#but it was an amazing sunrise anyway

[robo-dino-puppy]

desert sunrise

[rendevok]

step into the light

what do you see?

my sun,

my stars

shining on me

[faaun]

the way that diff languages sound r so fascinating they're all different and all so vivid

[crowlore]

i love art and making art so terribly and yet. i cannot do it. lol!

[yuugami-tan]

I LOVE ONLYONEOF i breathe onlyoneof onlyoneof sexy cunty beautiful men in my veins in my heart

[squimshi-jella]

I am late but Ramadan Mubarak to anyone who celebrates/takes part in it!!!!

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Trick or Treat | Bucky Barnes x Reader

This is my second Halloween fic this year because I have no self control!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: anxiety

Sam’s Halloween bash launched into full swing, and seemed as though it would last till sunrise. Music pulsed through a set of massive speakers. Alcohol flowed. And throngs of people danced the night away.

Just as Sam instructed, everyone arrived decked out in costume. And as you scanned the crowd, you found Ghost Face doing shots with Barbie. Michael Myers grinding on Freddy Kreuger. Pennywise flirting with Beetlejuice. It was a picture perfect Halloween party- save for one thing. 

Bucky hadn’t arrived yet.

All of the partygoers formed a large, pulsating mass as they danced and celebrated, but you remained off to the side. In an empty, isolated corner, you checked and rechecked your texts. You’d already shot Bucky a few messages asking when he’d show. Asking if he was alright. And he swore he was fine. He said he’d be there soon, but that was as specific as he’d get. 

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute!” Wanda yelled over the music. She swayed to the beat, swishing the skirt of her dress back and forth. Every few seconds, she stole a glance at the dance floor with want in her eyes. “Come on, let’s go dance!”

“I’m with Mary,” Nat downed the last of her drink and draped her arm over Wanda’s shoulders. “The Sanderson Sisters are the life of the party, we have a reputation to uphold!”

When the three of you decided to coordinate your costumes, Hocus Pocus had been the obvious choice. In the weeks leading up to Sam’s party, you helped one another piece together flawless renditions of each Sanderson Sister. Wanda decided on Mary, and Nat dressed up as Sarah, leaving you to adopt Winifred’s famous ensemble. 

And you had to admit, the three of you looked amazing. 

But you couldn’t run to the dance floor and party with abandon- not yet, anyway. Bucky said he’d be there. He swore to you that he’d make an appearance. And while a loud, overcrowded party wasn’t his favorite way to spend an evening, he knew he had to challenge himself. To expand his comfort zone. 

He wanted so badly to be “normal”. To function like a “regular” person. But he struggled. He had flashbacks. Panic attacks. Long depression spirals. And his anxiety always had the reigns. 

But he’d fought tooth and nail to vanquish his demons, and now that he was making progress and healing bit by bit, he wanted to join the ranks of "ordinary" society. 

And Sam’s party was the perfect opportunity. It was a safe, controlled environment where Bucky could stretch his comfort zone. Sure, it was loud and packed with people, but that was the whole point. If he was going to be “normal”, he had to be okay with noise and crowds; Sam’s party had both. But there was nothing for him to worry about, nothing to fear. He would perfectly and totally safe here. At least half of the attendees were fellow special agents, and you and Sam promised to stick with him all night. 

But the party started over an hour ago, and he still hadn’t shown. Worry creased your brow; it wasn’t like him to be late. 

“I think I’m just gonna hang out here for now,” you leaned against the wall and brandished your phone at them, “So I can make sure I don’t miss a call or anything.”

“You do you, sister,” Nat brushed a kiss against your cheek, “Mary and I are gonna command the dance floor.”

The two of them ran off, arm in arm, in the direction of the crowd. 

“Is he on his way?” Sam came around the corner, two drinks in hand. He extended one in your direction and sipped on the other. “I haven’t heard back.”

“I don’t know.” You took a long pull of your drink, “I asked if he was coming and he said yes, but he didn’t give me a specific ETA, or anything.”

Sam shrugged, “I think he might flake.”

That same sneaking suspicion had crossed your mind a few times over the last hour, but you refused to accept it. Surely, Bucky just needed a little extra time to prepare himself. To get in the right headspace. 

“I’m gonna- would you take this for a sec?” You handed your drink back to Sam, who swore to keep a watchful eye on it while you stepped outside to call Bucky. 

The phone rang and rang. And you feared it might go to voicemail. But at the last possible second, Bucky picked up. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Something was off. He sounded almost nervous, like he’d been caught red-handed.

“Hey, Buck.” You kept your tone light. “Are you gonna be here soon?”

A long silence permeated the line.

“Um, yes. Yeah, I’m on my way right now,” he assured you. “Shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll see you in a bit. Okay?”

“Great." You didn't buy it for a second. "See you soon.”

For an ex-assassin with decades of stealth training and countless kills on his hands, Bucky was a terrible liar. But only when it came to you. He just couldn’t deceive his best friend, couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes. He simply didn’t have it in him; his brain and body rejected even the concept of swindling you. 

You knew for a fact that he was still at his apartment. Knew that his anxiety had won. You could practically see him sitting at home all alone, hating himself for flaking on yet another get-together. And while his closest friends danced the night away, he’d spend the entire evening berating himself. Chastising himself.

But you wouldn’t allow it. With a determined huff, you ditched the party, and set off in the direction of Bucky's apartment.

Bucky stared at the costume you’d carefully helped him assemble. It sat neatly folded on his kitchen table, all he had to do was put it on and head out the door. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. And it infuriated him. 

He spent weeks mentally preparing himself for this. He meditated, journaled, and even sought out extra therapy sessions. But none of it worked. He was still a slave to his anxiety, bending to every whim of the monsters in his head.

The whole thing was so stupid- it was just a party. He knew, logically, that there was nothing to fear. But part of his brain, the part that hated him, told him it would be too much. That he’d immediately get overwhelmed by the noise and the people and the lights. That it was a panic attack waiting to happen. 

He feared what onlookers might think, what they might say, if he broke down in the middle of the festivities. And he didn’t want to chance ruining Sam’s party.

And so, he’d lied to you. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was for the best. He just wanted you to have a good time. Wanted you to spend the night dancing with Nat and Wanda instead of worrying about him. It was better this way. 

A sharp knock jolted him from his seat on the couch. He crossed to the front door and pulled it open, expecting to see a group of candy-obsessed kids in costumes. But he found something else, entirely.

“Trick or treat!” You held a bottle of whiskey and a bag of candy proudly in the air, “Happy Halloween, Buck.”

Bucky took on a deer in the headlights kind of look. He was shocked, completely frozen. And as the surprise melted away, he found himself awash in strange mix of anxiety and guilt. You’d caught him in his lie; you’d found him out. And with you standing on his doorstep, he had nowhere to run. 

“Sweetheart, hey. Hi. Um, Happy- Yeah, Happy Halloween.” He tripped over himself again and again, his heart racing. “I was just about to call you and-”

“It’s okay, Buck. You’re not in trouble,” you shot him a wink. “I know parties aren’t really your thing.”

He gestured for you to come in and you happily accepted, sweeping past him in your elaborate costume. But he was so bewildered, so overwhelmed, that he left the door wide open.

“What are you doing here?” Quickly, he clarified, “Not that I don’t want you here. I just mean- why aren’t you at the party?”

“Cause I came to hang out with you!” You shrugged, “Plus, there’s no point in me going if you’re not there.”

Bucky appreciated your loyalty, your dedication to him. But he couldn’t let you sit on the sidelines with him.

“That’s sweet of you, and I’m more than happy to have you here, but I know you’ve been looking forward to the party and your costume and everything. And I don’t want to ruin your Halloween.” He leaned against his open door, “So, it won’t hurt my feelings if you-”

“My Halloween will only be ruined if we don’t hang out. So, come on,” once again, you held up the candy and alcohol, “trick or treat, Buck.”

With a stubborn smile, Bucky shut the door. He watched you struggle with the bag of candy and laughed as you used your teeth to tear through the plastic.

“You know, I think you’re doing the whole ‘trick or treat’ thing backwards,” he said as he fished a Twix out of the bag. “Cause you brought candy instead of taking some from me.”

“Or maybe I’m a Halloween pioneer, and I’m inventing new traditions,” you offered. “Now, let’s crack this open.”

Bucky gladly took the bottle of whiskey from you and led you to the kitchen. He crafted old fashioneds for the both of you and clinked his glass with yours. His night had taken a very sharp, very sudden upswing, and he was more than grateful.

“I saw some kiddos trick or treating down the hall, and at least four of them were dressed up like Sam,” you laughed. “Have they been here yet?”

You eyed the large bowl of candy sitting by the front door. It was still full, nearly overflowing with sugary treats. And you realized: it was completely untouched. No greedy little hands had dug through it yet. No mischievous kids had snatched a handful or two. It just sat there, waiting. 

It was sweet of Bucky to be prepared, to buy treats for the kids in the area. He was trying so hard to connect with people. To be a member of society. He wanted so badly to be seen as a person. But the world only saw him for his past. 

“Um, no, I haven’t had any trick or treaters,” Bucky said, “Well, except for you.”

You shot him a wink a took a drag of your drink.

“But I’ve heard them- they’ve been running up and down my hall all night. I just don’t think…” He clinked his metal fingers against his glass, “I don’t think any of the parents in my building want their kids knocking on my door.”

His shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly, and his head fell an inch or two. Saying it out loud was humiliating. He’d thought- he’d hoped- that the city would embrace him. That they’d celebrate his return. But the only welcome he’d received was dirty looks and people spitting at him on the subway.

Bucky’s words knocked the air from your chest. A combination of heartbreak and unbridled rage swirled inside of you; it was all so unfair. Bucky didn’t deserve to be treated like a pariah or a threat. He was least intimidating, most approachable person you’d ever met. Sure, he was a little shy. But he was so warm. So kind. He genuinely cared about people. He wanted to help his community and make people feel safe. But they refused to give him a chance.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you took his hand in yours, “More candy for us.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a long, much needed hug. He would never be able to express how much he appreciated your undying support. Your unconditional friendship. He knew without a doubt that he could always count on you. And after living in an unpredictable, erratic state of limbo for so many years, he cherished your consistency.

Bucky dug through the candy you brought, searching for a Snickers. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m really glad you came over.” He abandoned his candy hunt and brought his gaze up to yours, “Seriously. Thanks for being here.”

“Anytime, Buck. You know that.” You tucked the bag of candy under your arm and snatched your glass from the counter, “Come on, let’s watch a scary movie.”

Bucky followed your lead, only straying from the path for a moment or two. And when he returned, he brandished his overflowing bowl of candy in your direction. “I mean, if the kids aren’t gonna eat it…”

He sank into the couch next to you and took a swig of his drink as he watched you dig through the massive bowl of candy. A bit of guilt gnawed at him; he’d been so surprised to see you at his door that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate all the hard work you’d put into your costume. And as you picked through his candy stash, he drank in the details of your ensemble: the perfectly crafted make up, the ornate dress, the complicated hairstyle. It was impressive, to say the least.

“Your costume is fucking incredible, by the way. You did an amazing job.”

“Oh, thanks!” A proud smile stretched across your face, “If it wasn’t so ridiculously uncomfortable, I’d probably wear it every day. But this corset is…” You pinched and pulled at the tight garment, “Definitely not intended for daily wear.”

“Then let me get you something to more comfortable.” Bucky was up in the blink of an eye, and before you could protest, he was gone. 

In the time it took you to locate and unwrap a Kit Kat, he’d arrived in the living room with a change of clothes for you. It was just a pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt with BROOKLYN emblazoned on the front, but after spending hours in an uncomfortable corset, you swore he was offering you a slice of heaven. 

With greedy hands, you accepted the clothes, “You’re a life saver!”

You sped off down the hall, promising to be back in a flash.

Bucky scrolled through the scary movies Netflix had to offer, but didn’t pay much attention. He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d planned on spending the night all by himself. He figured he’d oscillate between sulking and self-flagellation until he finally fell asleep. But you’d saved him, as you so often did.

“Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for the clothes. Now, I can actually breathe.” You plopped down on the couch next to Bucky, “Okay, what do you wanna watch?”

Bucky scrolled through a few more movies, “I don’t know, I haven’t heard of most of these. I thought I’d defer to you.”

You motioned for him to continue scrolling and gave him a little synopsis each time one of your favorites popped up on the screen.

He listened closely and took your summaries into careful consideration. And after hemming and hawing over his options, he found himself torn. “This is tough, but I’m thinking we go with It Follows or Evil Dead.”

“Both excellent choices!” You clinked your glass against his, “Let’s do It Follows first, and then if we want to watch another, we can follow up with Evil Dead.”

“Deal.” 

Bucky scrolled back a page or two and selected It Follows. The movie’s opening scene began, showcasing a quiet, suburban street. You tucked yourself closer into Bucky’s side and tore into a package of M&Ms, preparing to be scared. 

But after only a minute or so, Bucky paused the movie.

He turned to you, “Hey, I’m sorry about the party.”

“Buck, we talked about this. I’d rather hang out with you than-”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry I bailed.” He pulled his gaze from your face and placed it on the ice melting in his drink. “My anxiety kind got the best of me. And I-” He locked eyes with you, “I swear I tried. I wanted to go. But I just… I couldn’t do it.” His sudden eye roll caught you off guard, “The whole thing is so ridiculous, it was just a party, but even thinking about going made my hands shake.”

“It’s not ridiculous. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still trying to wade through all the shit Hydra saddled you with.” You gave his hand a squeeze, “Healing takes time. And it’s not a linear process. You’re gonna have ups and downs- that’s perfectly normal.”

All he could manage was a sigh. 

“Like you said, it was just a party. Nothing major. So, who cares if you bailed? All that matters is that you made the right choice for you.”

“I guess.” He carded a hand through his hair, “I just want to be done with it all, you know? I want to be able to do things that normal people do.”

“I know. But, you have to give yourself some grace, okay?” You brushed a gentle hand over his cheek, “And you need to be patient. Cause there’s no skipping to the end with this stuff.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“So, cut yourself some slack, okay?” You nudged his shoulder with yours, “No one is more deserving of slack than you.”

“I don’t know about that-”

“If the roles were reversed,” you posited, “And I’d been through all of the trauma and abuse that you went through, would you be upset with me if I couldn’t do certain things because of my anxiety ?”

“No,” he gave a fervent shake of his head. “Never.”

“And would you want me to be kind to myself?”

Without pause, an “of course” fell from his lips.

“Okay, then you need to extend that same kindness and understanding to yourself.”

“But I just want to be able to do stuff with you,” he huffed. “I want to go to parties with you. And concerts. And-”

“Hey, all that will come with time, okay? There’s no rush.” Once again, you gave his hand a squeeze, “You’re my best friend, and I just wanna hang out with you. So, it doesn’t matter what we do. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m happy.”

Bucky eyed you for a second, “You mean that?”

You nodded, “I swear on my life.”

An awkward smile crossed his face, “Then I guess I should tell you that I’m not- I really don’t want to watch a scary movie.”

“Oh, shit. My bad, Buck. We can watch anything you want,” you said, “You pick.”

With a few taps of the remote, Bucky opened an entirely different streaming service and selected a safe movie free of actual scares. 

“It’s still on theme with Halloween,” he promised, “But at least it’s not gonna give me more nightmares.”

“Yeah, whatever you want, I don’t-” The opening lines of Hocus Pocus filled the room, and you delivered a playful punch to Bucky’s arm.

He let out a loud laugh, “I had to, sweetheart. You’ve still got the make up on and everything.”

You pelted him with a few M&Ms before settling close to him. He draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you tight, relishing in your warmth. He was so lucky to have you as his friend, so lucky to know you. He couldn’t believe you’d ditched the party you’d looked forward to for weeks- all for him. Couldn’t believe that you were spending your favorite holiday unceremoniously watching movies on his couch. 

But he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. After everything he’d gone through, he was just grateful that he’d befriended someone with such a kind heart. And as he settled in to experience Hocus Pocus for the first time, he started plotting how he’d make things up to you next Halloween. 

———————————————

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @anything-more-than-human

[forzalando]

🎶 + Charles 🥺 (ily)

What If You Change? - The Wldlfe (1.2k, slight angst/fluff, 18+)

Light streamed through gaps in the curtains - the beginning of the day’s sunrise casting a soft and gentle glow over Charles. 

You’d been awake for hours at this point, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest and gently tracing the sharp lines of his nose and jaw with your eyes. You wouldn’t dare touch him, wouldn’t dare to wake him from peaceful slumber despite your urge to caress every inch of him.

With each passing hour you grew more uneasy, more certain of the impending doom that had been on your mind since last night. It had been a perfect evening - dinner, dessert, dancing (awful dancing, but dancing nonetheless), candles, rose petals, mind-blowingly amazing sex that left you sore and speechless. 

It was beyond perfect, too perfect, and that yanked you suddenly and sharply out of the fantasy world that you’d been living in for the past two years. It wasn’t just the relationship that was perfect, it was undoubtedly Charles too. The kindest man you’ve ever known, the purest soul, he treated you like you were the most important thing in the world to him. Until the day you met him, you didn’t know it was even possible to love someone so much, because no one has ever made you feel the way he does.

It wasn’t an insecurity but rather the curse of overthinking, and no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t help but think that all of this would eventually come to an end. 

You’ve lived long enough to know that no matter how good something is, sometimes it leaves, walks away, ends, departs, doesn’t last forever, however you'd prefer to say it, even though you desperately want it to. And with Charles - losing forever with him just wasn’t an option. 

He’d never given you any reason to feel this way, had said himself many times that you were his forever, the love of his life, l’amour de ma vie. He’d said it just last night, his green eyes fixed onto your gaze as his hips rocked into yours. And, oh, you believed him wholeheartedly. Every murmured token of affection chased by heated kisses or the flick of his tongue, it was immortalized into your very soul. 

But, people change their minds, and that’s the paralyzing thought that has kept you from rest. 

Another half hour must have passed before Charles began to stir, stretching his arms up to the sky and then curling his body so that he was practically on top of you.

“How long have you been awake?” He hummed, nuzzling his nose against your neck and intertwining your legs. Your heart ached in your chest. 

“A few hours,” you whispered. “I watched the sunrise and you looked so beautiful in the morning light I just couldn’t look away.” 

“Well, then, we must stay in bed so you can get more rest. Do you want me to play with your hair? That always makes you sleepy.”

“Charles, you have so much to do today, that’s not fair. I’m fine, I promise.”

You smiled at him, your best attempt at one anyway, and prayed that his vision was still slightly blurry from sleep so he wouldn’t notice it was off. Unfortunately for you, Charles was perfectly observant and attuned to the emotions of those closest to him.

“You are not fine, what’s wrong, mon coeur?” The concern in his voice and sincerity in his eyes, life and conversation was always a safe space with Charles. There was a freedom to speak your mind and be honest in a way that you’d never shared with anyone before. 

You sat up slowly, wrapping your arms around your knees and exhaling a few times before answering his question. 

“I’m just worried that you’ll change your mind about me one day.” 

And there it was - out in the open, lingering in the air, an admission that was a natural fear and occurrence for an over-thinker such as yourself. Charles, however, was horrified at how casually you spoke, fearful that he hadn’t done enough to assure you that to him, forever with you was just as sure as the sun rising each morning and setting each night. 

“My love, that will never happen,” he whispered, rising to sit up with you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I meant every word I said last night.” He reached desperately for your hand, delicately stroking his thumb along your ring finger that carried new weight. In the excitement of the night before, and because of Charles’s insistence that you wear it while he made love to you, you’d forgotten to take it off before falling into your short, restless sleep.

You flexed your hand out in front of you, frowning at the diamond that wasn’t there the last time you’d woken up in the morning, the thing that spurred this spiral. It was perfect, beautiful, just as lovely as the man who got down on one knee just 12 hours ago and slid it onto your finger. 

“You look upset looking at it. Do you…regret saying yes?” He whispered softly, you’d never heard his voice so quiet.

“Absolutely not,” you affirmed. “I just don’t want you to wake up one day and regret asking. It’s not impossible, and thinking about how…inexplicably happy I am, how I couldn’t have even dreamed a life as beautiful as this, I just got in my own head a bit. A lot. And once I started, I couldn’t stop.” 

“I feel like that sometimes too, you know,” he smiled. “I can’t believe that I am so lucky that out of everyone in the world, I am the one you love. I worry that one day you’ll realize you’re far too good for me.” 

You opened your mouth to object, you could never, that’s absurd, he was made perfectly for you, but he silenced you quickly with his lips. Breathing him in, feeling the taught muscles of his back flex as you rubbed your hand up and down. It was electric, soothing, and euphoric all at once - indescribable, celestial.

“When I feel that way,” he murmured against your lips, “I remember this feeling. How every touch, every kiss, every moment with you feels like coming home. And I know that you love me just as much as I love you.”  

“You’re such a smooth talker, Leclerc,” you giggled, rubbing the tip of your nose against his. 

“Exactly, that’s how we’ve gotten this far, no? I sweet talk you into dating me, into my bed, into being my girlfriend, and now into being my fiancée.”

He smiled brightly at you - his eyes gleaming in the morning light and quelling any fears still lingering in your mind. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For everything, always.” 

“There’s no need to thank me, but you can lay down and go back to sleep with me,” he said as he pulled you into him and under the blankets. “You’re grumpy when you’re tired.” 

“Grumpy enough to scare you off?” You teased, yawning deeply as his fingers threaded through your hair and the warmth of his body eased all the tension you’d been holding in yours.  

“Never.”

[madebysae]

SAE-BYEOK X READER WITH KANG CHEOL PLEASE I NEED THEM

Happy Birthday | K. Saebyeok

♡ pairing: 𝘴𝘢𝘦𝘣𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘬 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

♡ genre: 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

♡ warning(s): 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦

♡ summary: 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘦𝘣𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘭!

♡ word count: 2.5𝘬

♡ a/n: 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦!! 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘭 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴

You woke up to the sound of Saebyeok breathing softly beside you, her face peaceful in the rays of the early morning sun. Her dark lashes rested against her cheeks, and a strand of hair fell across her face. You reached out, tucking it back gently, fingers brushing against her freckled skin.

Very careful not to wake her up, you tip-toed out of bed and went outside. The salty breeze from the ocean greeted you warmly as you put on your sandals and stepped onto the sand, the horizon glowing with the first hints of sunrise.

You didn’t have to wait long before you heard the familiar sound of the door sliding open behind you. Turning around, your hair getting slightly blown by the wind, you saw Saebyeok approaching. Her jacket was messily slung over her shoulders and her hair was still slightly ruffled. She gave you a faint smile .

“Ready?” she asked, her voice still rough from just waking up a few minutes ago. You nodded, and together you started your walk down the beach. The gentle sound of the waves made you grin, and linked your pinky with Saebyeok’s.

Her other hand was tucked into the pocket of her jacket. Unlike you, she wasn’t really a morning person, but she would never miss these morning walks with you. You glanced over at her and couldn’t help but smile. She caught you staring and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” she asked, sounding indifferent, though the corner of her mouth twitched into a tiny hint of a smirk.

“Nothing,” you replied, grinning cheekily. “Just admiring the view.”

“The ocean is right there.” she deadpanned, but her eyes softened as she couldn’t help but smile and tousle your hair.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the waves and the quiet, distant cry of seagulls. Soon, you reached the spot where you usually stopped for a bit before heading back - a large, smooth rock just far enough from the waves that it wouldn’t get wet, but close enough for it to still give you an amazing view. Saebyeok sat down, her gaze fixed on the ocean. You joined her, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” you asked, referring to the plans the two of you had made for Cheol’s birthday.

Saebyeok nodded. “He will. Don’t worry.”

You both returned to the house to find Mrs. Kang already awake and cooking up breakfast in the kitchen.

“Oh, good morning sweethearts! I already put some rice on the stove, it shouldn’t take too long,” she gestured toward the fridge, “Saebyeok, dear, why don’t you plate some side dishes, and Y/N, you can start with the pancakes?”

Saebyeok immediately grabbed the pancake batter from your hands and gently pushed you toward the fridge, “I’ll do the pancakes. I don’t want you to burn yourself.”

She had mumbled the last part, but you and Mrs. Kang still heard her anyway.

“Ahhh, our Saebyeok is so protective,” Mrs. Kang smiled warmly, tying her apron tighter before starting to make the seaweed soup. Together, the three of you worked in the cozy kitchen. Once Saebyeok was done cooking the pancakes, you all helped with plating them with syrup and fresh fruit.

When everything was ready, you loaded the tray, adding a glass of milk on the side. Saebyeok carried the tray upstairs, and you and Mrs. Kang followed with a small smile.

When you entered Cheol’s room, his eyes fluttered open at the sound of the door creaking. His expression morphed from tired confusion to pure delight as he saw the breakfast tray.

“Happy birthday, Cheol!” you all chimed together, setting the tray on his lap.

His face lit up. “Woah! You guys made all this?”

“Well, I helped the most,” you teased, dodging Saebyeok’s playful glare.

“Don’t lie,” she retorted, smiling.

Mrs. Kang sat on the edge of the bed as Cheol took his first bite of pancake. “Eat up, our birthday boy!” she said, brushing his hair back affectionately.

After he finished his breakfast, all four of you headed outside for a quick game of beach volleyball. The net Saebyeok had bought a few years ago fluttered in the breeze, and the sun was warm but not too harsh. Cheol was the first to grab the ball.

“You’re going down, noona!” he shouted, pointing at Saebyeok as if they were mortal enemies.

“That’s some big talk for someone who’s not even tall enough to spike,” Saebyeok shot back playfully, walking to the other side of the net.

You ended up on Cheol’s team, mostly because he insisted that you and Saebyeok were both too good to be on the same team. Despite her teasing, Saebyeok couldn’t hide her proud smile every time Cheol managed to land a good hit.

By the time the game ended, the score didn’t matter—Cheol declared himself the winner regardless, making everyone laugh.

Mrs. Kang checked her watch and let out a small sigh. “I better get to work, Cheol-ah,” she said gently, crouching down to his eye level.

His face fell slightly, but she quickly placed a kiss on his forehead. “Don’t be too upset. I have a present for you, but you’ll have to wait until later, okay?”

He nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. “Okay…”

She smiled, brushing some sand off his shirt before straightening up. “Be good for your noona and Y/N. I’ll be back before you know it!”

You and Saebyeok both waved as she walked toward the car. Cheol turned to you with an eager grin.

“What’s next?” he asked, his unlimited energy kicking in again.

You exchanged a look with Saebyeok and smiled.

“Let’s find out,” you said, ruffling Cheol’s hair before heading back toward the house so you could all get changed for the rest of the day.

The trampoline park was colorful and full of laughter, with kids bouncing and flipping around everywhere. Cheol couldn’t contain his excitement as he grabbed your hand, pulling you and Saebyeok toward the trampolines.

“Noona, look at this!” he called out, bouncing high before landing in a foam pit with a loud shriek. You couldn’t help but laugh, his joy infectious.

Saebyeok stayed seated on the benches at first, watching with a small smile as you and Cheol raced each other from one trampoline to the next. But it wasn’t long before Cheol managed to convince her to join you guys.

By the time you left the park, all three of you were flushed bright red and out of breath from laughing, your energy absolutely spent.

Lunch was just as enjoyable. Cheol picked a small, cozy restaurant that served his favorite crispy fried chicken and spicy tteokbokki. He ate eagerly, cheeks puffed as he tried to talk with his mouth full.

“Swallow first,” Saebyeok chided gently. She handed him a napkin, her expression softening as she watched him enjoy the meal. You couldn’t help but admire how naturally this role of “older sister” came to her.

After lunch, dessert was an easy choice. The three of you stopped at an ice cream shop a few blocks away, the display case packed with all kinds of flavors. Cheol pressed his face against the glass, trying to decide between birthday cake and cookie dough. In the end, he chose both, happily licking his double scoop while you and Saebyeok shared a scoop of chocolate matcha.

Next up was boba, which Cheol had been begging you guys to get him for the past month. He picked a mango one with extra popping pearls, his excitement bubbling over as he took his first sip. Saebyeok laughed at his wide eyes, “I take it you like it?”

Cheol nodded enthusiastically, “It’s the best thing I ever tasted!!”

With full bellies and happy hearts, you all rented bikes for a ride through the park. The path curved through beautiful trees and along a sparkling river, the late afternoon sun casting shadows on the ground. Cheol pedaled ahead, laughing as he swerved back and forth. You and Saebyeok rode steadily next to each other, a bit behind Cheol but close enough to keep a watchful eye on him.

“He’s having a good day,” you said, glancing over at her.

“He is,” she agreed, a small smile gracing her lips.

By the time you got back to the house, the sun was just beginning to set. Cheol threw off his shoes and sprinted to his room, changing to his swimsuit in record time. He ran to the waves and you followed close behind, laughing as he initiated a game of splash tag. Saebyeok settled herself on a beach towel with a book in hand. Occasionally, she’d glance up and a smile would creep onto her face as she watched you play with Cheol.

“Come on, Sae!” you called out, waving at her to join you. She shook her head, holding up her book as if to say she was perfectly fine on the dry sand. You rolled your eyes but smiled brightly at her, trying very, very hard not to stare at her perfectly toned body accentuated by the two-piece she had on.

After you and Cheol had finished playing in the water and dried off, the three of you started a game of tag. Cheol was still full of energy, running around the sand while you and Saebyeok took turns chasing him. You couldn’t stop laughing when Saebyeok, who had said she didn’t care about winning, suddenly sprinted after Cheol and tagged him with a triumphant smirk.

As the sun began to sink lower behind the waves on the horizon, Mrs. Kang arrived home, stepping out of the car with a warm smile. Cheol spotted her right away and ran over, shouting, “Mom! You’re back!”

Mrs. Kang knelt down to hug him tightly. “I told you I’d be back before you knew it,” she said, brushing sand off his hair.

“Wanna play tag with us?” Cheol asked, his grin bright and hopeful.

“Just for a little bit,” she agreed. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you!”

Cheol squealed when she tagged him with a light poke on his shoulder. After a few rounds, Mrs. Kang held up her hands, laughing as she caught her breath. “Okay, I think that’s enough running for me for the day.”

Cheol pouted but quickly brightened when she said, “I need to start dinner. I’m making your favorite, so I hope you’re hungry!”

The three of you followed her back to the house, and took turns showering while Mrs. Kang prepared dinner.

At the table, a delicious meal was waiting—perfectly cooked samgyeopsal, lettuce to wrap it in, a side of kimchi, and rice.

Cheol gasped, his eyes wide as he grabbed his chopsticks, “This is my favorite!!”

“You’ve outdone yourself, Mrs. Kang. Thank you,” you said with a smile as you scooped some rice onto your plate.

“You’re part of this family, Y/N. Call me mom,” she said warmly as she offered you kimchi.

Dinner was full of laughter. Cheol excitedly told Mrs. Kang about all his favorite parts of the day—from the trampoline park to the giant ice cream cone he finished and your bike ride in the park.

“Noona and Y/N were biking so slow!” Cheol teased, waving his chopsticks around as he talked. “I was, like, a hundred miles in front of them!”

Saebyeok chuckled and nodded, and you agreed solemnly, “Yep, he’s telling the truth! Honestly, he should be a professional bike racer.”

By the time all the food was gone, everyone was stuffed, sitting back in their chairs with satisfied smiles.

Mrs. Kang reached over to ruffle Cheol’s hair. “Did you have a good birthday, Cheol-ah?”

“The best ever!” he said, his smile lighting up the room. He looked around at all of you. “Thanks guys!”

As the last rays of the sun finally began to disappear, you all gathered on the back porch to give Cheol his gifts.

Mrs. Kang went first, holding out an orange wrapped box with a patterned bow. “I hope you like it!”

Cheol ripped the wrapping paper off quickly, revealing a new backpack. His eyes widened. “Mom! This is perfect!” he said, running his fingers over the sewn-in designs and extra pockets. “It’s the one all the cool kids at my school have! Thank you!”

Mrs. Kang smiled warmly and gently brushed a strand of hair from his face. “You’re welcome.”

Next, you held out your gift for him. He peeled back the paper and gasped as he held up a new pair of shoes, “Y/N! These are the exact ones I wanted!”

You laughed, “I’m glad you like them. You outgrew your old ones, so I figured you could use a new pair.”

Cheol slipped the sneakers onto his feet right away, wiggling his toes in excitement. “They fit perfectly!”

Finally, Saebyeok handed over her gift, a small box wrapped in plain brown paper. “Here,” she said, her tone casual, though there was an obvious fondness in her voice.

Cheol peeled back the paper, opening the box to reveal a brand-new Nintendo switch. For a few seconds he was rendered speechless. Then, he squealed in delight, “No way! This is the best gift ever! Thank you Noona! I love you!”

She gave him a tight hug, “Love you too, Cheol. Just don’t stay up too late playing it, alright?”

He nodded solemnly and hugged the console to his chest, looking at all of you with pure happiness in his eyes. “You guys are the best. This was the bestestest birthday ever!”

Mrs. Kang, Saebyeok, and you all exchanged warm smiles.

After tucking Cheol into bed, you and Saebyeok retreated to your shared room. She lay beside you, her arm draped casually over your waist as you giggled at nothing in particular.

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but her lips were curved into a small smile.

“You love it,” you teased.

“Hmm.” Her noncommittal response made you laugh, and you leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. The kiss quickly turned into another, then another, her lips capturing yours with growing intensity. Her hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer as your heart raced.

A sudden knock at the door made you both freeze.

“Noona?” a timid voice called out. “I had a nightmare. Can I sleep with you?”

You glanced at Saebyeok, whose expression had shifted to one of resigned annoyance. “No,” she started, but you cut her off.

“Yes, of course, Cheol,” you called back, giving Saebyeok a pointed look.

“It’s his birthday,” you whispered to her as the door creaked open, “Just this once.”

She sighed but didn’t argue, moving over to make room for her little brother. Cheol climbed into bed, snuggling between the two of you. As he drifted off to sleep in his older sister’s arms, you caught Saebyeok’s gaze over his head. She rolled her eyes but leaned over to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re too soft,” she murmured.

“You love it,” you whispered back, grinning.

You all fell asleep with content smiles on your faces. This was home.

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Yet Another Dead Boy Detective Fic Rec List

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

I've been having so much fun with these, so I've decided to make another! See above for links to my other fic rec lists. ♥️

Like We're Gonna Die Young (Again) by RoseGanymede95

The latest installment in the superb Codependency World Cup series has the boys attend a nefarious house party and grapple with old frenemies, 90s fashion and temporary amnesia. Also fleshes out their achingly sad backstories, but compensates with the triumphant return of Pierre the rabbit.

When I Picture You by Gruoch

Charles gets braceleted by the Cat King instead of Edwin and receives his heart's desire... being alive again. This author has a special gift for taking fun sounding premises and turning the angst up to 11. So excellent.

young blood (never get chained) by ghostinthelibrary

University AU in which half-demon Charles intervenes in Edwin's ritual sacrifice and inadvertently binds their souls together... I'm genuinely obsessed with this AU, it has so much potential for tons of delicious tropes. Human!Edwin getting a crash course in supernatural shenanigans! Soulmate vibes!Found Family! Demon lore! What's not to love??

Ghosts and Monsters by justafandomfollower

Charles is also sacrificed and the boys meet in Hell! Fantastic premise and executed really well. I loved Masterful Edwin taking charge and protecting Charles while inwardly despairing. Highly recommended.

back to back they faced each other by ShanaStoryteller

The Night Nurse has a theory about how Charles was able to rescue Edwin from Hell so quickly... I'm genuinely shocked I haven't recced this one already. Sorry guys, I forgor. Anyway, this has interesting "Guardian" (angel?) lore, great meta and we even get some temporary amnesia as a treat.

boyfriend jacket by skadii

5+1 times Edwin borrowed Charles' jacket. The characterisation is on point, and it has some great OCs (Kyle the snarky seeing-eye cat!) and really sweet payneland moments. Plus Charles' jacket doing its most to annoy the Cat King.

Looking Like the Sunrise by letters_of_stars

Edwin thinks he's cursed so he and Crystal must team up to solve the case of his Mysterious and Suddenly Appearing Rizz. Funny and sweet friendship fic with some quality Edwin-Crystal bonding and discussions of trauma.

The Case of the Anonymous Confession by Mayarenerose

College AU featuring Charles posting an 'anonymous' online confession about his complicated feelings for his bestie. The closet is glass, but Edwin is oblivious and Crystal is in pain. Cute and funny epistolary social media fic done really well.

the middle of something wonderful by KiaraSayre

Does what it says on the tin and gives us a trope salad of cosy vignettes, including a time loop, temporary amnesia, sudden corporality and Crystal and Edwin trying to get a good grade in Party. Wholesome.

My heart is like a haunted house (series) by halffulljampot

Charles (unknowingly) befriends the ghost of Edwin's mother and constantly gushes to her about his amazing best friend/boyfriend. Beatrice is a great OC and it's just nice (though extra tragic) to read a fic in which Edwin had loving parents. Read it for Family Feels and wholesome intergenerational friendship.

the first rule of fight club by e_va

The boys are captured by an evil underground fighting ring. The fic is from Charles' PoV, so the prospect of having to fight Edwin was especially stomach-churning. Still, we get Edwin being a badass and a brilliant surprise cameo I don't want to spoil.

The Case of The... by sophisticatedyet

Edwin borrows Niko's negligee and Charles' brain breaks. There's also a case and giant squids, but Charles' Distracted By The Sexy crisis is the main (hilarious) event.

in those heavy days when love became an act of defiance by aletterinthenameofsanity, JUBE514

Daemon AU and first meeting fic! Loved the worldbuilding, insightful character work and lovely use of Greek mythology. Honestly, this fandom needs more daemon AUs.

spinning around and around in an ocean of grief (your ladder came down to the sea) by Ingi

Prequel to DontOffendTheBees' excellent College AU, expanding on the boys being alive and in school together. Also has its own prequel about their first meeting from Edwin's point of view. This one, though, is a Charles' Bisexual Journey/Feelings Realization fic. So lovely.

head in the clouds but my gravity's centered by shadowquill17

Face Touching: The Fic. I just love non-sexual intimacy in fics and this one is so tender. I also love Accidental Kissing and Feelings Realization so my cup runneth over.

i don't want to rest in peace by handwrittenhello

Different First Meeting fic featuring Poltergeist Charles! Loved the concept, even though it made me sad.

the great snogging debacle of '95 by thatgayprince

Edwin disguises himself as a girl and Charles starts and then defers a sexuality crisis for 30 years. Funny, steamy and emotional.

a beautiful day to say goodbye by ofstitches

The agency take on the case of a depressed house. This is another bittersweet Edwin backstory fic with discussions of grief.

Smitten in the Stacks by cordelianoir

Adorable prequel to lolotr's equally adorable library AU. Meet cute featuring (platonically married) Dad!Charles crushing on the hot librarian who leads Children's Storytime.

Jenny Green: Butcher, Hot Mess, Reluctant Queer Elder by Money_Maker

Jenny-centric fic! The focus is on Jenny and her financial, mental and emotional struggles post-canon, but mentoring Edwin through his queer self-discovery becomes a big part of that. This turns into a really sweet friendship, plus Found Family Feels and some fun outsider PoV of the boys' dynamic.

I've always got more recs so watch this space! ❤️

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 2

I'm so glad that people enjoyed the first part of this so much. I hope you like sexy times and long chapters, because this has both.

I should point out that this is mid to late 80s and Eddie's cell phone is an actual fucking brick. Rich rockstar and all.

In this part we get Eddie sliding into home, finding out Steve's real age and how he got into the bar past a bouncer known for spotting fakes.

Part 1

Mature 18+ only!

~

Eddie was doing what he did best and that was absolutely shred on stage. He was back up vocals because Jeff truly had the pipes. Something they didn’t actually learn until they were half way through their first record.

He had no delusions that if he had remained lead singer, that they would have gotten absolutely fucking nowhere.

He was also keeping an eye on his little canary. Bright yellow in a sea of leather and chains. He just wanted to bite those cheeks. Face or ass, didn’t matter which. Though he would be very happy indeed to sink his teeth into that amazing ass.

Too soon and not soon enough they were saying goodbye. As they walked off stage, Eddie saw Chrissy come back up to Steve. Most likely telling him to stay a little longer.

Eddie was 97% sure that little Canary gave off queer vibes, but that little teeny-tiny doubt was all it took from going over there and bending him over the bar and fucking him wildly.

In the dressing room as they were putting away their guitars, Chrissy came bouncing into the room, bright smile on her face.

“You fucking owe me big time, lover boy,” she told Eddie. “His name is Steve, he’s twenty-two and he’s a local.”

Eddie leaned back against the sofa cushion and draped one arm over the back. “That’s all very interesting Chris, but that doesn’t help me get laid.”

She held up her hand. “I’m getting to it, babe. Pretty boy’s drinking his sorrows because Daddy kicked him out for being caught with his boyfriend.”

Suddenly Eddie was on the edge of his seat, elbows on his knees.

“Who told you that?” Gareth asked, twirling a stick between his fingers.

“Monty, the bouncer,” Chrissy replied, looking smug. “Steve is a regular and Monty knows him.”

Jeff raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Well enough that he would know the dude is queer in small town Bumfuck, Indiana?”

“That’s what he said.”

Brian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The worst thing that would happen is that he blows you off and you blow town. Everyone knows you’re gay anyway, it won’t hurt shit if he says anything.”

Jeff and Gareth exchanged concerned glances.

“I’m with Brian,” Eddie said, “and not just because I find the dude hot. He’s not going to start shit surrounded by all my fans and if he’s just out for drinks there’s nothing wrong with me having a couple with the guy.”

Gareth and Jeff sighed.

“You were going to do whatever you wanted to do anyway,” Gareth said. “And even I could tell he had a hard time keeping his eyes off you and I’m in the fucking back!”

Eddie cackled. “Damn right.”

~

Steve was enjoying his second Tequila Sunrise, when the lead guitarist slid into the stool next to him.

Steve turned in his seat to look at him. “Wow, as I live and breathe, Eddie Munson in the flesh. You know you’re better looking in person then you are in pictures.”

Eddie cackled and ordered a beer. He turned to face Steve as the bartender pulled his beer and set it down in front him.

“Cocktails are an interesting choice,” he murmured after taking a sip of his beer. “I would have pegged you for the bottle beer type.”

Steve raised an eyebrow over the top of his glass. “Beer’s great unless you want to get drunk fast then it’s shit. Especially in this hick town.” He took a sip. “Plus it tastes better.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Fair point. I stick to beer so that I don’t get drunk off my ass, falling off stage is never fun regardless of the height involved.”

“Sounds like you’ve had experience,” Steve said with a huff of laughter.

Eddie hummed around the lip of his bottle and took a sip. “Yep! In the early days of the band, took a header off a stage at some festival, right into the crowd. I’m not sure who got hurt worst, me or the poor people I landed on.”

Steve winced. “That’s rough. At least you were able to come back from that, don’t think most people could.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said with a smile.

They continued to talk. Steve knew the signs. The way Eddie was leaning close, the way he would let his hands gaze his skin, the flirty language. There was no doubt Steve was going home with this one. Well hotel, anyway. So he slowed up on his alcohol intake.

And if the bartender’s smirk was any indication, Eddie was doing the same. It seemed that neither one was interested in drunk sex.

~

Eddie was going to kill Monty and Jeff was never going to let him live it down. Because there was no way this guy was twenty-two. Sure, he knew how to hold his liquor and when to slow down, he had to give him that, so clearly he’d been drinking awhile. But he talked like a high school student.

He just hoped his little Canary was only naive and not actually fucking under age.

“Shit,” Eddie said after draining the rest of his third beer in two hours, “I could kill for a smoke.”

“I wouldn’t mind one,” Steve said, leaning close, “if you’ve got one to share.”

Eddie eyed him up and down. “What no room in those pants for a pack of smokes?”

“I mean I could,” Steve said cocking his head to the side, “But it would leave much room for anything else and I kinda need my wallet more than I need a pack of smokes on me at all times, so...”

Eddie laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, darlin’, I can see why that might be a problem.”

He hopped off the stool and Steve dutifully followed him out the back. He pulled out a couple of smokes and lit them both before handing one to Steve.

“So how did you get your fake ID past the door gargoyle?” Eddie asked after taking a drag and blowing straight up into the air.

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “What gave me away?”

Yup. Jeff was never going to let him live this down. God damn it.

“For all your big talk,” he huffed, annoyed, “you don’t sound like someone who’s been around long enough to be the age on your ID.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve had the same ID since I was sixteen. Both of them. I have a cousin Scott who was nineteen at the time and altered it for me.” He pulled out the fake ID and handed it to him.

Eddie squinted in the dark and realized that if he hadn’t been told it was a fake he wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing. But there slight smudges where there shouldn’t be that just tipped it over the edge into fake territory.

“Okay,” he groused, “that is a pretty good fake. But Monty is known for his eagle eye in spotting a fake, so what gives?”

Steve grinned as he took back the ID. “Scott is my cousin on my dad’s side and Monty’s my cousin on my mom’s side. He knows my parents are shit so he pays the owner under the table when I go out to drink here. Which I keep to a minimum for his sake, mainly I use it to buy beer in out of town gas stations.” He pulled out his real ID and handed it Eddie. “I’m young, but I’m not stupid.”

Eddie blinked at Steve for a moment in shock. He looked down at the real age and god, the sigh of relief he bit back was immense. Nineteen. His little Canary was nineteen.

“Sorry for doubting you,” Eddie murmured, handing the ID back.

Steve shrugged again. “I get it. I’ve been told I have kind of a weird face when it comes to age, I could look anywhere from sixteen to thirty depending on the lighting and what I’m wearing.” He took his first drag of his cigarette and blew out of the side of his mouth, flicking the ashes on the ground.

Eddie stared at him owlishly for a moment before he dropped his cigarette on the pavement and ground it with the heel of his boot. Then he surged forward and grabbed Steve’s face to mash their lips together.

Steve’s fingers slackened and the cigarette fell from his fingers and rolled away. He brought his hands up to get his hands on those curls like he’d been dreaming about all night. Eddie moaned as blunt nails scratched his scalp. He wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him in close.

This time it was Steve’s turn to moan. They pressed together from chest to knees and he could feel everything through the thin layer of his clothes.

Eddie’s hands roamed down his back and straight to those delicious looking ass cheeks. He wanted to taste them as surely as he could taste the ash on his lips.

All the buildup, all the tension all night was culminated in this first kiss. Eddie was heady with it. The alcohol in his system burning away in the face of his desire for this man. Because young as he was his little Canary was a man, no doubt.

A man who clearly wanted to take this elsewhere and Eddie wanted to let him.

“Just, just,” he panted when he pulled away. “Just let me tell someone we’re going back to the hotel, okay baby?”

Steve nodded a little kiss drunk and a lot breathless. “Should I just wait here for you then?”

Eddie nodded and then dashed back into the bar. He was barely gone two minutes before he was back out and dragging Steve to his car.

When they got to the car, Eddie pushed him up against it to kiss him again.

“Someone’s eager,” Steve teased, his hands skirting the stripe of skin between Eddie’s pants and shirt.

“Baby, you have no idea,” he growled, diving in to kiss him senseless.

Steve moaned as every nerve in his body lit up with every lick of Eddie’s tongue, every kiss of his lips, every touch of his hands. He felt like he was on fire.

Eddie pulled away long enough to unlock the car. He opened the door and practically shoved Steve into it, before he ran around to the other side of the car and got into the driver’s seat.

“Hold on, baby,” Eddie purred as the engine roared to life, “you’re in for a ride.”

“God I hope so!” Steve said breathlessly, pressing back against the leather of the seat.

Eddie cackled, pulling into traffic. “Oh honey, you have no idea.”

~

Hands were everywhere by the time they finally got into the hotel room.

Steve had stayed in some pretty swanky places growing up, traveling with his parents but fuck it was nothing this decadent.

All the fittings were brass and the tops were marble. In the middle of this was a large king size bed with black bedding and white throw pillows. If he wasn’t trying to get the two of them naked as fast as possible, he would have belly flopped on the mattress and buried his face in the pillows.

But all thoughts of that went out the window when Eddie’s mouth starting kissing down his throat as the only thing going off in his head became: YES! YES! YES!

Steve’s shirt was the first thing to come off as Eddie kept trying to get at more of Steve’s skin. Then Steve’s pants and shoes were next, leaving him naked in the face of the very dressed rock star.

Eddie picked him up and threw him on the bed. He tossed off his jacket and then tore of his shirt. He hopped on the bed and crawled up Steve’s body like a predator on the prowl. Steve moaned as Eddie kissed him deeply.

“God,” Steve groaned. “I need you to fuck me, so badly.”

Eddie grinned, his hands moving down Steve’s chest and sides to land on his hips. “Is that right, little Canary? You need to be fucked?”

Steve nodded, his capacity for speech having flown away with his ability to think of anything but getting to be fucked by a rock star.

Eddie scrambled off the bed and took off his boots and pants. Then he dug around in the nightstand before he pulled out what he was looking for. A small tube of lube and a pack of condoms.

Steve’s body shuddered with the thought of being absolutely wrecked by this beast of a man. Eddie looked good in his clothes, but so much better out of them. He was still as lean and tight as whipcord, but his body was toned with well-formed muscle. And then he pulled his hair back and suddenly Steve wanted to leave hickies all over that column of his throat. Because God! It was just as sinful as the rest of him.

“Shit,” he hissed. “You’re the reason people think gays are going to hell. You’re as gorgeous as sin. Fuck!”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment and threw back his had in laughed. “Baby, that was quite the line.” But before Steve could even think about frowning at being laughed at, he dived back in to kiss his mouth. “If I’m sin, little Canary, then you must be heaven sent.”

Steve wanted to protest that Eddie’s line was worst, but again all thoughts went out of his head when Eddie put the first condom on Steve. His hips bucked with the touch even if it wasn’t a sexual one.

“Now who’s the eager one, baby?” Eddie purred.

Steve moaned the loss of his hands as he watched Eddie sheath his dick in the second condom. He tossed the foil packets away and then popped open the cap of lube. He coated his finger with the liquid and circled Steve’s hole.

Steve let out a little whine at being touched but not enough. It wasn’t enough. Then Eddie breached the ring of muscle and holy fuck, it felt so good.

“You like that, little Canary?” Eddie teased, working his finger in and out of him.

“So good,” Steve breathed, trying not fuck himself on the digit.

“And you’re going to continue feel good, aren’t you?” Eddie murmured into Steve stomach. “Because you’re going to be a good boy and tell me if anything is uncomfortable or hurts, right?”

Steve nodded.

“Use your words, little Canary,” Eddie said, pulling his finger out of him.

“Yes!” Steve cried, though he would have said anything just so that Eddie would come back with his finger.

“Good boy.”

But when he brought his finger back, he added another and Steve nearly careened off the bed. Eddie held him down with his other hand.

“Look at you,” he purred. “I’ve never been with anyone so responsive before, baby.”

“So good for you,” Steve babbled. “Want to be so good.”

“And you are,” Eddie assured him. “You are so good for me.”

Shortly after the second finger, a third was added and Steve was muttering pleas and inanities as Eddie continued to work him open.

“Please, Eddie!” he cried. “I need you!”

Eddie removed his fingers and lined himself up. He grabbed Steve’s hips and slipped right into him.

Soon it was an uncoordinated mess of Eddie fucking Steve and Steve working himself to get off.

“So close...” Steve whispered.

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and together they finished him off. His body arched off the bed as he released into the condom. He fell boneless, to the bed as Eddie chased his own completion.

Soon after he was releasing ribbon after ribbon into the condom. His hips shuttered and then stilled as the last of his orgasm floated through his system.

He pulled off Steve’s condom first and then his own, making sure to tie each off before throwing them away.

He cleaned them both up with a wet hand towel from the en suite bathroom and then tucked a sleepy Steve into the bed.

He crawled in behind him and pulled him in close. He kissed Steve’s shoulder and the man muttered back sleepily something that sounded a little too close to, “Love you, too,” for Eddie’s liking.

Not because he didn’t want Steve in love with him, but because he was half way there himself.

This boy was going to be trouble.

~

Steve absolutely doesn't remember saying those three little words the next day.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart

[devnmon]

too sweet. || a.m.

a/n: heyy ok i know you guys have probably seen enough of the fics with hozier songs but i also love him and when i heard this track the minute it was released, i was like oh yeah this is arthur morgan core. if ur bothered by me writing this then i say that is simply your problem ngl. in the case that you are reading this, it's just a silly little blurb that sums up arthur morgan in the eyes of the song too sweet by hozier !

wc: 632 | warnings: mentions of smut (that's all)

Arthur Morgan was never an early bird. In fact he despised it. Most times he did was only during a hunt, when he woke smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze. You– you were different; completely rising before the sun rose like clockwork. While you always told him never to stay up till the sunrise, he did, arrogantly, anyways.

He was amazed at how you were so easily able to exist in a world that fought against you– not only in the gang, but as a woman. Drunk on life you seemed to be, Arthur would say, while he took his whiskey neat. In his bed at 3am many nights, he took pride in getting to lay next to you when the slower moments came to pass.

You kissed him in the early mornings when you rose, lips still tasting of the previous night's wine. The sweet morning greeting of your lips had him praying for you to lay with him longer. Arthur was lovesick and kept you wherever he went; whether that meant drawings of you from across camp, or your name written with a heart next to his on a different page. On the off chance he gets back to camp early in the mornings before you wake, he leaves you the most exquisite trinkets for you to remember him by.

It's not often he must stay out of camp for longer than a couple days, but when he does, he returns with a heartfelt apology that takes place in your shared bedroll, begging you to accept his apology with every praise. Your touch has been ingrained into his mind, body. and soul, and yet– it burns his skin every time. Each press of your lips and swipe of your tongue over his skin.

He's so goddamned lucky you've let him at your body long enough to know how well his melds with yours like putty. You're the cream he voids from his coffee– because you're too sweet for him. You're too sweet with your sweet lips like heaven's gate, and Arthur is marveled at how you let him of all men kiss you.

The natural beauty you walked around with every day made Arthur seethe with envy at the fact that other men would gaze upon what was his. Most times when you clock his jealous stares and frustrated grunts, it's instinct when you immediately reassure him that you're not going anywhere.

His frustration is released among his true aim towards the spots on your body that make you mewl and call out his name like a mantra. It boosts his ego through the roof like a rocket when you respond and intertwine your soul even more with his.

When he's free from the constant back and forth from camp and jobs, there's a rare moment where Arthur dedicates two or three days to only you. He whisks you away to an expensive hotel, and uses his every power to bring you a new kind of ecstasy when he shares the bed with you. Arthur never wants you to think he doesn't have time to spend on you; he proves that any moment he can.

At that point, he'd gladly die between your thighs just to hear the wanton noises of carnal desire you feel for him and only him. He's seen so much pain in the world, that he's astonished someone like you can be beautiful and perfect so naturally.

You're the sun he wakes to every morning, the contrast of the heat during the cool rainy nights. As sweet as wine and the grapes it has been made from; he'd wait forever to taste your kiss again as long as you were there to ease the aches and pains.

Until then... he'll take his whiskey neat.

[goldenwilliamson]

salty skin | lucy bronze

a/n: this is my first woso anything on here... pls send requests to my ask box if you have any xxx

pairing: lucy bronze x lioness!reader

summary: reader and lucy are in australia for the world cup, pure fluff

word count: 881

Being in Australia for the World Cup was nothing less than a dream come true. Not only were you getting to represent England, but it also meant you and Lucy got to spend some time together. Playing in different Leagues means you spend most of the year apart, so you were both feeling very grateful to be back playing together.

You'd woken up before Lucy did, feeling the incomparable comfort of being held in her arms. Being able to room together was another perk of National Camps. You'd made a promise to yourself that you would go for a swim at sunrise, so you carefully slipped out of Lucy's grasp, instantly missing the warmth of her body.

Slowly and quietly, you made your way around the hotel room, slipping a bikini on under your trackies and puffer and grabbing a spare towel from the bathroom. You grabbed your key card and phone and softly shut the door behind you. The beach was incredibly beautiful, despite it being the middle of Australian winter. It seemed like a few other girls had the same idea as you did, because you bumped into Ella, Alessia, and Lotte as you made your way down onto the sand.

"Up for sunrise?" You asked them.

"Hey!" They all said excitedly, not having spotted you.

"Lucy didn't want to come down?" Lotte asked sweetly.

"No, she was sound asleep, I didn't want to wake her," you explained.

You started unzipping your puffer jacket and pulling off you tracksuit pants, much to the surprise of the three other girls.

"You're not going in are you?" Alessia scoffed.

"Of course I am, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity Less," you smiled as you began to slowly jog down to the shoreline. The water was a bit of a shock to the system, but it felt amazing. A cold plunge was actually what you felt you needed after the gruelling nature of tournament play.

You didn't stay in for too long, just long enough to get used to the temperature, and then you hopped back out. The girls on the sand shook their heads at you as you approached them with a smile on your face.

"It's lovely in there," you told them as you picked up your towel and started drying off.

"You're braver than I am," Tooney said, making you laugh as you pulled your jacket back around your body.

"Alright, I'm gonna go get myself a coffee now," you bid the girls farewell and went back to the hotel. You made two coffees at the coffee machine, anticipating Lucy would be up soon. She was usually the early riser out of the two of you.

And you were right, because as you tried your best to quietly push the hotel room door open Lucy informed you she was awake, "I'm up, don't worry."

"Morning," you smiled at the sight of Lucy tucked into the crisp white bed sheets. She set her phone down on the bedside table as you sat down on the bed, handing her the second coffee.

"You're amazing," Lucy said appreciatively.

"How long have you been awake?" You ask, admiring how soft your girlfriend looks when she's just woken up and her huskier morning voice.

"Since you left," she says.

"Oh, sorry," you apologise, thinking you'd been able to leave without waking her.

"It's alright," she shakes her head, smiling at you. She always takes the piss out of you for how you can tend to apologise for things that you don't need to say sorry for. This usually ends up in you apologising for apologising and Lucy in fits of laughter at your chronic kindness.

"Did you go for a swim?" Lucy asks surprisedly as she reaches out to drag her fingers through your wet hair.

"I did!" You said proudly.

"Was it cold?" She asks.

You nod, "Like an ice bath."

"You're insane," she says.

"Mmm, I am," you hum, leaning in towards Lucy to give her a kiss, "But you love me anyway."

"I do," Lucy says contentedly.

You shiver for a second and Lucy furrows her brows together.

"I'm gonna run a warm shower for you. You'll get sick if you sit here all cold," she tells you, immediately stepping out of bed and going to the bathroom. Your heart swells at the gesture and you follow her to the bathroom, tearing away your jacket and letting it fall on the floor on the way.

You stand there in your trackies and bikini top as Lucy checks the temperature of the water with her hands.

"Thank you," you say appreciatively, never feeling so loved by such a simple act in your life.

Lucy steps towards you, planting a kiss on your forehead in response.

"Huh," she steps back, smirking.

"What?" You ask.

"Your skins all salty, so Australian," she laughs.

"God I need a rinse," you say, stripping away the rest of the clothes.

As you step under the warmth of the water, Lucy rests against vanity, trying to make conversation about the day ahead.

"You'll have to come in here Luce, I can't hear you over the water," you say, a thinly veiled request for something more.

Lucy scoffs, knowing what you're really looking for, "If you insist."

[devilfic]

Just an idea, but this is something I often do with my own grannies. So sometimes when I come visit, we'll chat and gossip about random things like what parties happened the night b4 in the community and how I got called into work b'cuzz I'm a matron at the station (I never give names I only call em by their prisoner #'s) and I just give em a general synopsis of what I had to deal with b'cuzz they were screaming, or banging on the door or flipping oit etc, or I show them some true crime podcasts or some interesting documentary about how barbies were made or something other. And then there's visits where we don't even talk, we just sit down in silence while the tv's on or the radio, while having some tea and snacks or supper if I come by at dinner time, and we just enjoy each other's company, it's honestly the best visits when we do that. So just imagine doing that with Battinson Bruce, no talking, just peaceful silence while he works and enjoying each other's presence while also enjoying Alfred's tea and snacks. That'd be so wholesome, and then he walks you home, or you just crash on his couch. That'd be so nice, just something platonic and sweet.

❝I want us both to eat well❞

plot: "It’s so complicated staying alive sometimes." — your friendship with the elusive vigilante is a special one in many ways. pairing: platonic!battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: partially inspired by the poem "our beautiful life when it’s filled with shrieks" by christopher citro, fluff, reader used to live on the street, reader knows batman's identity, bruce being bad at managing his meal times bc justice never sleeps, platonic but you can read it any way you want to. words: 1.5k. a/n: this is such a sweet anecdote, and I have had some not so great writer's block, so I really appreciated having a simple idea to work with! there is quite a bit of talking but it's not an devilfic fic if they don't yap a bit

It is a verifiable fact that Bruce will not eat at a reasonable time unless you make him.

I mean, he does eat. There are meal preps in the fridge that he unfreezes at sunrise, and there are pre-workout protein shakes and bowls of fruit Alfred leaves for him to graze on, and every once in a while he’ll come upstairs to the dinner table—Bruce and Alfred both know these particular dinners are as much case debriefs as they are eating together, but they’re together and there’s food on the table, and that’s something. Isn’t it?

But for all his effort, Alfred has never been as efficient as you.

You bump Bruce’s shoulder with dinner, a greasy paper bag full of what you promised would make up for the calories, and he inches his book away before you can get anything on it. He feels the residue on his skin, though. “Alright, up and at ‘em. Eat this before it gets any colder than it already is.”

“What is it? Exactly?”

You set the bag on his desk and hand him one paper-wrapped burger and a set of (admittedly) delicious looking fries. “That, my good man, is a delicacy on my side of town. Bizzby’s Burgers. I even splurged and got you a large ‘cause I know you’ll like it.”

Bruce can’t remember the last time he had either of these. As he plucks a fry out of its container, he wonders if it’ll taste good enough to jog his memory. You swear by it, and it feels like he’s more willing to just take your word for it these days. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s alright. It’s your money anyway.”

“That’s not how a job works.” Bruce watches you drag a stool over to his side and take a seat, catching only a whiff of the rain clinging to the very ends of your sleeves. It was good to know the money he spent on your new jacket was worth it. “You earned it, it’s yours.”

“You gonna finger that fry all night or you gonna tell me I’m amazing?” Bruce grimaces at your choice of words. He takes a bite and, yeah, he sees where all the grease came from, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t taste good. “Well?”

“It’s good.”

“I’m amazing, right?”

“This is a delicacy?”

“Don’t be a smartass, rich boy.”

“I’m just asking a question.”

You take out your own food and he realizes you’ve got onion rings instead of fries. You stuff one into your mouth, savoring the taste for a little longer than necessary, and really—they can’t be that good. “When gramps ran the place, he’d usually sneak me something at the end of the night. Whatever the others didn’t take home. But it’s been ten years since his son took over and he’s a real hardass about that stuff. I would’ve sworn off the place for good if it wasn’t for the fact that he cooks just like his fucking dad.”

Bruce used to follow you when this all started—a precaution he took to ensure there was no conflict of interest on your part—and this Bizzby’s Burgers sat smack dab between your favorite alley and the shelter. He used to wonder why you never really went in, always lingering outside like it used to be your home, once. Now he knows.

You bring out the sodas next, except he didn’t want a soda, and the next best thing to a fountain drink at Bizzby’s is a milkshake. It’s strawberry and more milk than ice cream at this point, but Bruce dutifully reviews it for you all the same. His desk is slowly becoming a mess from dinner, but it’s been a slow road getting you to take up space like this again. He can be bothered not to be bothered.

“I thought you were just shy, or maybe didn’t trust me, but you really don’t talk much. Do you?” Your question sounds like it’s already been answered in the tone you use.

“I talk when I have something to say.”

“Yeah. You don’t just fill in the silences like some people.” Bruce thinks that’s all you have to say on the matter, but he should know better. You like talking to him. “People pretend you don’t exist when you live on the street. I think they feel guilty, but you sort of get it into your head that maybe you really don’t exist after all. That you stop existing the second you end up here- or… there. I guess. I’m not there anymore.” You look far away in that moment. Bruce watches your eyes flicker, stuck on some unknown memory of a life much harder lived, but then you come back to yourself eventually, “You scared the shit out of me back when we first met.”

Most people remembered him for the fear. You had shrunk in on yourself when he appeared, shivering from the shock or the wind chill or the lack of sleep that clung to your drooping eyes.

Bruce keeps eye contact with you, biting into his burger so slowly that the paper doesn’t even crinkle.

“Like that,” you grumble. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Help what?”

“Look, that’s not the point. My point was that, like, you were so scary when you first found me in that alley. I thought… I thought you were going to beat me to a pulp over something I didn’t do… or worse, something I did do. You started talking and it felt like all the sound dropped out around me. Like tunnel vision. Like I was the only thing in front of you, and it scared me. Even when you were silent, it felt like… I existed too much. I was too seen. It was overwhelming. But now that I know you…” Bruce’s eyebrow rises. He spares no energy for any other reaction. “It’s kind of nice.”

He wasn’t expecting that. He doesn’t know how to take it; he knows it’s a good thing but in the way a compliment sandwich is mostly a good thing. “Kind of nice” was mostly a good thing.

You must see the uncertainty in his face—a rare occasion he doesn’t hide it—because you rectify your wording, “It is nice. You see me and I exist and I know I exist because you treat me like a person. It was jarring back then but now it feels pretty good. So thanks for scaring the shit out of me, I guess.”

You squirm in your seat, taking a long drag from your straw as you wait for him to say something. Bruce leans further back into his chair, gazing sidelong at you.

In reality, he didn’t quite understand how anyone could miss you.

He’d seen plenty of people just like you on Gotham’s streets, turned away from shelters and scared out of gang territory, and yet you had stuck out to him. When he’d found you curled up in the dark, rain drenching through your clothes, it had been just his luck that you had been witness to exactly what he needed to know, and it was even more his luck that—after the catatonia wore off—you told him everything.

And you caught his eye again, and again, and again. Always on some street corner, shrinking away from the crowds but always on the outskirts, hanging onto the coattails of the bigger bads he stalked after. He supposed you just had something about you. It was hard to trust gut feelings about people in this city (sweetness turned rotten all too suddenly), but so far, he’d been right about you. “You’re welcome.”

You still at his voice. You catch his eyes and something softens in you. Then you sniffle, and Bruce kicks on the heater beneath his desk.

The two of you continue to eat and Bruce waits for you to share something else, but nothing comes up. When dinner’s trashed, you watch from the couch as he works away on a case you have nothing to do with, Bruce waiting for questions that never come.

It’s two in the morning when he hears your first snore. Then six when you come down from the bathroom with a tray of coffee. He thinks it’s Alfred’s, but one sip and he knows it has to be yours; it’s different, not as clear as he's used to, but not unpleasant. Did you ask Alfred to show you how to make it? Or did you just know, and this was how you liked it? You don’t say anything as you sit with him again, eyes crusted over with sleep as you huddle closer for warmth.

It’s Bruce who speaks first, eventually, “I'll call you a cab.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It's a subway kind of morning.” You hoist your bag onto your shoulders, a pound heavier with all the snacks Alfred slipped you in the kitchen. “I can meet you in Chinatown tomorrow night. I know a place with spring rolls to die for.”

Bruce hums, holding the front door open for you, “If you’re willing to wait for me.”

You punch his arm and it catches up to him that he hadn't expected it, that you could've done something much worse and he'd have missed it because... well, because he knew you wouldn't. He feels safe with you.

You’re all smiles, none the wiser. "Who else am I gonna gossip with?"

[rizlowwritessortof]

@jacklesversebingo Square #3!

Written for Jacklesversebingo2024. The prompt for this one is 'Come on. I'll show you how to dance.' This went a little bit of a different direction than I expected, but I think I like it - hope you do, too!

The big Founder's Day party for Vought International is a 70's disco theme, and your friend Camille has talked you into going, even though you'd rather stay home with a book and glass of wine. You never imagined you'd be dancing the night away with your superhero crush.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 2992

Warnings: Nothing but smut (and maybe a little glimpse through the cracks in Soldier Boy's armor)

Dividers thanks to @firefly-graphics

You walk up to the entrance, shivering a little as a brisk late-October breeze dances around your bare legs and ruffles your skirt. You hand the expressionless suited man at the door your Vought ID, and he nods, waving you by.

You’re not sure why you came. You are a low-level executive assistant at Vought, and you’re honestly surprised that they have bothered to invite people at your pay grade to this Founder’s Day party. You know very few people that you work with, and you would much rather be at home in front of your fireplace in your fuzzy socks with a glass of wine. But you had promised your coworker, Camille, that you would come.

“It’ll be fun! We get to dress up retro and cut loose on the company’s dime! And who knows? You might get a chance to dance with a supe!”

The whole night was planned around a 70’s disco theme. You had raided a vintage clothing store and found the perfect dress, a jewel-toned blue that shimmers in the light, the fabric soft and clingy, with a skirt that will whirl when you dance. If you dance. And if you don’t break your neck in the platform heels you’re wearing. You even tried to curl your hair in the Farrah Fawcett style, but you’re not sure if you really succeeded. Oh, well, not like anybody will really notice anyway, right?

Vought has rented the entire night club for the event, and you’re a little intimidated at the number of people attending. Once again, visions of sitting by your fireplace where you’re safe and alone flash through your mind, and you’re tempted to turn around and leave. But you hear your name, and turn to see Camille rushing towards you, her mouth open in amazement. “Oh my God, girl, you look fantastic! Where did you find that dress?”

She proceeds to pull you into the main room, over to a table she has already claimed, and you hang your jacket on the back of your chair and let her lead you to the bar. “Tequila sunrise, please,” you order, glancing around the room. They have gone all out for this – two huge mirrored disco balls hang above a lighted dance floor, both inactive at the moment. There is music playing in the background, but the DJ hasn’t started the show yet, giving more people a chance to arrive. The bartender slides your drink over with a wink and flirty smile, and you smile back. He’s dressed for the theme, right down to his puka shell choker.

By the time the DJ is in full swing, you are actually enjoying yourself. Of course, the tequila is probably helping, but you had expected to be heading back home by this time. A few people are on the dance floor, but you haven’t ventured out there yet. More tequila is probably needed for that.

It’s fun seeing all the 70’s costumes, but most of the supes in attendance are just wearing their normal suits, and it’s kind of a disappointment. Of course, they’re all in their own orbit – most of them wouldn’t be caught dead fraternizing with Vought peons.

Flirty bartender has just handed you your third (you think?) drink when a smooth, deep baritone interrupts your conversation. “Well, well, well - where has Vought been hiding you?”

You turn to face a broad chest, leading up to even broader shoulders, and from there… “S-Soldier Boy?” you stammer, instantly star-struck. You have never actually seen him in person, and he’s more than impressive. He has actually embraced the theme, dressed in a silky shirt swirled with iridescent blues and purples, open far enough to expose a pair of gold chains gleaming against his tanned chest. His light-colored bell bottoms are clinging to his powerful thighs, and they are doing nothing to hide his other ��� assets.

“Oh, kitten, you can call me Ben.” The tone of his voice is like a caress, and you nod, unable to speak at the moment. You take a swallow of your drink, watching as he turns to lean an elbow on the bar. “Seriously, why have I never seen you before?”

You clear your throat, trying to keep your heart from pounding its way out of your chest. “I work in the accounting department. I don’t suppose you get in there very often.”

He scoffed. “Never. Numbers are not my job. But I might have to find a reason to check in once in a while, if they’re keeping gems like you hidden in there.” You’re blushing, or it’s the alcohol, but either way, your temperature is rising. “So – how about a dance?”

You duck your head, embarrassed. “I – I don’t really know how. Especially this kind of dancing, I’ve never…”

He reaches over to take your hand in his, caressing it with his thumb, and your mind immediately begins to imagine his touch on other more intimate parts of your body. “Come on. I’ll show you how to dance. After all, I was here in the 70’s, you know. I practically invented The Hustle.”

You’re a little panicked as he leads you towards the dance floor, and you glance back at your table. Camille is staring at you with her mouth hanging open. The flashing lights make you a little dizzy as he pulls you close, his hand large and firm on the small of your back, holding you close to his body. He’s warm, and solid, and when he starts to move, he just guides you along with him. “It’s just like making love, baby doll – feel the rhythm and go with it.”

By the time you’re almost through the second song, you’re getting the hang of it. “You’re doing great. All you have to do is let your body do what it feels.” He leans closer, his lips next to your ear. “Your body’s got my body feeling all kinds of things I can’t do out here on the dance floor.” His hand moves down a little farther, and the movement of his hips is causing sparks to run up your spine. “Hold on, kitten,” he says, then spins you out away from him, twirling you and then bringing you back close, grinning down at you as he dips you back before bringing you upright again. You look up at him, your eyes sparkling as you laugh. “See, you just have to let go. Having fun?”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” you answer a little breathlessly, letting him have the lead and following as best you can. You’re not perfect, but he’s strong enough and accomplished enough to keep you where you need to be, and you are not hating the feeling of being held tight in his arms. The two of you are drawing some attention, and he obviously loves it, shamelessly showing off and bringing you along for the ride. You dance your way through Stayin’ Alive, Car Wash, Boogie Fever, Funky Town and yes, even The Hustle. When the DJ announces that he’s taking a break, you are a little relieved. You need a cold drink and to get off your feet for a while.

You move to head towards the bar, but Ben stops you, grabbing hold of your hand. “Come with me – I’ve got a nice, quiet spot where we can cool off.”

As soon as the two of you leave the main room, Ben backs you against the wall, his eyes fixed on yours. He bends to kiss you, slow and sensual, and when he finally raises his head, you stand there stunned for a moment. Of course, like many women, you’ve dreamed of this – but it’s so much more than you could have imagined. Then he takes you by the hand, and you follow him around the corner and down the hall. He opens a door and leads you into a lavish office, complete with a living room area and a full bar. “Want a drink?”

“I just need some water,” you say, your eyes scanning the room. “So – do you own this place or something?”

Ben laughs. “No, just a frequent flyer. Owner lets me use this room if I need, you know, a little privacy.” He hands you a bottle of water, opening one for himself and downing almost the whole bottle.

You stare at his lips and his throat as he swallows, feeling your body flush hot, finally pulling your eyes away and drinking a good portion of your water as well. You wander around the room, examining things here and there, the whole night feeling a little surreal. “So – can I ask you a question?”

“I’m an open book, baby doll.”

You pause your exploring, leaning your back against the front of the bar, looking up at him as he moves to stand in front of you. “Why am I here? I mean, why are you spending time with me? You go out with supermodels and movie stars. I’m just an executive assistant in the accounting department, just an ordinary girl, nowhere close to the glamorous people you’re usually with.”

He looks down at you, the back of his fingers brushing over your cheek. “The thing is – the people around me, they are always putting on an act. Trying to do or be or look like what they think I want. Not an authentic one in the bunch. It gets old. Sometimes – well, sometimes I just want to be with somebody real. Someone sweet and genuine,” he says as he gazes into your eyes. “Somebody who doesn’t put on an act. Somebody who just is who they are. So maybe I can fucking let down my guard for a little while.” There’s a fleeting flash of vulnerability in his eyes, gone so quickly you’re not sure you actually saw it.

His response to your question is unexpected, and you look up at him, debating with yourself for a moment. Then you step up close to him and reach to put your hands behind his neck, standing on tiptoe to press your lips to his. He sets his water behind you on the bar and slips a hand around to your back, urging you closer, the fingers of his other hand tangling in your hair as he angles his mouth over yours and deepens the kiss.

You cling tighter to him, your heart pounding, as he scoops you up and carries you over to the large sofa, lowering you down and hovering over you, your lips still sealed with his. Your eyes flutter open as he lifts his head, and he stares down at you with a warmth in his eyes that sets your pulse racing. “If you don’t want this, now’s the time to tell me,” he says, watching you closely for a reaction, but you pull him back down and kiss him again, no question at all in your mind. You want him, and you’re pretty sure your stars won’t align this way again.

Somehow he manages to slip his hands underneath you and unzip your dress, and he soon has it down around your waist. He stops, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks his fill. “You’re a beautiful girl,” he says, his voice rough with arousal as he palms your breast with one large hand, bending to flick his tongue over the nipple of the other. You let out a breathless moan, and he chuckles quietly as he sucks a mark into your soft flesh, one hand slipping up beneath your dress to explore the heat between your thighs. “So wet for me,” he murmurs, his mouth still teasing at your nipples, making you arch up underneath him. You are aching with the desire for more, and you let out a desperate whine.

He tugs at your nipple with his teeth before raising his head to look down at you, then standing up and taking your hand to help you to your feet. “Let’s get rid of this dress, shall we?” He slips the silky garment over your head and tosses it over a nearby chair. “Much better. And you won’t be needing these.” He tears your panties apart with one tug, dropping them to the floor, then pushes you gently back down on the couch. “Now, where were we?”

His lips are hungry as he bends to kiss you, his hands roaming over your skin. He finally slips a finger inside you, and your hips lift up to meet his touch. “Oh, you want more,” he teases as he lifts his head to watch your face, adding another finger and stroking inside you until he gets the reaction he’s waiting for. “Feel good, baby doll?” You nod, soft little noises escaping your lips, and you buck up hard as he begins to rub at your clit with his thumb. He ramps up the speed, and you are almost in tears, so desperate to relieve the tension in your body. When he moves his other hand to pull and twist at your nipple, that tension snaps and you cry out as you come, faintly hearing his soft, victorious laugh.

When he pulls his fingers free, you slowly let your eyes drift open, watching him suck his fingers clean. “You think that was good, just wait,” he says, raising up to one knee, his other foot planted on the floor as he unfastens his pants and pulls them down to free himself. Your eyes grow wide as you take in the sight – he is bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, and you’re a little uneasy.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I’ll take it slow,” he says, and you swallow hard, nodding as he watches you. He lowers himself down, scooping one arm beneath your knee as he slots himself between your thighs and begins to push inside you. He nuzzles at your neck, whispering, “Relax,” and you take a deep breath and try. He’s not hurting you, but the stretch is intense, and you grasp at his biceps, your nails digging in. He continues slowly, a low groan in his throat when he is finally flush with your body. “Good girl.”

You shudder hard, and he crushes his lips to yours again as he moves, just slightly at first, allowing you to adjust to him. Then he raises his head, looking into your eyes as he begins to thrust, slowly building up to a steady rhythm, each stroke becoming harder, deeper. Your quiet little whimpers and moans are getting louder as he ramps up, fucking into you at a furious pace, so deep it almost aches, but it feels so damn good that you never want it to stop. “Such a sweet, tight pussy,” he growls out, and you begin to wail and shout his name as he pounds into you. “Come on, baby doll, I wanna feel you come on my cock.”

And you do, so hard it feels as if every cell in your body explodes, your cunt gripping him so tight he swears. “Fuck!” He keeps driving into you as you clutch mindlessly at him, hoarsely crying out his name. You are finally starting to come down when he lets out a long, low moan and unloads, flooding you with heat and sending aftershocks through you that make you clench your teeth, whimpering as you finally go limp underneath him.

When you walk out of the bathroom a while later, after getting dressed and doing damage control to your hair and makeup, Ben is standing at the bar. He finishes snorting something white off the bar top before tossing back the remainder of his whiskey. “So, time for the real party to start?” you ask quietly, going to retrieve your shoes from beside the door.

He clears his throat. “Gotta go mingle with the elite, part of the job,” he says, watching you slip your shoes back on. “And doing that sober? No thanks.”

“Then why do you do it?”

His voice is different when he answers – cocky, arrogant. “Hey, I’m America’s first superhero. That’s my fucking life, baby doll.” He turns to look at you. “Looks like maybe you’re done for the night.” He smirks. “Did I wear you out?”

You stare back at him. “I liked you better before. When you were just being Ben. Soldier Boy might be a superhero, but I think he’s kind of a dick.” You reach for the door handle, but he stops you with a hand on your shoulder.

“How about I walk you out. My driver can take you home, if you want.” He sounds softer again, and you hesitate for a moment before nodding.

“That would be nice, thank you.”

He escorts you back through the club, stopping to grab your jacket. Camille is on the dance floor, so you’re spared explaining where you’ve been. He keeps a hand on the small of your back as he guides you through the crowd, and you take a deep breath of the cool, crisp air when you finally make it outside. The quiet compared to the deafening noise inside the club is a relief, and you turn to face him with a smile as his driver pulls up to the curb. “Thank you, Ben. I really did have a great time tonight.”

He responds with a crooked smile, raising a hand to touch your face. “Yeah. Me, too.” He bends to place an almost chaste kiss on your lips, then another not so chaste, leaving you with face upturned and eyes slowly fluttering open. “Do me a favor, kitten. Stay just the way you are.”

You smile up at him a little shyly, then get into the back of the car when he opens the door for you. “Good night, Ben.” You watch him standing there, lighting a cigarette (or a blunt, you’re not sure) as you pull away. “Good night, Soldier Boy,” you whisper to yourself.

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[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Celebrating Ramadan With Ace and Deuce

Platonic Ace x muslim!fem!reader x Deuce

Masterlist

First of all these boys would be so accommodating with you if you’re a muslim

They’d try to learn as much as they could about your religion either from you or asking a few Scarabian students.

They’d even ask the Scarabian students for things like lunar calendars or tasbihs or travelling prayer mats in case you need one 

They do their best to make sure you’re comfortable if you’re the type that has issues being too close with the opposite gender, always making sure to keep a respectable distance between you and ensuring that the rest of the student body do the same

If you want to pray, they’d just wordlessly use their bags as your sutrah and basically be your bodyguards until you’re done 

Also, for the hijabi girlies, they’d be so respectful. If your hair starts to show they’d avert their eyes quicker than you could blink and inform you. If anyone bothers you or looks at you in a way that you’re not comfortable with, they’d be decked onto the floor in a flash.

You bet they would have a few spare hijab pins or carry an extra shawl in case of emergencies 

Anyway, back to Ramadan

So when you tell them about fasting, they’d first get all shocked. Poor Deuce is besides himself thinking that you’ll be starving yourself for a whole month before you elaborate on how it’s just from sunrise to sunset and then explain the spiritual significance for it. 

Not going to lie, these guys are so the type to be like “you can’t even drink water?? 🙃”

They’re both super proud of you and are just in constant awe of your strength 

I feel like they’d want to do it with you as a show of unity, and to help you with your homesickness, but since they’re both athletes (especially with Deuce being in such a high stamina/adrenaline sport like Track and Field), you suggest that they start with half fasts to ease themselves into it

(also props to everyone that still works out during fasting hours - you’re all incredible and absolute superheroes. My mum goes to the gym practically every morning and I’m still amazed every time.)

Also, when you’re doing your make up fasts to compensate for the ones you missed due to mother nature, you bet they’ll be right by your side fasting with you

I bet Deuce would feel genuinely offended if someone ate in front of you. Like he’d just stare at someone as if they’re smuggling contraband instead of just munching on their sandwich.

They make sure to do as much as you can so you could rest as much as possible. They set the table for iftar and suhoor (they even get up before you and wake you up), and do the cleaning up whilst you go to pray

Food usually comes from Sam’s shop or Trey (I don’t remember how they were during the culinary crucible but I really wouldn’t want those two in my kitchen before iftar whilst I’m fasting)

They’re always carrying your bag/things and practically never leave your side. Ramshackle is practically their second home at this point.

They love to learn more about your practices, especially traditions that you would do back home and you feel so loved to share that with them. You even teach them arabic (which ends with you getting a stern talking to from Jamil when Ace practices your lessons during basketball club)

Having a henna night with them would be so fun, just listening to nasheeds as you apply henna to both yourself and your best friends (who would take it so seriously and make such a noticeable effort to stay completely still until it dries and it’s both endearing and hilarious)

Okay but one time my sister fell asleep on her hand with henna on it and she woke up the next morning with a faded orange matching pattern on her cheek and that totally happens to Ace

They would totally (with Scarabia’s help) decorate Ramshackle with lights and lanterns to make it all festive

Just the two of them acting as your family in this strange new world 💛