#but I kept it bc I liked it and nearly every comment has mentioned that line BDJCJCNFNFNTNT

[cerealmonster15]

ouguhhh people being nice to me online disease lol

[junicult]

!! showering w the bachelors for the first time

contains ; mostly fluff. fem!farmer. some suggestive parts. making out. newly established relationships. nsfw in sebastian’s, implied in shane’s & alex’s. afab!farmer. brief mention of fingering. not proofread, will later.

note ; i intended for this to be entirely sfw i swear

harvey.

- the honeymoon phase.

- where he doesn’t even live with you, yet he’s at your house nearly every night, or sometimes vise versa.

- when he uses your stove (with permission) to make you both dinner to share after you’ve finished work.

- where you’re still so in love all you wanna do is gaze into each others eyes and kiss until you can’t breathe.

- that’s exactly what kind of phase you’re in.

- and it’s been a long time since he’s been in that phase.

- you sorta have a whole routine atp.

- whenever he comes over, you make it a plan to wrap up work quickly & spend the evening with him,

- which is why you felt so guilty when you lost track of time, backpack full of rocks and geodes you couldn’t wait for clint to break open the next morning.

- when you glanced down at your watch, you nearly jumped ten feet in the air like a cartoon lmfao

- and you’ll definitely regret running up the ladder one level before you reached another button on the elevator—but right now, you weren’t even focused on that.

- by the time you made it back to your house, a mere two hours after you told harvey you’d be back, it was pitch-black outside.

- thankfully, he didn’t leave. instead, he stood scrubbing the dishes clean, before whipping around at the sudden swing of your front door.

- “harvey! i’m so sorry, i lost track of ti—“

- “oh thank yoba you’re okay,” he sighs, (u already know he wanted to call someone to check up on u but he didn’t want to seem controlling😭😭)

- and he didn’t waste a second to meet you at the door, scanning you just to see if you were injured.

- “i’m fine, i’m fine, just got way too distracted. did you make dinner? did you have to eat alone?? oh, i’m so so sorry i didn’t mean to—“

- ur word vomit is making him fall in love with you even more. two peas in a pod🫶🫶

- then it’s just back and forth of you constantly questioning and reassuring each other for a few moments.

- “but you made such a nice meal for me, and i kept you waiting, i just—i’m so sorry—“

- “sweetheart, it’s okay, i’m not mad,” he almost chuckles, holding you close.

- as soon as he established you’re not hurt or injured, he’s no longer stressed.

- he understands what it’s like getting carried away at work, so who is he to ever be mad at you for that?

- after you ate and assured him you were fine, that’s when you mentioned it.

- “i’m pretty dirty from the mines, i was gonna shower. make up for lost time with me?”

- his mind doesn’t inherently go to sexual things.

- honestly, he was just excited you wanted to.

- he also doesn’t give a fuck that he took a shower earlier. he just wants to spend time with you lol.

- although ik he’s all organized and has like a little routine where you both keep taking turns under the spray LMFAO

- like you get in first, rinse yourself off, then switch with him while you soap yourself up, switch & rinse, switch and apply shampoo, switch, etc, you get it.

- it’s so fucking funny LMAO.

- but the entire time you’re making casual conversation, some little comments about how much you missed each other, things like that.

- he loves how you look in the shower. not even bc ur naked, it’s just a vulnerable way to see the person you love, and there’s nothing sexual in the way he’s looking at you.

- even when you tug on his neck to pull him down for a kiss, he’s just swooning over your affections.

- unless the implication, or intention of sex came before the shower…he’s probably not approaching anything with that.

- it’s a completely different story if you’ve had a ton of tension all day,

- constantly making passing remarks that make his palms sweat, but unable to go any further because of your busy day,

- and you leave him all hot and bothered until you come home in the evening, and ask him to join you in the shower.

- that’s when he forgets all about the little routine.

sam.

- ah, the start to ur most important routine.

- honestly, i feel like you were the one who started it all.

- the whole, “every time you shower, we shower together” thing.

- at least, that’s what it becomes once you move in together. but before that, anytime he was over & you needed to shower, he’d totally join in.

- it’s not even sexual. there’s only like a 30% chance you’ll end up having sex, or even just do foreplay whenever you shower together.

- he’s just so clingy, and he craves the closeness after he realized how much he enjoyed you being there the first time.

- you both were quietly laying together, watching the tv wordlessly, just enjoying each others company after you two decided he should spend the night.

- which then prompted in him asking, “do you think i could use the shower? i smell bad.” he frowns after taking a whiff of his arm.

- you giggle. “i think you smell good, but go ahead. i don’t have your soap, though.”

- like he could care lmfao.

- “thanks!” he just grins, hopping on his feet and giving you a little kiss on the forehead before he skips off.

- you give it like 5 minutes before you decide u miss him too much (attachment issues😞)

- “sam…y’think you got room for two in there?” you knock before creeping the door open.

- he peeks his shampoo’d head from behind the shower curtain. “you wanna come in?”

- “is that okay?”

- u might’ve just asked him to marry you.

- his whole face lights up, grinning wide and opening the curtain wider as he steps to the side. “the more the merrier!”

- he doesn’t even care ur naked. there’s nothing sexual running through his mind, he’s just excited you’re standing with him rn. now he doesn’t have to rush to go see you.

- he even steps to the side to give you the chance to soak your hair under the spray.

- it’s easily just a little awkward at first.

- you’ve had sex before, that’s not why it’s awkward,

- only because it’s the first time you two are seeing each other completely naked without any intention of sexual advancement. not that it would be such a burden if you did, but neither of you want to.

- while you drench your hair, he can’t help but smile lovingly at the sight of water droplets all over your skin.

- he could easily be thinking about how much fun it’d be to have sex right here, but he’s too focused on how this might actually be his favorite thing you’ve ever done together.

- like minutes of silence pass, nothing but the water running and he’ll just lean in and press a kiss on your temple or shoulder.

- it’s not bc he’s trying to hint at something,

- he just wanted to do it, and he doesn’t really overthink the things he wants to do.

- but the affection makes you smile, and by how pure it was, it doesn’t send any false messages.

- it really doesn’t last that long. probably about 15 minutes of you both washing off and short displays of affection.

- yet it clung to you both so well, that it just became the routine you never skipped out on.

shane.

- it definitely just happened naturally.

- ur relationship at first was strictly sexual.

- to the rest of the town, no one even knew you guys even spoke. which, to be fair, there wasn’t much talking between u two anyways💀💀

- but i wanna say that was only for a couple weeks.

- it was still super slow and progressive. your conversations went from short & passing, to getting to know each other a little more. but the sex was still there.

- it went from instead of him leaving right after you finished, you’d stay up and talk for a couple hours.

- to waking up together, to spending the day together, etc etc.

- now ur relationship was approaching friends w benefits category. except it was unspoken, but neither of you wanted to be friends at this point.

- despite all of this, you’ve still never showered together.

- until you spent the whole day working outside. you feel gross, sticky, and sweaty. he just so happened to stick around after you started working.

- ur checking in on your animals he just follows you lol.

- before u both knew it, the sun was coming down and he spent the whole day helping you.

- the thing was, neither of you wanted to mention it. you were both nervous even bringing it up would spark the implication of wanting him to leave.

- which was not the case.

- not to mention, he’s a huge help. when u passed him ur axe to chop down trees, you almost couldn’t look away 🤷‍♀️

- so after you’ve finished, sun starting to set and sweat dripping from your temples—he’s still standing with you.

- “i feel gross, i’m gonna shower.” you frown, plucking your clothes away from your sticky skin.

- ofc he’s thinking it.

- but he doesn’t have time to make a sly comment before you shoot one over your shoulder, “there’s room for two, y’know.”

- say no more, he’s following close behind you throwing off his shirt.

- “thought you said there was room for two, there’s hardly room for one.” he snorts, squeezing himself beside you in the cramped space.

- “oh c’mon, you’ve never had a problem with making it fit.”

- he’s gonna lose his mind.

- u don’t really waste any time LMFAO

- drenching your hair under the spray before you look over at him,

- and you both just lean in cus it’s unspoken, but obvious you guys aren’t in there just to shower.

- he’s quick to slotting his hands at the small of your back, while you wrap yours around his neck and press yourself against him.

- …not much showering gets done, i’ll just say that.

sebastian.

- i feel like sebastian spends more nights at your house then he does at his own at this point.

- he’s not the type to get super attached very easily, even getting to the step of sleeping together took a while.

- but after it happened, he found your little cottage so comfortable. he liked waking up to you in the morning, and falling asleep in your arms at night.

- the only reason he goes home is to work.

- and the minute he finishes up, he heads back over.

- honestly, if he could pack up his computer and leave it at your house, then he’d never leave—which is probably why you made it clear he can’t do that.

- your relationship is already committed.

- i don’t really think he’d wanna sleep with you if hadn’t discussed a romantic relationship.

- anyways, i feel like bc of this, he’s already showered at your place lol.

- you were too busy to ask, and he knew you wouldn’t mind, so he just jumped in and took a quick shower.

- hours after you already started your chores for the day, he woke up & just sniffed his shirt and winced a little.

- he also did some laundry (for your sake).

- so then it kinda just became a, “hey, do you mind if i take a quick shower?” while you were preoccupied.

- sometimes you’d be the one to ask. like if you were lying together, on your bed in your house, you’d turn to him and say the same thing.

- it never rly occurred to either of u that you could knock out two birds with one stone🤷‍♀️

- one evening you were exhausted. you smelled horrible, you could already tell. you had spent nearly the entire day down in the mines, just covered in dirt and rubble, stinking like sweat yet he still kissed you when you came in.

- “i need to shower,” you groan, still accepting his kiss.

- ugh but he’s already spent the majority of the day without you, why are you going to deprive him of more?

- “i think you smell fine,” he tries his best to persuade, but you won’t budge.

- pressing against his chest, you giggle, “you know that’s not true. i’ll only be a few minutes, promise.”

- he’s honestly so clingy, literally tugging on your arm as you try to walk away and following behind you like a lost puppy.

- and suddenly, “i could use a shower too…” despite him using it earlier.

- you look at him for a second, narrowing your eyes, before you tease, “yeah, you could.”

- he’s much like sam, just less openly enthusiastic.

- when you tell him to get the water running, he’s only nodding, but it’s not hard to miss the way he’s turning to start the water so quick.

- and how he’s undressing like he has somewhere to be, despite presenting so nonchalant about it.

- for him, it’s just a better reason to be so close to you. he likes when you’re around.

- it really depends on how much he was missing you, but for the most part i don’t think it ever leads to anything sexual.

- sure, he stands back to let you rinse yourself off and his eyes wander, but that’s about as much that’ll happen if neither of you are in the mood.

- and even then, if you end up wanting to have sex, it hardly ever happens in the shower. most is just foreplay.

- which he is never opposed to.

- i’ve said it once, i’ll say it a million more times,

- he lovesss fingering you.

- and lowkey, if you’re intending on having sex and starting with foreplay in the shower…phew.

- gently pressing you against the shower wall, the water running all down his back but he doesn’t even care,

- and his lips are making out with yours, which are sloppy in response while his fingers press against that spot inside of you that has your neck craning and moans spilling…

- that’s what he wants when he’s been missing you and joins you in the shower.

alex.

- i actually think he’s similar to sam too.

- he’s a huge fan of showering together.

- for starters, he’s the kind of man who makes himself at home very quickly💀💀

- even when you guys weren’t even dating yet, still just in that getting to know each other and hanging out regularly phase.

- when you’d plan for him to come over once you finished up work and spend time w each other casually.

- the cocky side of him just took your hospitality as flirting.

- which, i mean, isn’t unbelievably far off. you do like him.

- but it was probably like his second time over at your house, and he just casually asked if he could take a shower.

- you might’ve raised an eyebrow, but you still said sure.

- so then it became a pretty normal thing. he never took longer then 10 minutes, so you could appreciate that.

- after you both started dating, and had seen each other naked, it became much more casual.

- the transition between not showering together, to showering together was so subtle.

- it just started with you showering, and he needed to pee so he’d just come in and, well, pee.

- then he’d be showering but you still needed to brush your teeth and do your skincare, so you hung out in the bathroom.

- and pretty soon it was so normal that when you asked if he wanted to join you one evening—you didn’t even think much of it.

- it wasn’t until you were midway through washing your body when you realized he was doing the same thing beside you.

- it was just like a, ‘oh, okay, this is normal now’ kind of realization.

- “can you pass me the shampoo?” like he was asking for the salt at the dinner table.

- it just felt natural, especially after he moved in.

- it became a thing you both do together.

- literally a part of your nightly routine. when you were ready to shower, you’d let him know and he’d start the water while you got undressed.

- so since it was your nightly routine, i feel like the longer you’re together, showering together and having sex doesn’t really pair up.

- you shower 9/10 times together. there’s no way you’d be able to keep up (he can tho lol)

- but that doesn’t mean it’s rare.

- he loves looking at you when you’re naked. no shame.

- there could be zero sexual energy between you two at the moment, and he’s still looking you up and down, admiring.

- he can’t help it! he doesn’t even have to be turned on for his body to react to yours.

- “are you hard right now?” you laugh almost like you’re making fun of him.

- and his response will always be, “well duh,” because you just have that affect on him.

elliott.

- another man that loves to shower with you.

- well…yes he likes to shower together, but he’s definitely a bigger fan of bathing together.

- i’ll get to that in a minute.

- your relationship progressed very steadily. it wasn’t until after a few dates when you actually slept together.

- once you had sex though, i feel like it opened you up into being much more comfortable around each other.

- spending time constantly, always inviting him over, allowing him to see you in more vulnerable ways like in your pj’s or all dirty.

- he approached the idea first, i feel like.

- you’ve been having a stressful week, working nearly every hour you were awake, and you had complained about it prior.

- so he just wanted to help you relax, setting up a nice bath with candles and bath salts and anything to help you relax.

- he’s so sweet about it too, not even intending on joining you until you clasped your hands together and asked him to.

- “join me, please. i’ve hardly seen you all week.”

- and he’s all ears.

- sitting in the opposite end, either sitting in peaceful silence or listening to you recap your day.

- i lowkey think he’d bathe you LMFAO

- like hear me out, he’s offering to wash your hair and he’s all delicate with it, giving you a whole head massage and dipping a cup of water to rinse it out.

- kissing your neck and shoulders, pampering you while you don’t even care to protest.

- and even if you did, he wouldn’t allow it. not when you’re all he wants to focus on right now.

- and despite him loving to bathe with you, i feel like his shower routine is so intensive and meticulous that it’s not often you shower together.

- he never minds your company, i promise you that.

- i just firmly believe he’s a morning showerer and you don’t really have the time for that in the morning.

- if you were to ask for him to join you, i don’t think he’d turn you down. he’d just stand away from the spray and tie his hair back so it doesn’t get wet LOL

- but he’s all for spending as much time as he can get with you.

[t1oui]

chaotic bcj headcanons bc i have brainrot about this man OFTEN

italian, greek (mum), british, and spanish (dad)

grew up in italy, it's his first language (he was invited to hogwarts bc his dad works for the ministry)

can learn a language in about 2 seconds

speaks italian, english, greek, and spanish (only learned it to spite his dad who can't speak spanish)

almost sorted into ravenclaw, he was nearly a hatstall

likes to spend his time pointing out all the reasons why english sucks (he is probably the best english speaker of all his friends and he wasn't fluent till he was 11 (they've been speaking english their entire lives))

very tall. it is literally impossible to lose this man in a crowd

loves to swim but gets pissy if the water's too warm

is a sub 100%. if evan is ace he's still a sub but in a nonsexual way

he's crazy in the way that all smart people are a lil crazy because nobody fully understands him (read: he's best friends with lily evans)

makes fun of jegulus for being jealous but will throw hands if someone smiles at evan from across the great hall

in constant need of piggyback rides but too tall to get them from anybody but remus

love language is physical touch, if he is not touching someone at all times he gets anxious

this usually means holding hands with his friends... and biting evan

worships the ground his bf walks on daily <3

never studies but has perfect grades

loves dying his hair, usually green but also random colors like red and purple and blue (pandora's favorite color)

once sirius dyed barty's hair hot pink to get back at him for who knows what it's barty but barty actually loved it (sirius was PISSED)

bisexual

happily asks evan to give him pictures to wank to (evan obliges)

have i mentioned he's a total fucking simp. yeah

was quidditch commentator for 2 seconds before mcgonagall fired him (he kept gossiping about the players)

actually loves people so deeply it hurts (james does the same thing but his love for people is on the surface while barty hides his most of the time)

hella adhd

insists on being the little spoon, can't sleep otherwise

has a ton of piercings and is completely COVERED in tattoos (at least half are dedicated to evan, the other half to the rest of his friends (including the gryffindors, especially lily!!))

mama's boy, like this man brings up his mom every 6 seconds, he thinks she's the smartest person on earth (other than evan ofc)

has a lot in common with james (as seen above), barty beefs with him for about a month and then realizes james is actually super chill (james and evan were already friends lol)

the biggest fuck you to his dad? not only does he hate politics, he wants to be an artist

likes painting just fine, and drawing is ok (he mostly just draws evan and the skittles, sometimes others like lily and james), but he LOVES ceramics

is an amazing cook, spends a lot of time in the kitchens with the house elves

(in a world without voldemort, he and hermione granger would get along very well)

favorite subjects are charms and defense against the dark arts (y'all remember when he was actually kind of a good dada professor in gof? yeah)

my computer's about to die so i'll leave it here, might add more later tho <3

[hottiehiei]

- Slow burn romance with Hiei PART TWO

After months of mutual attraction, Hiei will ultimately confess— out of anger.

gender neutral. sfw. fluff. angst. (also, cliff hanger bc i literally blanked)

PART 1 is not required for this, but I highly recommend reading for more fluff ! <3

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𓆩⟡𓆪 After Hiei finally realizes he is utterly smitten, he finds himself stuck in a weird predicament. He's kind of like, "Okay, what now?"

𓆩⟡𓆪 At times, he often wonders why you aren’t intimidated by his cold demeanor. What did you see in him that others didn’t? Or rather, what did he see in you that made him so attached? Trying to put all the pieces together only made him think of you more, and he can’t seem to come up with any sensible answers. It was an insufferable cycle.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Most people would give up and accept their fate. Not Hiei. He won’t welcome these feelings with open arms. No, he’d rather fight and conquer!

𓆩⟡𓆪 But….every time you greet him with a smile or wave him goodbye, he feels content. Such an ordinary interaction would make his sour mood disappear. It didn’t matter if he remained silent in response. You were persistent, unmoved by his rudeness. Were you able to tell that he actually liked the attention? He hoped not.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Hiei naturally gravitates towards you, oddly feeling the need to stay close. His Jagan Eye can easily keep track of your whereabouts, but he prefers close proximity. He basks in the feeling of your body heat. Dare he say it was therapeutic. With little effort, he is in tune with every part of you.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Whenever you’re engaged in conversation, he picks up little details of your daily life (another perk of staying close by). Don’t be too flattered, though. He’s still searching for something that’ll make him dislike you, even if he fails every time.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Hiei is a wild card. Just as you begin to think he feels nothing for you, he does something unexpected. One night, you accidentally found yourself separated from the group while on a mission. It was rather chilly, and you were shivering from the harsh winds. Hiei randomly showed up beside you, tossing his cloak over your head. “I can hear your teeth chattering from miles away. Don’t you humans know how to check the weather?”

𓆩⟡𓆪 No matter how unconcerned he appears to be, Hiei is always watching out for you. With his fast reflexes, he prevents you from losing your balance before you can even stumble over your feet or bump into something. He usually grabs your forearm or sleeve to stabilize you. The physical contact sends sparks between you two, but neither of you comment on it. His hand feels strangely warm after touching you. He can’t even bring himself to tease or scold you for nearly falling.

𓆩⟡𓆪 As mentioned, Hiei can be unpredictable. The romantic pinning is stronger than ever, but he’s still annoyed by it. For someone who has never experienced love before, he is taking it pretty hard. His feelings have festered to the point of frustration, and he feels vulnerable.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Hiei is so fed up with the back and forth that he ultimately decides to ignore you for good. Out of nowhere, he started acting like you didn’t exist. He put zero effort into holding a conversation, and sometimes, he was just plain rude, telling you to go away or walking right past you.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Kurama notices the awkward tension and tries to bring it up, but Hiei dismisses his concerns immediately. He figured that if he kept his distance, he would eventually forget about you. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. Acknowledging his feelings would make them real, and that’s the last thing he wanted.

𓆩⟡𓆪 While Hiei did all of this to protect himself, you’re left hurt by the abrupt change. He treats most people rudely, but you thought he at least tolerated you to some extent. Now, he couldn’t even be bothered to spare you a passing glance. You decided to confront him one day when you two were conveniently left alone (thank Kurama)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Initially, he was hostile, glaring at your figure. “If you truly believe there’s something between us, you’re sadly mistaken.” His words cut deep. He never spoke to you so harshly, but he sounded completely serious.

𓆩⟡𓆪 When you mentioned how much pain he caused you, it surprised him. He assumed he loved you far more than you could ever love him. But as you continued to vent, voice cracking and tears spilling, Hiei was incredibly confused. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you. He simply wanted to detach himself from you and return to his normal ways.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Witnessing your break down caused him to snap. He couldn't hold back his emotions any longer, and everything came out at once.

“You think I wanted to fall for you, a foolish human who can’t even tell when someone cares for them?”

“Your face is constantly invading my thoughts. I can’t even focus on anything else, but you’re the one crying? Ridiculous.”

“Just being away from you torments me. You couldn’t possibly understand. I’m doing this for my own sake.”

“Stop looking at me like that…”

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extra:

Even after this intense confession, Hiei still avoids you like the plague.

[arthuluart]

Hiii - wanted to say first thing first I love your art style, it's so dynamic and fun and those color palettes? Stunning ^^

And second thing second, just some food for thought if you ever want to get angsty about Jerry and Dean, coffee by Chappell Roan sounds like it was written about their break up specifically and I can't stop thinking abt it dndnden

*Cue me losing my mind*

Hiii- they say flattery gets you everywhere and turns out with me, it gets you animatics- jkjk but I do appreciate the kind comments ^^

I’ll put up the animatic separately and take the opportunity to leave the preamble here to keep the video post neat bc until someone tells me to shut up and just post art- I’m gonna ramble… So here’s the commentary you didn’t ask for along with my favourite panels:

First off- You turned me into a big time Chappell Roan listener which is great bc I need music recs to fix my listening habits before Spotify wrapped drops. My roundup last year was shameful… Red Wine Supernova is my new dish washing song.

Even tho it’s not the song’s vibe I kept the content as silly as I could for my own sanity. I don’t love getting too deep into the serious/sad side of M+L for a few reasons but I do find it all very interesting. Point being this song was too good to pass up doing something a bit bigger for.

Ngl tho- this did have me pulling out hair at multiple points. I never colour animatics, rarely even tone them- but you mentioned colour palettes and I was determined to deliver so pardon the messy colouring but (that was the tradeoff) I did not have it in me to stay in the lines. I’m choosing to be kind to myself and opt to call it an artistic choice and not midway burnout. And nothing was gonna get me to open after effects/premiere not even the janky ass golf ball OML this only makes sense if u watch the video.

There are parts of this I’m SO happy with and others I hate. I think it’s really obvious which sections I started losing steam on but overall I lowkey like the end product. Nothing I make will ever be good/perfect- this was one hell of a practice in accepting that lmao- but I can still be ok with the work problems and all yknow? I very nearly shelved this completely bc I got so worked up about the maybe 5 panels I dislike out of 106 total. Counting them was eye opening to ask myself: you’re gonna let that small a ratio stop you from sharing this after putting in days and days of effort? The insecurity goes deep and TBH getting asks has been a nice way of working through it since I post the art I make for answers no matter what only bc I KNOW someone out there wants to see it. It might not sound it but it’s actually quite positive.

Also, although I feel I’ve done my fair share of reading, I’m no expert. So if anything is really off point- sorry my bad (I won’t fix it tho bc I cannot physically stand to look at this another second lol)

I tried to stick to real things found in articles/books/photos/interviews etc bc outside of obviously fictional AUs I’m not super into making stuff up about them (and who needs to I mean the legit stuff is already insane enough) Sure I framed the events in specific ways to suit the song and some aspects are fictionalized (mainly bc the referenced written accounts lacked detail to draw 100% faithfully from anyhow) but otherwise I got my sources cited.

ANYWAYS… sorry for hijacking this answer I need to learn to chill out. Irl I’m a pretty reserved talker so you can tell I’m in a comfy place when I let loose and blather on endlessly lmao brevity is not a skill I possess.

You were probably expecting illustrations or smth but I hope what I came up with is still somewhat alright AND please don’t let my complaining fool you, I genuinely loved making this.

One FINAL Relevant Note: the line “nowhere else is safe every place leads back to your place” is gut wrenching. You’re so right about this song perfectly describing the break up. They always came back to each other and there’s something so devastating about that kind of haunting human connection.

OkAY I’m done promise- I thought I’d implode if I didn’t get all that out

[flowersandbirdsflyingfree]

Hiiii! I saw that tank dempsey and video games post and it made me think... How would the bois (primis and Ultimis) do with good ol' Jackbox?

(spoiler alert : it'd be a hot mess. Especially with Ultimis)

HELLO MY FRIEND! You’re correct, Ultimis can barely hold together a game of Mario Kart without someone throwing a shit fit (even Takeo). This all takes place in a modern AU btw. Each group gets 3 games so this doesn't get overwhelmingly large

I'm also using an emoji guide bc it's going to be very detailed

Primis: Tank( 🪖), Richtofen (🧪), Takeo(🌸), Nikolai (🐻)

Ultimis: Tank (🧨), Richtofen (🧟), Takeo(🗡️), Nikolai (🍷)

JACKBOX NIGHT WITH THE AETHER CREW

Primis:

Behold, the group that actually has fun with it!

Everyone’s favorite game has to be T-KO. Nikolai kept coming up with hysterical shirts with risqué jokes. The shirt seen below was his magnum opus:

Richtofen insisted his was a really funny pun, but nobody laughed again no matter how much he milked the joke :( But it's DummKoffee...

During Job Job, Everyone kept losing their shit. For examples:

"You want to make a good impression for the district manager. How do you stand out?" 🧪: I like to cry for help to the district manager

🪖: respond Based off of gooey cheese cheese cheese cheese snacks ("Not gonna lie, this stuff is why I joined the Marine Corp")

"You had your picture taken for your work badge and it's awful! What do you do?"

🐻: pillow Hangover 🌸: I hose that Karen

Richtofen nearly choked on his beer hearing Dempsey's answer 🧪Goodness, Dempsey! Are you starving? 🪖I mean, sure. I could go for somethin' cheesy right now (And so they heated some Totino's and pizza bagels from the freezer, in which Takeo kept quietly stealing one off of everyone's plate until Nikolai caught him in the act. Did I mention they were slightly tipsy?)

Overall, they all had lighthearted fun with it. And it slowly becomes a game of choice when they hand out besides poker and online gaming once in a while.

Ultimis:

Ok so already everyone is taking at least 15-30 minutes to connect tO THE FUCKING TV

🍷Wait wait don't start guys! I haven't signed in yet!

🧨COME ON NIKOLAI! GIMMIE YOUR PHONE! (The same man who struggled several minutes earlier to jump on)

🗡️Hmmm, what should we play first? 🧟OOOH! Let's play Murder Trivia! It sounds delicious~

🧨Ugh, give me a break...

So murder trivia was a rough start. Not only did everyone have a tough time with the puzzles. but only Takeo and Richtofen were getting most of the questions right. This left Nikolai and Tank dying every round and failing their redemption challenges.

Nikolai would angrily pout and mumble "Fuck this game" while Tank roared with so much visceral rage in his throat. This is worse than him fighting with someone in the MW2 Voice chat

Richtofen thought it was funny until Tank was about to get violent and punch a hole in the TV. Takeo and Nikolai had to restrain him while Richtofen scolded him. No more Murder Trivia...

🧟Maybe Monster Seeking Mon-🧨NO. I get to pick this time!

Tank chose Survive the Internet! And… it went as well as you’d expect.

Surprisingly, it was Takeo that added the hashtag for Richtofen's tweet! 🗡️Ha ha ha! Are you surprised by my ambush, Doctor? 🧨Alright, Tak! It's funny 'cause it's true🧟I hate you, Dempsey

A taste of karma on Richtofen's part for the #whycollegematters comment

Honorable mention to Dempsey's gut-busting commentary here. Everyone laughed so hard that even Takeo had beer come out his nose!

The final game was Civic Doodle. Literally nobody knew how to draw and Richtofen kept slamming down everyone’s “crappy job” on their artwork.

🧟AAAACH! WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?! DIDE YOU SMUDGE IT ALL WITH YOUR THUMB?! 🍷HEY FUCK YOU I CAN’T TOUCH SCREEN! IS TOO TINY FOR NIKOLAI! Besides, I can see two of what I’m drawing which makes it harder for me :(

It sadly ends with a lot of quarreling because the wifi had issues and everyone thought it was because someone was doing it on purpose to cheat 🧨Hey wait a minute… YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE, DIDN’T YOU RECTALFAN! 🧟Why is it every time something goes wrong, you assume it’s MY fault? HMM?! Maybe I should remind you of all the times you’ve thrown a wrench into my- our plans! 🍷I think it was the bushido warrior. He’s too quiet… and his jokes are unfunny as shit🗡️Says you, Russian pig! [INTENSIFIED OLD MAN YELLING] They tire themselves out into slumber in the living room.

[sweet-dreamins]

careless (f+a)

○ pairing: pro hero! katsuki bakugou x gn! reader, pro hero! reader, established relationship

○ word count: 3.5k

○ summary: after a successful battle you’re confused when katsuki isn’t happy for you, in fact he’s furious. shouldn’t he be proud of you?

○ content: a bit angsty, a bit fluffy, hurt/comfort, mention of cuts and blood

○ a/n: i rewrote this like 4 times lol but here it is!! (i may come back nd edit bc passive voice) feedback is appreciated, enjoy!

You and Bakugou were partners, but you weren’t partners. Sure, you were lovers in the nighttime, but on the field? Yeah, no thanks. The two of you had only partnered up a few times, and that was more than enough for you. Before even entering the field, you were hesitant that he’d let himself get distracted by you and you were right, just not for the reasons you think.

The dynamic shifted juuuust a little too much for your liking. One of the most...memorable times was when you were up against one of the more powerful villains. Anytime the villain would make a move towards you before you could even retaliate, Bakugou would slip in front of you- even going as far as to shove you back. To others watching, it seemed as if he was falling back into his attention-seeking habits or that it was so romantic that he put your safety over his, but you knew better (or at least you thought you did).

After that fight, you two had quite the shouting match in the ER afterward. Until he dragged the two of you home, insisting he was more than capable of taking care of the both of you. That, and his publicist was this close to having another conniption after hearing about your rather loud discussion….that the whole hospital heard.

You knew Katsuki only acted that way out of love and concern for you. You know that he sees you as strong. So, why did it still feel so demeaning? Why did it feel like he didn’t, maybe still doesn’t, see you as strong enough?

Even though after your discussion, you had decided to not do hero work together, the little voice in the back of your head wasn’t erased. Creeping in concluding that you were nothing but a pity fuck. The skewed, brutal honesty of the public never failed to make the little voice louder.

You did your best to not let it get to you, you really did. You ignored the tabloids and told your friends you didn’t want them telling you about the articles they had read. But this past week was just atrocious. Katsuki and you had gone on a coffee date, knowing that he was going to be swamped this week, trying to make up for crammed schedules. The paparazzi managed to find you-instantly getting into your personal space, effectively cutting your date short.

By the time you had got back to your apartment, the pictures were already released and practically everywhere. Katsuki tried distracting you by making you dinner and it was wonderful. But you stayed up that night reading every single headline, article, and comment about the two of you. Drowning yourself in the criticism as the voice began to get louder and louder.

Of course, you would never say it out loud, but since then you had been itching for a fight with a real villain. Somebody who can do some proper damage, somebody strong. Any kind of opportunity where you could prove your strength, show everyone that they’re wrong about you. That you’re good enough for Katsuki, that you’re strong enough to be a hero- that you are enough. And finally, finally, finally, the chance came.

You did wonderfully. The fight had dragged on for a while, long enough for reporters to arrive and commentate on the rest of it. Everyone could see how well that you handled everything, all the footage establishing your reputation.

Once the adrenaline from the fight had subsided, the ache in your body started seeping into your bones. Cuts that had been littered across your skin felt as though they had started glowing red, the cool night air kissing them. You still managed to put on a brave face for the crowd afterward, relief and joy filling your heart as the cheers far outweighed the jeers.

You let their praises wash over you, relishing the fact the little voice in your head had been silenced. Their words seeping into through your wounds, momentarily numbing the burning pain. Your heart was no longer squeezed by apprehension, finally at ease knowing that they believed in you, in your worth. As you gave your last interview and waved to the crowd, you made your way over to the ambulance.

His foot was practically tapping the ground at the speed of light, you were surprised he hadn’t made an indent in the concrete already. Katsuki stood there, arms crossed with a scowl on his face, furrowed brow, and glaring eyes. You didn’t know whether it was the exhaustion or if the night was that cold, but you could’ve sworn there was steam coming off of him.

He had arrived pretty late to the scene, coming from the other side of the city, but the footage of you was everywhere. Katsuki had seen the majority of the fight and despite not saying anything, it was obvious that he did not like what he saw. The lights from the ambulance bathed the two of you in red light. Strong arms envelop you in a firm but gentle hug. You close your eyes and breathe him in. You stand there in silence for a little while, simply basking in each other’s presence.

He leans down to mumble in a gruff voice, lips brushing against your ear,

“I already talked to the EMTs, we’re going home now.”

Although Katsuki had EMT training from when he was younger, only on rare occasions did he fully take patching you up into his own hands. Yes, he was always breathing down the neck of the poor medic who had the misfortune of having you as a patient, but typically he had enough self-control to let them do their job.

You were grateful to have privacy, but his reaction was off-putting to say the very least. He should be proud of you, right? That you handled everything so well, he should be congratulating you, right? So...why does he look like he’s two seconds away from grinding his teeth to dust?

The car ride to your apartment is as silent as the grave, thick tension weighing down the surrounding air, making your tongue heavy in your mouth. Katsuki’s knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel, not once sparing you a glance. Nearly all the lingering adrenaline from the fight and buzz from the crowd has faded, irritation and pain taking place.

Why the hell is he mad at me right now? He has no right or reason to be mad at me. Everything turned out fine!

As the city lights flutter past the window, you sit in the passenger stewing in confusion and anger. Wracking your brain trying to come up with a logical reason as to why he’s mad at you. Once you arrive at your apartment, you wait to hear the telltale slam of the front door, preparing to cringe- but it never comes.

Instead, Katsuki gently shuts the door behind him.

Oh. So he’s in that kind of mood.

Over time, you came to learn that there were levels to Katsuki’s anger. Everyone else in his life had been on the receiving end of his knee jerk reaction at some point. Yelling and slamming down everything he could get his hands on. But tonight, the type of anger in front of you. Only a few people had been privy to. The kind he has the force of an inferno behind it but is trying to channel it into a few million candles. The kind he wants to be careful with his words, spending every passing second trying to remove the barbs from his tongue, so as not to get it wrong.

Before you could get pulled back into your head, a large warm hand pressing at the small of your back kept you tethered to reality. Katsuki gently guided you to the bathroom, wordlessly turning on the shower, a silent signal for you to get undressed. The tension from the car had followed you into the apartment, a dark cloud, about to storm at any moment.

You slip into the shower, drinking in the way the water washes away the dirt and grime of the day. The peace is short-lived, the warm water trickling into your open wounds, your entire body stinging slightly. Peeking past the curtain, you see Katsuki rummaging through the closet for supplies. After he sets everything on the counter, he steps out to grab clothes.

Snatching the soap bar, you scrub your body down as quickly as possible, whimpers of pain involuntarily falling from your mouth. You had waited until Katsuki left, not wanting him to hear you crying out. Frantically blinking away your blurry vision, you finish washing up and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel, taking deep breaths. How are you going to keep it together?

In your shared bedroom, Katsuki was grabbing you a change of clothes while grumbling to himself. After throwing on a tank top and sweatpants, he paces back and forth with a scowl, running a hand through his hair. Trying to untangle the scribbles piling up in his brain, he takes a deep breath and looks into the mirror. He knows he needs to tread carefully, to get his words across in the best way possible. What you need right now isn’t yelling or anger, it’s honesty and support. He doesn’t want his anger to get in the way of what truly matters, repeating it over and over in his head,

I love you, and I care about you. I love you, and I care about you.

He makes his way back to the bathroom, clothes in hand, to see you standing there wrapped up tight in a fluffy towel. The precious sight in front of him squeezes his heart, making it a little hard to breathe. Here, in the safety of your apartment, you let yourself be a little more vulnerable and he loves it, wants more of it. But once you notice him walk in, you stand up a little straighter, wiping away the teary expression on your face. He grits his teeth at this but says nothing, reminding himself to keep it together.

You finish drying off and put on the clothes he brought you, one of his shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. Even though he’s standing right in front of you, being enveloped by his scent is still comforting. He leans against the counter, waiting for you to jump onto the space next to him, reminding himself one more time,

I love you, and I care about you.

He finally opens his mouth to say,

“That was really stupid of you.”

No response.

“You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, you realize that, right?”

Silence.

“You could’ve bled out and died.”

You spit back, “But I didn’t right? I’m still here, aren’t I? So it doesn’t matter.”

Katsuki grits his teeth, huffing through his nose, growling out,

“It doesn’t matter?”

“No, no it doesn’t because I’m fine. Everything else turned out fine, so who cares?”

You were certain you were right, no doubt about it! He was overreacting about this and it was honestly the last thing you needed tonight, so you had less patience than usual.

He snaps his jaw shut, opting for the silent treatment again with a scowl on his face. Katsuki douses a cotton pad in alcohol and swipes it across one of your cuts.

You yelp in pain and surprise, sucking breath in through your teeth, snatching his wrist. You shoot him a glare, at first he’s ready to glare right back, but once he meets your gaze he softens. That’s what you do to him. You’ve given him a safe space to be soft, to be loving- to be vulnerable. This is why this cuts him up inside so much more, he knows that you’re in pain, that you’ve been in pain for the past week. But every time he would ask, you brushed it off, adamant on shouldering it by yourself. He was even angrier at himself for not pushing harder, if he had you might not have pushed yourself tonight.

You were his safe space and your reluctance to be vulnerable with him, had him doubting himself. Was he not enough for you? Did you not think he could be your safe space? He had beat himself up over this, which added another layer of frustration that had to take the backseat tonight.

He continues working diligently in silence, repeating the process with the same care for every single cut. Rubbing alcohol, bacitracin, a bandaid, and then smoothing over it with his rough fingertips. Repeatedly, gently tracing plain patterns over the material, soothing the both of you. If the circumstances were different, he would’ve littered butterfly kisses over every single one. The amount of self-control that he was showing was unfathomable.

Katsuki was inches away from exploding, pulling his brain in endless directions between figuring out how to get through to you, wanting to just tactlessly spill his guts, and longing to smother you in frantic love. You were nearing eruption as well, desperately wanting him to say something, anything at all, but you also didn’t want to hear a single word of his lecturing. You also wanted nothing more but to hug him, to cling to him because fuck, tonight was terrifying but you couldn’t let him know that-you had to stick to your guns.

Both of you were stubborn as all get out, a trait that you both loved and hated in one another. Neither of you wants to be the first to give in, and yet desperately pray the other will. Here together, in your bathroom, and yet worlds apart, lost in your thoughts. You were unceremoniously dragged back to the moment in front of you by fear.

Whether Katsuki did it on purpose, he had left the worst cut for last. It was the biggest one, crimson and angry, your anxiety building as he prepared to clean it. You had handled the stinging of the rest of the cuts fairly well, this one was going to be your breaking point.

His warm, rough hands wrap around your thigh, lightly squeezing it to steady you.

“Wait! Please.”

Your hand shot out to wrap around his wrist, your brain still catching up to your outburst. He immediately stopped in his tracks, looking up at you and feeling his heart shatter when he saw your eyes. Pleading, looking for mercy in him, and full of fear. As soft as he could muster,

“Hey, hey it’s not going to be that bad, promise.” He carefully watches as you nervously chew on your bottom lip. He raises his large hand to gently cup your face, you instinctively lean into the warmth of his palm. A new, unfamiliar voice pipes up in the back of your head as you get lost in his carmine eyes.

Let go.You’re safe here.

You let go of his wrist to place your hand on top of his bigger one, absentmindedly stroking.

“Just take a deep breath, okay? It’ll be over before you know it.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, you nod and try to relax as he moves his hand back to your thigh. He gingerly wipes the cut, the alcohol instantly seeping in and burning. You cry out in pain, begging him to stop, but he doesn’t listen. He tries to be quick but still efficient, wanting to lessen your pain. He places a large bandaid on it, smoothing it down, and finally, finally, gives in and presses the lightest butterfly kiss on top. 

Fuck.

Your bottom lip is poking out, quivering as you do your best to swallow the sob clawing its way up your throat. Angrily rubbing away the tears that escape, you let out a trembling sigh, still trying to get a hold of yourself. Balling your hands into fists on your thighs, you sniffle and bite your lip so it’ll stop its ridiculous shaking. You instinctively berate yourself for how you’re reacting.

You should be stronger than this. What is wrong with you? 

The new, sweeter, softer voice comes back to say,

But it’s okay. Because it’s him.

Because it’s him. Because he’s the one who is fixing you, who is choosing to fix you. To be here with you, to choose you, and to love you. And maybe it is okay that you’re ‘weak’  in front of him. It’s safe here. Maybe you were wrong an-

“Do you understand why I’m mad at you?” His voice rumbles out, interrupting your thoughts.

“I-I don’t- honestly, no not really, I did nothing wrong tonight” You try not to roll your eyes at how watery and shaky your voice sounds. Katsuki sets his jaw and slowly breathes in and out of his nose, almost like a bull getting ready to charge.

“How am I going to get this through your head?” He mutters to himself, you roll your eyes in return and give him a pointed look. You know that you shouldn’t be getting riled up, but the exhaustion is sapping away your patience. Logically you know that you should just stop with the retorts, listen to him, and yet,

“Well? Are you going to tell me why you’re mad at me or am I just supposed to be a mind-reader?” 

That was the last straw.

“I don’t know how or why you can’t see this,” he starts slowly, mulling over his thoughts, “but the way you handled tonight was...it was...you shouldn’t have pushed yourself that hard.”

“But every-”

“I don’t care that everything else turned out fine!” He raises his voice momentarily, forcing himself to come back down, “I’m not mad that you took care of everything else, I’m mad that you didn’t take care of yourself.” Ruby eyes search your face for any sign of understanding.

“It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks,” he notices how your eyes widen, realizing that he knew your feelings all along. You were mistaken for thinking you ever needed to handle it by yourself. 

“You are already strong and you don’t have to prove that to anyone. You don’t owe anyone shit, you don’t need to push yourself to the point of breaking just to show that you can make it there.” He slips his warm, coarse hands into your softer ones, gripping tightly. He leans forward to put his forehead against yours,

“I need you. I need you in my life, and I need you to take care of yourself.” Desperation seeps into his voice, begging you to give yourself the love you deserve. Quietly, he adds,

“For my sake, at least, don’t be careless, dumbass.” He pulls back slightly to look at you, eyes glassy and full of pain. He doesn’t say anything else, letting his words float around in your head. You laughably admit to yourself,

He’s right. I am a dumbass.

Your face is wet with tears, salty drops still haven’t stopped cascading down your skin. You were being foolish, but you didn’t want to admit it, letting your pride suffocate you. You’re sniffling nonstop but still trying to keep your cries as tucked away as possible, your whole body shaking with stifled sobs. He lets go of your hands to cup your face, thumbs wiping away fresh tears. 

“You can let it out, you know. You let me.”

You throw your arms around him, clutching him, afraid that he’ll float away from you. Keeping him in a tight, tight, tight embrace, hands collecting handfuls of his shirt. Like a broken record, repeating over and over again, strangled, I’m sorry’s. He hums in response, rubbing circles on your back as he holds you. Unbeknownst to you, he’s thankful you can’t see his tears that manage to slip out, knowing you would only cry harder.

The two of you stay like that until your sobs have subsided. He pulls away, wiping away the rest of your tears and holding your face again. You stare into each other’s tired and bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t want you to be careless anymore. I don’t want you to feel like you have to prove yourself to anyone. I want you to see what I already know, what is already true. You are more than enough, you are more than strong enough, and I need you to see that. Okay?”

Nodding, you whisper, 

“I know,” You bite your lip and nod again.

“I know.”

Sometime later, after cuddles and soft voices, you lay in bed, wrapped up in fluffy blankets. Rubbing at the gauze around your arm, you stare at the ceiling, ruminating on what Katsuki said.

He’s right. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone, especially not to assholes who don’t even know me. Next time that I want to be reckless, I’ll just think of him. The one who loves me and knows me.

You close your eyes and smile to yourself.

The one who knows I’m strong.

[ringmyheart]

Can I request Vin Jin boyfriend headcanons and some fluff? (You don't have to force yourself)

(This and the other vin jin rq were merged!)

Honestly the way I see it, it doesn’t matter if you’re a very calm person or outgoing person. No matter what this relationship is gonna end up being considerably chaotic

He ropes you into everything he does. Doesn’t matter if u r a design student or an architecture student or if ur on the opposite side of the school from him, u r practically in his class. Dating him is like signing a contract sealing away ur own life bc he makes it a point to be ALWAYS w u

In class he doesn’t gaf if the teacher has ur seat on the other end of class, he is somehow finding a way to sit next to u against ur will or not. And when the teacher moves u two away from eachother INTENTIONALLY bc of this, he is threatening whoever happened to sit next to u to trade seats w him. He will go as far as to dress up as them to make it look like they’re them to be next to u and he’s so dramatic ab it.... being away from u felt like u were star crossed lovers whom the world was fiercely against

And if UR against this cuz ur tired of getting in trouble in class, or if you reject any of his advances, he’s gonna be really, really, really offended. He will at first sputter and be kinda shy and embarrassed about it, before he goes “fine! Have fun on your own without me, the greatest thing in your fucking life!”

He move seats back and will glare at you periodically every five minutes to pavlov dog you so that every five minutes every day, even when he’s not there, you feel the burning stare of vin jin

If you’re his s/o, he’ll buy you a matching pair of sunglasses so ur the freshest looking couple around Seoul (they’re hideous and thick but he thinks u look fly)

The glasses don’t have nearly as many layers as his does for himself so u can see, and u wonder how he managed to make them just as bulky and if he did it on purpose to sabotage u. Like “did u make my glasses purposefully ugly so no one else will want me?”

U have to dodge a punch after saying anything like that ab his fashion decisions LMAOAO

He’s rlly proud of u two matching. With the glasses and anything in general. He’ll make you wear a jacket matching his, or the same shoes and he will stop people in the hall and be like “wait. Notice anything cool ab us today?? Cooler than normal??”

And when they don’t respond he boasts “that’s right!! Me and my other half r matching. Look at us and weep, losers.” He thinks u two look so good....... if ur enthusiastic ab wearing matching things too he is elated u have to pray that tomorrow he won’t show up w another “if lost return to Vin Jin” “I’m Vin Jin” pair of jackets or anything of the like bc it happens SO OFTEN

And on the topic of sharing when it’s cold he likes to share jackets and blankets w u. Ur desks r moved by eachother by vin jin himself and u two share one blanket over u and shiver bc he just likes it, sharing w u plus he’s slightly warmer. And yes if you guys had indivizual blankets you would be warmer, but u guys have to struggle together he doesn’t care what anyone says (yes even ur protests ur sharing that one blanket wether he has to wrap it around u himself and tear up the one u brought on ur own or what”

He is so blind in love that he cannot tell when u guys suck at stuff. Like if ur in the wrong he doesnt care ur RIGHT and he’s taking that to the grave. He can belittle u and call u out but if someone else says ur in the wrong it’s on sight

Will die protecting ur name even when ur the one who was genuinely wrong

He forces u to make a beat for him to rap to. He loves rapping and wants to enjoy it w u, so ur forcefed YouTube videos of how to beatbox so u can be his bgm and eventually u probably just start to enjoy it to

And u always start a beat and he starts busting out rhymes and it’s SO BAD. It doesn’t matter if ur good at beatboxing if vin Jin is on the track w u it’s gonna sound terrible he brings the quality down immensely but u two just cannot tell

Like after a two session ur like “omg... that was so good. We should go pro?” “Fuck yea we should we’re better than those posers” “we could rlly make it in the industry fr” no u absolutely could not

During the school festival, u sang with him and it was SO bad. Half the crowd is gonna have 2 be hospitalized but u two had FUN up on the stage

Like I said, he has absolute faith in u. All u do is right. If ur driving a car for the first time, he is going to be ur little hype man doesn’t matter if u suck. U hit a curb and he went “YES babe!! Ur killing it cant wait till u hit the road bby” Ur not allowed to touch a car for the next two years now bc he kept cheering u on when u we’re doing CLEARLY wrong things

On a plane u r looking for the bathroom like pensively and u see a handle and look back and r like “is this it???” And vin jin thinking u r all righteous will go “yea babe go for it” and u open it and u depressurizate the cabin immediately

Now both on like 5 no fly lists

He loves to do things with u, like I mentioned earlier, and things he wouldn’t do alone he’ll do w u. Like drawing alone?? Boring. Drawing w Y/N??!!! Who knows what could happen..... so much fun could ensue. Maybe he will draw u cutely. Maybe he will draw u so ugly u will be forced to engage in a fight.

He likes to play just dance w u and compete for the “greats/all star!” Little titles above, and it becomes like a Friday night ritual for u two to turn just dance on and just go at it. But sometimes he’ll get too intense and suddenly he’s actually fighting for the chance to beat u. Will trip u so u lose on purpose

He makes u listen to him sing and rap to u. And u try to leave and he hugs tightly and is like LISTEN IFS FOR U, DONT BE UNGRATEFUL and now u have to listen

He makes u a mixtape of songs he made himself and they are all considerably worse than “remember the times we had”. It’s uploaded on SoundCloud and all the comments r hate and u listen to it a lot bc u know he loves u sm he made u a mixtape ya ur gonna play that but everyone else hates it w a passion

Like the comments r like:

Daniel: well.... it’s definitely a song 😅 I’m glad you love (y/n) so much!

Duke: he’s not making it out the hood 😐

Zach: never let this man in a studio AGAIN

Mary: this should’ve stayed in the CD

(Y/N): love it! 😍

Zoe: kill your producer 💀

Mira: ...

He’s overprotective too

If someone looks at u for more than a second he’ll go “what?? U think she is hot, huh? I’ll kick ur ass fucking perv.... cmon babe let’s go”

Will throw his arm around u and streer u the opposite way of any potentially good looking ppl to keep ur eyes on him

Oh Daniel is coming?? What a coincidence u and vin Jin suddenly have to turn the corner to the other way of ur classroom for some reason

Eli is near?!!! Oh no u just got milk spilt in ur eye!! Oh no now he has to wipe ur eyes and u two have to leave the cafeteria whatever will he do

It’s not that he doesn’t have faith in u, he doesn’t have faith in other men. Like he thinks they r all competition, and doesn’t doubt ur loyalty rather doubts how good he can b for u

WILL beat someone up for u. If someone smokes while ur around suddenly his fists r swinging at them cuz even if u smoke or vape urself no one else can get that stuff in ur lungs but YOU or HIM!!

If ur crossing the street and a car almost hits u, it’s the cars fault and he’s kicking the license plate and cursing it out for almost touching u “stupid fucking piece of metal”

Is the type of boyfriend to call u when he knows ur in an Uber and be like “babe u got ur gun w u right?? Oh don’t forget ur BOMB and ur MACHETE!! Yeah just left the house I killed some ppl nbd haha anyways HRU what’s ur Uber driver like” so the driver of ur car won’t even think ab kidnapping u. He has got ur back even when u do not want it

He doesn’t want u to see his eyes, so he’ll tell you to look away so he can take his glasses off and look at u in full color in all ur glory but he never tells u WHY he’s telling u to look away u think it’s a weird thing of his, or he’s insecure ab his face which is partially true but really he’s taking his glasses off and just looking at u. Adoringly.....

He hates PDA. He loves PDA. Do u see his dilemma

Like he loves PDA but doesn’t want anyone seeing him vulnerable even u.... so he’ll hold ur hand and be like “EWWW WHAT R U DOING GET YR HAND OFF MINE”

If u take the lead THATS best bc he can blame it on u and it’s ur fault he HAS to lock fingers w u cuz u did it to him first and he has an excuse to touch u and v like u started this im just sending u ur own energy back 😤

The type to be just like blind, overwhelmed in love. Always thinks ab u, always wants to be w u, worries ab u a lot and frets over u without showing it.... he hates it and loves it to death. Despises it but wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world

Eats lunch w u in the cafeteria and if u sit w someone else u r the ultimate traitor and he will trash talk u to hide his hurt to Mary the entire lunchtime. Kinda possessive.... wants u to also only think about him

WOULDNT EVER fight u for real. Play fights occur VERY often, like pillow fights, tripping ur foot when u say a joke insulting him, grabbing ur collar but he would sooner die than lay a finger on u

Verbal fights happen a lot and if he ever like LOSES it he may lash out and almost hit u and follow thru. I don’t think he’d be able to catch himself that quickly, and if he ever did he’d regret it for the rest of his life. Literally until the day dies he will take it to his grave

He may not sputter out apologieswill just look at u incredulously and then at his hands because what had he done? What did he just do? To you???????? (Y/n))))?????? His (y/n)??? Light of his life?

Will apologize probably over text or through a note or call, and if u don’t respond he is consumed by regret and tries to find u instantly like runs back to ur place

If u forgive him he feels bad still, because does he deserve it? And he might just isolate himself for a bit bc he can’t face u and if it left a scar he is dead inside. It kills him, literally

I could go on w this but I’ll probably save it for another separate pair of hcs later 😭

If u guys ever break up he will fight for u again and won’t stop till ur back together like flowers in ur locker every day, chocolate give during lunch, etc. He wont ever give up hope that he can win u over again and be w u again. He would keep trying, when he wakes up his first thought is ur name in a cold panic bc he can’t rest easy till ur his again and he will try and show off and poorly serenade u and trash his price and be corny and cheesy to get u back

Will set up a performance w the school to let him rap w a mic during lunch for u and he’s saying bars like “(read in bad rapping voice w inconsistent beat) (y/n), love of my life, uh, without you I’d die, uh. Please won’t you take me back? Yuh, without you ima have a heart attack. (Wha!). (Y/n), love of my life, yeah, without you I’m in strife, yup! Please be mine again, (babe), I can never rest till then.”

If the embarrassment doesn’t make u take him back so he’ll pls stop, and when he stands up on the lunch tables to do a little performance doesn’t do it either, then the odd sincerity of his voice and pain in his look (even tho while rapping he sticks out his lower lip in a weird pout) definitely, hopefully will

U make everything worth it !! Truly the light of his life

I hope these were what u wanted, I just had fun w them and wrote stuff that came off the top of my head when I thought of VJ!! ❤️

[orange-waterfalls]

Reader w/ wings headcanons(Markiplier Alter Egos)

ty @fancybootm​ for the request!

A/N: i just did all of them. every-all-everyone. Except Yandereplier, Silver Shepard, Ed Edgar... maybe others I’m not aware of at the moment... I tried to stick with a certain number of egos, but my hands just... they just kept moving. It is 11:00 pm when im writing this ya boy is TIRED. there are 1.6k words. It seems longer than it is bc bullet points. Bear with me. You can find the egos that you want easily. The reader is gender neutral. i am so sorry if this is not what you meant lol. on the bright side this is a good reference for all the egos i am open to writing for(also maybe others idk) so uh im keeping it enjoy. I’ll say... a T rating for cursing and also a bit of violence but literally like 20 words. mentions of injury. that’s it.

Requests are open!

Y/N(reader) with wings hcs

No one knows what the fuck you are, not even you

Ya got wings. That’s it.

Are you an angel? A faery? A phoenix? Who knows

You woke up one day in a forest remembering nothing

But you had wings

And then you got shot with an arrow

You ran away and hid in a cave

Darkiplier spends most of his time around you studying you

To see what you could possibly be

He still doesn’t know

He’s settled for calling you a “cryptid”

He’s slightly annoyed with the feathers you leave around the manor

He won’t tell you bc you can’t control that and it’d be rude

You read together in his study on occasion

You sit on the floor bc your wings get uncomfortable in chairs

In sympathy, he also sits on the floor

You think it’s sweet

You told him so and he sputtered out a “shut up and read your book”

He’s fairly fond of you

You’re good company to keep around

Wilford was the one who found you

He was walking through the forest, as one does, when he saw GIANT feathers

Naturally, he followed them

He found you in a cave with an arrow in your shoulder

He took you back to the manor and patched you up

He begged Dark to keep you there

He promised not to kill anybody for a month

He made it 15 days, which is a record

He’s very protective of you, not letting you out a lot since uh… hunters

You are his Sweet Little Songbird, light of his life, wind in his sails, 

if anything happens to you he will kill everyone in the manor and then himself

He helps you preen a lot

His hands are very gentle, surprisingly 

He spends the most time with you out of everyone

You play games, talk(well, he talks to you), and just hang out

He loves and adores you with his whole heart

Actor tolerates you, or so he says

He’s jealous of your wings

HE’S supposed to be the mysterious, sexy one!

But ok, yeah, you’re pretty interesting

He uses you in short films sometimes bc… well… wings

There are alot of things you can do with wings, surprisingly

He took you out into town one night

He shoved the wings under a thick jacket

You guys bought some clothes and food

He cut holes in the clothes for your wings, grumbling about a “waste of money” and “you never go out anyway” 

but he enjoyed spending a bit of time with you

Wilford nearly killed him(again) when he found out

He likes venting to you bc you just nod without really listening

As I said, you’re good company

Yancy thinks you’re nice

He felt a bit… threatened at first

Ya got WINGS, of course he’s cautious

But they are very pretty

And he likes to use you in choreography

People always comment on how realistic the wings are as Yancy leads you away

You don’t judge him for killing his parents, he likes that about you

You don’t know. You could’ve done something bad. You don’t remember

He likes cuddling bc you wrap your wings around him and he feels safe

He also helps you preen… sometimes… 

He’s… really bad at it...

You like listening to him sing

He sings you lullabies at night

You’re very close

Illinois is very fascinated with you

He’s convinced you’re a fairy

He’s seen quite a few of those

You tell him you don’t know, and he goes “a LiKeLy StOrY”

He likes drawing you

You’re very angelic

“Oh, maybe an angel then…” He says, like an idiot

He takes you with him on a few adventures to fly him over pits and stuff

He’d never admit it but he has a… THING about heights

It’s called a phobia, you egotistic maniac

You try to help him with it

You never get that far off the ground before he’s screaming to be put down

He appreciates the effort

He gives you things he finds on adventures that are pretty or remind him of you

He infodumps to you about curses, and archaeology, and adventuring, etc.

Magnum is uh… well, he’s Magnum

He figures you’d be useful out at sea

You can find nearby land, ships, or treasure by flying, of course

He didn’t take into account the fact that you don’t really… fly that often.

So it turned into you just stretching your wings instead of looking for loot

Once you fell overboard

Everyone was like “eh, they can fly, it’s fine”

Then they realized that you probably can’t since your wings might be wet

Magnum LEAPED into the fuckin water and THREW you back on

He doesn’t take you on the sea as much anymore

sometimes you talk about life, treasure, love, y'know the usual

He’s very Father Figure-ly

Bim isn’t sure how to feel about you

You are a person. With wings. What’s he supposed to do about that

He’s friends with Wil, so has to tolerate you at least.

He tries to make conversation, but it doesn’t always go as well as it could

You don’t have much to talk about, and some of his topics worry you

Mostly you two just kinda… exist in the same general area

Sometimes he’ll discuss what he should do on his show

You don’t have many ideas

But you’ve gotten an idea of what it is, and sometimes give a suggestion or two

He appreciates you for that

He tried to get you on the show once but Wilford refused

You kinda wanted to, but whatever

You’ll hang out sometimes too

He’s very entertaining, he has to be

Eric is kind of scared

Not that you’ll hurt him, that he’ll hurt you

That happens a lot to people he likes…

He eventually starts hanging out around you

You don’t ask bad questions, and you distract him from his dad

He talks about animals with you a lot, and how he wanted a farm

You bought a cowboy hat and gave it to him and he cried

You also gave him a stuffed cow one day

He hugged you for a long time

You two cuddle a lot bc the boy needs SAFETY and SECURITY

You wuv each other(platonically or otherwise)

Dr. Iplier doesn’t bother you, mostly

He appreciates that you keep to yourself

He has his work, that’s what he’s focused on

Sometimes he’ll see you when you try to find Wilford or get some food

He tries to get a good look at you without looking suspicious

It doesn’t work, he always falls over

He once gave you a “physical”

It was mostly to just figure out what you were

You seemed mostly human based on the results

But goddammit you had WINGS

They had their own function but were sort of like an add-on to your body

He was slightly disappointed you weren’t gonna… turn into a whole bird

You tolerate each other

Google fuckin’ hates you

He’s completely perplexed by you

Which he is never because he is the most intelligent being on the planet

So he assumed he could figure out what you were

Turns out google fucking sucks at figuring out things people don’t already know

So he hates you. Like a lot

He’s tried to kill you multiple times

But his objective is to destroy MANKIND

You are not included in that

BECAUSE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE!!!

Also Wilford almost killed him for it

So yeah he just kinda hates you

You’ve tried to get along with him but he just wouldn’t

He finally talked to you when Bing called him a little bitch

Still hates you, but can tolerate your existence now

Bing fuckin’ adores you

You are just wonderful to him

You can FLY??!! You have WINGS???!!!!!

You don’t really care that he is an artificial BEING????!!!!!!!!

You’re perfect

He does Sick Tricks™ to try to impress you

They never do

You appreciate the effort

You don’t see him a lot, but when you to it’s very entertaining

He taught you how to skateboard

You kinda sucked but he’s very supportive

He likes just hanging around you

It’s the only time he ever chills the fuck out

Everyone’s thankful to you for that

Your entire dynamic is “what if... i put... my minecraft bed... next to yours? haha just kidding... unless?”

The Host doesn’t really care about the wings??

I mean, he can’t see them, so… what’s the big deal

You appreciate that

He still does the uh… narration thing… with real people…

The stories end better now

You convinced him to make the stories end better

You sat with him to make SURE the stories end better

He also started writing novels recently

You help with plot and character development

He appreciates that

The Jims… don’t really care about you

I mean you’re interesting, of course

But they physically Cannot get a clear picture of you

Even if you agree to sit still, it just doesn’t happen

It is always, ALWAYS blurry

They eventually give up and leave you alone

They do spend a bit of time with you

You help them with demon episodes sometimes

You don’t do much, but they like the emotional support

King of the Squirrels is… well, he’s him

He doesn’t… he doesn’t do much

He hangs out with his squirrels. That’s pretty much it.

You just started hanging out with him one day

He didn’t mind

You two feed the squirrels while sitting by a tree

He lets you wear his crown sometimes

He draws his squirrels, and lets you see the pictures

He teaches you how to draw them

You two don’t talk, really

You just sit. And hang out.

He doesn’t really smile, but you can tell when he’s happy with you

[barnesandco]

Eat the Rich: Chapter 2

Eat the Rich Masterlist

The Avengers are tasked with tracking down an elusive thief, and retrieving the grand amounts of money she has stolen. Even after capture, she turns out to be impossible to break, save for a mystifying interest in Bucky.

Written for @mermaidxatxheart​ ‘s #jamiesmadwritingbash, under the Robin Hood AU prompt.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s Hydra days, and a short mention of dissociation. Disaster Avengers having breakfast.

A/N: I really really really love that people are saying they like the reader bc that’s the character people envision themselves as when they insert themselves into this kind of fanfic. I hope you enjoy what more we get to see of the reader here. So enjoy, and please continue to reblog and comment -- it makes this so much fun!

I’m not doing taglists, but you can follow and turn on notifications for @ayeshaupdates​​ to be notified when I post.

Divider by the fantastically talented @whimsicalrogers​​!

The dispute that had ensued after Bucky had voiced his wish to Steve had turned to resigned acceptance by the time the first slivers of dawn had started to creep across pristine floors, and Bucky found himself victorious. It's a grim glory that accompanies him down the hall and into the cell you had been moved into for the night. There's no mode of observation for this room, save for the presently closed viewing panel in the door. It's really early, and even though he doubts that you're asleep, given the stressful circumstances, his hand pauses where it's about to knock on the door.

With Steve having left for his run with Sam, and the others asleep or inactive in some way, shape or form, he's alone in the silver hallways of this portion of the Compound. Hand still in the air, tight fist, white knuckles and lip bitten red, and then he composes himself. Stepping away, he sits down on the floor, back against the wall and knees pulled up. 

While he waits, he listens, even if all he can hear is his own heartbeat and the faint, collective chorus of the birds chirping. The sturdy walls and doors between your bed and his floor prevent any speculation on your activities, since the only monitoring permitted is that of vital signs so an alert can be raised if there is danger. He could open the panel, but that might wake you and he doesn't want that. Whether this disruption, and how it is sure to initiate the crucial dialogue he’s here for, is undesired for his sake or yours is unclear. 

His head meets the metal behind him, and the cold stings at his scalp, but Bucky stays that way. Likes the cold bite of it, on occasions such as these, when he needs the ice-crystal clarity of mind, and he knows it'll warm up soon, under his touch. Likes knowing that Hydra doesn't control him all the time, that he can feel the prickle of freezing skin without having a debilitating flashback to cryostasis is indicative of how far he's come. He's no longer the man Steve flew to New Zealand for a month after he had a hellish dissociative episode courtesy of New York's first snowfall.

The metal thaws behind him, sunlight through the thin sliver of window at the top of the wall slides higher on the door. Opalescent solar glare on silver steel, half a rainbow in his exhausted eyes, and the weight of evaporating dew in the air is what precedes a conversation that has his stomach in knots and crosses.

The digital, holographic clock strikes nine above the cell door. 

Rising to his feet, Bucky can feel every single one of his 103 years in his back, the avoirdupois of a century's lamentable events on his weary shoulders. So he does a breathing exercise before he tries the door again.

Allowing his lungs to expand to their full capacity, and then holding that breath there until his alveoli scream, before exhaling in a rush of sweet-cereal scented breath, makes him feel less stone-like. More muscle than metal, soft and pliable and open. Steve would argue that that's perilous, here, in front of a woman who's so touch-and-go, all breakneck smiles, but he's not an Avenger when he enters that room -- he's Bucky Barnes, looking for more pieces of himself, pieces that he'll never find if his eyes are shut tight against the impact.

You answer upon the second knock. "Come in." Your voice lilts to a light taunt, but it’s effect is minimized by the drowsy scratch of your voice. Opening the door after letting it recognize his irises, Bucky thinks that the same can be said about the Christmas-just-came-early spark in your eyes, when they're underlined by dark bags. You're still wearing the green hoodie.

" 'Morning," he says softly, pausing in the doorway. The cell contains a metal chair of the same style as those in the interrogation rooms, and the cot you're sitting up in, back against the wall behind you. There's a small door in one corner that he knows leads to a toilet cubicle.

"To what do I owe this extraordinary pleasure, Mr. Barnes?"

"Bucky," he blurts unthinkingly, and your eyes widen in surprise and amusement. His guard is down, and he needs to be cautious. "And you can thank yourself for being so goddamn persistent and getting on everybody’s nerves."

The smirk brought to your face is aimed at your hands, bound loosely in front of you. A more tender expression than most seen before. The long, fretful night seems to be taking its toll on you. Perhaps you’re slipping. Or perhaps you’re pretending to, his instincts warn. He sighs, clenches his hands into fists, lets his nails dig into his palm. Metal whirs, purrs, and he releases when you move both bound hands towards the chair in front of you. 

Bucky sits down, rubs his palms back and forth over his thighs, lets the grainy feel of the denim under scratch at his hands. "You know me,” he begins.

"Not nearly as well as I'd like,” you say with a grin, looking up from your hands. He glowers. 

"I'm serious."

Your smile widens. "So am I. Come a little closer. I don't bite,” you tease, and he decides to take you up on it. Gets up and sits on the cot a couple of feet away from you, folding one leg up so his foot is under his thigh and keeping the other on the floor. You’re unfazed at having your bluff called. "...Unless you want me to,” you finish, and he ignores it. 

"You kept asking for me while you were being questioned.”

“You were watching? Did you like what you see?”

The temptation to roll his eyes is strong, but he manages to hold it in check, and fixes a strong focus on you. This is important. It’s about his life. “You wanted to talk to me, so here I am. Now let’s talk.”

“Where would you like to start?”

“How about your name?”

“Oh, you’ll have to get to know me a little better if you want me to give up that secret. Try again," you urge, and he huffs. Like drawing blood from a rock. 

Every question he could ask, every query he needs an answer to is being whirled around in the chaotic storm in his head, and it's so difficult to pick out just one. “Have we met?” He decides upon, momentarily forgoing the alternatives: Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why do I feel like you're important? What part of me do you hold in those bound hands of yours?

Head tilted upwards, you consider the ceiling while searching for an answer. “Briefly.” And then you pause. Bite your lip, look down, make a so-so motion with your head. “Well, I wouldn’t say met, exactly. I wreaked some havoc and you watched.” That tells me jack-shit, sweetheart.

“When?”

“February of 2013," you respond instantaneously. Good memory. That's useful. 

“So I was with Hydra," he assumes, instantly going down all the roads he might know you by. A mission, a murder, more violence, another apology. Were you partners in crime, or his target? Or were you just in the way?

“I don’t agree with that phrasing, but yes, I suppose so."

“Did we work together?” He dares to question. 

There's a change: a tangible shift in the atmosphere, like the scent of ozone in the air before a thunderstorm. The stiffening of your posture, how you sit up straighter but hunch your shoulders against some invisible attack tells him he's touching a nerve, nearing cyclone waters. It takes a moment for the mask to fall back into place over your face, before you're able to answer, with venom, repulsed. “God, no. I would never work for them.” It's the most sincere emotion he's heard from you, this disgust. It eases him to know how strongly you feel about Hydra, but he’s wary of your raw response to it.

So, he treads more kindly. Softly. On eggshells sharp and off-white, feeling his way around the balance of your temper. “Then how did we meet?”

“I was on a heist,” you say, matter-of-factly. In your tone of voice, now even and professional, it sounds like the most natural thing in the world. As though stealing from megalomaniac neo-Nazis is just another day at work.

“What kind of heist? Who sent you?” Bucky observes the way you're pulling the edges of your sleeves over your hands as much as you can with your restraints. At this question, your smile returns, and he relaxes. Can now feel his leg falling asleep under him now that he's not so tense.

“Nobody sent me. I’m a free agent. I work for myself,” you announce, chin up. 

“What were you going to steal from Hydra?” He asks, and your head turns slowly towards him, firework sparkle meeting level, cool, sky-blue, a hurricane simmering behind his irises.

“You.”

“We did not sign up for this,” Barton grumbles from his second cup of coffee -- addicts, the lot of them -- adjusting his hearing aid with a frown on his face at the turn of events. 

Sam clears his throat, setting down a half-empty glass of orange juice next to Natasha’s espresso on the table and speaks next, “That’s messed up, man, that’s really, really messed up.” This is said with a shake of his head, and Bucky, having no response to either Barton or Sam, addresses Steve.

“There’s something she’s not telling me, Rogers.” He uses the last name to revert to the days of talking shop in green tents with the gravity of impending shelling in the air. Life or death, and though the circumstances aren’t quite so acute right now, this is a grave matter, too. Steve's standing hunched over the kitchen island, arms outstretched and hands flat on the granite surface, studying the pattern like it holds all the answers. 

Bucky watches him think, but Stark, in Spider-Man PJs and the bed-head of the century, strolls into the kitchen at a leisurely pace and interrupts. “There are a lot of things she’s not telling you. Who she is, where the money is, wh--”

“She’s not telling me why," Bucky interrupts a tirade that he knows could continue forever, given the chance. “People don’t go around stealing super soldier assassins for the hell of it.”

“Maybe she’s working for someone who wanted you to work for them instead of Hydra," Peter suggests over a ridiculously large bowl of ridiculously colorful cereal at the breakfast nook.

“She doesn’t work for anyone. Says she’s a free agent."

“And you believe her?” Sam wonders. It's a genuine question, curious but not dismissive or doubtful. 

“Barnes has quite the built-in lie detector," Nat tells Sam from next to him, her yoga-pant clad legs splayed across another chair. Yeah, he’s good at telling when people are being dishonest, but there’s also the fact this woman is way too fearless, fucking crazy to be made to do anyone's bidding. No chance in Hell does she takes orders. 

Tony slumps in an orange loveseat. “Must be a Russian thing," he quips, and then breaks out into a yawn.

Bucky puts his hands on his hips and glares at all of them, by turn, sharply. "Would you let me finish?" He demands. "She couldn't tell me why she was going to steal me from Hydra, but she said she'd show me." One could hear a pin drop in this room, now, the bustle of Avengers replaced by the obviously preposterous proposition Bucky's relaying. "Just me," he adds.

"Me?" He asks, voice rising in pitch and volume, and he fights to control both, rising to his feet. "Why would you steal me?"

"Have you seen you?" You ask back, eyes scintillating, glowing with mirth. "Gorgeous hair, those eyes, and hands that I'm sure know how to treat a girl right.”

Bucky looks daggers at you, and you look back. "I'm serious."

"I thought you were Bucky,” you say innocently, and he thinks he could scream in frustration, but he drops down, kneels just beside where you sit, and holds onto the edge of the cot like it’s the end of the world he’s falling off of.

"I don't think you understand how important this is to me. You know something about me you won't say. I've been trying to put together my past so I can understand myself better and you have a piece of my history. I need to know,” he enunciates each word as if it’s his last. Needs to convey the severity of the situation, how he has been trying to rebuild himself into a new life from the scraps of the old ones. He’s aware that he’s complete as he is but he also makes choices for himself now, and he chooses to know.

You look down, and although it’s your hands that are bound, you offer a golden prayer. "Let me show you." A lifeline, something he doesn’t want to believe and doesn’t know if he can trust. Hence, the question:

"What?"

A sad shrug of your shoulders is the first answer, and it all starts to unravel from there. "I can't tell you, I really can't. It's complicated and a really long story--"

Bucky elevates himself on his knees, his fingers dig in a little tighter, and the metal of the bed begins to creak ever so slightly. "The way I see it, we have all the time in the world, darlin'," he says in a thick voice, emotion simmering at the corners of his lips.

"Darlin'?" You can’t help but ask, without any flirt this time, any teasing, just a question in a tone as surprised as he is at the slip of tongue.

Bucky decides to ignore the interruption. "So let's start at the beginning.”

Fervently, you shake your head. "I can't." At his wide-eyed disbelief, "I mean it, I can't."

"No, you can, you just won't,” he insists.

"We could have a grammar lesson if you want, or I could show you why I was going to steal the Winter Soldier."

"What do you mean show me?" Bucky asks, moving to sit on the chair again. Leaning forward, he places his hands on his thighs, looks into your eyes to pull forth the words you won’t give him.

You blink, unbudgingly. "I have to take you somewhere. It's the only way to explain."

A sharp bark of a laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head as it recedes into chuckles. Your face is now blank and expressionless, gauging how to handle this, and he gives you the first response that comes to mind. "You're full of shit."

"What happened to darlin' ?"

Meeting your eyes, he says, “You want me to let you out so you can escape. A five-year-old could see through that.” Then, Bucky leans back in his chair, crosses one ankle over the other as well his arms. His hooded gaze is at a stalemate with yours, and it’s a hopeless tug of war. So this is how it ends. A night spent sleepless in vain, a few battle bruises and the tug of disappointment in his belly.

A dismal, and last-ditch sigh ripples through the air, from lips dark and worried bloody. Your eyes look overcast and you open and close your mouth repeatedly to say something, but do not voice your thoughts. Giving you the time to formulate whatever perfect sentence you’re trying to utter is torturous, but he waits. Until you stop, speechless, and he gets to his feet. Turns to the door, and then you speak from behind him, while his hand hovers over the handle.

"Let me take you, and only you, to the place you need to see, and I'll cooperate. I'll give you what I have left of the money, and I'll plead guilty in court and serve my time.” Bucky freezes. "Just come with me,” and you’re the one making requests, making pleas now. It’s inexplicable, he knows he should be looking this particular gift horse in the mouth, and he convinces himself that he will, in time, but right now, he accepts.

"Was that an innuendo?" He asks, still facing away, the question indicating a truce.

"If you want it to be," you say, and he turns around to look at you. "What do you say, Barnes, are we going on a road trip?

Hope swells somewhere in him he thought had been long abandoned for darker days and arduous nights. The same intuition that taught him to ask for this piece of himself tells him something is coming. Something that’s going to make a difference.

"Bucky. It's Bucky. And yeah, I guess we are.”

[damerondala]

Baby?

Hi everybody this is my first Poe fic wowow!! It’s basically all fluff and no regrets about it. I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think and maybe if you’d like to be on a taglist? I can definitely figure out how to do that! 

Pairing: Poe Dameron x afab Reader (no Y/N) 

Warnings: like one mention of sex (nothing explicit), female reader, implications of pregnancy, poe being adorable (putting this as a warning bc you may faint at how soft this himbo is), aaaaand I think that's it! 

Word count: approx. 1k 

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Poe approached the door of your shared quarters and punched the code into the keypad, sucking in a deep breath that threatened to turn into a yawn. Sudden sleepiness setting in at the thought of snuggling up next to you in your warm bed. But the second the door opened with a soft woosh, he froze.

There, next to the side of your bed was a bassinet…with a baby breathing softly inside. It was quite the sight for the commander’s tired eyes. His baby peacefully lying there in his bed, with an actual baby right next to them. He honestly couldn’t tell if he froze out of terror, confusion, or pure giddiness. 

Poe studied the scene for what seemed like a thousand years before cautiously stepping into the room and getting his uncomfortable flight suit off off so he could finally get some sleep. Eyeing the bassinet nearly the entire time, fascinated with what he was seeing. As quiet as he was trying to be to not wake you, the second his side of the bed dipped under his weight, you were rolling over to face him. “Hi handsome,” you greeted with a raspiness to your voice, the air on base not treating your throat with kindness during the cold nights.

“Hey baby,” the cocky pilot returned while pulling you into his chest, immediately following with a gesture to the obvious elephant in the room. “So, uh, what happened while I was gone? You get some action?” The man wasn’t dumb, he just liked being the one to make you smile like that. Soft, sleepy, and happy.

You responded to his sarcasm with a gentle kiss to his scruffy jaw and a soft yawn, “Kiyah had a recon mission,” you swallowed, “asked me to take care of her for the night.” Kiyah was a hell of a pilot that brought honor to Dagger squadron. It was rare for children to be born on base, but Kiyah had an “oops” moment about a year ago that was now neatly swaddled by your bedside, courtesy of you. 

“Oh, oh I see. I was worried we weren’t careful enough before I left,” Poe coyly smiled, your own yawn causing his body to mimic yours. You let out a breath through your nose in lieu of a giggle and said, “that’s not how that works but good job for trying.” 

The man brushed off your lighthearted teasing as his mind was suddenly flooded with the idea that the next infant in your bedroom would most likely be the product of you both. This caused him to subconsciously squeeze his arm around you tighter, placing a kiss to your head. Breathing in your lovely smell. “You know,” his heart skipped a beat before speaking again, “we could have one, one of our own. Or two. Or three. Or twelve.” 

You responded with a scoff that was nowhere near actually upset, “excuse me, who has to carry these twelve little Damerons?” Although the thought of twelve bubbly children with their father’s dark locks and your eyes was enough to make your heart swell. Little did you know that the pilot holding you had the same tight, warm sensation in his own chest upon imagining a family with you.

“I know baby, I’m sorry. We’ll have fun making them though,” from your position, you couldn’t see the suggestive brow being raised, but you could definitely tell it was happening by the way his voice carried. You smiled. You had missed him while he was away. His charming demeanor, his gentle touches, all of it. 

“That we will,” you couldn’t deny it, this time looking up into his warm eyes and smiling. The second your big, breathtaking eyes met his, you could have sworn his pupils dilated. He was truly smitten and very glad to be home. “Why don’t we get some sleep? You look tired sweetheart.” 

Before he could admit that you were right, he was exhausted, a soft babble made both you and Poe lift your heads and stare at the bassinet. The sleepiness your dashing pilot felt was instantly forgotten and he sat up, eyes still locked onto the baby who was already looking inquisitively at the man with the messy hair. 

Poe turned to you with a look of “should I?” Written all over his face, not sure if he was able to handle a baby, despite his snide comments earlier about having an entire platoon’s worth of children with you. You responded to his uneasiness with a gentle push to his shoulder, encouraging him to go take a look. Maker knows that baby kept you up longer than you had wished anyway. There was no denying she had her mother’s spirit, Kiyah was very proud of her feisty and energetic daughter. 

Gentle as ever, Poe reached down into the baby’s bassinet and scooped her up into his arms. An easy smile that reached his eyes on his face that you couldn’t help but swoon at. Although most would argue that Poe’s true element was flying, and while that is something he is very talented in, you adored the way he looked right now. Holding a baby in his big, strong arms and looking so…paternal really suited him. He began lowly humming a tune you know was from his home planet, he had mentioned that his mother would to sing him lullabies every night. 

The child didn’t cry, not with Poe. And she was back asleep quicker than she had woken up. You smiled at Poe and he returned the warm gesture as he climbed back into bed, pulling you back into his arms. “How long is Kiyah going to be gone?” He asked. “She gets back home tomorrow morning.” You said, knowing that he internally cursed at that. He was hoping he could have more time with the baby, playing house in the middle of a war. He wanted it all. He wanted it with you.

That was the only thing keeping him going most days. 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I just hope you guys are actually enjoying this book bc you’ve been extremely quiet and it’s making me worry jfdg -Danny

Words: 4,785

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Lemon To A Knife Fight -by The Wombats

Chapter Eight: Arguments.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation..."

Mel discovered that pouring all her attention into the classes was an excellent way to keep Harry and his stupid ogling towards Cho away from her thoughts. She wasn't going to bury herself in homework and miss the fun, but for the first time in her life, she was going to put herself first.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," called Snape.

As on queue, the surface of Hermione and Mel's started to create a mist, Snape barely looked at them without saying anything.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?" She heard the Professor ask in quite a nasty voice.

"The Draught of Peace," said Harry shortly.

"Tell me, Potter, can you read?" "Yes, I can."

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

" 'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.' "

Mel noticed Harry's face shift slightly at the last line.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No. I forgot the hellebore..."

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco. Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing. Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."

She knew it had been unfair to vanish Harry's potion, but she picked up her things, delivered her own, and left the classroom in silence.

"That was really unfair. Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's, when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire," Hermione commented during lunch.

"Yeah, well, since when has Snape ever been fair to me?"

"I did think he might be a bit better this year. I mean... you know... Now he's in the Order and everything."

"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots. Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked trusting Snape, where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?"

"I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron," snapped Hermione.

"Oh, shut up, the pair of you," said Harry. "Can't you give it a rest? You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad..." He turned and left.

Ron and Hermione looked at her in search for an explanation.

"I think he was pretty clear, wasn't he?" Mel raised a brow. "You two fight a lot."

"Look who's talking!" Ron said heatedly. "You and Harry have been arguing all the time!"

"We don't even talk!"

"You do! But you only fight!" Hermione pointed out. "It's strange, you barely speak and when you do, you end up yelling."

"We still fight less than you two."

"Fine," Hermione replied irritatedly. "We'll stop fighting, but Harry has to stop lashing out on us, we're not the ones he should be treating like this."

"Well then, you tell him that," Mel scowled.

Hermione looked like she wanted to keep arguing, but Ron stopped her and mumbled something Mel couldn't hear.

"D'you realize how much homework we've got already? Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars, Snape wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney! Fred and George weren't wrong about O.W.L. year, were they? That Umbridge woman had better not give us any..."

"I reckon I can handle it, but if you got any problems I'll help you, you just have to pay me five knuts per essay!" The girl joked.

"I think I rather fail everything, thank you..." Ron pouted.

"Well, good afternoon!" Umbridge greeted them in that unnerving voice.

"Good afternoon," said a few.

"Tut, tut– That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," Everyone replied. Mel and Ron shared an amused grin.

"There, now. That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please. Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

"Theory-centred?" Mel looked at Hermione. "I'm hating this already..."

"Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" A few replied humorlessly, the woman interrupted them. "I think we'll try that again. When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge."

"Good. I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."

Everyone listened. Everyone except for Hermione, who kept her book closed and raised a hand in the air, waiting for Umbridge to notice her. An awful lot of time passed before Umbridge finally decided to address the girl.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?"

"Not about the chapter, no."

"Well, we're reading just now. If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims."

"And your name is — ?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

"Well, I don't. There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

"Using defensive spells? Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?" The woman laughed, Mel found it extremely irritating.

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron asked in surprise.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr — ?"

"Weasley."

Hermione raised her hand again.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes. Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?"

"No, but —"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way —"

"What use is that?" said Harry. "If we're going to be attacked it won't be in a —"

"Hand, Mr Potter!"

Several students now had their hands up.

"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge asked to one.

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr Thomas?"

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free —"

"I repeat, do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but —"

"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school, but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed — not to mention, extremely dangerous half-breeds."

Mel gasped quite loudly. Several of her classmates stared at her in anxious anticipation.

"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean Thomas, who was as upset as her, "he was the best we ever —"

"Hand, Mr Thomas! As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day —"

"No we haven't," Hermione said, "we just —"

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"

"How can self-defense be inappropriate at any age?" Mel asked, her hand up without waiting for the teacher to giver her permission. "Why does it matter? Isn't it better if we manage to learn it while still young? It makes room for more knowledge–"

"More knowledge?" Umbridge's eyes had a dangerous glint. "What kind of knowledge, Miss Dumbledore?"

Mel opened her mouth but she did not speak. Umbridge knew her name without needing to ask for it.

"Just..." The girl hesitated, measuring her words, "general..."

"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you — Did that help you, Miss Dumbledore?"

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he? Mind you, we still learned loads —" Dean commented.

Mel was starting to like Dean better than other years, she made a mental note to buy him a few sweets on their next visit to Hogsmeade.

"Your hand is not up, Mr Thomas! Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?"

"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions."

"Without ever practising them before? Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough —"

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Harry blurted out.

"This is school, Mr Potter, not the real world."

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr Potter."

"Oh yeah?" Everyone stared at him in expectation.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?"

"Hmm, let's think... maybe Lord Voldemort?"

Mel swore under her breath, this was exactly the kind of stuff they were supposed to be avoiding, and Harry had run straight into the trap.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter. Now, let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead —"

"He wasn't dead– but yeah, he's returned!"

"Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," said Professor Umbridge, her demeanour changing, but barely. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark Wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."

"It is NOT a lie! I saw him, I fought him!"

"Shut up!" Mel hissed, but Umbridge spoke louder.

"Detention, Mr Potter! Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office," She looked like she'd just been granted her biggest wish, which Mel didn't like at all. "I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means, come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners.' "

Harry stood up.

"Harry, no!" Hermione cried quietly, she turned to Mel with a pleading look, but she crossed her arms and looked ahead. He handles his own stuff, she convinced herself, too pissed about his careless behaviour.

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?"

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she said without missing a beat.

"It was murder. Voldemort killed him, and you know it."

"Come here, Mr Potter, dear." She said sweetly.

Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink, and started scribbling, hunched over so that Harry could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him.

Mel was wondering what was going to happen to Harry when she walked out of the classroom and a younger student stood in front of her, handing her a note. Mel opened it quickly knowing from whom it was, she read it with a new sense of purpose.

'Sugar quills. Tonight after dinner.'

Mel sat down in front of the Headmaster and stared at him, waiting. Dumbledore seemed unimpressed.

"You've got your first class with Professor Umbridge."

"That woman is as close to being a Professor than I am to being a mermaid."

"Professor McGonagall told me Harry had an outburst in the middle of her class."

"He did."

"Why didn't you step in?"

Mel frowned.

"Was I supposed to, sir?"

"You're certainly not obliged, but after all these years I assumed you knew better than to let him speak about Voldemort in front of a member of the Ministry."

He didn't sound upset, but there was an edge on his voice that made her feel uncomfortable about her indifference.

"I tried to get my point across, but she knew who I was and after that, I didn't dare to speak. I didn't want to give her a reason to believe my lessons are more than what they are..."

"I'm afraid Fudge is not entirely wrong about your lessons, Mel."

The girl looked up at the man in confusion.

"What?"

"After the events of last June, I've decided to advance your classes to N.E.W.T levels," Dumbledore replied calmly. "I beg you forgive me, but your studies to become an animagus will have to wait. You'll be learning legilimency and occlumency, and nonverbal spells that you will try to do wandless."

"That's..." Mel started, taken by surprise. "That's okay... why?"

"Professor Umbridge will refuse to teach you in practice because Fudge doesn't want you to learn more than what you already know," Dumbledore explained. "I can't allow that to be your case. I need you to be ready."

"Ready for what? You're not... you're not saying I'm bound to take your place?"

Dumbledore fell silent for a moment before continuing.

"I don't want you to be my replacement. I want you to cover all the aspects that I cannot. I understand, thanks to Emily's letters, that you and Harry have grown apart during this summer, is that true?"

Mel thought about it for a moment before speaking.

"You need me to stay close, don't you?" She said in resignation. "Want me to become Harry's guard? You'll find that hard to achieve, as soon as he found out about the lifeline he cut all ties... He's convinced that this way is safer."

"What we're doing is important and we can't afford to fight in times like this. If you don't stick together, then we already lost."

"It's not that I don't care," Mel started, getting a bit irritated. "I just that he's been acting up on everyone–"

"Have you stopped to think that maybe he's acting this way because he's been cast out?" Dumbledore asked carefully. "He pushed you away, and you decided to push even further. He felt guilty of the pain you went through. I'm not saying you owe him kindness, but I surely expected more of you, Mel. You've always been understanding. What's different about this time?"

'What's different is that he broke my heart', Mel thought bitterly. However, his words did cause her to reflect on her actions.

"We'll start next week then, with the new lessons?" She asked weakly.

"Indeed," He stood up. "I must ask you to keep them in utter secrecy this time. No one must know."

"Umbridge could be listening," Mel nodded.

"Keep a low profile," The man told her once they were standing at the door. "Don't give Professor Umbridge a reason to punish you."

"I believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and I believe you fought him and escaped from him," Luna approached them in their way to Herbology. She said all this quickly and without blinking.

"Er — right," said Harry.

"I also believe you and your grandfather are misunderstood geniuses."

"The Headmaster's not my grandad, Luna," Mel replied politely.

"I know," She said like it was obvious. "You can laugh!" Luna exclaimed, unaware that the laughter coming from Parvati and Lavender had nothing to do with her words. "But people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

"Well, they were right, weren't they? There weren't any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack," Hermione mentioned.

"D'you mind not offending the only people who believe me?" Harry asked after Luna left.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry, you can do better than her! Ginny's told me all about her, apparently, she'll only believe in things as long as there's no proof at all. Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler."

"I don't think Luna's a bad person," Mel defended. "Just because she chose to believe in something you don't, it doesn't make her stupid or crazy."

"I know that," Hermione rolled her eyes. "But c'mon, Mel..."

"I don't want to hear another word about Luna's 'madness'– she's all right. I don't want to hear any of you calling anyone crazy- I'm sick of that bloody word..."

"I want you to know," Ernie approached them the same way Luna did, "that it's not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred percent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I."

"Luna's not a weirdo–!" Mel started, put Harry stoped her.

"Thanks very much, Ernie," He stared at her expectantly.

If she was supposed to prove her point on uniting the houses with good manners and a kind attitude, she had to start now.

"We appreciate it," She kept a smile firmly on.

"Oy, Potter!"

"What now?"

"I'll tell you what now," Angelina stormed towards them. "How come you've landed yourself in detention for five o'clock on Friday?"

"What? Why... oh yeah, Keeper tryouts!"

"Now he remembers! Didn't I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the whole team, and find someone who fitted in with everyone? Didn't I tell you I'd booked the Quidditch pitch especially? And now you've decided you're not going to be there!"

"I didn't decide not to be there! I got detention from that Umbridge woman, just because I told her the truth about You-Know-Who —"

"Well, you can just go straight to her and ask her to let you off on Friday and I don't care how you do it, tell her You-Know-Who's a figment of your imagination if you like, just make sure you're there!"

"You know what?" Harry grumbled, looking over his shoulder to make sure Angelina was gone. "I think we'd better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Wood's been killed during a training session, because she seems to be channelling his spirit."

"What d'you reckon are the odds of Umbridge letting you off on Friday?" said Ron as they entered the Great Hall.

"Less than zero. Better try, though, hadn't I? I'll offer to do two more detentions or something, I dunno... I hope she doesn't keep me too long this evening. You realize we've got to write three essays, practice Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, work out a countercharm for Flitwick, finish the bowtruckle drawing, and start that stupid dream diary for Trelawney?"

"I already finished half of all that," Mel said with a pleased smile. "If you didn't spend half of your time moping about homework, you would've done so as well."

"I don't remember asking to be lectured," He replied.

"If it weren't because the teachers are pushing schoolwork down your throat, you wouldn't be learning at all."

"Does it look like it's going to rain?" Ron asked, trying to break their argument and looking at the sky reflected on the ceiling with mild worry.

"What's that got to do with our homework?" said Hermione.

"Nothing," Ron blushed.

"So, dear ol' Ronnie," Mel sat down next to him in the common room, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Trying out for the Quidditch team, are we?"

Ron let out a choked squeak.

"How d'you know?"

"Oh, please," The girl rolled her eyes. "You asked for a new broom! You brought it with you, and you want Harry to be there on Friday because it'd make you feel better. Am I wrong?"

Ron's ears turned scarlet, which was enough confirmation.

"I think it's a great idea," She continued. "I mean, I've seen you fly and I've seen you play... sort of– I could help you if you want?"

Ron hesitated.

"Would you? I don't want to ask Fred and George because they'd laugh at me."

"They probably would," Mel agreed. "I would try out myself but I don't own a broom, so better you than someone else."

Ron let out a heavy sigh.

"I could really use some help, Mellow."

"No worries, mate. We got this."

Mel was having the worst cramps on her right hand ever since the start of the evening. She thought it was thanks to writing more than she was used to, but after a specially sharp pain, she hissed and grimaced, when she looked down she saw a hand that wasn't hers with the words 'I must not tell lies' carved into the skin.

"Mel, you're all right?" Someone nudged her shoulder and Mel blinked coming back to her senses.

She held onto her hand tightly, breathing unevenly she examined it only to see her skin untouched, her anxiety shot up at a dangerous speed.

"Yes," the girl stood up, leaving her stuff abandoned as she walked to the portrait. "I forgot something in the library..."

She rushed out the door not knowing where to go.

'Look for Harry', She urged herself, running towards Umbridge's office.

Ten minutes later she came face to face with Harry, who stopped abruptly at the sight. Mel stopped too, examining his face carefully and picking on the way he was sweating.

"Hi," She said tensely.

"Mel," Harry frowned. "What're you..."

She looked down at his right hand, Harry was quick to hide it.

"What are you doing here?" He asked with a straight face.

Mel wanted to say what she'd seen, but then she remembered what Dumbledore told her, and she was certain that telling Harry the truth would only cause him to push her away, so she lied.

"I was studying with Neville in the library and I forgot my books there, I was on my way to pick them up."

Harry nodded shortly.

"See you later, then."

Mel frowned, last year he would've offered to go with her, but it was clear that he was adamant to keep his distance. She felt stupid, running out of the tower like that after such a minor inconvenience. Harry was clearly okay! It didn't matter what she'd seen, he could handle it on his own.

"Yeah, see you..." She walked past him, her eyes fixed on the back of her hand, rubbing the skin in circles.

In the middle of her training session with Ron, a cramp pulled all the way to her elbow and she closed her eyes for a moment. It had happened every evening since Tuesday, normally she would just drown the pain and focus on her surroundings, but she was especially tired that night.

"I think we should call it a day, Ron," She sighed. "C'mon, it's getting dark..."

They walked in silence until Ron pulled her behind a statue at the same time the twins walked past them followed by a bunch of first years.

"Ron, you have more dignity than this," She whispered. "You need to stop acting like a baby around your brothers! How're they going to take you seriously if you don't give them a good reason?"

Ron was about to reply when a voice called for them.

"Guys? What are you doing?"

"Er — nothing. What are you doing?"

Harry frowned at them.

"Come on, you can tell me! What are you hiding here for?"

"We're– We're hiding from Fred and George, if you must know," said Ron. "They just went past with a bunch of first years, I bet they're testing stuff on them again, I mean, they can't do it in the common room now, can they, not with Hermione there."

"You're a terrible liar," Mel mumbled beside him. He elbowed her arm roughly, causing her to grunt.

"But what have you got your broom for, you haven't been flying, have you?" Harry asked.

"Have you, Ron?" Mel pressed.

"I — well — well, okay, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, all right? I-I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've got a decent broom and Mel's helping me train. There. Go on. Laugh."

"I'm not laughing," said Harry, glancing briefly at her. "It's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you good?"

"I'm not bad, according to Mel," said Ron, smiling a bit. "Charlie, Fred, and George always made me Keep for them when they were training during the holidays."

"So you've been practicing tonight? With Mel?"

"Every evening since Tuesday... Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect."

"You'll do fine, and if they try to mock you, I'll make sure to hex them afterwards," She replied.

"I wish I was going to be there," said Harry.

"Yeah, so do — Harry, what's that on the back of your hand?"

Harry froze, attempting to hide his hand away.

"It's just a cut — it's nothing — it's —"

Ron grabbed Harry's forearm and pulled. There, exactly the same place she'd been feeling pain all week, were the words she'd seen on her vision. Ron let go of his hand.

"I thought you said she was giving you lines?" He asked coldly.

Harry stared at the both of them, suddenly looking smaller than before.

"She's... she's been making me use this quill... she says it doesn't need ink and I think that's because, well, it's using my blood."

Mel felt her mouth dry. Harry might have been acting up, but he certainly didn't deserve that.

"...I've been writing the whole week with it– and it's been cutting deeper each time," Harry concluded as the reached the Fat lady portrait.

"The old hag! She's sick! Go to McGonagall, say something!"

"No. I'm not giving her the satisfaction of knowing she's got to me."

"Got to you? You can't let her get away with this!"

"I don't know how much power McGonagall's got over her."

"Dumbledore, then, tell Dumbledore!"

"No," said Harry.

"Why not?"

"He's got enough on his mind," said Harry.

"Well, here's a different solution," Mel started. "You go to her office tomorrow, you finish your detention, and then you keep your mouth shut for the rest of the year."

"You can't be serious..."

"I talked to Dumbledore the other day and–"

"And of course you're telling me this just now. What did he say? Surely he asked you to stay out of trouble–"

"He asked me to step in," Mel replied over his voice. "I should've stopped you from getting detention in the first place. I find it funny that exactly the same year I decide I don't give a flying troll about you, suddenly everyone wants me to defend you–"

"Well, I reckon you should —" Ron started, but the Fat Lady interrupted their chat.

"Are you going to give me the password or will I have to stay awake all night waiting for you to finish your conversation?"

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world

[ddaenggtan]

lay me gently | ksj

there is no time for loneliness among the fires of your forge, no room in your buzzing mind for thoughts of anything but your next invention and the pain in your leg. your life is tilted off its axis, though, when your parents arrange a marriage without your knowledge or consent, and your new husband begins to situate himself into your life despite protests from either of you. you don’t know what zeus and hera have planned, but a volcano is no place for a love god like seokjin. | monsters and gods pt 2 (masterlist)

pairing | seokjin x reader

genre/warnings | greek god au, aphrodite!jin, hephaestus!reader, disabled!reader (kind of. more technically accurate would be chronic pain!reader. but thats a whole discussion that ur welcome to have with me), fluff, slight angst but not a ton, v brief allusions to violence but its purposefully vague, not so brief descriptions of physical injury, descriptions of chronic pain, cyclopes! everywhere! i use that word so many times!, smut, literally the most vanilla smut i’ve ever written there are only two warnings, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, there are mentions of a war god that is a dick but it is Not Ares i promise, everyone still hates zeus bc he sucks, this also features dionysus!jimin but only a little, 

word count | 12.9k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | this is the second installment of gods and monsters!! i was actually in the middle of writing from eden when i stumbled across a really fantastic blurb about retelling aphrodite’s story the way we’ve all collectively decided to retell persephone and hades, so that there are two decent fucking couples in greek mythology, and there were a lot of good comments on said blurb that made those last two braincells in my head run into each other and make an idea. and then i promptly opened a new doc and typed half of this and a vague summary before sleeping for longer than i should have! and i’m always weak for aphrodite jin bc i mean....look at him....man looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo like who am i to deny the gods, y’know? and i figured that since i had olympian!reader in the last one, i’d continue that and have olympian!reader in this one, also i wanted an excuse to write from a hephaestus pov since i’ve loved that dumbass blacksmith since i was ten and wrote a greek history article in school. so here, have this aphrodite retelling!! | title from work song by hozier

It's hot. It's always hot here, the consequences of living inside a volcano, you suppose, but the callouses on your skin have long since made you immune to the burns. You glide down through the halls, an old habit since the day you crafted the wheels you attached to your sandals. No longer did you need to carry the awkward and hefty cane everywhere you went, or struggle to make your leg move the way you wanted it to. The invention of the wheel was one you were forever proud of. 

The forge is already blazing when you arrive, each of the hundred levels full of cyclopes all hammering away. Steam hisses and rises through the air, and you chance a glance at the lava bubbling miles below you. 

"Careful today," You call to the cyclops closest to you. "It looks like she's feeling the burn again. Raise the guards soon, and keep them up until she blows. No sense letting good work go to waste." The cyclops nods and barks an order out at others across the levels. You wheel yourself further along, the sound of the celestial bronze shields being brought up serving as background noise. You probably could have waited another day or so to raise them, if you were honest; cyclopes are fireproof, which is useful in a forge, and you yourself aren't likely to be taken out by a mere volcanic eruption. The work, though...heat like that could affect even the strongest of your creations, and everyone works much too hard here to have to reform every bolt, repour every blade. 

You valued your time too much for that. 

"You have a guest, my lady," one of your workers called. You look up from the notebook in your hands - soot-covered, bound in leather, edges singed, with bits of paper sticking every which way from the many times you've jotted something down for later and stuffed it inside quickly before tying the leather cords that bind it - and frown. The cyclops grimaces slightly. "It...seems to be Lord Zeus."

You scoff and spin yourself around to follow him to the elevator reluctantly. "Probably wants to commission another throne, the bastard. Should've stuck him to the last one, maybe he'd get it through his head that not everyone wants to fuck him." You wave a hand and your guide gives you a curt nod before returning to work. You settle yourself in the lift and flip the lever. It's not a long journey, thanks to the many improvements you've made over the years, but it still seems that too soon the grate is sliding back into the wall to allow you exit. 

You tap your heels together twice as you glide off the lift, already reaching for the cane that you keep there for situations like this. The soft clicks and whirs are nearly imperceptible as the wheels break themselves apart and regress into the hidden compartments in your soles. Your leg becomes dead weight once more, and you wince at the way it drags behind you. You've half a mind to curse whoever came to call on you this time; you hate walking, even if the charade is a necessary one. You're still contemplating the idea when you hobble into your entry to see Zeus himself, stoic and cold as he ever is. 

"My lord," You call, barely keeping the venom out of your voice as you do. Many would say it's the heat of the mountain making your blood boil, but you know the truth. Very little in the world sets you off like the man in front of you. 

He turns and fixes a blinding grin on you. "My dear Hephaestus!" You scoff at the title; no one has called you by your name in centuries, lest they inherit your lameness. "Wonderful to see you, truly. It's been too long since my last visit."

"Yes, four hundred years does seem to crawl by without you to grace the halls of my forge," You drawl. His eyes steel for a moment, your sarcasm not as lost on him as you'd hope, but it quickly passes. "Why are you here, my lord?"

"Well, you remember how I said I would owe you a favor?" Your eyes narrow and you nod. In the handful of times Zeus has repaid the hundreds of favors he owes, it's hardly ever been something positive. "I'm here to pay it! I brought you a gift."

"A gift, what-?" You don't get the chance to finish. Zeus has already waved forward a steward he brought along. Your heart aches for the boy as sweat drips down his body and his tunic is already singed. Your own leathers are slightly oppressive in the heat, but at least they don't catch fire. Zeus takes a scroll from the boy, harsh and rough, and shoves it into your hands. You unravel it quickly, your eyes darting across the words on the paper.

"A marriage?!" Your screech echoes throughout the mountain and the clanging of metal on metal pauses for a moment. "What am I supposed to do with a marriage, much less one to a-" You scan the paper again. "A love goddess?"

"Not a love goddess," He tuts. "The love goddess. Well. Love deity. Aphrodite is a beauty, you're lucky I could arrange such a thing." Your eyes strain against your skull, threatening to pop out with every word Zeus says. 

"What in all of Tartarus is a ‘love deity’ supposed to do in my forge?" You ask him. He scoffs and waves the question off as if it doesn't matter. Your hand twitches with the urge to throw him into the lava, and the only thing keeping you from doing exactly that is the pain striking through your leg - a bitter reminder of just what Zeus is capable of - and the knowledge that it wouldn't even kill him. 

"Your mother was adamant about this, Hephaestus." You echo his scoff at this; you're sure she was. "Aphrodite will arrive within the week. See to it that everything is fit for a god." He chuckles at his own joke, and a vision of your cane shoved through his skull implants itself in your brain. You force yourself to take in deep breaths. The scent of hot metals, sparks, and sulfur calms you, as it always has. 

"Fine," You say, though Zeus is already on his way out. "I'm not keeping anyone here against their will, though!" Your shout goes ignored, as you knew it would. You grumble under your breath and hobble back to the elevator. Within moments you're shooting down to your bedroom, large and situated close to the heart of the volcano. You don't bother to activate the wheels of your shoes, instead leaning on your cane until you get to your bed. 

The plush mattress and blankets are a relief on your aching hip and leg and you let yourself lean back and just relax for a moment. The notice is still clutched in your hand and you find yourself staring at the looping curves of Hera's signature, wondering what she's up to this time. 

Memories flood you before you can stop them; being a young godling in Olympus, attached and in awe of your mother as she led you around the city, light gleaming off the golden columns. Seeing the fire in Zeus' eyes the first time he struck her in front of you, and the blaze that came when you stepped in front of her. Starlight glinting off her silver robes as she cried in her garden. The bruising vice he kept on your calf, the feel of the winds against your skin as you fell, the way Helios painted the sky as you kept falling. The feel of a hammer in your hand for the first time, juxtaposed to the throbbing pain in your crippled leg every time you so much as twitched. 

The notice is across the room before you realize you've thrown it. You want to believe she isn't playing games; Hera has always been somewhat conniving, but your mother has never been outright cruel to you, not since the night you tried to save her from her husband, and she always had her reasons. You may not always agree with her reasons, but that didn't change the fact that she had them. Still, condemning an innocent person to a life here...condemning you to live your days with a constant reminder of your plainness, your deformity, wasn't something you expected from her. Zeus, yes, but not her. 

You let yourself fall back onto the bed, only to adjust a few moments later when the pressure on your hip becomes too much. You're angled now, weight resting on your good side to alleviate even a bit of the pain from the other. It was the only way you could get a moment's peace since your fall, the only time the pain lessened. 

You allow yourself five breaths. Five breaths to let the tear slip down your cheek, drawing its path through the soot and the smoke. Four to let your breath shake in your chest and shudder in the air. Three for the ache in your hip to disappear completely, so you are blessedly free from your pain for once. Two for the thorns to tighten impossibly around your heart and let it bleed for you. One for the hole in your chest, shaped like a loving father and a true family that doesn't constantly commission weapons from you to throw at each other.

Pain arcs through your leg once more and you wince. Your hand massages the muscles there absentmindedly; it provides no relief to anything but your mind. You stand and click your heels together once more, glad when the wheels are stable once more. In seconds, you're off, flying through hallways to get to your workshop. 

You've got work to do. 

It's nearly the entire week later when one of the workers knocks on the door of your workshop. 

"Aphrodite has arrived, my lady." You wave at him and he disappears back into the mass of his brothers. It doesn't take you long to get to the entryway, rolling through the halls until you're just outside the large bronze doors. You retract your wheels and grasp your cane, reminding yourself that the more people thought Zeus had crippled you debilitatingly, the better. Your hip aches again and you tune it out in favor of tapping the end of your cane against a small hammer at the base of the doors. There's a quiet whir as they slide open, and you limp forward as best you can. 

The foyer is packed with people, cyclopes everywhere with bags slung over their shoulder, forest nymphs tapping at their smoking roots, naiads hissing with steam. In the midst of everything stands two still figures, one infinitely more familiar than the other. 

"I thought I told you that the next time you step foot in my forge, I'd stoke my fires with your bones." Your voice is loud as it reverberates across the walls. Both figures turn to look at you, but your glare doesn't falter. 

"Aw, are you still mad about that?" His smile is deceptively innocent. "You never would've gotten her off that throne otherwise." 

"It wasn't supposed to be her throne in the first place, was it?" You spit back as you make your way to him. It doesn't escape your notice that everyone but the cyclopes is staring at you, and you're glad the heat from the mountain keeps you flushed. You can't show weakness in front of this crowd, you can't let them know that you know they think you're below them. 

You can't let them know that in your worst moments, you agree. 

"Get the fuck out of my mountain, Dionysus, before I throw you out."

"Ooh, take after your old man a little too much there, don't you?" Jimin's smile never leaves his face and you resist the urge to smack it with your cane. Instead, you tighten your grip on it and take a breath. 

"What are you doing here?" You eventually ask through gritted teeth. 

"Just escorting a dear, dear friend." His grin has turned predatory as he rests a hand on his companion's shoulder. "My dear Hephaestus, I'd like to introduce you to Aphrodite." You glance over, looking the man up and down briefly. 

He's taller than you - though, with your pained hunch, many are. His shoulders are almost as wide as his eyes as he looks around the room, taking in the granite walls and bronze moldings. His clothes aren't practical in the least; soft and sweet and flowing linens in a pale lilac that complements the purple of his hair. It's a stark contrast to the harsh reds and greys of your soot-stained leathers. When he finally looks at you, his eyes are the same color as the grease you use to oil your inventions and give you no clue to his thoughts.

He's fucking beautiful and it brings a sob to your throat.

"It's...a pleasure." He looks you up and down, not unlike you did him, but whatever conclusions he makes, he says nothing. 

"Your quarters are on the fifth floor," You reply in lieu of an actual greeting. "Delius will show you the way. Be careful, or you're likely to lose your head. Keep a cyclops with you while you learn your way around, they can get anywhere." The god looks surprised, though you aren't sure why, and you turn. "They'll see to your meals and needs, as well, so if you find yourself wanting, just let one know. I'll have a key made soon, so you can come and go as you wish." 

Aphrodite starts to say something as you walk away, leg dragging slightly behind you as you go. Jimin seems to cut him off, though, already asking for wine. 

"And get that bastard out of my forge!" You yell over your shoulder. "If he's still here when I get to the lift, I'm throwing him to the pit." 

There's scrambling behind you as the doors close. You feel a twinge of regret; the love god has done nothing to you, you could have given him even the slightest chance. The memory of his eyes as he looked at you flashes in front of you and you lean against the wall for support. No love god would want to associate with someone like you. He is beauty and elegance, a practiced dance in a moonlit gazebo, and you…

You are a mistake, cast from your home and crippled for all to see exactly what happens when you get in Zeus' way. 

You take a breath and let the heat from the stone wall soothe the pain in your hip as much as it will before you set off for your workshop.

Seokjin isn't quite sure what to do with himself that night. His friends - suitors - have all gone, unable to bear the heat of the mountain for more than a brief goodbye, and Jimin was quick to go when the cyclopes started for him. What the story there is, he doesn't know. He doesn't know anything, as a matter of fact. 

He doesn't know why Hera pushed so hard to have him wed to Hephaestus. He doesn't know why the girl was so cold at their first meeting. He doesn't know why she seemed so normal. Most people he met fell to their knees within moments, desperate to please him and showering him with vain compliments that used to sound like music in his ears. Most were insistent in their offers to him, throwing out their bodies and souls and anything else they thought he might want, just for a single glance from him. He used to laugh as he blew them kisses, delighted by their mindless adoration. 

Used to. 

He doesn't delight in such things anymore. Centuries have passed, and still, not a single one of the people and creatures that fought to stand in his presence cared about him. All of them saw Aphrodite, god of love and fertility, beauty and passion. They vied for just one night with him, fighting wars to win his hand, throwing whole festivals across Greece for his blessing. It was and would always be an honor. He is beautiful and is thankful for it, but…

Just once, he would like to be beautiful as Seokjin instead of Aphrodite. Would like the people attempting to woo him to hear the words he speaks instead of merely listening to the musicality of his voice. Would like to be believed, trusted, valued for something other than his face. Seokjin has a mind, a creative, capable mind that has - more than once - developed solutions to issues plaguing the mortals, only for him to be brushed to the side while the smart ones figured things out. 

He hates it, just like he hates that Hera sprung this on him without so much as a warning. One day he'd been lounging in her garden, the one place he could find some reprieve from the hordes of suitors, and talking to Artemis about her life as a maiden, and the next, Zeus thrust a marriage certificate into his hands and told him to be packed by the end of the week. 

And now his wife doesn't even care to look at him. You're not entranced like everyone else. The stories have grossly exaggerated your looks; he was prepared to look upon a monster, not a woman, pained and covered in soot with a limp. Still, there had been no emotion in your gaze, not even an ounce of the hatred or disgust he may have dreaded in his journey to this volcano. 

Nor do you care to dine with him, clearly. He's been sat at a scorched rocky table longer than three of him, by himself, for nearly two hours. Olympus has spoiled him, clearly, or perhaps it's that your own manners are lacking. In the skies, everyone dines together, lounging on cushions and waiting until Zeus and Hera arrive before digging into the food presented to them. It's respectful, a way to honor the hosts of the home. Even there, however, he would not be kept waiting for more than ten minutes.

"You, there," He eventually calls to a cyclops in the corner, polishing goblets that likely haven't been touched in centuries. It turns to fix its eye on him, and Seokjin represses the instinctive shudder. "When does Hephaestus intend on dining tonight?"

"Apologies, my lord, but the lady has her dinner served in her workshop." Seokjin frowns at that and the cyclops continues. "She stays there most hours of the day, takes her meals there to ensure she makes the most of each day to create her inventions and improve upon her current ones."

Seokjin huffs and debates with himself for a moment. It would be rude to eat without his hostess present, but if you had your meals delivered elsewhere there was little chance you'd bother to come to the dining hall. He couldn't possibly go to your workshop to dine with you either; the cyclops could show him the way, yes, but he would no doubt be intruding on things he had no business being near, even as your husband. 

He spews out a slew of curses that make the cyclops in the corner blush and digs into a roll. He would simply have to eat alone tonight, and perhaps if he catches you tomorrow, he can request your presence at meals. 

You don't see Aphrodite again until the next evening. 

You've almost forgotten anyone else lives in the mountain you call home, still used to being on your own besides the cyclopes. Roniah had informed you that morning that the god inquired as to your whereabouts the previous night during his supper, and the slightest bit of guilt shoots through you. You should have joined him if only for a moment to be polite, but you'd gotten entranced in your latest designs. Your own food had been taken away in the wee hours of the morning, stale and unwanted. It was commonplace, but you need to at least be polite to your husband. 

You sink deeper into the steaming water around you, rubbing away the last bits of soot and grease as you ponder. The hot water is heaven on your aches, the warmth seeping through and relaxing them into painlessness. You don't allow yourself the luxury of bathing often, usually just wiping yourself clean every so often when the remnants of your work become too thick on your skin or the ache in your bones is too much to ignore. It's a nice reprieve, though, one you bask in each time. The water is close to boiling, comfortable and warm for a goddess such as yourself, and the steam makes it difficult to see much of anything. 

You've long since come to terms with your life; you aren't beautiful, you won't ever walk without pain again, you won't be the daughter your parents wanted. But it's moments like these that you let yourself pretend, if only for a moment. Pretend you weren't thrown from your home. Pretend your leg isn't covered in scars from where the rocks of Olympus sliced it open. Pretend you're the same woman you were all those years ago, clutching at your mother's skirts as Zeus thundered towards her. 

Your head starts to spin and you stand, clumsily making your way out of the pool and to the stone bench where your linen towel waits. You slip your robes over your shoulders and sigh at the softness of them. The black linen you keep here was woven by Ariadne herself, enchanted by Athena and dipped in the fires of your forge to withstand the heat. It allows for a slight breeze as you move into your bedroom, not bothering to tie the material closed completely so it hangs limp on your shoulders, torso exposed. Your skin is overheated from the water and you enjoy the way the air cools you just slightly as you sit on your bed.

You don't think anything of it until a throat clears behind you and you whip your head around to see Aphrodite standing just inside your door. 

"Apologies, my lady. Horedon did not mention you were indisposed when I asked him to show me to your quarters." His voice is pleasant, soft and gentle. It matches his image and makes you acutely aware of how loud you always are, always must be in order to be heard over the forges.

"It's an honest mistake," You say eventually, tugging your robes tighter around you. "What do you need? As I said, the cyclopes are more than capable-"

"I wanted to extend my gratitude, actually." You can't even be mad he cut you off, too surprised by his words. "You and your workers have been very kind in the day that I've been here, and I appreciate that. I know that this isn't exactly something we had planned."

You nod in understanding. Pain flares in your leg once more and you massage the muscle out of habit. "Are your quarters to your liking? I did my best to position you high enough that the heat from the magma wouldn't be too overbearing, but not high enough that the forge smoke would choke you. Ah, and your bed also has a screen function built in to help to filter the air, so it may be more like what you're used to."

"Thank you, it's lovely. Delius showed me yesterday, it felt very much like Hera's garden." If he notices your flinch at the words, he doesn't say anything. "Listen, Hephaestus, I know neither of us may have wanted this, but I think we should make the most of this. We can at least be civil. If you would, your company at dinner would be most welcome." You stare at him, a laugh bubbling up in your throat that you can't stop. He looks baffled upon hearing it and it takes you a full minute to calm down enough to speak. 

"Thank you for inviting me to dine at my own table, Aphrodite," you say with an amused smile. "I shall do my best to attend, should I find myself near the hall." His ears turn a lovely shade of pink as he inclines his head in a small bow and leaves. You laugh again once he's gone. The entire situation is too hysterical for you. 

You, a plain and hobbled smith, are married to a love god who is beauty personified, who has already taken it upon himself to invite you to dine at your dinner table with him. You really should have expected him to pull something like this; already comfortable enough to show up unannounced in your private chambers and issue invitations and probably demands of your workers. You're not sure why Hera has banished him here; he's so much like her, he should be a favorite, and yet she must hate him if she's sentenced him to live here for the rest of existence. 

With a sigh you settle back into your bed, pillows supporting the weight of your bad leg and sheets thrown haphazardly around you. 

You don't expect to sleep, so when you wake, you're disoriented. You're not sure how long you were out, but it seems to have been a while based on the hunger that gnaws at your stomach. You click your heels and wheel your way to the kitchens, rubbing at your eyes to clear the sleep from them. 

You're focused when you enter the kitchen and give a curt wave to the mass of cyclopes situated around the island. It isn't until you're done making your gyro that you turn, deliciousness only a bite away and lock eyes with Aphrodite.

He looks radiant, as always; the pale yellow cloth drapes along his form in a most appealing way, and there's an amused smirk playing over his lips. His hair is still that soft purple, but it's faded some. 

"It's nice to see you again, wife," He says with an incline of his head. "It's been a while since anyone's seen you roaming through the halls." You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you lean back against the counter, wheels dig into the stone underneath your feet. 

"Yes, well, I was resting. Nothing strange about that, is there?" His lips quirk in a knowing smile and he shares a glance with the cyclops to his right. You notice for the first time how soft his mouth looks, pillowy and full, and you absently wonder how many have felt those lips against their skin. 

"Eat up, my lady," Aphrodite says eventually. "After a week-long nap, I expect you need it. Zeus dropped by a few days ago to deliver his wedding gift, it's waiting in your workshop. I've already commissioned a new necklace for Hera as thanks."

You frown, stuffing the gyro in your mouth. It was one thing to learn that you've been asleep for a week - not uncommon, for a god, but useful knowledge - but to know that Zeus stopped by without waking you, and that Aphrodite has been running things in your stead… You glance quickly around, noting the way each cyclops in the room is turned toward the love god as if they had all been deep in conversation before you arrived, and the sprawling mass of gems and stones atop the island in front of them. 

"You're commissioning the cyclopes for jewelry now?" You eventually ask. He nods. 

"They truly have an eye for detail," He says, a cheeky grin growing on his face. The cyclopes look amused, a couple even laughing outright, and you stifle a sigh at the terrible joke. "And I had no idea that these gems are so common here. The quality is astounding, honestly, I only ever see it in the gems on Olympus."

"That's because the stones on Olympus are from here," you tell him. Your eyes rake over him and he seems...happier than last you saw him. The soft light from the magma tunnels highlights his features beautifully, only enhancing the natural beauty, and there are gems decorating his hands and wound tight around his throat in a choker. More than that, though, he looks peaceful, relaxed. His muscles are relaxed as he sits among the one-eyed giants, a smile never far from his face, and they make conversation with him easily, despite their usual hesitance to be around any of the other gods. It warms you to see them so at ease around someone other than yourself.

"Well, if it's for Hera, it must be the best. Get me the designs, Aphrodite, and if there's anything else-"

"Seokjin."

"Hm?" You turn, already halfway to the door. 

"Seokjin is my chosen name. Please, you don't need to keep using my title." 

"Oh." Your eyes must be as wide as saucers as you stare at him, but the soft grin on his face doesn't falter in the least. "Alright then, Seokjin."

"We'll get you the designs when we're done, then, Hephaestus." You nod a little at his words and roll yourself away from the kitchens. It isn't until you get to your workshop that you realize you never gave him your own name.

Seokjin is...confused, to say the least. 

The stories on Olympus about your mountain forge are varied and extravagant, but they all seem to agree on the basics. The mountain is a terrible place to live, always filled with soot and impossible to navigate and as hideous as its master. The cyclopes are unfriendly and outright rude to everyone, if not openly hostile, likely because they are forced into servitude. The forge goddess that rules over the volcano is as violent and temperamental as the mountain itself, liable to explode at any moment after being cast out of Olympus for her own hubris. You're said to be cold and unfeeling and cruel, whipping any cyclops that doesn't do what you say when you say and beating the others into submission as you forge more and more powerful weapons for Zeus, your punishment for daring to stand against him.

Seokjin was finding more and more that none of those things were true. 

Yes, there is soot everywhere, but a simple wash and blessing upon his clothes keep them clean and beautiful. The mountain itself is a bit harsher than what he usually would consider beautiful, but the crystal mines glow with the magma behind them, lighting the walls with a myriad of colors, and the soft light in the palace does wonders for his looks, not to mention the way the ash and charcoal have helped his complexion. The halls are winding and strange, but following the system of bells and strings that he's seen messages shooting along means that even when lost, he can easily find a cyclops to help him to where he's going. Said cyclopes were unfriendly that first day, but now? They were nice beings, each one enthusiastic about the things they create and excited to be there, especially now that there's another person to talk to. They warmed to Seokjin fairly quickly after he asked what they were making; some kind of automaton, apparently, and when he asked what it was supposed to do, how it works, each eye lit up with glee as they began to explain it to him.

And you.

You are not violent at all. Every time you look at one of your workers, it is with friendship and happiness, and while you are easily distracted and yes, a bit temperamental, you are ultimately kind. He wants for nothing, everything he could ask for is given almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, he is free to come and go as he wishes, which is more than can be said for some of the other gods he's met. You have been unfailingly kind in the wake of your marriage to him. Everything he's witnessed, from the way you rushed to stamp out a flare at the bottom of his robes one day to the way you held a cyclops in your arms as he sobbed for a brother who had been lost to the sea, nothing has shown him that you are anything like what the Olympians say. You are frequently absent, locked away in your workshop for days at a time and leaving him to his own devices, but even that is a breath of fresh air. For so long, he's been surrounded by people - gods, nymphs, mortals, anyone and everyone all vying for his attention because he's beautiful and elegant, stealing precious moments of solitude where he can, and now he has as much as he desires. It makes him want to cry, he's so thankful for it. 

He's only left a few times, determined to visit Hera and see the few friends he keeps - Dionysus is always glad to see him, odd enough, and loves to hear his tales of life under the mountain. Each time he leaves, however, he's swarmed. Not always immediately, but it's as if the world can sense his return, and they come in droves, all to catch a glimpse of his beauty. It's exhausting and overwhelming now that he's had so much time on his own, which is the exact reason he doesn't leave very often. The worst of them is an especially willful war god, who Seokjin swears has been camping outside the volcano to know the second he leaves to visit a friend because the man is on him in a heartbeat and refuses to leave him alone. 

It's irritating and the way the man looks at him leaves him uncomfortable for days after he returns. He has half a mind to ask a cyclops to start accompanying him out, but even Seokjin knows better than to bring one of them to Olympus; Zeus would strike the gentle being down in a heartbeat just for daring to step where the gods live. 

He ponders what else he can do as he wanders the halls of the mountain, a habit at this point. He's been here weeks, each day better than the last, and still hasn't explored the entire place. He's on the lowest level now, heat scorching the hair on his arms and sandals blackened with ash. There's been quite a clamor down here somewhere for the past few days, and he's curious to see what project is being hammered out. 

He doesn't expect to turn a corner, walk past an open door, and see you, wheeling frantically around a large room, papers tucked in all sorts of pockets on your overalls, hair wild, face covered in soot. He watches, fascinated as you screech to a halt beside a large worktable, rifling through paper after paper before finally finding whatever it is you're looking for, only to push yourself to the other side of the room to pull a steaming piece of celestial bronze out of a pail. You look harried and distracted, not even having noticed him yet, and it…

It's honestly beautiful. 

He's always loved seeing beauty like this; the sheer, unfiltered rawness of creativity and passion. The way you and others lost themselves in their work, blind to everything but the vision in their heads, forgoing sleep and food and everything else in favor of making something out of nothing. It's beauty in its most naked form; the naked truth of being real, in the fleeting moments of existence, and Seokjin lives for it. It's his personal favorite of all the beauty in the world, and you encapsulate it better than anyone he's ever met. 

It's also beyond fascinating to watch you roll around on the wheels attached to your sandals. He can't help but wonder what it's like, to not have to take step after step and instead just roll through the slightly slanted halls of the mountain. 

"Did you make those?" He regrets the words almost immediately, reaching in futility to catch you as you turn and trip over a pail set just too far in your path for you to dodge. "I'm so sorry, I should have announced myself. I don't mean to keep startling you." 

"It's fine," you groan, though the hand on your hip is white-knuckled and your teeth are gritted. "I should have been paying more attention." He strides over and helps you to your feet, not missing the way you lean on him for support until you can sit on the now-overturned pail. "What did you need?"

"Oh, nothing, I was just exploring. Those, on your feet, though. You made them?" He smiles at your nod, however hesitant it is, and settles on the ground beside you to get a better look. "They're amazing. This compartment here, are they retractable?" You click your heels together in response, and Seokjin watches with wide eyes as the discs fold themselves up and slide into the soles of your sandals. "Amazing. Can you make me a pair?"

"You...you aren't going to tell Zeus, are you?" Your voice is the most unsure he's heard it, and he frowns.

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, I just...he wouldn't really be happy if he knew I made these. Since I'm supposed to be suffering and everything, and they make it...not as terrible."

Seokjin scoffs. "No, I won't tell Zeus. You really do have to make me a pair, though, these are amazing. What else have you made?" Your eyes are wide when he looks back up at you, but you quickly pull papers out of your pockets to hand them over. 

"Well, this is my current schematic. I've just got to figure out how to get it to work."

"Is this...is this a person?"

"Kind of. The muses asked for some kind of...enhancement that would let them be heard in more places at once. So I've created this," You point to the left-most figure, which could only be Calliope. "Which is going to essentially absorb whatever the muse is doing, and then these," You run your finger along the other eight figures, each distinct but still matching overall, "Will distribute that to wherever they are. I've got a good basis for the visual representation, I think, and the audio system should be fine, but the issue I've been having is that I can't seem to get it to all...click."

"So you've got the transmitting figured out?"

"Yeah, that part was easy. And I built the miniatures, and they've been working fine, but I can't get the full sized ones to work correctly. I've smelted them down at least five times just to rebuild them." Seokjin stares at the papers in his hands, trying to make sense of the little scratches of handwriting that dart on and off the papers. He shakes his head, and pulls back, squinting.

"This may be a stupid question," He starts, looking at the front and side views you've drawn out, "But did you account for the weight?" You're silent for a long while, and when he looks up, you're gaping at him. "Sorry, of course you did, that was dumb."

"The fucking weight," You mutter. You're off in a flash, pulling the papers out of his hands to throw them down on a workbench and start scrawling again. "Because it wouldn't affect the smaller models since they use less material, but the full-size automatons would have the pressure which would affect the-" You start whispering to yourself, too rushed and quiet for him to make sense of, but he softens as he watches you go. He pulls the pail out of the way and sets it back against the wall before settling in on top of it.

He stays there for what feels like hours, watching as you pour adamantine into the molds and weld parts together and breathe that spark of life into the core of Calliope's automaton counterpart. He doesn't dare to breathe as you watch, hope clear in your eyes. Then the whirring starts and the automaton assumes a very Calliope-like pose, and you actually start to laugh and jump up and down. He can't keep the smile from his face, but he's satisfied now that he knows you're happy, so he moves to leave.

He's stopped by your voice, softer than he expected it over the hissing of the dying forge. He turns and you repeat your name. It sounds awkward on your lips, like you haven't said it in so long that your voice has forgotten what it sounds like, but you're smiling at him and you have soot on your face and he has to resist the urge to wipe it off. He echoes you quietly, and he thinks he's never heard a name more beautiful and fitting for someone like you.

Later, as he sinks into the steaming water of his rooms to wash the soot from his skin, he surprises himself. For the first time in his life, he wishes he wasn't a love god not for the unwanted attention, but because now he knows. He knows this feeling blossoming in his chest, and he knows how it mirrors that spark in your own heart. He can sense it, can feel it in the air as if it had actual weight to it, and he just...knows. He knows that you don't know what this is, that you probably will never realize what he feels, that you'll brush off your own feelings as some reluctant fondness while he can feel every step you take further into the magic of love.

And he won't be able to do anything to keep himself from falling in love with you and you won't ever be able to see that.

You've been locked in your workshop for days, putting the finishing touches on the Muses' automatons and adding the decorative bits you know they'll love. You haven't slept in twice as long, food even further from your mind, as it usually is when you get into one of your projects. It's a shock when Seokjin returns to your workshop balancing several trays of food and drink. You hold a strange fondness for him, unable to resist after he'd pointed out something so obvious in your designs. Anyone that could help you with your designs was worth at least knowing a little, you figure, but you never expected him to keep coming back.

And yet here is, directing three cyclopes to set cushions and blankets and all manner of soft, plush bedding on the ground just inside the door of your workshop. You gawk, wondering just how much nerve he has to be doing this and also what possible reason he thinks is good enough to disrupt you. 

"You need to eat," He says when he notices you staring at him. "Besides, you're basically finished with them, and you need sustenance and rest if I'm going to get my awesome wheel shoes." You refrain from mentioning that you've already got them made; you don't want to encourage him too much. Pelion gives you a look as he exits the room and you huff. Just because they spend centuries here, they think they can tell you when to take breaks and eat. Typical cyclops. 

You grumble as you wheel yourself to the mass of cushions Seokjin has created, but you quiet at the way it does ease the soreness in your leg. As good as you've become at drowning out the pain, the steady onslaught to your nerves has been fraying your attention more than you'll admit. 

Seokjin sits after you have and presents the food with a flourish. It all looks delicious, much better than the hasty gyros and wraps you put together, and your mouth waters. He very kindly does not mention how disgusting you must look as you begin to dig in, instead talking about a recent trip he'd taken to see Dionysus.

His tone eventually catches your attention more than his words. "Wait," You stop him, slurping down some ambrosia. "Back up. Someone's stalking you?"

"I...don't think I'd call it stalking, exactly. I don't think he's going to do anything, either, it's all just talk, but...well. It's still frustrating when I'm just trying to visit friends." 

"No, if it's bothering you, then it's an issue, then it needs to end. Tell me everything." And Seokjin does. From how the war god waits for him, either outside the mountain or outside Olympus, spends every moment Seokjin is gone following him around and saying some truly crude things. All of it makes your blood boil - Seokjin is kind, to the point that even the cyclopes love him, which is rare, and he gets harassed enough apparently without some god running around hitting on him constantly. 

The rumors, though. The rumors are what get you seeing red. It's no secret on Olympus that this was an arranged marriage; they aren't uncommon among gods, and they aren't usually a scandal, but yours apparently is. Seokjin hesitates when he tells you about them, and you nearly break your fork in your effort to keep your rage from him. All sorts of stories, from you abusing him, forcing things he isn't comfortable with, keeping him chained up, feeding him pieces of your cyclopes, that you had bought him from Zeus with promises of gifts from the forge. Each is as terrible as the last, and all of them have your stomach rolling, and Seokjin reluctantly explains that he believes the war god to be the source of most of them. 

"Well," You say, violently spearing a grape. "That must be stopped, immediately. I refuse to allow people to think of you like that, it's utterly disrespectful." You wobble to your feet and roll over to the wall of ideas you hadn't managed to get around to yet. "What do you think? Maiming? Or is that too quick? I've got a truly brilliant idea for a bull, it could eat him if I use the right materials. It'd take at least a hundred years for him to get out of that."

"Well," Seokjin eventually says. You turn to look at him, excitement bright in your eyes. The wheels in his brain are turning and he's got a fondness on his face as he lounges on pillows and cushions; it melts your heart. He looks every bit the love god he is, and something in you wants to sob at the thought. "I would say, personally, if he's going to embarrass us in such a public way, then it should only really be fair to embarrass him in such a way." He tosses the knife in his hand and it embeds itself in one of the papers on your wall. You ignore the throb of arousal that runs through you, looking instead at the design he's chosen. 

"Oh," You whisper. Ideas are already running rampant in your mind. "Yes, I think this could be a very good plan." 

Seokjin is in stitches when he next sees you, clutching at his sides as his laughter echoes through your workshop. The sight of his harasser in your net as he spouted off a variety of kinks that made even Zeus blush, in the middle of the golden city with all of the gods around him isn't one Seokjin is likely to forget. 

"I still don't understand how you did it," He says, calming slightly as he wipes tears from his eyes. "How did you weave such a net, and how did you enchant it to make him say such things?"

"It wasn't much," You say. Your smile is beautiful, a treasure rarer than all the gems that he wears and more valuable than anything he's come across. He wants to wear it, wants you to keep smiling like that, with such pride in your work and happiness radiating from you. "...and then Arachne wove it all together." He nods as if he'd heard the rest of what you said. Part of him feels guilty for not listening; it really is fascinating, how you craft such wonderful things out of such pedestrian supplies.

"You're amazing," He says. He doesn't mean to, but it's true. Even now, as you lean against your workbench, fingers digging into the skin of your hip without even realizing you're doing it, smile slowly fading into something else - something more - you are radiant. Soot across your face and wheels on your shoes and the kindest heart he's ever seen in a goddess, and he wants you like no one else. There has always been beauty in creation, always been love in inspiration, and you are the ultimate mix of the two, painted over with enough cunning and determination to keep at your work no matter what. 

He steps closer to you, slowly, and brings a hand up to wipe at the soot on your cheek. It smears under his thumb and your breath hitches in the most attractive way.

It's unbearably attractive, honestly, and it makes an ache swell within him that goes deeper than the physical. He wants to keep you smiling like that, wants to watch you work and bring you gyros and cart you to a hot bath on a bad day. He can see it, all of it, splayed in front of him as clear as if he were an Oracle. He'd waltz into your workshop and pepper you with kisses before pulling you out after him. Your wheels would squeak along the stone floor but you wouldn't complain even as he settles you in hot water and makes you forget your pain as he asks about your newest designs and creations. He can see it, and it's beautiful, and he wants it so bad that it hurts. 

Almost as much as it hurts when your face falls, expression closing off into the same passive coolness that greeted him when he first arrived. You slide your way around him and turn to face another worktable. It hurts, the way you won't look at him, and moves something deep and primal inside him. It urges him to go on, to trap you against that table and make you open up to him, make sure you know that you can trust him to satisfy you.

He stamps it down with a long breath. 

"Well," He says, pointedly ignoring your shaky breathing. "Thank you, again, for helping me. I suppose I'll see you around."

"You don't need to thank me, Seokjin," You say. Your voice is tight and your hands twitch and he wants to kiss you until the pain is gone forever. He doesn't. "You're my husband, I was only doing what was right."

"Still," He says, "It means more to me than you know."

You don't respond, and he leaves before you can. He doesn't want you to, doesn't want to hear the reluctant rejection spill from your lips when he knows. He's a love god, he knows when someone is in love, can feel in the air and taste it on his tongue. He knows that scent better than his own face and your workroom was suffocating with it. 

He has no doubt that some was his own; he knows this fluttering in his chest, the rolling of his stomach, the spark of lightning dancing along his skin. He knows. 

But he can smell the hesitation, too. Can see the way you fight the feeling, in every aborted reach for his hand and each averted gaze when he looks at you. You love him, he's so sure of it, but you don't want to be.

And he cannot force you to change your mind about that. He won't. He just isn't sure how long he can last without telling you that he loves you, too.

Curses spill from your lips as you glide cautiously through the hallways. You've grown too complacent, comfortable around your husband. You very nearly slipped the other day, were a hair's breadth from throwing caution to the wind and kissing him; it was a miracle you caught yourself. He'd just looked so happy. The smile, that laugh, everything about him was just glowing in the light of your workshop, and then he'd complimented you. 

It's been decades since someone complimented your work like that, and none of them had done so with that look in their eyes. The gentle warmth, the fondness, the glow.

The love.

That was what startled you out of your thoughts, the sheer love that radiated from him. That was what made you push him away. It's what has kept you from seeing him for nearly a week, turning on your heel and going the other direction when you spot him. You can't handle love.

Not just because you've never known such an emotion, not just because you've never had anyone look at you that way, but because...he's a love god. A man like Seokjin surely falls in love every day with each passing stranger that catches his eye, and you...don't. You've never felt this before, you've never had someone love you, you don't know how it works, and worse, you can't figure it out. 

You can't take love apart and look at each gear and cog and spring until you can piece it back together into a whole again. You can't observe and tinker and improve on something like love. Clouds and lightning? Simple mediums. Celestial bronze? Malleable as clay under your hands. But love? No, that was something utterly foreign to you. 

You drop to your bed and pull your leg up beside you to inspect the wheel. It's cracked, badly, and it's a shock that it survived long enough to get you to your room. You lean closer and flinch at the stabbing pain that rolls through you. It's a stark reminder of yet another reason you don't belong with Seokjin. A god like him has almost definitely lain with the most beautiful in all creation; he surrounds himself with only the finest gems, the softest cloth, the richest wine. He only accepts the best. 

You are far from being the best. Mutilated and scarred, left to limp around your mountain in solitude. You're past acceptance of your pain and the scars that mark your skin, you don't really care much that they exist anymore most days. Life could be easier without them, but would you have become the person you are today without them? You wouldn't have been so determined to find an easier way around, you wouldn't have worked for days on the wheeled sandals, you wouldn't have discovered your passion for creating. 

You wouldn't be in pain, though. And maybe, just...maybe, Seokjin would find you beautiful. As beautiful as the twinkling stones around his throat and the flowing silks across his chest. Beautiful enough to stay beneath this mountain in the smoke and heat, to press his pillow-soft lips against yours, to love without abandon. Now, though, with your scars and pain and awkward gait, you find yourself doubting what you saw. It could have been love, yes, but how likely is that? A love god forced to live in a suffocating cave, wed to the laughingstock of the pantheon. It's more likely that he's attached himself to the nearest person that shows him any affection, despite how desperately you want him to really feel something for you.

Three succinct knocks on the door of your room jar you away from the thought.

"Come in," You call. You wish you were more surprised to see Seokjin, purple hair prettily faded and matching the soft lavender cloth that drapes from his shoulders. 

"Can I have a few minutes of your time, Hephaestus?" He hasn't used your title since you told him your name, and it hurts to hear it now. Cements the fact that you are too different.

You nod, and the pain in your hip keeps you from moving away when he comes to kneel before you. 

"I love you," He says matter-of-factly. "I've let you avoid me this past week because it's not my place to force these feelings on you, but the stench of heartbreak is too much now. It just lingers in the halls and it's starting to seep into my clothes and if it keeps up, I might have to double my skincare routine because it soaks into my pores. So I love you. A lot more than I ever expected to, and probably more than I've ever loved anything in my life."

You gape at him. "What...why…what?"

"You are creative and cunning and petty and inventive and intelligent and determined and it's so beautiful," He says. There's not an ounce of hesitation in his face, and it steals the words from your throat. "I love you, and I need you to know that so you stop stinking up the forge with your angst and heartbreak. I understand if you don't want to be with me-"

"What heartbreak, what-"

"Well, I don't actually," Jin continues, ignoring your protests. "I'm really quite the catch and to deny yourself of me when you love me this much would be an entirely new and advanced form of masochism, but nevertheless, I will accept your rejection, however inane and ill-advised it may be, because it is, ultimately, your choice. You can tell me to go, and I will, and you won't ever know I'm here again. But, if you accept this, then…"

He trails off and his eyes soften impossibly as he wraps his hands around yours. You've never believed people could communicate so much with just a single look, but you're proven wrong by the sheer emotion in his gaze. Your name falls from his lips, and it's never sounded so nice to your ears.

"If you accept, then I swear to you, I will spend every hour of every day ensuring you feel loved. I will bring you food when you forget to eat, I will tidy your workshop when you can't find anything, I will carry you wherever you need to go when the pain is too much to bear." One hand moves to rest along your hip, warmth distracting you from the stab of pain that ghosts through it. "I will be everything and anything that you need, always and forever, and I won't let another moment pass with you thinking otherwise."

He looks at you with expectation in his eyes, and you...can't speak. There are no words for what you're feeling; the sureness of his love warring with the anxiety of not being worth it. You open your mouth several times to respond and find that you can't; of all the words flying around in your mind, none of them make it out. He waits, for longer than you would have, before he sighs and nods. 

"That's fine. Love is complicated even at the best of times." He stands, and the loss of his hands on you feels like part of you is being ripped away. "If you ever change your mind, let me know." 

His smile is sad as he leaves, and the clink of the door behind him is the last nail in the coffin. Something wet and warm hits your hand, and you realize you're crying. When did you start crying? You struggle to your feet, rolling wildly across the room before you gain your balance. 

The door swings open as you shove past it, the last bit of his purple robes turning the corner, and you shove off the wall to gain speed. You can't let him go. The knowledge surges through you with surety you've never felt, and it feels like there's a timer above your head, counting down to the moment you lose him forever. His name echoes through the halls, even though you don't remember calling it, and you speed around a corner to him. 

He's half turned to face you already, about to head down another hall since this one dead ends, and it's as you go to brake that you remember the cracked wheel. There is no braking, you're lucky you've made it so far, but you're at top speed right now and there's no time.

"Don't-" is all you can get out before you're crashing into him, wincing as he falls down to the hard ground and the wheel splits in half beneath you. The pain comes an instant later, too much weight too suddenly, and it would bring tears to your eyes if you didn't fight them down. 

"Wow," Jin says after a second. "You really did fall for me, didn't you?" His laughter drowns out your groan, but it's worth it for the way he's smiling at you. 

"I…" You hesitate, unsure of the words. He waits, patient and relaxed even as he adjusts you to sit on his lap instead of the rock. "I do. I want this."

"I know," He says with a grin. "It's nice to hear you say it, though." He doesn't flinch at the smack you give his shoulder, just presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"I swear to all the gods, Seokjin, if you don't stop, I'm going to put this discus through your skull."

"Ooh, please do. I hear that's how Athena was born."

"Seriously?"

"You're right, we don't need anyone else like that running around." 

You let your tools fall to the table in front of you and spin around to face your husband. He's exactly where he has been for hours, lounging among pillows and silks on the bed he's had installed in your workshop. A bowl of grapes sits nearby and he's been working his way through them for what feels like forever. If you weren't so irritated, you'd be struck dumb by the image he paints, half-naked and glowing as he pops a fruit between his lips. 

As it stands, you're just frustrated and horny now, which is never really a good thing, but especially not on bad days. The ache has made it hard to think, and you've been shuffling around all day trying to find a position that made it hurt just a little less but had no such luck. You've made no progress on the designs in front of you, either; between Seokjin's commentary and the fog of pain in your mind, you had no concentration. 

"I'm trying to work, Seokjin. We had an agreement, remember? You could have the bed installed, you can hang out here, I don't mind, but you have to let me work." 

"You've been trying for hours," Seokjin whines. "Take a break with me, please? You need to rest your hip anyway, or you won't be able to focus." You hate that he's right, and you hate that he knows he's right, and you really hate that he knows you know he's right. You grumble as you wheel over to him and as you slide your shoes off. It's his one rule about the bed, no shoes, and while you can't blame him since they were covered in ash and soot and rock, you still like to complain about it. 

His hands are on you in an instant, gliding under your shirt and massaging your hip. You sink into the touch, sighing as the pain lessens slightly.

"Let me help? We've still got some of the lotion that Apollo sent as a wedding favor. I brought it down, just in case." Lips press soft kisses to your shoulder, and you know it's only a matter of time before you give in. You should probably be a little ashamed of how little it takes for your husband to distract you, but you can't bother to care now. 

You nod, and you feel him smile against your skin. He's gone and back in a heartbeat and he lays you back against the pillows carefully. You wince when your hip rests flat, instantly adjusting to bear your weight elsewhere. 

"Is it bad today?" He mutters as he slides your usual leathers off. Any shyness and embarrassment you once had are long gone, softened by the passage of time and the sheer amount of times he's seen you naked. 

"No," You respond quietly. He shoots you a disbelieving look. "It's more annoying than usual, I suppose, but it's not any worse than usual."

"You shouldn't have irritated it by working," Seokjin says as he runs some of Apollo's lotion between his hands to warm it. "You could have stayed right here and gotten more done."

"I can't forge a throne from the bed, Seokjin."

"No, but you can draw designs for it. And for the jewelry I promised Dionysus."

"I still don't know how you talked me into making something for him that isn't a chastity belt or a guillotine." The heat in your words is dulled with every slide of your husband's hands over your hip. The lotion starts working almost immediately, sinking into your skin and dissipating any discomfort it reaches. Seokjin is smiling as he works and pats your thigh lightly. You twist more, laying on your side so he can reach the back of your thigh. 

"You can't be mad at him forever, can you?" He asks. You open your mouth to disagree - as a goddess, you quite literally can - but only a squawk comes out when he slaps your ass and watches it jiggle. He laughs as you slap at his shoulder, no real strength behind it. 

"That's it, give me my clothes, I have work to do." 

"Mm, I don't think so. Apollo said you have to rest for a while after applying, remember?" He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. 

"What do you expect me to do, just lay here and do nothing? I can't turn my brain off, Seokjin, I'll go mad if I have to lay here without being able to work."

"I actually had other ideas." The smile never leaves his face, and as he leans over you, you can feel the length of him pressing into your thigh. "Still just laying there, but much more enjoyable."

"Scandalous," You whisper, fighting a smile. "What would my husband think?"

"That you look sexier than anything he's ever seen like this and that he wants nothing more than to make you forget about anything but him." 

“That doesn’t sound very restful,” You tease as he kisses along your neck and down to your collarbone. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you can feel his familiar smile against your skin; he always does love it when you get flustered.  “I’m pretty sure Apollo specified ‘no sex’ in his definition of resting. He was pretty clear about it, actually, which makes me wonder what you’ve told him.”

Seokjin nips at your collarbone lightly. “Didn’t I say I want you to forget about anything but me?”

“Didn’t you say you were going to make me?” You retort. It’s a familiar argument, as comfortable and warm as Seokjin’s hands massaging your hip and thigh. His silk-soft hands dip downwards even as he rises, lifting your leg up and hooking your ankle around his neck. The discomfort that hits is overshadowed by the relieving stretch, and heat pools in your belly when you feel his length press against you once more, significantly closer to where you’d like it. He straddles your free leg, pressing against your naked core. 

“Seokjin, please,” You mutter. His touch is feather-light now, fingertips ghosting over your skin and marveling at the goosebumps they raise. You wiggle underneath him as he begins to trace your scars. The first time you’d done this, you didn’t let him linger; you were too embarrassed, too ashamed, too aware of the marks that start just above your hip and travel nearly to your knee. He’d insisted on it the next time, but you’d kept the room dark so you wouldn’t have to see his face. Months had passed before you could bear to watch him look at you, and when you did, it shocked you. It still does. It never seems to matter how many times he sees you like this, bare and vulnerable, scars on full display underneath his large hands. He always wears the same expression, the same awe reflecting in his eyes each time, his touch always gentle and careful, like he doesn’t want to make it worse than it already is. There’s no disgust, there’s no carefully crafted neutrality, nothing that you convinced yourself to expect. Just pure, unfiltered love.

It’s there still, radiant as he slides his hands along your skin. The sensation is dulled along the scar tissue, and yet you feel it in your very core. Wetness seeps into the fabric Seokjin is still wearing, and you whimper a little. He shushes you softly, grinding lightly to give you just a taste of the friction you so desire.

“Oh, my beautiful little blacksmith,” He coos. “You are absolutely soaked, did you know that? I haven’t even started yet, and you’re already so ready for me.” You whine as he slides a finger along your folds. You try to buck into his touch, but his other hand holds your hips firmly in place, though he never stops his massage. “Ah-ah, none of that. You’ll make the pain worse.”

You huff slightly under your breath, but you know he’s right. It’s a lesson you’ve learned several times over. 

“Seokjin, don’t tease,” You plead. You let your lip pout, knowing he can’t resist the very rare sight. “You said you would distract me. Or should I go back to my designs?”

“If you think you can,” He responds amicably. You turn slightly, your back resting flush against the bed while he moves your leg to wrap around his waist. It’s still twisted to the side, but the position helps with the pain leftover from the ointment. You open your mouth to snark at your husband, but all that comes out is a loud moan as he sinks two fingers deep inside you. His length, pressed into the meat of your ass, twitches at the sound. 

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You breathe. The way his fingers fit inside you is like no other feeling, and you could spend centuries trying to recreate it with no luck. 

"That's it, love," Seokjin purrs. His eyes are blown wide with desire and focused entirely on where his fingers disappear into you. "You take my fingers so good, sweetheart, like you were made just for me." A whimper escapes and you roll your hips slightly so he hits deeper inside. He grins and quickens his pace, knowing all too well what your body wants at this point. His thumb comes up to rub circles into your clit, gentle but firm; your back arches and your vision goes white with the force of the orgasm that's torn from you, and when you open your eyes, Seokjin is glowing. Literally, because you found out after the first time he made you come that that's a thing that happens to him.

"Please, love. I want you inside." Seokjin chuckles a little at your words, and if you had the energy, you'd kick him, but your legs don't work very well on a good day, so it's unlikely.

"Always so impatient," He tuts, though he does slide his fingers out of you and into his mouth. He moans at the taste of you, and your pussy clenches around nothing, because it's absolute sin to hear, and you wonder idly if maybe those Christians were on to something when they started talking about things being so good it's unholy.

Seokjin grabs your attention with a soft nip to your calf, accustomed to the way your mind wanders. He smiles at you, soft and private and beautiful, and lifts your hips with one hand. He slides a pillow underneath you and stifles a laugh at the way you wiggle into comfort as he settles your legs on either side of his hips. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” You huff. Seokjin doesn't respond, but you can see him trying not to smile as he pumps his cock lazily with one hand. "It's not very polite to laugh at your wife. In fact, it's considered fairly rude."

"Oh, is it?" He teases as he leans down to brush his lips against yours. The contact is brief but has your heart jumping in your throat nevertheless. 

"Yes," You reply, "It is. You should be nicer to m- fuck, Seokjin." He grins against your lips at your reaction, stilling as he bottoms out inside you. The stretch is perfect, would hurt if it didn't feel so good, and he knows it.

"What was that?" He asks. He nips at your lips when you whine. He drags his cock out, slow and delicious as you tighten around him, before sliding himself just as slowly back in. You'd be embarrassed about the moan that escapes you if you could focus on anything that isn't the way he feels inside you. 

From the first time he slid inside, there's always been something so right about the feeling. He fills every part of you, thick and long and harder than the bronze you work with every day. You've never been to the underworld, but you imagine this is what the Isles of the Blessed are like for the mortals, because it's rapturous. 

He thrusts gently in the beginning, always, careful to be sure he isn't too rough with your hip. He doesn't stop kissing you, plump lips moving sinuously against your own and breathing in every little moan and whine you make as he moves. He's so slow, so considerate, lets you set the pace each time, and right now? Right now, this is good. The slow, sensual strokes that you can feel against your walls, the steady press of him against your g-spot with every thrust, the warmth of his hand traveling from your thigh up your torso to tweak your nipple as he moves to glide a thumb over your jaw and then retrace his path back down. This is exactly what you want: the two of you moving together, slow and soft and perfect. 

You have plenty of time to try some wild new position later, after all. 

Your stomach lurches at the thought, heat pooling between your thighs as the band in your tummy steadily stretches. He doesn't change his pace at all, just adds a bit more force as he thrusts inside, and the added force against that spot inside has you seeing stars. Your moans are echoing and loud and with each one, Seokjin's glow just gets brighter and brighter. His hand wanders between your legs, rubbing small circles into your clit in time with his thrusts. 

"Show me, love," He mutters in your ear. "Love you so much, show me how it makes you feel. Let go for me." You whimper, blunt nails digging into the skin of his back. He doesn't stop, whispers exactly what he wants to see you do, but it's the way he says your name - quiet and reverent, like you may disappear if he's too loud - that finally has the cord snapping.

It must be too much, because you come to after a few minutes - maybe, time is so strange as a goddess - to find Seokjin rubbing soothing circles into your hips and pressing gentle kisses along the column of your throat. Your pussy contracts around him, and you whimper when you realize he's still hard inside you. 

"You didn't…?" You mutter, finding more words are too much work right now. 

"No, I don't need to," He assures you. He starts to pull out, but you manage to get a hand on his shoulder. 

"Want to," You mumble. Talking is hard, but you manage. "Want to feel you. Inside. Fuck. Please." He asks you if you're sure and you nod, and that's when he kisses you, soft and sweet and completely at odds with his next words.

"Gonna fuck you so good, my little blacksmith," He groans as he begins thrusting once more. He's faster now, hips snapping roughly against yours as he chases his high. "Can't wait to fill you up, wanna see you so full of my cum, want you to swell with it." He grins as you moan, tightening around him as another orgasm approaches. "You like that, love? You want me to fuck you full of my cum? Fill you up so good that it spills out of you for days?" He hisses a curse under his breath as you buck. Your free hand moves downward, rubbing at your clit gently. It's just the right edge of overstimulation, and it sends you off the edge once more, clenching around him. His hips stutter, and the feeling of you milking his cock sends him past the brink as well, and then he's painting your walls with cum. 

Later, after he's fucked his cum into you three more times and then eaten it out, he watches you draw a lazy sketch on the little bit of paper that you can reach. 

"It looks good," He says softly. You hum, wrinkling your nose. 

"I'm worried it's too...understated, I guess."

"No, I think it's perfect for her," Seokjin assures you. "Very Hera. Though, you should put in a secret compartment here, so she can stash her sex toys somewhere he won't look."

"What? No! I'm not building a secret sex toy stash in my mother's throne!"

"Fine." He's quiet for a few more minutes as you sketch. "I'll just get the cyclopes to do it."

[eunheefmd]

Hey guys, I’m definitely not a newbie here lol it’s Kim (Guanting’s mun) and this is a revamped version of my old muse, Eunhee. She’s had a lot of revamps and she’s had a lot of FC changes, but I think this version of herself is the best one yet. If you’re interested in any of her plots, you can find them HERE and if you see anything you like, you can click that heart bottom in the bottom righthand corner of this post and I’ll shoot you an IM! And before I forget, you can check out her profile HERE! And if d*scord is easier for you, add me! My ID is chungha's foot stool#9502 (yes I’m trash for Chungha, don’t look at me)

She was born in 1995 and was the only child for the first few years of her life

Then her brother came along

Her parents neglected her in favor of her brother, who did acting as a child (I’ll be sending in a wanted connection for her brother, so if you’re interested he’ll be a ‘97 liner or younger!) 

While they neglected her, she learned how to fend for herself and started developing talents of her own

She asked her music teacher to give her private singing lessons after school, and that went on for about four years

They weren’t aware that she could sing until she asked if she could audition for record labels

She was almost immediately offered a spot as a trainee at her first label, and her parents were shocked when she passed the audition, but signed the papers allowing her to become a trainee

She didn’t really speak to them during her time as a trainee, and only called her brother every once in a while when she knew her parents wouldn’t be around

Her trainee period was a very.. interesting time. This is where Eunhee developed the brunt of her cutthroat attitude. She was already a little hard hearted due to lack of attention and love from her parents, but seeing just how intense and difficult training could be only heightened that. If you were a trainee that she liked or didn’t pose a threat to her debut, you were okay in her book. The others? Not so much. She fought tooth and nail to get her spot in Wish, and a few other trainees grew to not like her. She would put on the best possible act for trainers and other BC employees, but not so much to her peers. Did she care? Not really. She was there to become an idol, not make friends.

She trained for nearly six years before she finally debuted as a member of Wish. As a whole, Eunhee enjoyed being an idol and loved performing. There was nothing better to her than receiving so much love and positive energy; not to mention, the attention she received. Being the leader and main vocalist of Wish came with a lot of perks and being apart of the biggest girl group in the country opened so many doors for her in more ways than she ever could have imagined. She got plenty of opportunities to get her name and face out there, to build up a brand of her own away from Wish. Almost subconsciously, she found herself going above and beyond to outshine her group members. She firmly believes that as the main vocalist, she’s the best singer in the group and, as she would put it, ‘the voice of Wish’.

The more successful Wish became, the hungrier for fame Eunhee became. She wanted more, and she never hesitated to ask BC for more. That was how she was introduced to what became her second love; acting. She wasn’t trained in acting, but with Wish’s popularity, she received love calls from different production companies. At first, Wish’s management team were hesitant to allow her to go for the role in the drama ‘Evergreen’. It wasn’t uncommon for most idols who tried to cross over into acting to be met with a lot of criticism and wariness. A lot of people assumed that idols only received acting roles because of their popularity, and that them being cast in dramas and films only led to real actors and actress being denied opportunities. 

In the beginning, all of those worries fell on deaf ears for Eunhee. She was determined to do it. Just like she did with her idol training, she put as much effort as she could into preparing for the role and her audition. Whenever she wasn’t busy with Wish, she was working with an acting coach. An acting coach that she hired with her own money, of course. Behind the backs of BC’s team, because she didn’t want them involved and she wasn’t sure if they would even allow her to seek someone out on her own accord. 

The acting sessions turned out to be helpful. She was by no means a magnificent actress, but she wasn’t terrible either. She was just good enough to land a supporting role in the drama. Of course once it was announced that she would be making her acting debut, she didn’t receive as much support as she would have thought. She assumed that she would at least have Wishing Wells as her support, but as it turned out, many of them were against her pursuing an acting career. They didn’t want her to focus on anything other than Wish, which was upsetting, to say the least. It did throw her off a little, seeing so many people against her solo endeavors. It didn’t help that she was met with quite a bit of covered hostility her first few days on the set. The other actors and crew people weren’t necessarily mean, but she could feel the distance and slight coldness between them, which took some time to blow over. 

By the end of filming for ‘Evergreen’, Eunhee discovered that she liked acting. Not just liked, but loved. Being able to step into the shoes of someone else, even if that person is fictional, appealed to her creativity. She could take a character and interpret it in her own way, which was a plus side to acting. Being an idol didn’t allow nearly as much free will. The reactions to her acting debut were rather lukewarm. Some people praised her for being better than they thought she would be, while most said that her talent fell far below the acting abilities of her cast members. 

Those were the comments that got to her the most. Eunhee liked to consider herself to be rather confident in her abilities and uncaring of the opinions of others, but she knew deep down that was not the case. She craved acceptance, approval and attention; three things that she never got from her mother and father. 

So she kept working on her acting. Trying to improve her skills more and more. When she received the opportunity to audition for another supporting role in another drama in 2019, she jumped at the chance. It was her time to prove herself as an actress. She didn’t want to be seen as one dimensional. She wanted people to see that with her second drama. Even though the second time around wasn’t much better than the first, she did receive a few more praises than the last time she tried acting, which she took as a good sign to keep pushing forward with that career path.

Unfortunately with her being so wrapped up in her schedules for Wish, she can rarely find the time to pursue other avenues. But will that stop her from pushing for her own solo work? Definitely not.

Despite her shortcomings, Eunhee is a VERY good friend. Loyal as all hell. And she loves her members to pieces, even though she tries to upstage them. 

Fun Facts!!

Hates the fact that Wish are attacked for lipsyncing when literally every other group in the industry has lipsynced at some point in time and will at some point in time in the future. Because of that, she’s very aggressive when it comes to Wish’s performances. She’ll make the members sing their songs while performing the choreography over and over again so they’ll learn how to pace their breath and build up stamina to sing live. Has definitely gotten into arguments with some Wish members because of this.

She loves to cook and bake!! Let her fatten your muses up

Out of the closet nerd. She loves anime and comics and all that good shit and she’s not afraid to admit it

A huuuuge supporter of the LGBTQA+ (as well as a member of it). Definitely the one who suggests LGBTQA+ literature and movies on vlive. 

Can be lowkey crude, although it’s not really like?? outwardly crude. The type to make dirty jokes that people don’t pick up on as being dirty until a few seconds after the fact.

She cried when she had to get her hair cut for her first drama role lol 

[retro-rezz-the-est]

The Right Alpha (Drew/Reader/Roman A/B/O smut)

Summary: Just some lovely threesome action with our favorite Samoan and our thicc Scottish bastard (so just pretend that Ro is still on RAW lmao).

Word Count: 6,464 ^^;

Warnings: mentions of a dickbag ex-boyfriend in the beginning, semi-public sex, Drew being a tad bit of a little shit (bc that’s a warning on its own lol), possessiveness, biting/marking, anal and I think that’s it??? Correct me if i’m wrong lmao. Also, this is my first time writing anything AU themed, so feedback is appreciated! :)

(A/N: Here it is, y’all! I’m so sorry this took so long to get out. My brain was just in 1000 different places at once lol. Thank you all so so so so much for 400+ followers, and I can’t tell you all how much I love and appreciate every single last one of you <3. Here’s to 500 and more threesome fic action!)

(Y/n): your name

“Oh, come on!”

“We said no, (Y/n), and that’s final,” Ember chastised you from her seat nearby, her golden irises seeming to flare when the Scot’s name came out of your mouth.

Your eyes went to slits as you turned your head to face her, pulling your leg out from underneath you to let Roman lace up your ring boots. “Well, why don’t you guys like him? He hasn’t done anything to me.”

“Exactly, small fry. He hasn’t,” the Samoan said. “Yet.”

Groaning, you hopped off of the supply crate you sat on and leaned up against the back wall. They never did seem to like seeing anyone get close to you, especially after the whole situation with your asshole of an ex-boyfriend.

You could still hear all of the names he called you, how he kept you away from Ember and Ro for long periods of time, and how he tried to make you wear that fucking collar that read “Omega Bitch” on it…

After that whole fiasco (and after you had to physically pull Ember off of him for cheating on you with some unmated girl he picked up from a bar), they were there to keep you stable and well.

And away from any and all potential partners.

“But, Drew’s different, I think. He seems like a sweet guy.”

The fiery haired woman scoffed, replying, “Yeah, a ‘sweet guy’ who has a record of bagging and shagging Omegas for a quick fuck and then leaving them the very next night for a new score.”

“She’s got a point, (Y/n). Literally everyone on the damn roster knows about his record,” Ro added, coming up to your side and wrapping his arm around your waist. “We just want to protect you after what happened last time.”

“Oh, really? Is that why you always step up to him whenever he gets 10 feet away from me?

Pulling you closer, he rested his chin on top of your head and chuckled, feeling you try to shove him away.

“You know, just because you two are Alphas-”

“And your best friends…”

“-doesn’t mean that you have to shield me from virtually everyone who comes in my path,” you continued, rolling your eyes at her intrusion. “Besides, my true mate is out there somewhere. Are you guys just gonna shield me from them too?”

You felt Roman move away from you just as you saw Ember rise from her own seat.

“Of course not, girl,” she answered, bumping her forehead against yours. “But, it’s just not gonna be him. Believe me, I know these things.”

The three of you shared a laugh and you could feel their unique scents wrap around you. As comforting as it was, you could still feel Roman’s eyes lock onto the back of your head with a strange firmness, almost as if he didn’t want to look away…

“Anyway, you still have to get dressed and prepped for our tag match tonight, Moon, so I suggest you go do that.”

Placing your hands on her shoulders, you turned her around and lightly pushed her in the direction of the women’s locker room, gaining another soft chuckle from her.

“I suppose I have to. Don’t wanna go out to the ring in my sweats,” she commented, letting out a dramatic sigh and walking away.

Placing his forehead to yours, you felt him give you another quick squeeze before letting go. “Kick some Riott Squad ass out there, ya heard?”

“Aye, captain.”

You gave him a mock salute and waved as he too walked off, leaving you alone in the large hallway as echoes of the ongoing Universe bounced off the concrete walls. Pivoting on your heel, you grabbed your leather jacket from the crate behind you and sauntered off, unaware of the large Scotsman’s presence nearby.

A few minutes had passed of you walking over to the stage area to mentally prepare yourself for your match until a whiff of strong whiskey, leather and amber swept itself under your nose.

Oh, fuck me…

“Well, hello there, leannan.” (sweetheart)

You felt the hairs on your arm rise as you slowly turned around to face the large Scot, his feet falling heavily on the ground as he stalked towards you.

“H-Hey there, Drew,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “W-What are you d-doing here?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear ya talkin’ ‘bout me with your two… friends… a little while ago and I saw ya gettin’ a little bit flustered,” he said as he continued to walk towards you with a smirk on your face, your feet propelling your body to move backwards.

This dance continued for a quick moment of silence before your back hit a nearby wall and he placed his hands on said wall to keep you there, trapped and in place for him.

Alone.

“You can feel it too, right, lass? Tell me ya can.”

Oh crap, crap, fuck, you thought as you felt his scent cover you like a warm duvet. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded and you mewled, lolling your head to the side.

A deep rumble shook his chest as he took in the sight of the unbitten nape of your neck. “Ah, so you’re unclaimed as well? I can change that one for ya, gaol.” (love)

His body pressed against yours next to the stage area, taking one hand to hold your head and the other to grip your waist. Leaning down, he rested his head in the crook of your neck and took in heavy whiffs of your own lavender, honey and cherry scent.

Should I tell him? Oh god, if I do then Roman will actually kill him. Especially Ember, your mind ran at a million miles an hour when he brushed his nose against the sensitive spot underneath your chin and you sighed contently.

Drew’s hand on your waist began to drift skyward and held you tighter, as if you were going to drift away if he let go. He chuckled and you felt it even through the layers of your ring gear, and you could slowly feel yourself drifting further and further into his touch…

“McIntyre! You get your grimy paws off her right the fuck now!”

Oh shit.

The two of you quickly departed when Ember roared. Her hair began to glow as brightly as her eyes did in that moment, and you swore you could see her teeth get sharp and her nails grow.

“I am so dead,” you murmured to yourself as she booked it over to the two of you at full speed, nearly colliding with the Scottish man when she stopped.

Going toe-to-toe with him, she growled, “If you ever, ever, ever, put your filthy hands on my friend again, I swear on everything that I’ll rip your balls off.”

She scoffed, stepping back to eye him up and down. “And trying to claim her when she’s clearly not your mate? Now that’s just pathetic, even for you, Drew.”

That’s because he is! you mentally screamed at her as she shoved her hand between the two of you and shoved, pulling you away from the wall.

She tugged you towards the stage area and you willingly went with her, despite all of your nerves and inner thoughts telling you otherwise. “Come on, (Y/n). Our match is just about to go on.”

Glancing back at Drew, you frowned a little, seeing his slightly hurt expression and how Ember’s nails left a slight mark on his chest. You sighed, placing a smile on your face anyways and letting Ember lead you two out as her theme began to play overhead.

Getting the win felt good, but pinning Ruby felt even better.

The adrenaline had your blood pumping and had you energized for exactly the length of time it took for you and Ember to get from the ring and back to backstage before everything just left you feeling almost jet lagged.

Walking back into the large hallway, you locked eyes with a solemn McIntyre standing nearby and apparently, the woman next to you had clearly noticed. She bared her teeth and gnashed them at him, making you flinch and grab her wrist to hold her back.

You sped off, towing the female Alpha behind you and occasionally looked back to catch his eyes but just missing him as his own theme started to play. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, walked through the curtain and oh shit he forgot about him.

Staring daggers at him from inside the ring was a very determined looking Roman Reigns, shoulders squared and all. Drew walked down to the ring eyeing him right back, shucking off his jacket and tossing it into the timekeeper’s area.

He stepped over the ropes and made his slightly shaking hands into fists, feeling his heart race and hearing the bell go off to signal the start of the match. The two of them rushed at each other and grappled for a second, Roman managing to get his head in the crook of his arm.

The match seemed to speed up as Drew was able to corner him against one of the turnbuckles. An odd look that appeared on his face was soon replaced with one of sheer anger when Roman smelled the air around him. Even with the Scot’s hand pressing his face into the ringpost, he still managed to catch a whiff of something familiar…

His Alpha instincts screamed confusion and upset and protect as he felt his eyes dilate. Throwing his elbow into the other man’s chest, he was able to shove him back far enough so he could grip his chin.

“Why do you smell like her, huh?!” he yelled, teeth beginning to extend. “What the hell did you do to her?!”

Confused, Drew thought, Wait, he picked up her scent as well? I thought only true mates cou-

His train of thought was interrupted with an abrupt shove and a rapid clothesline by Roman, making him fall to the ring mat. Standing on shaky legs, he didn’t even see his opponent hit him with his iconic Spear and go for the pin. The match was then over before he could even blink.

The ref raised Roman’s arm in victory before he tore it away in favor of kneeling down to face the fallen Scot. Moving to his ear, he whispered, “Don’t you even think about touching her again, McIntyre. I’m warning you now.”

He got up just as quickly and rolled out of the ring, stalking straight up the ramp and backstage without any hesitation. Roaming the hallways, he finally found his destination and banged on the door.

“(Y/n), open up! We need to talk now!”

“Gimme a second, Ro! I’m almost done packing my stuff!” you threw back, zipping up your duffel bag and hoisting the strap onto your shoulder.

Sitting on a nearby bench, Sasha lifted her head and raised her eyebrows at the Alpha’s insistent door knocking.

“What’s his deal, sis?”

A nervous chuckle suddenly leapt from you as you rubbed the back of your neck. “Well, actually…”

Another loud bang came from the door, startling the hell out of you both. Letting out a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding in, you shakily made your way to the door and opened it, seeing an angry Roman fresh out of his match.

Sasha slipped in behind you and looked up, seeing how straight-faced he was before letting out an “I’ll see you later, (Y/n)” and leaving the locker room. As the violet haired woman’s figure turned the corner, he gripped your forearm and shoved you back through the door.

Quickly locking it behind him, he turned back to you rather slowly, giving you time to access him. His hands were clenched into fists, a vein was faintly popping out of his neck and his breathing was very rugged.

“Why did Drew smell like you tonight?”

A pin could drop and you would hear it from how quiet the space had gotten, a light hum from the lights above and his own breathing being the only noises heard. “Is there something you want to tell me, (Y/n)?”

You placed your duffel back onto the bench behind you and looked down, folding your hands together. “Well… he may have kinda… cornered me… in the hall before my match?”

“He what?!” Roman roared, making you take a few steps back.

“But, Ember was there to get him away from me and set him in his place… but not before he scented me.”

That seemed to hit him harder than anything as the two of you went quiet again for a heartbeat more. It was enough for his eyes to dilate a lot more and for him to steadily make his way to you.

Just like with Drew, you soon found yourself chest to chest with a hulking Alpha against the wall nearest to you, panting slightly with anticipation as your own eyes grew wide and the Omega in you screamed for him.

Wait, what? you asked your brain, confused as to why he had the same effect on you as Drew did. This has never happened before.

Well, he’s never been this protective over you. Not since…

Your mind shot a blank when you felt his wet hair brush against your skin, igniting metaphorical sparks as he moved his head. He held your biceps in his large hands and just like Drew, he placed his head in the crook of your neck and sighed.

Deciding to savor this moment of privacy yourself, you rested your head on his, feeling him run his jaw up and down your exposed neck. Instantly, you were hit with a wave of him; a feeling of calm and familiar rolled over your body and you smiled.

But this was different. This was something… more…

As the Alpha’s usual coconut, sandalwood and ocean breeze scent filled your lungs, your mind drifted to images and dreams of you two lounging on a beach somewhere in each other’s arms, laughing at nothing while you sip a strawberry daiquiri as the sun set on a clear sky…

No… it couldn’t be… you couldn’t have…

Could you?

Was this even possible?

You let out a squeak as he got even closer, the hardness of his vest pressing you harder against the wall. Hands already placed on his shoulders, you felt his chest rumble with a faint delight when you responded to his touches.

As quickly as the image popped into your head, it seemed to fade just as fast when he let you go and made you exhale from the long contact. He gently took your chin in his hand and raised your head to look at him, staring you square in the eye.

“I don’t want you smelling like him anymore, (Y/n),” he uttered, his eyes dilating back to normal and going soft. “If he tries that shit again, you come to me, ok?”

Without waiting for your response, he strode over to the door, unlocked it and made his exit, leaving you stunned and your body wanting all at the same time.

What the hell am I gonna do?

For the next week, Roman wouldn’t leave your side, not even for a second. Even Ember started to notice the near possessiveness the hulking Alpha was demonstrating and quite frankly, it freaked the hell out of her.

Hell, he even had the nerve to walk you down the ramp and accompany you to your rematch against Ruby dressed like a damn bouncer that following Monday, despite you continuously telling him not to. As the bell rang and the two of you went after each other, you could still feel his piercing gaze watch every move you made.

Everything was going well for you so far. You had managed to get Ruby’s shoulder’s down for the pin, and the ref’s hand was slamming down on the mat.

1!

2!

You waited for the three-count, but it never came because of the sound of blaring bagpipes that was Drew’s theme. Glancing towards the ring gave you the vision of a very pissed off Scottish Alpha who was currently focused on one Roman Reigns.

What the hell is he doing here? you mused, hefting yourself off of the Riott Squad member. Moving your gaze to them, you saw that they were engaged in a heated argument, standing face to face with fingers being pointed. One thing led to another and soon enough, both men were throwing fists in each other’s faces.

“What the hell are you two doing?! Stop!” you screamed at them, hoping that they’d hear you.

But they didn’t.

You didn’t see Ruby get off her back, and you certainly didn’t see the incoming kick she landed on the back of your neck. With you dazed, she quickly hit you with a roll-up and caught the three-count.

Her theme stated to play as she rolled out of the ring and rushed up the ramp, not wanting to see the outcome of your situation. As it stopped, you were left kneeling in the ring, shocked and tugging at the ends of your hair.

Small tears welled up in the corner of your eyes as you eyed the two men at ringside. Your wolf screamed anger and hurt, and you just wanted to get away from those two bastards. You got yourself up and stepped out of the ring ropes just in time to shove past both of them to walk backstage.

What was all that about? Do they know about… that already? Am I completely and utterly screwed. Do they know that I have to choose?

Every step towards the women’s locker room felt like a solid punch to your heart as thoughts kept raging in your mind, keeping you on your toes when you turned a corner.

“(Y/n)!”

Shit.

You stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of the hallway, silently cursing that there was no one around who could help you. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed on the walls and headed in your direction, but you couldn’t move yourself to look at them.

“Shit, small fry, we didn’t mean to-”

“‘M sorry this màthair (motherfucker) wasn’t-”

Their barrage of word vomit made you pivot on your heel, and you could feel your eyes begin to glow brighter and dilate more.

“Will the both of you please shut the fuck up?!”

And that line did it for them.

Sighing, you dropped your head into the palm of your hand and took a deep breath. No need to lose your shit over this, (Y/n). Just calm down.

“Ro,” you resumed, “i know you care about me and I know you want to protect me, but you don’t have to hover around my shoulder 24/7! I need space to breathe, you know.”

Turning to the Scot, you pointed a finger at him and said, “And you, Drew, you don’t have to step up to my friends just because they want what’s best for me. You have to see that. Now, can you both please tell me what’s wrong without killing each other in the process?”

Both men’s heads spun to the side to face the other, teeth bared and hands at the ready.

“I don’t want him fucking touching my mate!” they both roared at the same time.

Boom.

…

…

…

The lack of sound was deafening when you asked, “...your what? Roman, how long have you known?”

“Ever since you came to me with Ember after the situation with your ex,” the Samoan in front of you answered, shoving his hair back and glancing back at you. “That’s why I didn’t want you to get close with the Scot.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit and you know it, Reigns!”

“What did you say to me?” he demanded, pressing up against the other Alpha.

“I said it’s bullshit,” he smirked, looking down at him. “I’ve locked onto her scent for months now. I had a feelin’ about it, and I confirmed that last week.”

“So you cornered her to prove your damn point? Is that why I smelled her on you during our match last week?!”

They both turned to face you, making you shudder under their intense gazes. Drew gestured to you, saying, “Maybe we should let the lady decide for herself.”

What?

“So, lass, which one of us is tellin’ the truth?”

You wanted to shrink down into your skin in that moment. You had to tell them. It was the moment of truth.

But… would they accept it?

“Um… here’s the thing…” you started, gingerly holding the back of your neck. “I haven’t been the most… honest… person with you two either.”

Roman crossed his arms, confused. “What do you mean, (Y/n)?”

“Well, both of you seem to draw the same reaction out of me, since you both had scented me last week, so I think that you both are my mates.”

As you finished, you let out a soft nervous giggle, but the two Alphas in front of you weren’t laughing. The aura in the hall felt like all the air was sucked out of it in that one moment, the tension being so thick that you could cut it with a butter knife if you could.

After what seemed like hours of nothing being said, Roman piped up. “Why didn’t you say anything, small fry?”

“Are you kidding me?! You two try to murder each other on a weekly basis, so imagine what would’ve happened if I told you, or you for that matter,” you countered, looking back at Drew, “that your rival was also my mate.”

“She’s got a point there,” he pointed out.

“Shut up, asshole.”

You uttered, “This is exactly what I was talking about. We can’t even have a decent conversation without you two throwing jabs at each other.”

“How does this even work, (Y/n)?” Roman questioned, his eyes softening.

You shrugged as you placed your hands on your hips. “I don’t know the fucking biology of being an Omega. All I know is that you two are my mates and that I get super turned on when I’m around you.”

Oh fuck, I didn’t mean to say that, you thought, cursing the Omega in you wanting to jump their bones. You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth to keep more inner thoughts from coming out, but it was already too late.

Both men raised a brow at the comment, Drew chuckling at your newfound embarrassment.

“So what you’re sayin’ is…. is that you’re turned on right now?”

Don’t nod, don’t nod, don’t do fucking anything.

But, your brain and your nerves had other plans for the night as you nodded in agreement. He walked the short distance to you and cupped your jaw, drawing you to face his eyes. The Scot noticed how you weren’t fighting him off and he chuckled at your submission.

“That’s good, then.”

And with that, he drew you up to his waiting mouth and planted a hard kiss to your own, leaving you weak in the knees. His lips claimed yours in a heated dance that left you wanting - no, craving - more.

You couldn’t help but trail after his mouth when he slowly pulled away, leaving more than an ache between your thighs. Roman growled, stepping forward to handle him himself but you thrusted your arm out, holding him back.

“Leave him, Ro,” you told him, trying to keep your own body up on your shaky legs. “I’m fine.”

“You heard the caileag (girl), Reigns. She’s into it.” A lewd grin slid onto his face when you voiced your approval. His hands continued their path from his sides and onto your body, gripping your hips and moving you closer.

A minute passed before you asked, “So, what do we do now?”

“Well,” Drew spoke, his voice dripping faintly with lust, “I say we take our activities somewhere more… private.”

You shivered, seeing his teeth grow and feeling his scent start to seep into your skin. You were momentarily snapped out of your drifting by Roman, who cleared his throat.

“Is this ok with you, (Y/n)? I don’t want him trying to force you to do anything,” he said, maneuvering himself behind you and running his palms up and down your arms.

You mock him, “Is this ok with me? Have you ever seen the two of you? Of course I’m good with this.”

Drew roared with laughter, hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Where should we take this now, (Y/n)?”

“I feel like I’ll explode if I have to wait any longer and frankly, I don’t think you can wait either,” you chided as you ground down against both of their bulges, making them groan.

“Alright, then. So let’s just continue it here.”

Wait, what?

As soon as you opened your mouth, Drew slammed his lips back onto yours, claiming them as his once again. His tongue slipped in-between your lips to entangle itself with your own as Roman began to pepper kisses along the back and down your neck. The Samoan then bit down harshly, pulling a moan from you as he sucked a dark mark into the skin.

Surprisingly, through the feeling of getting drunk off of two Alphas trying to get in your pants, your logistical side kicked in.

Wrenching your lips from the man in front of you, you wondered, “Wait a minute, what if someone sees us?”

“They won’t. We’ll make sure of it.”

Roman’s voice piped up from behind you, his hands moving to your hips and switching their place with the Scot’s. He continued to place love bites on the column of your neck while Drew’s lips left your own and began to trail down your jaw.

Planting a final bite to your bottom lip, he moved down to the side of your neck that Roman hadn’t marked up yet and setting down his own claims on you. Your skin was ablaze with a burning need for something to happen, and you guys had just started.

You wanted them to bite you, mark you. Show the whole world that you had been blessed with two burly Alpha males.

Tilting your head back, you whined and pressed Drew’s head into your skin to voice what you couldn’t say. His chest rumbled with a caged laughter, slightly humbled by your enthusiasm.

“We’ll get to that soon, nighean bheag (baby girl). Just be patient.”

His mouth trailed from down your neck and hit the top of your chest, licking and biting at any patch of skin he could reach. He reached up to cup your breast, fondling it briefly before pulling down your ring top and eyeing your hardened nipple. He sucked it into his mouth and made you tug on his hair, holding his head still while Roman reached into your top to massage the other one.

The two men seemed to work together in a weird way you hadn’t seen before as when Drew finished working on one of your nipples, Roman would move on to pinch and tug at it when he moved to the other. It made your lower belly go warm and made you smile a little.

As he continued to make his way down, Ro made it his effort to keep you entertained up top with him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Omega,” he murmured before softly placing his lips on yours. “I can smell your needy pussy from up here. But, I’m gonna let him have a taste first.”

You felt your face grow warm and chose to focus your vision on the wall behind Drew, but they both weren’t having that tonight.

A sharp pinch on your thigh through your fishnets brought your attention back to the man who was currently on his knees in front of you. “Ya better not be spacing out on us, leannan. We need you t’ see how ready you are for us.”

His accent was muddy with lust as he gripped the sides of your ring shirts and pulled them down, you toeing them off when they reached your ankles. A ripping sound followed thereafter when he put a large hole in the crotch of your tights to expose the black cotton panties you wore.

“Mmm,” he moaned, pressing his nose in the apex of your thighs and inhaling deeply, “ya smell absolutely divine, lass. We’ve barely touched ya and you’re already drippin’ wet.”

Barely? Um, the various hickies on my neck beg to differ.

You held the catty remark back just as he ran his fingers up and down where your slit was, causing you to buck your hips in his face.

“Roman, if ya wouldn’t mind…?”

He smirked, moving his rough hands to your thighs. “Gladly.”

He held them tight and spread them, hoisting you up to keep them apart. He was strong enough to hold you there - and more than likely enough to do some other things to you - and that made a shiver run down your spine.

A breeze hit your bare lower lips when Drew dragged your panties to the side and stared at your juices shining in the low light.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about. You’re soaked, (Y/n). I wonder if I just…”

The sentence trailed off into nothing as he leaned forward to lick a stripe from the bottom of your lips to the top, spreading them to circle your clit with his thumbs. A loud moan almost left you, but you placed your hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

Roman tutted at you, biting your earlobe and tugging on it. “Oh no you don’t, baby girl. You’re gonna let the entire arena know who’s making you feel this good. So, take that hand from your mouth now.”

Slowly drawing your hand away, you felt Drew blow on your clit and suck it into his mouth, suctioning his lips around the small but. This time, you didn’t try to hide the noise that you let out, your Omega side going crazy at the thought of being pleasured by your true mates.

He moved his fingertips down your labia and went straight for your hole, sliding a thick one in and groaning at your tightness. The vibrations ran from your core up and you tried to wrap your thighs around his head but Roman’s grip prevented you from doing so.

He peeked over your shoulder and groaned at the sight, rutting his hips into your ass. He saw the Scottish Alpha slide two more of his fingers into you and felt you squirm in his hold, the sight making him grow even harder. Shutting his eyes, he bent his head back and banged it against the wall behind him but not before he heard Drew call his name.

“Spread her ass, Roman. I have an idea.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis when you heard that. Even in your arousal fueled daze, you managed to choke out a moan and grind your hips down on the Scot’s fingers.

His brows furrowed, picking his head back up to face you. “This alright with you, (Y/n)?”

Oh Roman, always the protective one, you thought when you nodded, your nerves igniting at the thought.

That was all the approval Drew needed before the man behind you grasped your ass and spread your cheeks, exposing your back hole to his waiting eyes. Gliding his wet fingers from your core and to your ass made you shudder at the sudden emptiness but groan at the newfound wet feeling.

Looking up at you, a soft grin was in place of his usual cocky smirk as he kissed the exposed skin of your thighs and slid his index finger into you.

You were pretty sure that groans you two made that second were ricocheting off the walls at that point with your nails currently biting into the skin of Roman’s arms. One hand flew to the back of Drew’s head when he moved his tongue back to your clit, flicking it in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

The coil in your core grew tighter and tighter with each passing moment and with each finger Drew added to your ass. Three fingers later, you were trembling in Roman’s hold and willing yourself not to cum all over his face. Luckily, he withdrew his fingers just in time to sit back and watch your own slick drip down from your empty cunt and into your gaping ass.

The erotic sight made him squeeze his cock through his ring trunks, releasing a pent up moan from within him. As he rose, the sight of your wrecked form with marks covering your neck and shoulders seemed to have an effect on both men. A silent agreement between the two lead Roman to place you on the ground shakily as they removed their pants to expose their hard members to you.

Drawing your eyes from the floor, they stuck to their cocks, inches on inches of throbbing Alpha that made your legs even more shaky and your core throb with anticipation.

“So, who’s getting where, boys?” you asked, chuckling slightly with how drunk you were on both of them.

Side eyeing each other, they nodded and each grabbed one of your arms, spinning you around so that your front faced Roman and that your back hit Drew’s chest.

“I’m gonna need more of that tight ass of yours, love,” he responded, desire dripping from his tongue. He slapped your ass then, the sound bouncing off the walls and your ears. He snickered when you ground back against him as if to ask for more, but he just lifted you up and wrapped your legs around Roman instead.

“Hey there, small fry.”

The softness that had lingered in his eyes before was soon overtaken by dilated pupils when roman held onto your hips and Drew spread your cheeks to expose your hole. Both men angled themselves against you, causing your lower half to quiver, and they slowly slid into you.

You couldn’t form into words the feeling of being filled at both ends. When Drew popped into your ass, you shut your eyes and stars formed behind your lids. They both began their slow thrusting to get you warmed up, but your whimpers and whines almost made them lose their cool a few times.

“Harder, please, I need it.” Your needy Omega side was starting to come forth, and you bounced on both men as best you could to achieve that feeling.

“To hell with it,” Drew growled, slapping your ass once more before pistoning his hips into yours, beckoning Roman to do the same.

“Yes, yes!” you sobbed as they set a brutal pace, feeling their cocks rub against each other through your wall’s thin tissue. The sound of skin slapping on skin was deafening and you felt your eyes roll into the back of your head when Roman hit your spot dead-on.

Tilting your head back again, you rested it on Drew’s broad shoulder and rocked your hips forward when your Samoan started lapping at your breasts. Sweat began to drip down and off of all of you, none of you caring anymore whether someone heard you fucking or not. You felt their knots start to swell underneath you, causing you to push back harder against them. They both roared at this, each of them going back down to give your neck more hickies.

“We’re not gonna knot ya, (Y/n),” Drew panted, his voice hot and heavy in your ear. “We’ll save that for another time.”

“Yeah, a time when we’re actually in a bed,” Roman added, chuckling at your expression.

You clenched down on both of them and they groaned, holding back their own impending release for when you came. You actually weren’t that far off from them because the coil in your core seemed to snap when they looked at each other, eyes dark and teeth sharp. They looked down at your bite ridden neck and bit down harshly, piercing the skin and marking you.

That’s what did it for you.

When your slick gush onto Roman’s cock in fervish, he spilled his own load inside you as he gripped your already bruise covered hips. Drew was the last to fall over that edge, shooting his hot cum deep inside your ass and revelling in the feeling.

The three of you panted and slumped against each other in a mess of tangled limbs and sweaty bodies. The wall against Roman’s back would’ve been a blessing if he had his shirt off but for now, he’d just enjoy the moment for the time being.

A few seconds had passed of you all being connected when you said, “I don’t think I can walk for the rest of the night.”

Your cheeks were flushed to oblivion, and you felt like you were fucked six ways from Sunday. Still holding you, Roman suggested, “Maybe we should take a breather for a minute. Or five. Or fifty.”

“I like the sound of that,” the Scot agreed, nuzzling your hair and smiling. His accent was still thick but you still managed to hear everything he said.

You mind began to drift off as you felt them lap at the bonding marks they made on you. Even though your entire body ached and you were probably going to waste an entire bottle of concealer to cover up your various bruises, you couldn’t be more happy.

You continued to drink in the mixture of the warm and cool scents around you, letting it fill your lungs and enter your heart. It’s be like this every day with them, hopefully.

Your true mates.

~~Tag List: @writinglionqueen @writing-reigns @i-have-saracasm @yaint-me @calum-hoodwinked-me @missmoxy @gold--gucciempress @melinated-moon-goddess @meishaabae @luciddrreamss @neversatisfiedgirl @the-carter-mob-don @aj-mac21 @crossfitjesusinskinnyjeans @finnsauroraborealis @tacoshu @ladytea19 @candicelerae @sassybrose @bambitaz @lookalivesunshine-x @liamakorn @rosequartz-ext @deepdisireslonging @flawlessglamazon @myorlandobloomersareshowing @thegoblin-maiden @justsimplevicky @taryn-dibiase @caramara3 @hardcorewwetrash~~

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[fmstevie]

              *    ╰              waddup   y’all   ruby’s   back   2   annoy   u   all   w   a   lil   british   fuckboi   action   .   here’s   stevie   ,   inspired   by   matty   healy   n   thinkin   she’s   a   god   among   men   .   i   don’t   recommend   u   read   on   but   in   case   u   do   i   pray   u   forgive   me   enough   2   want   plots   w   that   like   button   .   🤡

                new   york’s   very   own      𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐄   ‘   𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘   ’   𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄            was   spotted   on   broadway   street   in   doc   marten   smooth   leather   chelsea   boots      .   your   resemblance   to   diana   silvers   is   unreal   .   according   to   tmz   ,   you   just   had   your   twenty   -   second      birthday   bash   .   while   living   in   nyc   ,   you’ve   been   labeled   as   being         𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐬   ,   but   also   𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞   .   i   guess   being   a   cancer      explains   that   .   3   things   that   would   paint   a   better   picture   of   you   would   be      erudite   inclinations   informed   by   a   god   complex   ,      melodrama   as   your   magnum   opus   ,   &   the   world’s   most   secretive   love   life         .               (   i   had   a   secret   marriage   that   lasted   6   months   but   ended   due   to   my   fear   of   my   family’s   mafia   ties   getting   in   the   way   .         )      &      (   cis   female   &   she   /   her      )

𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆      :      stephanie   charlotte   greystone 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔      :            primarily   stevie   ,   although   her   stage   name   is   ‘   grey   ‘   which   has   caught   on   as   a   go-to   nickname   .   takes   little   to   nothing   else   wilingly 𝒂𝒈𝒆      :            twenty   -   two 𝒛𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒄      :      cancer    𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏      :      professional   musician   with   a   voiceclaim   of   lorde   ,   on   temporary   hiatus   to   write   grey3   .   casual   photographer 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓      𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚      /      𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔      :      cis      female      /      she      her      hers 𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏      :      pansexual   w   strong   female   pref   but   tbh   if   u   can   handle   her   energy   she’ll   b   down   WKERWJER 𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕      :      5’10  🤤 𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒔      :      the   hedonist   ,         the      aesthete      ,      the      opaque   ,      the      vainglorious      ,      the      prodigy      ,      the      intangible   concept       𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈      𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒔      :      rhiannon      -      fleetwood   mac      /      WHAT   U   CALL   THAT      -      chase   atlantic    /      iceberg      -      borns      /      UGH      -         the      1975     /      boss   bitch      -      doja   cat      /      elephant      -      tame   impala     /      black   hole   sun      -      soundgarden      /      black   madonna      -      cage   the   elephant      /         this   charming   man      -      the   smiths     /      swim      -      chase   atlantic      /      1999   WILDFIRE         -      brockhampton

tw      drug   mention

𝒊.  𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

there   is   perhaps   no   more   a   formidable   surname   in   the   organized   crime   circuit   in   all   of   europe   than   greystone   ,   a   name   risen   to   fame   through   countless   court   cases   and   highly   publicized   trials   .   dubbed   ‘   el��  chapo   of   the   old   world   ,   ‘   liam   greystone   makes   his   reputation   known   as   a   ruthless   and   conniving   leader   of   a   million   dollar   cartel   business   ,   distributing   to   most   of   the   UK   and   eastern   europe   .   it’s   perhaps   an   even   greater   shock   to   find   even   as   public   enemy   #1   ,   he   takes   a   welsh   wife   by   the   name   of   marissa   and   weds   her   in   a   lavish   and   very   public   ceremony   ,   surmounting   crowds   not   unlike   those   of   the   royal   weddings   .   such   a   decision   is   a   clear   power   move   on   his   part   ,   flexing   the   pure   influence   it   would   require   to   have   such   a   public   family   life   with   no   fear   of   repercussion   from   rivals   or   enemies   .   

it’s   several   months   following   their   wedding   that   james   is   born   ,   with   nicholas   taking   a   few   years   after   .   elite   prep   schools   in   the   most   posh   london   neighborhoods   were   abuzz   with   equal   parts   curiosity   and   concern   to   be   sharing   streets   with   the   most   feared   mafia   family   in   their   whole   country   ,   though   the   elite   nature   of   liam’s   new   societal   presence   meant   he   took   to   his   ‘   dealings   ‘   with   a   but   more   subtlety   than   before   his   rise   to   power   .   something   of   a   media   frenzy   ,   it’s   the   talk   of   the   town   when   marissa   falls   pregnant   another   time   ,   nearly   a   decade   after   nicholas’s   birth   ,   this   time   with   a   baby   girl   ,   something   that’s   all   the   sun   and   mirror   can   seem   to   post   about   in   their   celebrity   tabloids   section   for   weeks   on   end   .   her   birth   raises   questions   of   immense   speculation   :   what   will   the   world   do   with   a   greystone   girl   ?

as   it   would   result   ,   they’d   worship   her   .   stevie   found   herself   raised   in   a   world   that   sought   her   out   at   every   turn   ,   cameras   pointed   towards   her   at   every   outing   .   james   and   nick   ,   now   teens   by   the   time   she   enters   primary   and   just   as   big   of   terrors   as   their   father   ,   view   their   lavish   lifestyle   as   the   result   of   some   bigger   destiny   for   greatness   ,   as   their   father   had   always   fed   to   them   ,   something   they   passed   on   to   their   baby   sister   who   took   it   as   her   mantra   .   one   of   the   earliest   manifestations   of   a   rather   intense   personality   ,   stevie   takes   this   to   an   extreme   ,   turning   her   unwanted   stardom   into   a   fuel   for   an   ever-increasing   god   complex   to   develop   .   the   apple   of   her   father’s   eye   and   every   bit   as   quick   ,   her   instructors   note   a   dedication   to   perfection   and   an   obsession   with   accomplishment   ,   along   with   a   natural   intelligence   that   leads   her   to   blast   through   her   studies   with   relative   ease   .   

she’s   just   16   when   she   completes   her   schooling   and   already   has   a   reputation   that   will   precede   her   ,   just   as   her   surname   had   before   .   relaxed   and   observant   ,   her   voice   never   peaks   higher   than   a   low   alto   with   her   charming   londoner   drawl   ,   a   facade   never   cracking   from   her   knowing   poker   face   .   there’s   something   about   being   so   above   everyone   (   even   if   it   is   a   self-imposed   superiority   )   that   leads   stevie   all   but   to   the   brink   of   isolation   ,   finding   solace   only   in   the   words   of   a   self-deluded   father   and   her   own   scribings   in   a   leather   bound   notebook   .   piano   lessons   since   early   childhood   lend   themselves   to   melodies   following   melodies   ,   and   before   she’s   even   able   to   legally   drink   ,   she’s   released   her   first   album   under   the   moniker   ‘   grey   ’   titling   it   pure   heroine   as   a   cheeky   nod   to   the   inevitable   accusations   of   it   being   her   family   ties   that   got   her   a   record   deal   .   but   as   streams   of   the   melancholy   tunes   begin   to   pick   up   fans   worldwide   ,   the   album’s   themes   of   isolation   ,   abandonment   ,   and   wasted   youth   hit   harder   than   ever   anticipated   from   the   youngest   greystone   .   she   leaves   home   to   tour   the   world   with   the   album   reaching   #1   in   countless   countries   ,   forging   her   own   path   with   a   maturity   beyond   her   years   and   a   vision   beyond   this   world   .   

    the   tour   ends   and   she’s   smitten   by   the   charm   of   new   york   ,   opting   to   move   to   continue   to   pursue   her   music   away   from   the   tangled   complications   of   family   life   in   england   .   barely   18   and   perhaps   intoxicated   with   the   loneliness   of   a   life   spent   in   the   watching   eye   of   others   ,   the   semblance   of   privacy   is   something   she   takes   to   like   an   addict   ,   exasperating   prying   paparazzi   with   her   notorious   refusal   to   comment   on   details   of   her   personal   life   .   she   builds   a   wall   between   herself   and   the   world   ,   keeping   out   prying   eyes   with   a   tight   -   lipped   grin   .   its   at   this   time   that   she   lets   the   first   person   into   her   life   perhaps   ever   ,   a   whirlwind   romance   so   intoxicating   it   results   in   a   courthouse   marriage   done   in   secret   .   never   to   be   seen   together   ,   never   a   word   spoken   to   anyone   else   ,   stevie   relishes   in   the   secret   which   is   soon   to   sour   upon   the   passing   of   their   honeymoon   phase   .   with   her   brothers   expanding   their   reach   into   the   US   for   their   unsavory   dealings   ,   it’s   not   long   after   her   marriage   begins   that   the   conflicts   reach   a   breaking   point   ,   an   annulment   following   barely   6   months   after   they   had   traded   ‘   i   do’s   .   ’

she   takes   to   the   studio   with   a   new   resentment   of   the   concept   of   love   and   even   more   sequestered   heart   ,   producing   melodrama   which   takes   the   world   by   storm   ,   snagging   her   a   grammy   win   for   album   of   the   year   .   fatigued   from   the   constant   go-around   of   keeping   her   secrets   her   own   except   for   when   they’re   taken   to   radio   streams   ,   she   does   a   limited   tour   for   melodrama   and   lands   herself   right   back   in   new   york   at   20   ,   putting   grey3   on   the   backburner   as   she   takes   to   all   the   hedonistic   engagements   she   had   indulged   herself   in   during   her   time   on   tour   .   she’s   kept   herself   busy   between   mindless   flings   and   days-long   benders   with   hobbies   such   as   photography   and   writing   ,   the   former   of   which   is   building   her   a   rather   impressive   reputation   in   the   arts   world   .   

𝒊𝒊.  𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 .

if   y’all   ain’t   tired   of   me   yet   god   bless   u   .   ..   .   bc   i   straight   up   b   tired   of   myself   :/

anyways   dis   is   stevie   ,   also   accepts   grey   the   same   way   ppl   talk   abt   lorde   n   switch   between   ella   n   lorde   !   she’s   not   picky   :~)

major   inspos   are   matty   healy   from   the   1975   n   hayley   kiyoko   if   she   was   less   of   a   try   hard   .   little   bit   of   kristen   stewart   in   there   ,   big   2016   ruby   rose   energy   n   brie   larson   top   me   tomfoolery   as   well   !   

basically   da   fuckboi   of   ur   dreams   ..      ..   .   lil   devilish   londoner   who   stays   thinkin   she’s   the   closest   thing   to   a   god   on   this   green   earth   !

notably   ,   she’s   incredibly   intelligent   and   profound   ,   tends   to   take   on   a   rather   patronizing   and   condescending   tone   bc   she   straight   up   b   thinkin   she’s   usually   the   smartest   person   in   the   room   (   how   annoying   )

so   laid   back   n   observant   ,   rlly   has   no   need   to   raise   her   voice   ever   bc   her   arguments   b   runnin   circles   around   ppl   !   imagine   the   way   harry   styles   talks   low   n   slow   n   calculated.   .   .   .   .   cameron   from   love   is   blind   ,.   ..   .      kristen   stewart   lowkey   sometimes   ..   ..   ..   das   grey   .    sexy   ass   alto   monotone  🤤🤤

i   dont   wanna   use   chaotic   bc   she   rlly   isnt   the   WILDEST   bitch   but   that   god   complex   means   she   deadass   thinks   she   can   get   away   w   what   she   wants   n   she   usually   does   ?   less   of   a   chaotic   evil   n   more   like   a   neutral   evil   lmao   she   can   follow   rules   just   fine   she   jsut   prefers   whatever   suits   her   better

on   that   note   —   OBSCENELY   self   obsessed   .   follows   her   own   natural   whims   n   impulses   bc   that’s   just   what   appeals   to   her   .   is   inclined   to   follow   rules   if   she   calculates   itll   work   in   her   favor   bc   she   also   doesn’t   like   to   look   sloppy   !

super   secretive   and   OBSESSED   w   her   presentation   .   every   movement   is   calculated   n   she   doesnt   want   anyone   seeing   a   side   of   her   that   she   hasn’t   designated   for   them   !   she   doesn’t   care   what   other   ppl   think   but   she   DOES   care   abt   what   she   sees   herself   doing   n   her   vision   .   doesnt   fit   the   vision   ?   will   NOT   happen   in   her   book   .

straight   up   a   WHORRE   lmao   she   likes   2   fill   the   void   left   by   a   lack   of   human   connection   w   sexual   intimacy   n   then   is   like   nice   imma   have   u   leave   now   love   LMAO   .   does   not   discriminate   and   is   rlly   inclined   to   follow   any   sexual   impulse

this   was   implied   but   her   relationships   are   super   messy   ?   does   the   leonardo   dicaprio   thing   where   she   will   never   fuckin   discuss   her   love   life   in   interviews   or   anything   so   ppl   just   gotta   SPECULATE   .   she   lets   ppl   post   all   they   want   abt   her   but   she   wont   say   a   WORD   abt   them   JWHEKJWH   her   socials   r   basically   just   abt   her   n   her   music   we   said   SELFISH   lads   .   she’s   bad   @   bein   tied   down   n   is   probs   polyamorous   as   it   stands   but   im   p   sure   she   has   cheated   on   every   single   person   she   has   ever   been   with   lmao

lowkey   a   shit   friend   most   of   the   time   lMAO   she   can   b   really   unreliable   bc   u   guys   can   have   plans   n   then   she   takes   someone   home   n   misses   yalls   plans   n   then   texts   u   4   hours   later   after   all   ur   missed   calls   n   is   like   my   bad   bruv   i   got   tied   up   AS   IF   THAT   FIXES   IT   KWEJKWJEKWE

chain   smoker   n   its   nastie   but   lowkey   sexy   somehow   :/  ,   will   ONLY   wear   outfits   that   r   equal   parts   thrifted   n   designer   ,   always   has   her   hands   in   her   pockets   n   if   her   jacket   has   a   hood   its   UP   like   a   big   ole   homo   ,   is   rlly   annoying   bc   shes   good   looking   n   KNOWS   it   so   she   uses   it   to   her   advantage   ,   wants   2   get   her   motorcycle   license   ,   judges   u   based   off   the   music   u   play   in   the   car   ,   judges   u   on   everything   tbh.