her luscious body.

“I wanna taste you first,” he insisted.

Biting her lip, Y/N nodded. Yes, taste me.

His long body slithered down hers until he was facing her hips and thighs. Her scent permeated the sheets, and he found a moan rising from his throat.

My delicious angel.

Y/N let out a loud cackle when Harry lightly tickled her bare skin along her hips. Harry grinned, knowing her sensitivity was accelerated. But it was not just his touch that had her laughing. It was the mere awareness of everything. Being in the moment. The utter bliss and sexual desire was almost more than her senses could handle.

Harry could hardly contain his desire either. He needed to taste her, to feel her writhing underneath him. But he also wanted to take it slow.

He rutted his head against the inside of her legs, like a dog wanting to be petted. He felt her nails dig into his hair, grabbing his curls just before he began to nibble on her thigh. As her moans got louder, ringing in his ears and throughout the room, Harry wondered how long he could hold out - or better yet, how long she could hold out.

With wild abandon, he let himself be the freak of nature he claimed to be. He heard her squeal before her expletive.

“Holy shit, did you just bite me?”

“Maybe,” he chuckled low. “Did it hurt?”

“Actually…no. Do it again.”

With another grin, Harry ran his thumbs across her bare flesh along her inner thigh.

“I love your skin here,” he commented. “It’s so soft and supple.”

Then lowering his head again, he let his fangs graze down her leg and back up. He felt Y/N tremble beneath him, a small cry rising from her throat. Then very gently, he pressed a little harder, barely piercing the skin.

Y/N moaned in pleasure as Harry licked the area clean, tasting her sweet blood on his tongue. Then he moved his tongue to the task at hand - what he’d come for. Centering his mouth over her mound, he let out a cool breath, tickling her. She squirmed beneath him, her desire silent but apparent. She craved him just as much as he craved her. Then lifting her hips, he brought his tongue to her clit, giving it one quick flick before diving in.

If there was one thing Harry knew he was good at - other than his knowledge of English literature - it was eating pussy. And now that he was a creature of the night, he could do it for hours, for days. Of course, having a sweet angel like Y/N beneath him was all he needed now.

Y/N’s moans began to subside a bit, but Harry knew it was not because she wasn’t enjoying it. On the contrary. She was so enraptured by his talent, she could barely breathe.

Sweet little kitten. He almost felt sorry for her, but not really. He knew this was what she wanted, what she was destined for. He’d felt it the first time they’d met. Her wide-eyed stare when she thought he wasn’t looking. Her cute little shy giggles at every stupid joke he made. The intoxicating aroma of her blood rushing through her veins. And when she’d finally invited him up to her flat…

“Oh my God…” she panted, her nails digging into his head. “Oh!”

Harry hummed against her cunt, tasting her sweet juices. He knew she was close. He’d let her come this time. She needed it. Needed that release. Just this once. Next time he’d make her ride it out longer, because he knew she could.

As his lips took hold of her clit once more, sucking gently, Y/N gasped. Then crying his name, she gushed and came on his tongue, just like he’d wanted.

Her orgasm lasted longer than any she’d had before…not that she could recall even one in that moment. Her chest heaved with breaths as she tried to come down. She felt Harry’s body climb up before he laid down next to her.

“How do you feel, my angel?” Harry cooed.

With a deep, long sigh, Y/N gave a wide grin.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect,” she replied, fluttering her eyelids open to reveal her crystal clear eyes.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! xo

taglist: @daydreaming-laur, @musicforastylesrestaurant, @lillefroe, @be-with-me-so-happily (so sorry if I forgot anyone!!)

[ideas-4-stories]

Very silly, very short story idea, warning for 18+ contents

But Buggy having next to no mouth filter and it simply evaporates wheen he's distracted. He's also unapologetic about his sexuality and preferences, and it's never been a secret that he keeps.

So one day, yes talking to Mohji, Cabaji and Alvida about a shipment they're all planning for some additional wares either for their weapons making or like, maybe even the grocery budget idk.

Crocodile pops up out of nowhere while Buggy is considering alterations to the shipment request, to which the logia user offers a low, "Are you fucking up my plan, clown?"

Buggy, distracted, attention split, shoots back a flippant "Yeah. Why? Gonna spank me for it, daddy? Anyway, I think it would actually be cheaper to move the meat orders to this island in the long term, since it... fits.... all..... oh."

Alvida, Cabaji and Mohji are staring wide eyed and pale at him. He blinks. He thinks for a moment. He stiffens.

A hand settles firmly on his shoulder. Buggy chokes on his next breath as a hot, smoke tinged exhale caresses his ear and face with Crocodile leaning over him so close.

"Call me that again and I'll hit you as hard as you want me to, baby."

Mohji flat out faints, Alvida is looking green around the gills, Ritchie has curled into a ball while Cabaji pinches the bridge of his nose.

Buggy though is a bright red, stuttering mess of a clown.

And if the three commanders happen to see him the next day with bruises and a dopey smile, they pointedly look away and refuse to discuss it

Ahhhhhhh, HOLY STARS!!! I’m with Alvida, Cabaji, and Mohji on this. Shocked to the core! Buggy! Indeed, this is a very funny idea for a fic. I burst out laughing, holy stars! Buggy without a mouth filter especially when he’s distracted. That makes sense for him.

Anyway, Buggy said that and then continued talking about work before slowly realizing what he said. It would funnier if Buggy said it nonchalantly because wouldn’t it be funnier? I think it’s a good thing that Galdino wasn’t there, I think the dude would have a heart attack.

Poor Mohji, the beast tamer couldn’t believe it and he fainted. Then the ending! Alvida, Cabaji, and Mohji looking away, trying to think nothing about it because holy stars! At least Buggy is happy, they aren’t going to say anything and will never bring it up ever again.

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER FOURTEEN: TRIPE

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, child abuse and more (check the tags)

Read after the cut

-

By some sense of duty, or else an undug tendril of guilt, Will volunteers himself to oversee your evening routine alone. You allow him this, being in scant possession of what slim tolerance has borne you through Hannibal’s accompaniment thus far.

Will proves himself to be far less involved than the other man would have been in his stead. He leans against a wall with the nonchalance of a prison warden as you shower blood and spend alike down the receiving drain, allows you to pad into your bedroom, towel-wrapped, to select a clean nightdress and sanitary products with his head turned nobly aside.

You cannot determine if his distance from you is through respect for your condition or some lasting dislike of you, neither of which holds entirely true.

More likely it is that he does not see you as his child, yet, nor quite with the equality of a lover.

Still, as you get into bed he cannot help but come to you, uncertain as he his of his purpose.

“Will you give me a goodnight kiss?” you ask, part in bitter jest, and part in annoyance with his indecision.

That a man can fuck and beat you in throes of black delight and still skulk about like a repentant sinner would have confounded you in the days before you became accustomed to such duality. To what end, and upon what strength the latter side subsists is now the greater puzzle, for it is this that drags its heels and restrains Will from his full devilry.

“Well?” you say, brusquely. “What are you waiting for? Dad’s permission?”

Will gives a hard laugh, one hand kneading the back of his neck.

“I admire your commitment to the part, but you don’t have to keep it up so seriously when it’s just you and me.”

“I promised I would,” you remind him. “Why can’t you? You had no issue kissing me in front of Hannibal. I don’t see why it’s a problem now.”

You see Will’s fingers go to the bridge of his nose, wanting the guard of the eyeglasses he’s neglected to wear.

“It’s not genuine,” he says, flatly. “The only reason you’re asking is to manipulate me.”

“So what?” you say. “Scared that it’ll work?”

“Not scared, no.”

“Sure you’re not.”

There is something hysterical in your tone, the cut string of a trapped and weary madness.

Will examines you, aware of the power play you’re attempting over him, intrigued by it, despite himself. Attracted, even.

His gaze is like a stone in the sun, all heat, all black, all blue.

He knows what revulsion you must push past to test him like this, still slightly high from the forced euphoria of fucking, and the drugs. You’re beyond consideration of the consequences, irrational, barely attached to the tongue and teeth that bite at the air in their ire.

Still Will hangs from your words like a pilgrim knelt before an oracle, dependent on your answer.

“Haven’t you had enough of me kissing you tonight?” he asks.

Sniffing, you turn to face his gargoyle shadow on the wall.

“So it’s a no. You’d make a really terrible father.”

“One...”

“Not my name.”

So Will says it, gently, and you roll back towards him, your heart quick and high behind a rail of bone with the thrill of his appeasement.

Your truce, the union of flesh: they’ve altered Will, for as he looks at you a second time his pupils are the chasms between worlds, wild and deep.

Kneeling up on the bed, you make a trellis of both hands through his curls and clutch him to you in an ungainly kiss. Will stumbles in the force of it, his arms spilling about your back so as not to fall upon you with all his weight.

You gasp against his lips with eagerness to take what he has taken, to fallow the rose flesh of his inner mouth, the lathe of your tongue churning. Will is too surprised to kiss you in return, but as you hitch one leg after the other upon his hips you feel the vine of him against your groin, wanting you again, as always.

You think of him fucking you now, pinning your wicked hands with the nail of his fist as he thrusts through a sheen of blood. Though you despise him still, your loins smart with interest in engineering the act rather than merely suffering it as ever before.

At last Will returns your kiss, but briefly, and with a knowing restraint before he lays you back upon the bed again.

You grasp at his face in an attempt to reclaim his lips. He pushes you lightly away.

“Hey,” he grins. “You made your point.”

“Oh?” you say, coolly. “And what is my point?”

“That I like kissing you. That I want to kiss you, whether Hannibal’s here or not.”

“Right,” you say, twisting a corner of your quilt around one finger for something to do with your hands. “But you never would have picked me. Like, if I was in one of your FBI classes. If I was your student. Would you even have noticed me?”

Will laughs again, with a startled unease, as though the notion is foreign to him.

“Starting affairs with students isn’t exactly my style. I turn up, I teach. That’s it. I don’t get personally involved. Or didn’t, till now. Letting people get close is... uncomfortable for me.”

He glances down at the bunch of quilt in your closed knuckles. Unlike the ever-tactile Dr Lecter, he makes no attempt to take it away.

“So how come you got so close to Hannibal?” you ask. “Didn’t you say you had reservations about him?”

“He saw me even when I was making an effort to turn away. He and I have commonalities I can’t ignore, and enough differences to keep me wondering who he really is. There’s a lot even I don’t know about him, and there are times I wonder what I’m doing letting him in.”

You’re on the verge of another question as Will steps sharply back from the bed.

“We can talk more tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll still be here in the morning. But if you want my thoughts about Hannibal then it’s only fair that you tell me a little about you in return. If this is going to work long-term I need to know who you are.”

Then he goes over to the light switch and closes you in behind a shutter of night.

*

 

You’re roused from the saccharine heat of your bedcovers the following morning by Will rapping on your bedroom door. His face appears in the crevice between it and the frame as though wary to trespass, the broken spell of your desperation in his eyes.

“It’s so early,” you whine, noting the bare line of sunlight beneath the curtains. “And I feel like death, thanks to you and Dad. Can’t I stay in bed?”

“Hannibal just rushed out to an emergency appointment,” says Will. “One of his patients is having some kind of crisis, so it’ll be just you and me for a while. You want coffee? I was about to make some.”

An apology, you think, something to alleviate the swaddled and perspiring misery of your comedown.

“Sure,” you say, weakly. “Black, please. Sweetener, if there is any. The low calorie version.”

Will’s brows rise.

“You think Hannibal keeps that around?”

Reflecting on the little paper sachets that had been favoured throughout high school you say, “Ha. I guess not.”

Within twenty minutes you’re sitting up against your pillows, one hand gripping a delicate, steaming cup, the other soothing your stomach through which bites the first monthly cramp.

Will takes a nearby chair, eyeing the bars on your window as though assuming your daily view through the glass.

Though you loathe him still in his unpredictable oddities, you’re keen to make closer yet the allyship you’ve struck up with him, watchful though he is of that very attempt. If he will not help you escape, then a friendship at least may fortify the sanity you fear will leave you in this quasi childhood.

Will doesn’t seek your regression quite as Hannibal does— a cantankerous teenager is as young as he perceives you, the sick girl that never grew up. This house, then, is a Neverland in reverse, a sumptuous den of brutal sex.

Closing your eyes against such thoughts, you take in your coffee, each dark mouthful a long-acquired taste. You remember forcing back cup after cup of it, trusting it over plain water in the belief that it would burn calories as you drank.

Suddenly you’re acutely nostalgic for the days spent in your childhood room, scrolling through online threads of ailing young women in a community of mutual suffering.

It occurs to you that you may never feel so entirely comprehended without judgement as you were there again. You understand Will rather more through the thought, his convergence with Hannibal a relief to so lonely a monster.

“Tell me about ‘Dad’,” you say, into the silence. “You said you would, last night. Like, who even is he? Where did he come from?”

Will blinks, stirred up from his own brooding thoughts. In the dreary daylight he has the face of a beautiful invalid, all its angles skirted in shade.

“Hannibal’s from Lithuania, originally,” he says. “He had a younger sister, Mischa. She died a long time ago. I don’t know the finer details of what happened to her. She’s the only family he’s ever talked about, and even then it’s been bare bones.”

You sit up straighter, envisioning a young girl with Hannibal’s eyes, and none of his appetite.

“Huh,” you say. “That makes a lot of sense.”

"Hannibal would disagree. He doesn’t put much stock in the past making him who he is.”

“Seems kind of a weird thing for a therapist to say. He’s always digging into mine.”

Will looks at the floor, as though distinguishing some new pattern from the grains in the carpet.

“Hannibal views himself as... separate from other people. Being that he acts outside of ethics and the law in his own profession, I’d guess that what’s between us isn’t his only secret.”

“I’ve tried to tell you,” you say, tapping your coffee cup with bitten fingertips for emphasis. “I’ve known this for so long. But since you’re going along with his games how can you even judge him for whatever horrible things he’s doing?”

“Without knowing what he has or hasn’t done,” says Will, slowly, “I can’t say that I do.”

He gets up from his seat and paces before the window, his hands gesticulating like pigeons frenzied into startled flight.

“You assume that what I’m trying to learn about Hannibal—the core of who he is—is something ugly. But that isn’t what I’m afraid of. It’s the possibility of him lying to me. I don’t know if I could forgive him for that after the bond we’ve made. After what he encouraged me start with you.”

“You shouldn’t trust him,” you say, urgently. “Don’t. You don’t need him.”

Scoffing, Will says, “Jack seems to think I do. Alana— she’s convinced I’m one nudge away from disappearing so far into a case that I kill someone without even knowing it. Hannibal's the only one that doesn’t think of me as broken.”

You consider informing him of his suspected encephalitis, that Hannibal surely withholds this truth and more so as to keep his favour.

In the end you retain your silence; better that Will discovers the manipulation alone and behold how he has been misled upon this trail of darkness.

“Enough about me,” says Will, abruptly. “I know that someone hurt you, long before Hannibal. Before me. Someone you've never forgotten.”

Alarmed by the twist in conversation, you stammer, “I— I already told him some of it. I said I didn’t remember. But I was lying about that. I just don’t know if it was only one, long night, or it happened other times. I don’t know which is worse.”

You pause, slightly breathless. Like a portent from the white lips of some phantom you know that you must tell Will the truth, adhere him to your weeping heart with empathy for you.

“I was just a little kid,” you say. “And he was an adult. Nearly family— I used to call him Uncle Lee. Hannibal probably told you that. Anyway, I got my ‘wrong’ feeling about him way before he did what he did. Like I knew it was coming. Then he came into my room alone one night and... it happened.”

You put down your coffee cup, almost knocking it from the bedside table with the shaking of your hand. Will comes away from the window at once, dragging his chair to your bedside to listen. He neither speaks nor looks into your eyes, aware that you can bear neither without faltering.

“He touched me,” you say, “and the whole time I couldn’t even face him. I don’t even remember what I felt. Maybe I didn’t feel anything at all. Just stared at the ceiling or whatever. He did stuff to me that changed me forever. I felt like a tiny old person in a kid’s body, after that, knowing about things I wasn’t supposed to know.

“And the worst of it was still having to see him after. My parents— I tried to tell them, but I couldn’t get the words out. They just thought I didn’t like him. So he came back to the house, now and then. Never saw any consequences.

“I’ve always wondered if I was the only one, or if there were others. He was a plumber, or something; he could have access to people’s daughters anytime he wanted. Just walk into their room and... you know. I think maybe he did do that, a couple of times. Who knows.”

Your restless fingers pick at the gold embroidery on your bedspread, working it loose from the velvet. One of Will’s hands folds over yours, gently holding them still.

“What I always think about is how he treated me, afterwards,” you say. “I tried avoiding him, but it didn’t always work. One day he cornered me at the top of the stairs— my parents were in the kitchen, so it was just me and him.

“I must have been maybe twelve or so. Not far off thirteen. My body was changing. I was growing up. He said, ‘you’re getting a little chubby, you know. You ought to do something about that before you look like your mother.’

“Then he smiled at me, and just walked into the bathroom like there was nothing wrong with what had just come out of his mouth, or what he’d done to me all those years ago.”

Inhaling an unsteady breath, you try, with dubious success, to smile.

“So now you get why I’m like this. And knowing it wasn’t my fault, that Leland Frost is just a predator... it doesn’t fix anything. Like, where do I go from there?”

“He injured you,” says Will, softly. “And it may never stop hurting. But you can recover. No matter what you believe, it is possible. His shallow cruelty is not your compass. You don’t have to live on the basis of an insult.”

Scowling, you pull away from Will, trapping your hands under your armpits.

“How can I change when I’m reliving what I went through every day? Why does Hannibal think this’ll heal me? Why do you? Oh, yeah. You don’t.”

“I want it to,” says Will.

You snort dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah. Not so long ago you would have punched the air to see the back of me. You don’t want to share Hannibal with anybody.”

Will leans back in his seat, arms folded; it takes a moment for you to register that he is, by some subconscious impulse, copying your posture.

“I’m not sharing Hannibal with you,” says Will. “I’m sharing you with him. And I want to do that. You knew it before I did.”

His gaze snaps to yours, more arresting than his hands on you had been.

“You’re more like me than I cared to admit. Hannibal was right about that. And though everything about you should repulse his sensibilities he finds you adorable. You clearly don’t appreciate it, but there it is.”

You yearn to deny him, to condemn this speech as sophistry, but you are silent, as much a congregant to him as he has been to you.

“Leland Frost tore you down because he saw that you were growing up and away from him,” says Will. “He knew that one day you’d have a life, and achievements, and people that really cared about you. He was going to fade out of your world, and he couldn’t stand not leaving a mark.”

“I just don’t get it,” you whisper. “He loved me. Why did he do it?”

Will shifts his chair even closer to the bed so as to lean into you, his expression tender, tragic, sombre with a father’s sympathy.

“Leland never loved you, and that’s no reflection on you or your worth. It makes him weak, that he could throw away the relationship he had with you over an urge.”

You don’t have the strength to rage against the whited sepulchre in Will, not when he speaks the truth you’ve always yearned to hear from another. Pain winds through your body, throat to gut, great, twisting pulses, as though eviscerated on a blade of past.

What advice would Will give for you to survive what he and Hannibal have done, and will do?

Nothing. Not a word. He knows that the structure of the home, even comfort from those that afflict you has changed you in so short a time. Your desperation to be gone from him he senses, too, and with it your lust to be loved.

Will holds your hand for a long time before he speaks again, on another subject quite as dreary as the last.

“When you said it’d been years since you...”

“Since I last had my period?” you ask, touching your stomach through the sheets. “Yeah. It has been.”

Your body, the betrayer, making a scarlet banner of your betterment through cruelty.

“I never wanted it to come back. Having it again means I’m not as sick anymore, and that’s like... messing up for me.”

Will's head tilts, his face carved up by the shadows thrown from your barred window into a lattice of snow.

“Failing to die is barely a failure at all,” he comments.

You shrug yourself further under your bedcovers.

“It is if what’s happening to you is something worse,”

“Is it always so bad, being here with us?”

Will’s hand rises. Doesn’t quite touch your face. You turn your head away, but not cruelly; he’s not a bad man, you decide, only contorted so utterly from the ways of his fellows that he is some creature other, or from before, the flint-armed hunter of the caves.

And like such a creature, he seeks your answering affection for want of some warmth in the dark beginning of the earth.

You allow him to kiss your forehead, clumsily, inclined towards him as though you were not both aware of the fiction that allows this contact.

He can only guess how far you’d run from this, had you your chance. How readily you’d betray him.

*

 

You’re much recovered by the time Dr Lecter returns, having been hydrated and energised by a selection of unnamed supplements Will had you take with lunch; there is a cure for every ailment in the makeshift laboratory of the kitchen, it seems.

Hannibal discovers you at your usual perch of the parlour couch, writing in your journal with a blanket tucked loosely around you against the October cool.

Will stands to greet his companion, setting aside a book you’d offered him from your shelf to peruse, its cover depicting the bloody half-brain of the sun on a desert horizon.

“I didn’t expect our charge to be in such high spirits,” says Hannibal, with unmasked surprise. “Thank you for caring for her this morning, Will. I’m aware that whatever time you can spare for us in the midst of an investigation is very precious.”

Likely aware of your eyes on him, Will says, “I’m glad I stayed. I appreciated the company. How’s the other patient?”

“Suitably quieted. I doubt that I’ll be called away again on her behalf. Still, I made the most of the journey home.”

Hannibal reaches into a shopping bag looped over one arm and produces from it a wrapped package of fresh meat, marbling the paper with blood.

Grimacing, you say, “Ew. What is that? Looks like an organ.”

“It is. I’ll be making trippa alla romana tonight. It’s an Italian dish made from cow stomach. Don’t turn your nose up till you’ve tried it. Have I served anything to you yet that you haven’t enjoyed?”

*

After dinner, all three of the household recline, full and talking lazily before the fire. Had your company been any other than your abusers you would almost be content, for having been allowed to leave the table after a valiant half plate you are not so guilt-soaked as you’d have been had you finished it all.

You had, in fact, disliked the meal, a first in Hannibal’s house. The thought of the organ, plucked from the rib of a butcher’s shelf, had struck bile to the back of your mouth from the first bite.

A cup of chocolate, warmed to a froth and unadorned with cream is set in your hands instead, which you drink in feline licks to make it last.

Will’s phone shrills abruptly in his pocket. Frowning, he glances at the lighted oblong of its screen and starts at a familiar name.

“It’s Jack,” he says. “I’d better take this.”

He promptly exits the room, speaking with clipped tones into the device.

Alone with Hannibal, you become acutely aware of him looking at you, not quite with suspicion, but not so far from that.

"I see that you and Will are becoming close,” he says, at last. “I’m glad to see it.”

Humming vaguely, you snatch up the journal again and weave your pen about in a pretence of writing.

Hannibal says, "Still, it saddens me that—for all your pretty words of promise—you display a lesser willingness to befriend me.”

You do not answer, pressing your pen so hard against a page that it blots through to the other side.

"Put your journal down a moment, Little One,” says Hannibal. “I’m speaking to you."

Without looking up, you answer, "I don't know what you want me to say."

"You needn't say anything at all. It's your behaviour I wish to change."

In a flounce of irritation you throw the journal upon the floor, its spine creasing.

“I do what you say, and I don't fight you anymore,” you say. “Isn't that daughterly enough?"

"For the purposes of your treatment,” says Hannibal, “it is not. You remain closed to me, parted only by narcotic aid. I'd prefer you to open to me of your own volition. With Will, you prove yourself increasingly capable of that.

“I’ve given you all you’ve asked for, and more, and yet you show little gratitude. I wouldn’t wish to remove these luxuries for you to appreciate my endeavours.”

You look at him, then, this man both jealous and performing jealousy to groom you into his concubine, and in looking see that he will deconstruct your room into the barest cell, should he not have his way.

"I do appreciate what you’ve given me," you hastily protest. "I do, Daddy. You don’t have to take anything away. But I— I just don’t know you the way I know Will.”

“But you do,” says Hannibal, rising to sit beside you, a dangerous proximity. “That’s why you are so afraid of me, is it not?”

You begin to object, trailing off at the sound of approaching footfalls as the younger of your captors returns, listing in the churning swell of stress.

“It's the investigation,” says Will. “Another doll’s been found. Savannah Belmont. It’s too soon to be the Lover’s kill. He has a cool off point between each abduction.”

Hannibal straightens in his seat, rapidly alert.

“A copycat, then.”

Will nods, his throat tightening. His eyes touch your face briefly, and you offer him a small, close-lipped smile, an extension of comfort from across the room. His shoulders drop from their rigid line, and when he speaks again the frantic note in his voice is tempered slightly.

“Definitely a copycat,” he says. “The Lover disposes of the dolls by throwing them into rivers like garbage. No attempt to lay them to rest. Savannah was put on display, placed in a chair on a dirt bank as though she was waiting to be found.

“Both killers meant to degrade their victims, but only the copycat’s is implied to understand and accept that humiliation. Savannah Belmont died aware of her inferiority in the eyes of her murderer.”

You find yourself sitting on your hands to prevent them from betraying your agitation with their unsteadiness. Your leg, however, you cannot control, the right foot gyring an inch above the floor.

Hannibal eyes it without speaking, folding your reaction into the lengthy tome of his mind.

“The victim’s stomach was missing,” says Will, turning to pluck a bottle of whiskey from a nearby cabinet like some bronze fruit. “That’s new. The Lover’s mutilations are all with the purpose of fitting the bodies of his victims inside their silicone casings. He has no surgical skills.

“This new killer obviously has expertise. Savannah’s stomach was cut precisely from her body with the clear intent of taking it as a trophy.”

“Her stomach?” you repeat.

You feel the heaviness of meat within you and are chilled by the coincidence.

Hannibal could not have known what the copycat would take to reference it, could not have known of his existence to begin with, and yet as you glance at him under your lashes you don’t quite trust the seriousness of his expression, his eyes gleaming dimly as tarmac in the rain.

“You mustn’t worry, Little One,” says Hannibal, turning to lift you up onto his lap. “The Lover can’t hurt you. We will protect you, always.”

He settles your head against his chest, which resounds with the slow beat of his heart and the machinery of organs digesting his own rich meal.

The monster knows of your renewed distrust and is unthreatened by it, declawed and tooth-filed as you are by his influence over you and all the passageways of the world you’d otherwise cross in your escape.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy,” you mutter, against his shirt, and the warmth of Hannibal’s palm cups your buttocks with a tormenting friction, both threat and tease at once.

While you hate him—are in terror of him, always—your form is increasingly enamoured by his touch as though it knows that it must be so, or die.

“No need to thank me for performing my duty to you, Little One,” says Hannibal, into your ear. “For you belong to me, and to Will, and you must never forget it.”

[carlos-in-glasses]

Where All This Love Comes From

I'm so excited to share what has been known as Flashback Fic! 107k words, with all 14 chapters here on Ao3, rated E.

Six months after Gabriel Reyes’ death, TK grows concerned about Carlos’ drinking and brings him to a meeting at the Y. Afterwards, over omelets at the diner, the husbands open up to each other. TK reflects on meeting Carlos after years of addiction and self-destruction, while Carlos has continued to seek closure by uncovering two unknowns: The identity of his father’s killer, and how his father truly felt about Carlos as his son.

************************************************

Carlos puts his arms around him from behind and holds him still, kissing his neck. TK tries to twist in Carlos’ grip, but he won’t let him. He starts walking him towards the bedroom. “I’m desperate for you,” TK says, his blood hot, cheeks red, eyes pricking with tears. “I know.” “Make me forget everything.” “I will.” “I only want to think about you.” “You will.” Carlos stops for a breath. He smells TK – his clean hair, his evanesced cologne, his natural man scent, his salty tears that have imbued his skin, the sweat of stress. Sad, but still beautiful to Carlos. TK, delicious. “I never thought I’d have you. I never thought–” he can’t speak anymore.

***********************************************

Chapter 1: A Trail to Follow

In 2023, TK discovers something that triggers memories of heroin withdrawal seven years before – and Carlos makes amends with Gutiérrez after accusing him of his father’s murder.

Chapter 2: A Very Nice Sweater for the 'Y'

TK takes Carlos to the N.A. meeting – but when things don’t go as hoped, he instigates another method to get Carlos talking.  

Chapter 3: Snowballing

A messy situation in 2010 causes TK as a high school junior to lash out. In 2023, Carlos realizes it's time to tell TK about one more secret. 

Chapter 4: Original Sin

In 2013, Carlos accidentally destroys Gabriel’s oldest friendship. Nine years later, he attempts to make peace after he and TK get engaged.

Chapter 5: Between Two Bridges

In 2022, a grieving and struggling TK is compelled to talk to Owen about his 2020 overdose, which leads him to remember when his addiction nearly killed him years before. In 2023, TK asks Carlos about his history with alcohol. (Note: Chapter features TK using and gets fairly graphic)

Chapter 6: One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor

TK and Carlos compare notes on when they first came out – with Carlos spiraling in 2011 after an unexpected outburst, while TK in 2008 is embraced (and embarrassed) by his parents. In 2021, both handle the raw days of their breakup differently too.

Chapter 7: A Boy's Best Friend

In 2009, Gabriel attempts to connect with his increasingly distant and unhappy teenage son. In 2013, the fallout of Carlos leaving Iris has begun, and he knows his relationship with his parents will never be the same. In 2023, TK tries to talk to Gabriel about the bombshell revelation that Carlos doesn’t want kids.

Chapter 8: Your Heart, As If It Was My Very Own

In 2011, TK is left bewildered after he loses his virginity. Years later, with Carlos, TK's mind (among other things) is blown in a whole new way. In 2022, TK has an important conversation with a certain visitor when he wakes from his coma.

Chapter 9: Coffee with Gutiérrez

In September 2023, Carlos seeks an important but painful truth from Gutiérrez, and finds an unexpected ally within the 126. Two months later in Blue Moon Diner, TK gets ready to tell Carlos more about his past in New York.

Chapter 10: The Day Begins Like Any Other

In 2016, after TK experiences an assault and sees an old friend again under devastating circumstances, he makes a life-altering decision when his dealer suggests he try something new. In 2009, TK is attacked at school. (Note: Please heed the tags and the chapter note. Reader discretion advised. Look after your hearts).

Chapter 11: Lonely as a Sparrow in the Rain

When Carlos confesses to TK about where he went with Judd back in September – and why – TK has to tell Carlos something he won't want to hear. In 2014, a rift develops when Carlos shows off his new Camaro to his parents.

Chapter 12: Happy For You, Son

Before moving to Austin, TK falls out with his parents over his relationship with Alex. In December 2020, it's a different story as Carlos hosts Owen and Gwyn for TK's birthday meal. In 2012, Carlos has some unexpected news for his own parents, but Michelle tries to intervene. When TK and Carlos get engaged a decade later, Gabriel has something to say about it.

Chapter 13: The Risk of Love

In May 2023, Owen and TK save a spiraling Carlos from making the biggest mistake of his life when he thinks he’s found his father��s killer. In 2020, TK and Carlos become boyfriends beneath a sky full of aurora borealis.

Chapter 14: A Night Worth Celebrating

On a rainy night in 2020, TK and Carlos meet for the first time. In 2023, weeks after their big talk at Blue Moon, TK celebrates his thirtieth birthday with his husband, their family and their friends by his side – and Carlos is a little bit better at sharing his secrets.

Read on A03

[stu-dyingstudent]

Sakura fic recs: captured on a mission/mission gone wrong

Okay, I'm going to be completely honest with y'all, I'm really just recommending stuff by my favorite tropes lmao. Quite honestly, mission gone wrong just makes things so much more entertaining. Poor Sakura though, this girl just can't catch a damn break.

Now, I should point out that there are MANY Sakura fics out there were the mission goes wrong, but in this list I am only going to put ones where that is the primary focus of the series.

Started: 2024.07.23

Last Updated: 2024.07.25

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!

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Survival of the fittest - cywscross || ao3 || T || shikasaku || mission gone wrong || one shot

Sakura is thirteen, still a Genin, lost in the middle of Earth Country, lugging an unconscious Chuunin around, and so far beyond scared that she’s moved right on to pissed off.

Survival of the Fittest is a fabulous one-shot that follows the trouble that Sakura and Shikamaru find themselves in after accidentally landing themselves in Iwa. This story depicts the characters truthfully and fully conveys exactly how hopeless they feel in their situation. I highly recommend.

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The Ocean is Deep and Dark - Pleasedial123 || ao3 || M || captured || complete

Gato doesn't trust Zabuza to get the job done. Instead he sends a team of thugs to ambush the Bridge Builder on his return to Wave. Team Seven, exhausted from their fight and Kakashi still unconscious, is separated. Sakura gets captured.Terrible things happen to pretty girls in the hands of men like Gato and his thugs.But Zabuza puts his claim in first and suddenly Sakura isn't the prisoner of a civillian businessman and his hired muscle. Suddenly she's Momichi Zabuza's.

I won't lie, I have a soft spot for fics that take place during the land of waves arc, especially when they focus on Sakura's growth. I love how Zabuza was portrayed in this as although he wasn't necessarily a bad guy, he wasn't a good one either. He simply has morals. Sakura's fear in this is also quite raw and eye opening as it covers a theme that isn't ever covered in the original series. The reality is, the world is not kind to women, and a captured young female ninja is most certainly going to be at some untasteful risks. Oh, team 7's concern was also pretty touching ngl.

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With Every Beat - halfdemonfan || ffn || sasusaku || M || canon divergent || incomplete

Pain can come in various forms. Sakura had suffered all of them; but with the war raging on she found the torture would continue.

If I'm completely honest, With Every Beat probably isn't the best rec for this trope since from what I remember Sakura is not captured for too long. I never did get very far reading this so I don't have too much to say, but it takes place during the war arc and is an interesting take.

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Ripples - Yellow Mask || ffn || sasusaku || T || captured || complete

Following a botched mission, Sakura is made a slave by Sound, a position that could very well alter the future…especially concerning a certain familiar missing-nin.

Ripples is probably one of the og mission gone wrong/captured Sakura fics, as far as I am aware, but it's pretty good! On her way back from a mission, she manages to get captured and is taken to Orochimaru's hideout. Super interesting to see as Sasuke is still with the sanin at this time.

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The Pack Survives - ihopethelightwillshineupon || ao3 || team 7 || mission gone wrong || complete

When a simple C-rank mission turns into a straight-up nightmare, the members of Team Seven narrowly escape with their lives. They end up stuck in the middle of nowhere, each of them injured and forced to rely on one another for help.They’ve only been a team for a couple of weeks, still distant from one another, still trying hard to prove themselves. But when they’re all hurt and struggling desperately to survive, they have no choice but to lower their walls.Stranded far away from the village, Team Seven fights to get back home safely – but with help impossibly far away, with their food supplies shrinking and with their injuries slowing them down, their journey becomes more difficult with every step.In the wake of their struggle, though, their bonds grow steadily stronger.

Sakura is not the main character in this one as it it more focused on team 7 as a whole, but she still has some great development! Essentially, in typical team 7 fashion, they find themselves in a bit of a pickle during a mission and it results in some great bonding between them.

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An Inch of Gold - KuriQuinn || ffn || sasusaku || T || mission gone wrong - time travel AU || complete

Team 7 is sent on a mission to investigate a disturbance outside of the village, where they encounter an unconscious girl in a crater. The mysterious Sarada insists she's a shinobi from the Hidden Leaf trying to rescue her teammates. When the team discovers she possesses a Sharingan, things become even more unbelievable. [Part of the Legacy of Fire Series]

Somehow, the Boruto and Naruto timelines interconnect and Sarada literally falls into team 7's mission. Things only get worse from there. The writing captures the personalities of the characters so well and I'm a complete sucker for the whole Sarada meets Sakura and Sasuke trope!! Sasusaku is super cute in this (while being realistic) and I love how Kakashi is such a shipper. Also, this is a multiple perspective fic.

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Dirt and Ashes, or: The One-and-a-Half Body Problem - Tozette || captured || gen || M || canon divergent || complete

The invasion of Konoha during the chuunin exam didn't fail. Team seven is broken, people are dead, and Sakura is hurt and frightened and a very long way from home.Alternative summary: In which Sakura carries half of Hidan across two countries, leaving a trail of blood, bodies, and other people's legs.

This one is pretty gross tbh, but I highly recommend!

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Only a Crush by Gingersoup || ao3 || kakasaku || M || canon divergent || complete

It was supposed to be an easy, fun night out. She never intended to wake up in her sensei's bed, half-naked and with no memory of what happened the night before! As she tries to unravel the mystery of that night, something sinister is growing beyond the walls of the Leaf Village... and what was only a crush spirals wildly out of control.

I can't really say much without spoiling, but Sakura is unwillingly thrust into the world of illegal drugs, trafficking, and sex all while coming to terms with her new feelings regarding her former sensei. I typically don't like kakasaku, but I think this work is done tastefully well. The characters are both adults and the immorality of the relationship is not ignored, so be prepared for a lot of "we can't," "this is wrong," etc.. Anyway, Sakura is an absolute powerhouse and I thoroughly enjoyed the relationship between all of the different characters and villages!

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Got Nothing to Prove (but I'ma show you how I do) - GuardianMars || ao3 || gen || T || mission gone wrong || incomplete

Civilians and orphans are always used as cannon fodder. Sakura’s not sure where she first came by this phrase. Whether she heard it or read it, she can’t quite remember, but it stuck in her head and it stays in the back of her mind whenever Team 7 takes a mission. When Sakura and Tenten get placed on a temporary team looking into a series of kidnappings of local village girls, Sakura is naturally worried. She doesn't want to be cannon fodder. When the mission goes to pot, Sakura and Tenten find themselves far away from home and with only each other to rely on. As it turns out being cannon fodder is the least of their worries.

Genin Sakura and TenTen are sent on a mission due to their unimpressive lineage and things go wrong. This is a bit of a mystery where details of the mission are uncovered as the series progresses and is seen from the prospective of both the girls and their sensei's who are desperately trying to bring them back.

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The Storm Beneath - CrimsonEden || ao3 || gen || T || mission gone wrong || one-shot complete

Sakura skidded to a halt. “Sensei?” she choked out, voice raw and painful. Kakashi made no reply. His eyes stared desperately up at her, as if he thought that she was going to disappear if he looked away. One of his hands reached out slowly, like he wanted to touch her face, to check to see did she was really there. His eyes were glazed over and his chest was heaving from the force of his heavy breaths. She stood there frozen, unsure of what to say or do. How could things have gone so wrong? . . . . . A simple mission goes horribly wrong, and Team-7 finds themselves stuck in the wilderness injured and facing Kakashi’s past demons. POV Kakashi and Sakura.

Team 7's mission gone wrong not just lands them in a complete disaster physically and politically, but also uncovers some of Kakashi's trauma. Really well written and focuses a lot on the team bonding, primarily Sakura and Kakashi, which I love.

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Team Seven and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Roadtrip -Transformatron || ao3 || gen || T || captured || incomplete

No chakra. No allies. Captured by an unknown enemy a thousand miles from home, Team Seven must work together if they want to survive - which, if you ask Sakura, puts their life expectancy at approximately one week. If she’s feeling generous.

Team 7 is captured and the enemy is trying to get information out of them by any means possible. Follow them as they try to escape.

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final exams coming up! - waterpllar || ao3 || gen || M || captured || complete

Kakuzu can name numerous reasons why Hatake Kakashi could make him an excellent profit, most of which involve the numerous organizations he's sabotaged. Specific figures would certainly be willing to pay very well for free reign to relieve their violent frustrations on one of the most notorious jounin in the Bingo books. Such a business would only function with a healer on hand, but it just so happens that a vast majority of shinobi teams have a healer, and there is a pink-haired genin without a bloodline limit or bijuu on the team. What he did not anticipate is that the Copy-nin's teaching might be so remiss that he hadn't trained said genin in any iryo-ninjutsu whatsoever. Kakuzu does not like making oversights, and he decides to remedy this fact immediately (unluckily for sakura).

Kakuzu captured Sakura and Kakashi in an attempt to make money (of course) off of Kakashi's many enemies and Sakura is forced to learn medical ninjutsu in order to keep him alive. Although this is marked as complete and could be considered that to those who read it, the ending is not very conclusive tbh (I wanted more).

Edit: ok this actually just got updated even though it’s marked as complete, so ig it’s still ongoing?? Maybe???

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New Day Dawning - IncompleteSentanc (Erava) || ao3 || narusaku || T || captured || complete

One day, while visiting the grave of Nohara Rin, Obito stumbles across a young girl terrifyingly like her. He decides to ensure she doesn’t meet the same fate. As for Sakura? Sakura had no idea what she was awakening the day she went to visit her parents graves - but she never looked back. One way or another.(Feat. Sakura raised by Obito and the Akatsuki, and her eventual return to Konoha and all those she left behind)

Sakura is brainwashed and manipulated, but loved by notorious killers nonetheless. Incredibly well written and I won't lie when I say that the ending took me a bit by surprise.

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Your childhood home is just powder-white bones (and you'll never find your way back) - Dovey || ao3 || gen || M || captured || complete

Sasuke is not the only one who worries he's getting too comfortable in his genin life. Itachi decides to add another motivator to Sasuke's revenge plans by kidnapping the teammate who wasn't a charismatic Jinchuriki. Sakura is used to being an objective for those around her, not a person, but even for her this is a little much. In which Sakura is held captive and learns what a genjutsu specialist can do to a person's mind, that sharks can actually make great friends, joins a dying clan, and gets regifted multiple times before she's finally strong enough to fight back. *while this fic contains explicit and graphic torture, there's no sexual assault.

Okay, this was actually a really hard read for me. We truly see Sakura's decline in this as she slowly loses her mind and it is very frustrating to see what has happened to her. Nonetheless, it is extremely well written and great is you want something dark.

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Freedom in the Eyes of Another - Oroburos69 || ffn || gen || M || captured || complete

The Wave Mission was a failure. They got caught, captured, taken-it didn't end well. Now Sakura has a half-heard order, uncut fingernails, and more desperation than bravery. One way or another, she's getting Team Seven out today. Complete.

I actually can't believe that I forgot to add this the first time I wrote this list! Anyway, team 7 is captured on the mission to Wave and Sakura takes Kakashi's mumble and runs with it! Pretty interesting as we get some nice team bonding and there are some other popular character appearances too.

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Like always, please send me recs if you have any!

[alien-magnolia]

Mine and His <3

Fic Description: As a background type scientist, you aren’t very special in the world of Pandora. That changes, when you are noticed by Jake Sully, and fortunately, his rival, Colonel Quaritch. 18+ MDNI!!!

Tw: Implied non-con, power dynamics, dom-coded! Jake sully + Miles Quaritch, sub-coded hyperfem!reader, fingering, Jake/Quaritch talking down to reader/ bimbofication, ownership, major size kink bc human reader.

A/n: this turned out way longer than I thought, and I originally meant to post it on Christmas.its a bit hard for me to consistently post now. Anyways, merry belated Christmas/ holidays, and hope yall enjoy my first time bringing the very (hot) Miles Quaritch to life!! Don’t we love the balance between a young Jake Sully and an older Miles Quaritch <3 I am planning to make a part two with more intense smut! Stay tuned! (this was lacking a bit 😭) alsooo pls help a gorl out and reblog if you like this!!

The moon rose above you as you made your way to the forest, your mask in tow, and your boots. You were meeting Jake at the edge of the forest. He would not want you to venture in alone. Your tiny human form could not take it, as he would say. The Na’vi man was extremely possessive over you. The leaves rustled amongst the wind, bioluminescent crickets danced in the air.

You stand still as the ferns brush against your leg, wondering where your Jake was. You came to Pandora as a sort of background character — always behind the scenes, never noticed, usually brushed to the side. You were apart of the anthropological and religion team, researching and observing Na’vi culture, religion, and social relations and norms.

Every morning, you rose from your cold, metallic, cot, put on your oxygen mask, and worked at the lab from 8-5. Sometimes you would be invited into the community to learn, yet you never lingered around too long. The other scientists were more fluent in Na’vi than you were, and so, they would make a better impression.

It was only until one night, where the half-moon rose and shone over the sky, swirled as if it was cotton candy, was the night where you became noticed. You, made an impression.

~ Three months ago ~

You stayed to observe a Na’vi ritual, one called the “Sun Dance,” where one ingests a hallucinogenic worm in order to have a vision of their fate for the future, their destiny. This ritual served to breach the gap between the sacred and the normal, the ordinary, to alter reality in which a religion exists everywhere — not only in a book or a house. This was Na’vi religion — Animism.

You enjoyed the ritual and truly felt that you were starting to grow connected with the community. However, you were still a bit unfamiliar with the forest, and accidentally happened to wander onto a slippery log — that also acted as a bridge for a deep canyon below. Your tiny human feet stumbled across the bridge, and then slipped. You landed on your stomach, then realizing the vast canyon below — and that you would face sudden death if you were to drop into it. You screamed out in pain as a branch pierced your leg. You hear heavy steps behind you, you pass out.

You wake up beneath a bioluminescent large plant, with its long tendrils gently swaying over your face. You feel something on your leg, and look to see quite a handsome Na’vi man tending to your thigh, which had a large scrape on it.

“Hey. You’re awake. Almost fell there, girl.” You study his features a bit more. His hair is long, black, his eyes a deep yellow. Chiseled jaw, veiny arms, and wide shoulders <3 adorned with an interesting necklace. You muster the courage to speak to this beautiful man in front of you.

“Yes, I — um, sorry. I should have been more careful. I’m still a bit unfamiliar with the forest, although I’ve done many studies here,” you explain to him. “S’alright. I can take you back to your home base, if ya like,” the man offers, his tail swishing a bit. He must have been excited to talk to you. You blush at the note of attention from him, and agree.

The two of you begin walking back, the Na’vi man stopping momentarily to make sure there were no creatures of harm nearby. You learned his name was Jake. Jake Sully. You watch his long braid sway from side to side, like a pendulum, as you walk behind him. The two of you have been talking, sharing your stories, your journeys, what brought the two of you to Pandora, respectively.

“Was a marine, when I first came here. I was trying to pay for my surgery, to well — get my legs back. M’sure you know, the RDA loves screwing everyone over. ‘Specially me,” Jake explained to you, as he led you through the dark, softly glowing canopy of trees.

“So you weren’t very good at school, then, I assume,” you snicker, trying to poke a bit of fun at him. “And you are?,” he retorts back, emitting a deep hearty laugh, a sound you liked. “I do have a PhD, yes,” you giggle a bit as you look to see his reaction. He only huffs, yet you swore you could see a little smile behind that stoic face of his.

The two of you continued to walk back and engage in this somewhat flirtatious banter. He led you back to your lab, wishing you a goodnight.

“Jake, wait,” you touch his arm as he was about to leave, and he flinched, his ears folding back. He turns to you. “I would want to see you again. It would be nice, I think,” you offer, hoping he would take the initiative. “Hmm. Doubt it. You stay safe, miss PhD,” he retorts, and runs off into the forest.

Yet you wouldn’t take his “doubt it” for an answer.

The following night, you ventured again into the forest, hoping to find him. You might as well take a few pictures, hoping to find your way into the Omaticaya village. You did not find your way there, and instead ended up running into a few creatures. Jake saw, luckily, and saved your “prissy lil’ self” (as he called it) again.

Nights with Jake became a regular occasion. Although you and him had more of a fair share of differences, you found it to be true, that opposites attract.

————

~ Present Day ~

You smiled as you remembered how you first met him. The two of you only went on ‘dates’ together, where he would show you an interesting place he liked in the forest, or take you on a ride on his ikran. Nothing more, just conversation.

Yet, the more you got to know him, the more you wanted him. In a way that surpasses conversations or dates. You really had hoped that tonight, you could go further.

Everything about him was just perfect. His shining eyes, his strong arms, his beautiful voice that made you feel so safe <3.

You hear his footsteps behind you. “Babygirl. How’s my favorite scientist doing?,” he chuckles, his big hands gently gripping your face, giving you a kiss on top of your head. “Good,” you giggle, reaching up to give him a hug. You always have felt so safe in his arms.

“Where are we off to tonight?,” you curiously poke at him as he leads you over a bridge — the both of you hearing the gentle splash of the pond below. “You’ll see, hun. Somewhere real special,” he reassures. Where could this place be? How exactly could you get here, to be spending time with this beautiful Na’vi man, who possibly could be yours??

The anticipation was simply too much to handle. “Wanted t’a bring ya here, to ask somethin’. Was thinkin’ you see, that you could become a true member of the Omaticaya. Pass all our tests and all,” he says, while you lean your head on his shoulder.

You think on it for a bit. “But why, Jake? It would mean that I need a Na’vi body…,” you trail off. “Exactly. Ever since the day I met you, sweetie, I wanted you to be mine. You’re just too goddamn adorable for your own good,” he chuckles. “Can’t make you mine though, officially, without you becoming a tuté (woman) of our people. You will prove yourself to the Tsahik. We will mate, then. For life. You’ll be mine, girl,” he smiles warmly at you.

You agreed, overwhelmed with happiness!! “My Jake, why can’t we mate now?,” you ask, although as a Pandoran anthropologist, you knew the answer. Your human body was no match for his Na’vi strength. If you were to mate now, not only would it be against Omaticaya customs, his sheer power would most likely kill you!!

“Thought you knew the answer there, Miss PhD,” he teases. “How’s about this. I give you a little taste of what’s to come if you join the people of the forest,” his voice shifts to a deeper tone, his eyes a bit hooded now.

A large blue hand the size of your head gently grips your face, turning you towards him. His soft lips plant a few kisses on the top of your head, moving down to your neck. All of a sudden, your oxygen mask gets a little too hot for your face <3 your heartbeat quickens as well.

“Jake…I’d love nothing more than to join the Omaticaya,” you pant, in between breaths as he continues his ministrations. “That’s my good girl. See if those scientists of yours can make you an avatar. Want you to be mine,” he purrs, with a bit of a darker undertone as his large hands squeeze and grope the plush curves of your body — to the point where it’s painful.

You pant and squeal as his fingers trace patterns on your soft tummy, his large face planting a few kisses there as well. “Love this human body, babygirl. Bet your Na’vi one would be even better…,” he praises you. <3

His fingers were getting lower and lower, tracing circles on the hem of your waistband. “Jake…,” you pant out. “Want you…,” a cry, a plea for help. You had no idea how intense your fervor was for him, until now.

“Can’t give you all of me, hun. You can’t take me yet, m’ too big for you. Don’t want ta hurt your pretty little body,” he chastised you, his yellow eyes full of concern.

Just about when you were to agree, to let him give you a taste, that taste that you’ve been waiting for, that taste that your heart (and other parts of you) ached for, the two of you heard a rustling behind, in the bushes.

Out step two steel toed boots, a blue RDA uniform. At first you thought it was someone human — you were surprised to see that it was a Na’vi man wearing the suit. You quickly try to hide, using Jake’s wide chest as a safe haven.

Jake’s eyes burn with rage, disgust. His ears fold back, a low growl escapes his throat, his Adam’s apple moving slightly.

“Miss me, corporal?”

This man had a smug way of expressing himself, hands on his hips. He looked to be a bit older than Jake.

“Forgot about our agreement, all those years ago, Sully?” Jake hissed in response, telling this man, whom he called ‘Quaritch,’ to kindly fuck off.

Quaritch, a man of his word, did not take this as an answer, and continued to move closer.

Until he saw you. He stopped. “Whose this you’ve got here, corporal?” Jake hisses again, standing up this time to shield you from Quaritch. “Leave her out of this,” his tone low, possessive, angry.

“Why don’t you come on out, cupcake?,” his eyes turn towards you. Just like your Jake’s, you saw that they were full of lust, hunger. No affection, though. They were cold, empty. This man was attractive — yes, yet something about him felt off.

Jake reassures you that you don’t have to do it — until Quaritch himself pulls you out from behind Jake’s back. Quaritch circles you, tutting, eyebrows raised.

He turns to Jake. “Got yerself a sweet little toy, huh, Sully? My, my, she’s quite a looker,” Quaritch comments, his voice sickeningly sweet, as his large blue hand plays with your hair. Jake was fuming — ready to start a fight with the man. It was clear that the two had a past rivalry, and never made amends.

It was also clear that the two wanted you.

“How’s about this, corporal? Your little girl here, could very well seal our agreement, don’t ya think?,” he taunts Jake.

“She’s mine, Quaritch. Don’t even think about it.” Quaritch then retorted that it was either this, or his rifle. Jake then agreed.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Sully. She’ll be ours, to share, won’t ya, cupcake? How’s about I show you how we do things where I’m from, hmm?,” his southern accent cooing at you goes straight to your core, between your legs.

You glance at Jake, hesitantly watching. Quaritch then sits down, his giant arms pulling you into his lap, one hand behind your head, the other on your hip.

“Such a pretty girl. Gonna give you something to feel good about,” he chuckles, peppering your face and neck with kisses, his fangs slightly biting into your shoulder as you gasp!!

Jake is infuriated, still watching from the side, although he looks like he is enjoying watching you get ravished by the older Na’vi. Quaritch’s soft lips trail down your soft tummy and waistline, your small hand intertwined with his rough, calloused one.

His fingers trail your waistband — realizing that Jake already pulled off your clothes — your wetness soaked his thigh. <3

“Aww. How cute, pussy’s all soaked f’me. I think I know what she wants,” he taunts you, showing you his big fingers, almost the length of your arm. <3

You nod vigorously, completely forgetting about Jake. “Yes. Please, please, anything,” you beg him. “How’s about you call me sir, hmm, sweet cheeks? More fittin’, don’t’cha think?,” his southern voice drips as if it were melted caramel, seeping through to your inner submission to these beautiful, tall, men.

You were their toy, theirs to own, theirs to play with, theirs to use as they please and see fit. That’s all you could think about, as your tongue hung out, your eyes closed, small hand gripping the watch on Quaritch’s hand, as his two fingers worked and massaged your gummy walls over and over.

You thought of belonging to the two Na’vi men, passed around from the loving arms of your soon to be mate, to the vicious and unrelenting force that was Miles Quaritch, your ‘sir.’ For these two men, you were fine with leaving your life as a scientist behind, just to trail them around.

You were giddy with the thought of it, as you came undone around Quaritch’s fingers, his reassuring words, “let go f’me, cupcake…,” and Jake’s hands behind you, rubbing the small of your back, this was a taste of a life you never knew you wanted.

Now that you had this taste, you were ready to risk it all to keep this.

You fall asleep in Jake’s arms, as Quaritch bids him a ‘till next time,” and your soon to be mate is left wondering what that phrase entails.

Avatar taglist: @aerangi @jake-sullys-whore @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @brioffthegrid

[lollystocks]

It really surprises me that there isn't more American Dragon fic.

Like, as a vintage member of the Danny Phantom fandom, they've got the same ingredients - mid-00's cartoon about a young teenage boy with a supernatural alter-ego that he must keep secret, and responsibilities to other supernatural creatures as a bridge between worlds - but (at present) Danny Phantom has 20,000 fics to ADJL's 450 on AO3, only 138 of which are non-crossover. And imo, the original ADJL was a way better show than DP.

And I've read some good ADJL, but it seems the majority of it lives firmly in disney-world in terms of tone and crossover properties. It's not a bad thing! It's just not my thing, and it surprises me it hasn't had much transformative fanon.

If anyone has any ADJL fics (preferably non-crossover) they'd recommend that follow a similar pattern to a lot of DP fanfiction (ie a more serious tone, really digging into the supernatural and horror elements, world building) then I'd really love to hear them!

[sasheneskywalker]

dc/marvel crossover fic recs

Dark Matter by mysterycyclone The last thing Peter sees is Tony's horrified, heartbroken expression leaning over him. The guilt in his eyes is almost worse than the burning pain that's taking Peter apart piece by piece. The world starts to go dark.

There's a flash of gold and green. For one moment, he finds himself standing amongst the Guardians and others. And then darkness again. It feels like blinking; an extended period of nothingness that ends as abruptly as it begins. One moment there’s nothing, the next there’s light.

“Easy,” a woman says. Her words are gentle, and carry a slight accent that he can’t place. "I'm called Wonder Woman. What's your name?"

Not Rated | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Clark Kent & Peter Parker, Diana (Wonder Woman) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Peter Parker, Gotham City & Peter Parker, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Batman & Spiderman

Revenge is a Word I Haven't Yet Defined (I’m not sure I’m worthy of such theatrics) by OliOcelot After the Lazarus Pits and a year of training with the League, Talia sends Jason to Gotham for revenge. Except Jason isn’t as deep as she thinks. The thing is, he expected to see Bruce - Batman - and be livid. He let him die, replaced him. He should be mad.

He isn’t.

In the end, it’s hard to think of yourself as being replaced when you died. So yeah, he’s angry, but he’s not angry enough for revenge. Not like Talia wants him to be.

So he focuses on Red Hood and cleaning up Crime Alley, and scraps any ideas of revenge he had left. They’re unnecessary. Counterproductive, in fact, because now that he’s actually seen Bruce, all he really wants is to go home. Maybe have a conversation or two about how bad Bruce and Dick messed up, but at home.

Instead, he gets caught up in world altering magic from some criminal in over his head, and Jason finds himself tumbling through universes into a New York filled with heroes that he’s never even heard of and a lack of Gotham and Metropolis that can only mean one thing. This isn’t the world he knows.

All he wants is to get home, to make amends, to try again. Too bad none of them know he’s gone. Not that anyone would think to look for a dead boy.

T | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

To Dig a Grave in Winter by OliOcelot The Winter Soldier isn’t the only Asset that Hydra has. This will be their downfall.

Or, Jason Todd rose from his grave only to be taken by Hydra and turned into a living weapon, known as the Gravewalker. Meeting the Winter Soldier might just make it worth it.

T | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply | James Bucky Barnes (Marvel) & Jason Todd (DCU), James Bucky Barnes (Marvel)/Jason Todd (DCU)

in labyrinths of reflections by blackkat With the incursions imminent, Khonshu steals his avatar away to another dimension, where there's little risk of the universes colliding.

Marc is unprepared for Gotham, but it's probably safe to say that Gotham is equally unprepared for Marc.

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Bruce Wayne/Marc Spector, Marc Spector & Jason Todd, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Marc Spector & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne/Steven Grant

no map to my own treasure by blackkat “I think this is yours.”

Bruce doesn’t even have to look up. He already knows precisely what this is about. Containing a sigh, he rubs the bridge of his nose, and says, “If he bit you, I can pay for the emergency room visit—”

“I did not bite him,” Damian says, outraged.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Marc Spector/Bruce Wayne

Knaves All Three by Ginevra_Benci After Ultron, Avengers Tower hosts a good-will gala to fundraise for post-Incident NYC.

Local lawyers Nelson & Murdock, fresh from saving Hell's Kitchen from the ravages of Wilson Fisk, get an invite.

And.

Bruce Wayne’s in town.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tony Stark & Bruce Wayne, Tony Stark & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Bruce Wayne, Steve Rogers/Bruce Wayne, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson

The Spider and the Samovar by Ginevra_Benci There's a new player in Eastern Europe: the Spider has been making a name for himself and has caught the attention of the Outlaws.

Jason Todd makes contact.

Well. He tries to.

G | No Archive Warnings Apply | Roy Harper & Koriand'r & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Natasha Romanoff

Bats Out of Hell by Jedi_Olympian Dick and Tim find themselves in a bit of trouble. Multiversal trouble. Needless to say, their boyfriends are not happy about it, and the universe they find themselves in is unlike any they've found themselves in before.

Or Dick and Tim get thrown into the MCU and meet the Avengers.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

If It's A Highway by there_must_be_a_lock Bucky’s been running for a week when the supposedly-untraceable burner phone he stole from a HYDRA warehouse starts ringing. He’s in a gas station bathroom off a remote highway close to the Croatian border, getting ready to bleach his hair; the ringtone bounces shrilly off the bare tiles and makes his jaw clench tight.

[Or: the one where Bucky is hired to train Jason, and he ends up learning a thing or two himself.]

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | James "Bucky" Barnes/Jason Todd

There but for Grace go I by AutumnHobbit Frank Castle comes to Gotham on the trail of some human traffickers who picked the wrong city. Imagine his surprise to find he isn’t the only one out for their blood. When things turn sour he decides to get involved, which leads to a lot of unexpected drama.

And he thought New York’s costumed paraders were bad.

Not Rated | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne & Frank Castle, Dick Grayson & Frank Castle, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Frank Castle

The Five Stages of Neighborly Affection by AlannaLioness, phonecallfromgod, youshallnotfinditso Between Matt being back from the dead, Nelson & Murdock 2.0 and a fancy Manhattan apartment from his (former) sharky boss, Foggy feels like he's doing pretty well keeping the vigilante nonsense in his life to a minimum.

Or he was until he moved next door to Tim Drake.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake (Minor), Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent (Minor), Minor or Background Relationship(s)

running in the shadows by dukeaubergine Jack Drake dies during one of Tony Stark's "taking responsibility" phases. The Bats aren't happy about this.

Tim is pushing to come home, and in the meantime be an NYC vigilante right under Stark's nose, when the Sokovia Accords knock over the whole board.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Batfamily Members & Tim Drake, Avengers Team & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Tony Stark, Tim Drake & Wanda Maximoff

Shake the Devil Out of Me by thepartyresponsible The first time Jason sees Phil Coulson, he sees him in the soft, flickering light of a warehouse fire. It’s romantic, he thinks, later. Like candlelight.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Phil Coulson/Jason Todd

The Dawn Will Break Before You by thepartyresponsible “Okay, heartbreaker,” he says, “how much to put the tires back on the car?”

Jason rolls his eyes and gestures at him with the lug wrench. “Why don’t I just beat you up and steal your money? Is this the first time you’ve been to a bad part of town? Don’t show me your wallet, asshole. Come on.”

The man heaves a heavy, aggrieved sigh and starts pulling out bills. “Five hundred?” He tries. “Six? We can go to an ATM.”

“You are mugging yourself,” Jason says, oddly impressed. “Holy shit.”

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tony Stark/Jason Todd

Give Thanks to Broken Bones by thepartyresponsible The bodyguard is incredibly well-respected in the superhero single parent community. He is also, Tony’s realizing, something of an asshole.

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Tony Stark/Jason Todd

birds fly (why can't I?) by SafelyCapricious The apartment in Gotham that Natasha gets — all cash and no ID required — is a shithole.

But it’s her shithole.

Well, hers and the cockroaches’, she supposes, as she turns on the flickering light in the bathroom and at least a hundred of them scurry out of view.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Jason Todd, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Jason Todd

Five Supersoldiers Walk Into a Bar by bittercape He spots him through the binoculars, far away and disappearing fast. Logan is, more than anything, a hunter. He knows how to watch, and he watches the sniper moving away, after a single well-placed shot. He moves just like Barnes did. Everyone has a particular way of moving, if you know how to watch. And Logan, as mentioned, knows how to watch.

Logan knows it cannot be him, knows he died, falling from a train. No normal human could survive that. And yet …

He drops down from the watchtower. He’ll catch hell for this, sure. But he has to know.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Logan (X-men) & James "Bucky" Barnes, Logan (X-Men) & Natasha Romanov, Logan (X-Men) & Slade Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Slade Wilson, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Slade Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Slade Wilson

five, six, just for kicks by bittercape “Good evening,” Jason says, because he does have manners when he wants to use them. “Talia al Ghul sent me for training.”

“Right,” the man says. “You’re here for training with Deathstroke.”

“Yeees,” Jason says. This seems more than a little eccentric. “And you are Deathstroke?”

“Yes indeed!” the man says. “It is I, Deathstroke!”

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jason Todd & Wade Wilson, Jason Todd & Slade Wilson, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

In The Oddest Places by withthekeyisking After pulling Steve Rogers out of the water, there's not a lot that the Soldier knows. But going to ground? Yeah, he can do that.

If only there wasn't another super soldier trying to get in his way.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | James "Bucky" Barnes & Slade Wilson