#but then he turns a certain way and winces

[i-dared-myself]

Both of Theirs, but Not Allowed

Seonghwa x reader x Hongjoong

In which Seonghwa and Hongjoong like the friend they’re not supposed to.

18+

“So my friend is coming over,” Yeosang casually says. He stretches out on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “And absolutely no one is allowed to fuck her.”

Seonghwa clicks his tongue and motions to Yeosang’s legs. “Feet off the furniture.”

“And why are you so sure we’d sleep with her?” San asks, raising an eyebrow. He shifts and crosses his legs at the ankles, splayed out on the floor. 

“She’s just…” Yeosang trails off, eyes flicking to Mingi. “Don’t have sex with her, okay? I don’t want any of you to break her heart.”

Mingi scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Firstly, you seem very sure that we’re all going to want her. Secondly, it’s just sex. It doesn’t have to be more.”

Yeosang huffs in frustration. “You’ll see when you meet her. Just… Off limits, okay?”

Seonghwa smiles softly, sitting on the armrest of the couch. “Don’t worry, Yeosang. I’m certain we can resist the temptation that is your friend.” His words are tinged with a mocking tone, and his eyes glint. 

Hongjoong chuckles, looking up from his phone to finally join the conversation. “We get it, Yeosang. You love your friend and don’t want any of us to scar her.”

Yeosang doesn’t seem so convinced, narrowing his eyes at the group. “No, I mean it. Be nice, don’t fuck her, and oh my gosh, don’t have a crush on her.”

Jongho stands up, walking to the kitchen. He turns the stove on and pulls out a set of pots. “It’ll be fine. Just have her over and we’ll be normal.”

Yunho winces. “Right. Normal.”

So when you come over, they all go weak at the knees. Yeosang warned them, but it wasn’t good enough.

The doors opens, and you’re standing there. Yeosang drags you inside, and you stumble in behind him. Everyone greets you cheerily, confused by what Yeosang meant about you being hot.

You’re good-looking, but they’re not drooling like he had made it sound. You have wide-eyes as you survey the group and the dorms, matching adorably with the way your lips part at every word Yeosang says.

It’s like you’re entranced, hooked by every thought he has.

But again, not particularly risk-your-friendship-for fuckable. 

Then you blink up at Hongjoong, smiling shyly. You duck your head, murmuring out, “Hi, Hoongjong. I- Yeosang didn’t say you’d be so, um, nice to the eyes?”

“It’s Hongjoong,” Hongjoong gently corrects. “And thank you.”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” You face Yeosang, frowning at him. “Why didn’t you quiz me on their names to prepare?”

Yeosang sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “I did, remember?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh! Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Want to play Minecraft?” Yeosang points his chin to the living room, where a couple of game controllers sit. When you nod eagerly, he leads you to the couch and hands you one.

“So which button makes me destroy stuff?” you question once the game starts. You glance at Seonghwa, who’s settled next to you. “Help? Please?”

Seonghwa hums and reaches over, pressing the right button. Your character breaks the block in front of them, and you grin.

“Thank you!” you gush, flipping the controller peer at which one he pressed. “You have nice hands.”

Seonghwa swallows, watching as you play your game. You’re oblivious to the fact that you just complimented him- and he likes compliments. “Thanks.”

Wooyoung flicks the back of Yeosang’s head. “Sit on the floor. There’s not enough room on the couch for all of us. You brought your friend, so you sit on the floor.”

“No, I’ll do it!” You slide off the furniture and sit cross-legged on the ground. Yunho takes your spot on the couch, now next to Seonghwa. He misses the dirty look the older man sends him.

“That doesn’t look very comfortable,” Hongjoong remarks, gazing down at you. He pulls a pillow out from behind him and offers it to you. “Here.”

You shuffle up to your knees, crawling between  his legs to take the pillow. You tip your head up, looking between your lashes. “Thank you, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong chokes for a moment, the sight of you kneeling between his legs too much. Too much and not enough. “You’re welcome.”

“Did I get your name right?” you excitedly ask. You move a bit closer, touching the insides of his thighs with your shoulders.

“Back to the game!” Yeosang snaps. “There’s zombies!”

You gasp, mouth parting in an ‘O’ with your glossy lips. Hongjoong barely stops a groan from slipping from him. 

“Wait, it’s sheep that make beds, right?” You frown at Yeosang, adjusting the pillow from beneath you. “We still need some in our house.”

“Yeah. Sheep drop wool and then you use it to make beds,” Yeosang tells you, eyebrows pulling together when you just place wool on the ground. “No, that’s not…”

“I’m hungry,” Mingi complains. “Anyone want to go out for dinner?”

Yeosang pauses Minecraft, looking at you. “Hungry?”

“Yeah, but not for dinner.” You sigh heavily, tipping your head backwards and making eye contact with Hongjoong.

He swallows and leans down. “What are you hungry for, baby?”

Yeosang’s eyes lock on Hongjoong, lips tilting downwards.

“Dessert,” you answer Hongjoong, eyebrows pulling together. “What were you thinking?”

“Yeah.” Yeosang gets to his feet and takes your controller from you. He returns it to its spot on the shelf and glares at Hongjoong. “What were you thinking?”

“Let’s just have a nice dinner,” Yunho says, rolling his eyes. He knows where this evening is going, and he knows Yeosang won’t like it.

“Let me just go fix my face,” you say before jumping up. You run down the hallway before Jongho yells that the bathroom is in the other direction. You squeak before turning the right way.

Seonghwa stands and declares, “I’m going to go change.”

The others all sigh before following his lead, wandering off to put on formal clothes, or at least not sweatpants. Seonghwa waits for them to be gone before he trails after you.

You’re pouting at your reflection, trying to make the perfect winged eyeliner. But the sides aren’t matching and you’re growing frustrated.

Seonghwa wordlessly plucks it from your grasp, wiping away the still-wet lines. He applies enough pressure that it all comes off with one swipe, and he redoes it.

Seonghwa draws the perfect wings and smiles down at you, at adorable you. “Better, little one?”

You glance in the mirror again before jumping and wrapping your arms around him. “It’s so good!”

Seonghwa pats your cheek once you pull away. “Run along now, pretty thing. Yeosang’s probably searching for you.”

You grin before racing off to find your friend, and Seonghwa knows. He knows that he has to ruin you, and he knows who will gladly assist him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is a nice restaurant,” you comment as the group enters. The tables have fancy silk draped over them, and you know you won’t be able to afford this. “Yeosang…”

“Yeah?” Your friend pops up from behind Wooyoung, having gotten lost in the crowd. 

“This place looks expensive,” you whisper once he’s at your side. You wring your hands nervously, bringing your thumb up to your mouth to chew nervously.

Yeosang rubs your shoulder assuringly. “I’ve got you covered.”

Hongjoong reaches over and drags your hand away from your mouth. “It’s on me, actually. I’m treating.”

Yunho grins ear to ear. “Sounds good to me.”

Seonghwa brings a napkin out from his pocket, which he just has for some reason, and wipes your hand. “Let’s grab our seats, yes?”

Somehow you end up between Seonghwa and Hongjoong, while Yeosang pouts. Apparently he had tripped and Hongjoong had swooped in to steal what would’ve been his spot. You just read your menu, oblivious to it all.

You sip at your water as you debate what to order. There’s a pasta dish that looks good, but you don’t know how to say the name of it. You really don’t want to have to say it to the waiter.

“Something catch your eye?” Seonghwa murmurs into your ear. His fingers trail down to your menu, pushing it down so he can read over it.

“Uh.” You point to the pasta dish, biting your lip anxiously. “I just- It’s hard to say.”

Seonghwa hums lowly, folding up your menu. When the waiter walks by, he flawlessly tells them what you want. 

“Thank you,” you brightly say, bouncing your leg excitedly. “You’re so sweet, Seonghwa.”

His cheeks are a dusty pink as he lets the rest of the table order before saying what he wants. You look around the restaurant, leg continuing its nervous movements.

“Baby.” Hongjoong’s hand rests on your knee, applying a steady pressure. “Is something wrong?”

“What?” You whip around to face him before ducking your head shyly. “Uh, yeah. I just- There’s just, um, there’s a lot of new people here.”

“Ah.” Hongjoong’s thumb starts to move in soothing circles on your bare skin, right below your skirt. “It’s okay, little one. I can bring you home anytime you want.”

You squirm and shake your head. “I want dessert.”

He chuckles and looks around you to Seonghwa. “So do I. What do you think, Seonghwa?”

The man in question rakes his hand through his hair, humming lowly. “I can’t wait.”

You squint at them. “You must really like chocolate cake.”

Hongjoong’s hand slides further up your thigh. “No, baby.”

Seonghwa sighs, smiling fondly at you. “You’re not the brightest, are you?”

You fidget, thighs squeezing together. “I- I-“

Hongjoong retracts his hand and leans back in his chair. “Aw, it’s okay. You’d look so pretty cockdumb.”

“Like she’s not dumb already.” Seonghwa laughs under his breath, swirling the wine in his glass. His lips curl up at you. “Are you seeing anyone?”

You blink at him, squirming in your seat. “Uh, you? You’re right in front of me.”

“No, he meant if you’re dating anyone.” Hongjoong picks up his wine glass by the stem. He peers into his drink before his eyes flick back up to your face. “Answer him, little one.”

“I- No.” You shake your head and grip the fabric of your skirt. “Not right now.”

Seonghwa reaches down and smoothes his own hand over the material, getting rid of any wrinkles you may have caused. “Yeosang watches after you so carefully, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah.” You glance over at your friend, who’s deep in conversation with Mingi. “He’s so nice.”

“It’s because you’re so cute.” Hongjoong cups your cheek. “You know that, right?”

You duck your head again, but Seonghwa tilts your head back up with two fingers. He smiles, lips slanting into a seductive expression. 

“Have you had sex before?” he murmurs. He looks past you to Hongjoong before returning his attention to you.

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter out. You bite at the tip of your index finger, stomach twisting in a way that’s not unpleasant. 

Hongjoong draws your finger away from your mouth. “Baby-“

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”Yeosang’s voice cuts through the little bubble the three of you have created. His expression is furious as he gets to his feet, chair screeching behind him.

You blink at him, eyebrows pulling together. “They were just asking me if I’ve had sex before.”

“Nuh-uh!” Yeosang marches over, glaring at the two of them. They don’t even look sheepish. “You know the rules!”

“What rules?” You frown at him, not understanding what he’s talking about. 

“Sorry,” Hongjoong says. He tucks his hands neatly in his lap, expression neutral as he gazes at your friend. “We were just trying to get to know her.”

Seonghwa nods along and under the table his fingers press against your clothed pussy. “It won’t happen again. We wouldn’t want to break her heart, after all.”

Your stomach flutters at the sensations Seonghwa is creating. “I- I’m sorry, Yeosang.”

His expression softens. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you, just these two assholes.”

Dinner arrives, and you eagerly dig into your pasta. It’s delicious and you finish it quickly.

“Do you want dessert, or do you want to come back with us?” Seonghwa mutters lowly into your ear.

You shiver as his breath ghosts the shell of your ear. “I wanna go with you.”

Hongjoong pays the cheque before everyone files out the door and you call a cab.

“Where are you going?” Yeosang asks you as you step away from the group. 

“Home.” You hug him goodbye, waiting until he’s out of sight to face Hongjoong and Seonghwa. “So, uh-“

Seonghwa dips his head down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet. His lashes flutter as he pulls away. 

Before you regain your breath, Hongjoong is grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you fiercely.

“The cab is here,” Seonghwa says, breaking you and Hongjoong out of your trance. The three of you pile into it and you give the driver directions to your apartment, impatient for the night to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong drapes himself across your armchair, propping an elbow up on an armrest. He uses it to rest his chin on his fist as he gazes at you with hooded eyes.

Seonghwa perches himself on the other armrest, crossing his legs. He reaches over to squeeze Hongjoong’s shoulder. “How are we doing this, hmm?”

You stand at the edge of the carpet that goes under the furniture. You’re unsure of where they want you, or how this is going to work.

“Ah.” Hongjoong runs his tongue along his upper row of teeth. “Baby, bend over the couch.”

You do as he says and walk over to the couch. You can feel their eyes on you as you tip over so your weight is on your hips, supported by the armrest. You’re on the tips of your toes like this, head tilted to the side to see them.

“Good,” Hongjoong praises. He nudges Seonghwa, giving you a pointed look. “Go prep her.”

Seonghwa glides over to you, leaning over you so your bodies are pressed together. “Do you think you’ll go cockdumb, little one? When you’re stuffed full of us, mind going blank?”

You whimper, feeing him grind up against you.

“I said to prep her,” Hongjoong sharply interrupts, “not to rub your dick on her.”

Seonghwa sighs and rocks back on his heels to give you space. “Very well, then. Pussy and ass?”

“Have you ever had something up your ass?” Hongjoong inquires. When you don’t immediately reply, his lips quirk up in amusement. “Aw, don’t go shy on us now.”

You swallow and look over your shoulder at Seonghwa. He’s as gorgeous as ever, hair falling around his face to frame it perfectly.

“Have you ever played with your other hole?” Seonghwa gently asks, understanding that your brain isn’t the fastest. He grips your chin to redirect your attention to Hongjoong.

“Oh.” You blink. “No.”

“Then we won’t today.” Hongjoong smiles at Seonghwa. “Just pussy.”

Seonghwa hums, releasing your chin. His fingers trail over your face and he strokes your cheek. “Ready?”

You nod. “Uh-huh.”

Seonghwa kicks your feet apart harshly, widening the space between your legs. He flips up your skirt and yanks your underwear down your legs.

“Look at that cunt.” He grins and kneads at your asscheeks. “I can’t wait for my cum to drip out of you, staining your thighs white. If you’re lucky, I’ll plug you up to keep you full with me.”

Hongjoong clicks his tongue in annoyance. “We both know I’ll fuck it out of her. Now hurry this up. You haven’t even touched her yet.”

“He touched me.” You scowl at Hongjoong. You lick your lips, swiping your tongue over them. “He’s touching me right now.”

“Not what he meant, little one,” Seonghwa gently tells you. He kisses the base of your neck as an apology for his words before sinking to his knees.

His tongue delves into you suddenly, and with no warning you try and squirm away. Seonghwa’s hand’s come to your hips and he pulls you back to his mouth. He flattens his tongue as he drags it over your clit, making you whine and try to get away again.

“Stay- Stay still!” Seonghwa grunts before his hands tighten their grip on your hips. He gets frustrated and lifts his head up to Hongjoong. “Can you keep her still?”

Hongjoong nods and approaches. His hands wrap around your wrists and he tugs you off the couch, laying you across the floor. Seonghwa finds his place between your thighs again, as Hongjoong straddles your chest.

“Want something in your mouth, baby?” 

You nod and open your mouth obediently, eager to please. Your eyes widen in surprise as he plunges two of his fingers in, choking on him.

“I’m surprise you have a gag reflex,” Hongjoong comments, flexing his hand to hit the back of your throat. “You’re just too stupid to do much, so I figured this might be the one trick you know.”

Seonghwa hums against you, the vibrations from his voice making you shudder. Hongjoong presses harder against you, using his body weight to keep you down as your hips try to buck up.

You moan around Hongjoong’s digits, eyes watering. You wiggle around as Seonghwa presses a finger into you, causing Hongjoong to apply more pressure to keep your head down as well. You gurgle around him as Seonghwa pushes another finger into you.

It’s two much, two quick, and your eyes roll back with a powerful orgasm. Hongjoong gives you air, and you gasp it in. Then he’s thrusting his fingers back into your mouth and muffling your sounds of pleasure.

Seonghwa scissors his two fingers in you, stretching you out in a way that makes you give Hongjoong a look of desperation. He chuckles and uses his thumb to stroke your upper lip.

“So pretty,” he remarks. “Are you going to cry? I think you’d be pretty if you cried. Seonghwa, make her cry.”

Seonghwa removes his digits with a hum of acknowledgment, shuffling out of his clothes. He shoos Hongjoong away, who crouches by your head instead of straddling your chest. Seonghwa places his hands on either side of your head, smiling down at you as he lays his body over yours.

“Usually I’d prep a bit more, but Hongjoong wants to see you cry,” he murmurs. He seems to relish in the moment of anticipation, with you waiting for him to split you in half. Seonghwa’s head dips so his lips graze your throat as he pushes into you.

It’s definitely a stretch, and he doesn’t ease himself in. All of his cock enters you at once, effectively making tears burn at the corners of your eyes.

But what makes them spill out is when his teeth bury themselves where your neck meets your shoulder. He bites hard, making you clench around him, back arching.

“Oh, she does look pretty when she cries.” Hongjoong sounds pleased, craning his neck to study your face and the tears that roll down it. “Is your head empty yet? Are you too full of cock to actually have thoughts?”

Seonghwa snaps his hips into yours, twirling some of your hair around his finger. “Yeosang told us not to do this. But you like it, don’t you?”

You nod stupidly, not even sure who you’re responding to. Hongjoong? Seonghwa? You don’t know anymore.

Seonghwa coos at you. “Oh, I think she went cockdumb. Look at her, Hongjoong.”

“I won’t even get a turn since she’ll be like this.” Hongjoong sighs heavily and waves a hand at you. He settles back on the couch, legs parting so he can touch himself through his pants. “Do you think she’d be a good cocksleeve?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa answers, rolling his hips into yours. You moan, only faintly aware of the conversation they’re having over your head. “She grips me so perfectly. Are you having fun, little one?”

Your head lolls to the side so you can make eye contact with Hongjoong, who’s smirking. Your walls flutter, which makes Seonghwa groan and his thrusts stutter.

“He asked you a question,” Hongjoong tells you, undressing himself. “Did you hear Seonghwa?”

You whimper and glance up at the man fucking you, biting your bottom lip as you try to remember what he had asked. Was it something about work? 

“I- I-“ You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m a waitress.”

Seonghwa sighs in disappointment, tsking at you. He pinches your nipples between his fingers, causing you to whine. “Here’s what’s going to happen, pretty thing. I’m going to cum inside you, and then Hongjoong is going to fuck you.”

“Y-Yeah,” you murmur under your breath, trying to crawl away for some reason. It just feels too good. You can’t take more of this for much longer.

“Baby.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “Is it okay to cum inside you?”

You lift your glassy eyes up to his face. “Uh, yeah. Do it.”

Seonghwa pounds into you for a few more times before groaning with an orgasm. You watch his face as his eyes roll back and his lips part. Your legs tremble as Hongjoong scoops you up to deposit you on his lap- and cock.

“Oh, don’t mind him.” Hongjoong whispers to you as Seonghwa shuffles closer on his knees. He rests his chin on Hongjoong’s thigh, watching as you’re lowered down onto Hongjoong’s dick. “He gets a bit clingy after he cums.”

You look up at Hongjoong’s face, at the way his bottom lip rolls into his mouth as he rocks his hips into your experimentally. Seonghwa crawls up onto the couch, kissing you as Hongjoong fucks you.

His tongue slips into your mouth, muffling your cries. Seonghwa seems to drink up your noises, smiling against your lips. His hands go down to your clit to make tiny circles.

Hongjoong reaches to stroke Seonghwa’s cock, grinning when the other man hisses. “Aw, too much?”

Seonghwa finally gives you room to breathe, scowling at Hongjoong. His eyebrows furrow in frustration. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Hongjoong’s thumb rolls over Seonghwa’s slit. “Fucking our little girlfriend.”

You make a small sound of confusion, putting your hands on Hongjoong’s shoulders. “What?”

“Don’t you want to be our girlfriend?” Seonghwa presses his forehead to yours. “We’d hug you, and date you, and fill you up like this as much as you want.”

Hongjoong continues to thrust into you, waiting until you orgasm to have his own. He lays you down on the couch before Seonghwa wanders off for a glass of water.

“Well?” Hongjoong prompts. 

“Yeah.” You lace your fingers together with his. “I’ll be your girlfriend. Both of yours.”

Seonghwa returns with a drink for you, helping you sit up to take it. “Let’s wait a little while to tell Yeosang. I have a feeling he won’t like this development.”

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche

@iwuberic @strawberryscentedd @lezleeferguson-120 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

[livingincolorsagain]

The calls quickly become a routine. The first few days, Buck sticks to just regular old calls, and for the first few days, just hearing Eddie’s voice is enough.

Eddie’s voice has always been gentle, quiet, curling around certain words and letters, loose around others. It’s such a unique voice, Buck has never heard anything like it, nothing has ever sounded quite as soothing, as understanding, and Buck has never known a voice quite as well as he knows Eddie’s.

But, after a few days, just hearing Eddie’s voice is no longer enough.

There are pictures of Eddie every which way Buck turns. On the fridge, on the mantle, in the gallery of his phone in the thousands, imprinted on the back of his eyelids, and every time he rubs his eyes a little too roughly, it comes to life in a kaleidoscope of colors, bright and blinding.

And yet, Buck misses his face, finds himself worried, all of a sudden, that he will forget how Eddie looks. It’s not a rational thought, he knows. Buck will forget his name and his own face, but will remember the curl of Eddie’s smile and the shade of his pretty brown eyes and the flush of his cheeks. But the thought stays with him, taunting and sharp, until he gives in and FaceTimes Eddie after a long shift, still in his street clothes, trying and failing to sink into the unforgiving give of his couch.

Eddie picks up on the second ring, bright eyes with leftover sleep and a brighter smile, says Buck’s name in the way only he ever does.

His new kitchen is small, so when he props his phone on the counter so Buck can watch as he makes breakfast, Buck can see almost everything. He can see when Eddie cracks the eggs a little too hard on the new counter, and when he jams his hips a little too sharply into the corner and winces, and when he accidentally opens the wrong cabinet looking for the frying pan.

He’s still getting used to it, Buck can see, propped up on the counter as he is, listening to the sizzling of the eggs and the toaster and the coffee machine and the persistent humming of the fridge. It sounds a little like home, just a little out of reach, but then Eddie starts singing under his breath the way he does sometimes, and everything is a lot more tangible all of a sudden, warmer, softer, like an old lullaby and a well loved blanket and the world’s most comfortable couch.

Once breakfast is ready, Eddie grabs the phone, so his face is that much more closer, and Buck blinks his heavy eyelids open, takes him in.

Eddie smiles at him, says, “Alright, I’m gonna eat. You go sleep, I’ll talk to you later,” then so much quieter that Buck almost misses it, “Thanks for keeping me company.”

Afterwards, Buck stares at the blank screen of his phone, sleep forgotten, and feels the part of his heart with Eddie’s name scratched on it aches and aches and aches and breaks.

Turns out, loneliness goes both ways.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Momokarun Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

My Inner Demon (really wants me to kiss you) by chaotic_quibit - Rated T

Ken knew there would be some side effects from using Turbo Granny's power to fight yokai and aliens alike. Being a bit more nocturnal, quicker to anger, his eyes reflecting red in photographs. Those were all fine. Nobody said anything about the voice of his yokai form sitting in the back of his head, constantly urging him to 'kiss Momo-chan' though.

An Education in Daemons by patster223 - Rated T

As a little kid, Ken has always wished that his daemon could change into a cryptid. His Dark Materials AU.

racing sunrise by Anonymous - Rated T

So. She was maybe possibly a teeny tiny bit obsessed with Okarun’s wings. She couldn’t help it. She liked Okarun and she liked his wings, and she really wanted to see them stretched out, except Okarun always kept them folded away as some sort of psychological tease for her specifically.

Momo wants nothing more than to fly with her crush. Unfortunately, Okarun doesn't fly. Ever. Momo is determined to get to the bottom of this.

I Only Have Eyes For You by johnsoupe - Rated G

Taking a peek, he notices that Momo and Jiji are nowhere to be seen, his water bottle left all alone. With a sigh of relief, he turns back around, standing up to head over there before being slammed against the wall. With a yelp, Okarun winces, cracking one eye open to see... Momo. Momo. Who just slammed him against the wall. 

her smile by zileywrites - Not Rated

And even though he didn’t fully understand what he was feeling, one thing was certain: her smile had changed something inside him. momokarun first-time experiences: the first time someone’s smile made his heart skip a beat.

Woes of the Cuddler by imthepunchlord - Rated G

There's a real challenge in trying to cuddle a restless sleeper.

Sand and the Hourglass by ichoryte - Rated G

A quiet yearning the night before, and a longing heart the day after.

Carry Me Back? (Always) by foxxlightz - Not Rated

His head tilted, frost-white hair curling around his ears. A far off part of her wondered what it would feel like to comb her hands through it. The red of Okarun’s eyes burned hot as they traced her face, canines slipping out from behind his lips. He hummed in response, eyes flickering to the side. And oh.

It was easy to forget, looking at him like this, but this Okarun was still her Okarun. With his big round glasses that blew up his eyes like a bug, and his curly hair that was getting longer by the day. His nervous fingers tapping lightly on her side, corners of his lips curving up in sheepishness.

some kind of magic by teacosy - Rated G

Momo speaks then, her warm voice grounding him to reality. “Okarun, where does it hurt?” Okarun says it without thinking. “Right here,” he clutches his shirt, his fist above where his heart is. Momo leans down, her hand coming to rest on his own, still balled up tightly into his chest. Okarun looks at her, startled by the proximity. “Miss Ayase?” She shuts her eyes, sending her invisible hands to wrap around him. They were oddly warm, emitting some kind of soothing effect; like a balm to his anxiety. “I’m trying to send you good thoughts,” she looks up at him, her face too close.

— Momo & Okarun; on wounds, old and new, and the hands that tend to them.

An Empty Doorway by CatFiends - Rated T

“You don't have to go back home if you don't want to.” In between homework, murderous cryptids, and way too many goons after missing unmentionables, Ayase Momo tries to heal a heart.

comfort in weakness by zileywrites - Rated G

Ayase-san…” he whispered after a long pause. “Are you… okay?” Her arms tightened briefly in response, and she nodded against him. His cheeks burned; she could tell even without looking at him. His breathing hitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his grip on her grew just a little firmer, his hands pressing lightly against her back in an unspoken gesture of reassurance.

The Art of Apologies by animevoid (voidbirb) - Rated G

Set directly after episode 9, Okarun makes every attempt to apologize and explain to Momo and Momo makes every attempt to absolutely avoid letting him do such a thing

[the-winter-spider]

Yours, Always | Part Nine

Steve x reader, Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: Little bit of this little bit of that

A/N: Steve and bucky meet next part 👀👀👀👀👀 Also ive decided since all my fics are inspired by songs and this one wasnt i was searching for one and ive declared Iris this stories song.

Masterpost

---

“God, I can’t wait to go home.”

Bucky leans back against the pillows, a lazy smile stretching across his face, you sit in the chair beside his bed, legs tucked under you, grinning at him.

“Nothing’s really changed,” you tell him, shaking your head. “It’s all the same.”

Bucky raises his eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “It’s just… not as vibrant as I remember it to be.”

Bucky tilts his head, watching you. Then, softer now, more certain. “That’s because it was never the place that made it vibrant.”

Your brows furrow. “No?”

He shakes his head. “It was us, we were the ones who made it full of life. We made it home, we made it everything.”

Your chest tightens at that, letting out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Damn, Buck. Are you getting all sentimental on me?”

He smirks. “What can I say? I’ve had a lot of time to think.”

Before you can respond, there’s a knock on the door. You both turn as it swings open, revealing a man standing in the doorway. “Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes go wide. “Sam.”

And then before you can even blink they’re moving toward each other, Bucky pushes himself off the bed, wincing slightly as he stands, but he doesn’t hesitate.

Sam is on him in an instant, wrapping him in a tight hug, clapping his back.

“Shit, man,” Sam exhales, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought I was never gonna see your ugly face again. They had me at some other hospital, had to bribe the nurses to let me out early.”

Bucky laughs, squeezing his friend tighter. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Wilson.”

They pull back, and Sam grins, shaking his head. “Damn, Buck, so good to see you, you look better already.”

Bucky smirks. “And you still look...old”

Sam laughs, shoving him lightly. “You were gone the same amount of time as me man, you look old too.” His gaze shifts, brown eyes land on you.

He pauses, taking you in for a moment before a knowing smirk spreads across his face. “And who is this beautiful lady?” Sam asks smoothly, stepping toward you.

You laugh, extending your hand. “Y/N.”

Sam grips your hand, shaking it, he looks back at Bucky. “Oh snap, this is her.”

Bucky looks so damn proud when he nods. “This is her.”

Before you can react, Sam tugs you into a hug.

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “Nice to meet you too, Sam.”

“Feels like I already know you,” he says, pulling back slightly. “This guy wouldn’t shut up about you.”

You turn to Bucky, raising an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Bucky shrugs, smirking. “Not my fault you’re my favorite topic.”

Sam laughs, crossing his arms. “Yeah, yeah and by the way..” he leans in slightly, eyes glinting with mischief. “I totally think it was your fault you guys got caught swimming in the school pool that night.”

Your mouth drops open. “Bucky!” You turn to him, scandalized. “That was your fault! You were the one laughing too loud!”

Bucky throws his hands up. “Hey, don’t pin that on me! You’re the one who dared me to do a cannonball!”

“That was after we were already caught, you asshole!”

Sam bursts out laughing. “Oh, I like her,” he says, nudging Bucky. “She’s got a mouth on her. Good luck with that, man.”

Bucky smirks, watching you with something soft in his eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head, but you’re smiling.

The three of you settle in comfortably, Bucky back on the bed, you still in the chair beside him, and Sam dragging a chair from the corner of the room.

It’s easy. Sam is talking, filling the space with stories about all the stupid shit Bucky got into before they were captured.

“I swear, man, this idiot thought he could outdrink all of us one night when we were stationed overseas.”

You snort, looking at Bucky. “That sounds about right.”

“Yeah?” Sam grins. “Well, guess what happened?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “He ended up half-naked on a rooftop singing old rock songs?”

Sam bursts out laughing, pointing at you. “See? She gets it! She knows you, man.”

Bucky just shakes his head, smirking. “You two are already teaming up against me, unreal.”

“I’m just saying,” Sam continues, leaning forward, “this guy was a menace. If there was trouble, Barnes found it.”

“He always did,” you muse, shaking your head with a small smile.

Then Sam shifts, his voice softening slightly, a teasing edge still there, but something knowing underneath. “Only time he wasn’t getting into some dumb shit was when he was writing his little letters.”

Your breathing stops.

“Didn’t matter what we were doing,” Sam continues. “Playing cards, watching movies, getting in fights, this guy would be off to the side, scribbling away.”

Your face heats up, you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you.

“You should’ve seen it,” Sam chuckles. “Like clockwork, every damn day. We’d be out tossing a football, and Barnes? Sitting there with his little notebook, writing about God knows what.”

Your stomach churns.

You already know what.

You.

Because you read every single one of them you just never wrote him back.

Bucky must notice the shift in your expression, the way your fingers twitch in your lap, his voice is softer when he speaks. “You okay?”

You force yourself to look at him.

He’s watching you carefully, his brows drawn together just slightly, like he’s trying to read the emotions playing across your face.

You swallow hard. “Yeah.”

Bucky doesn’t look convinced, neither does Sam, honestly.

You clear your throat, shifting in your seat. “I just, I didn’t know you spent so much time writing.”

Bucky tilts his head slightly. “What did you think I was doing?”

You hesitate, softer, quieter. “I don’t know. Trying to move on, maybe.”

Something in Bucky’s expression breaks. “There was never moving on from you, Y/N. Never will be. What we have is different, I’d be stupid to look anywhere else for it.” He paused realising how it sounds so he back peddled, “Our friendship is everything to me.”

The words are so simple, so certain, like they were never up for debate and truthfully he couldn’t even fathom the idea of a world where you weren’t still the most important thing to him.

Your chest twists, you don’t trust yourself to speak. So instead, you just squeeze your hands together in your lap, staring down at them.

The silence that follows is heavy. Sam clears his throat. “Well, damn. I was trying to lighten the mood, not make it emotional.”

You let out a soft, watery laugh.

“You should know for future reference,” Bucky smirks, “wherever she and I go, it's a rollercoaster.”

Sam grins, shaking his head. “Noted, guess I’ll have to start cracking more jokes around you two. I hate the damn drops on those things.”

Bucky smirks. “You could try, but she’s funnier than you.”

“Oh, hell no,” Sam scoffs. “Y/N, back me up here. Who’s funnier?”

You pretend to think, tapping your chin. With a small smirk. “Definitely me.”

Bucky throws his head back, laughing.

Sam groans. “Great, another one. I'm gonna get gained up on with you two aren't I?"

---

The desert heat was relentless, pressing down on them like a weight that never let up. The air smelled of sand, sweat, and gun oil, the sounds of distant training drills filling the space between their conversation.

Bucky sat on the edge of his cot, his boots unlaced, uniform dusted with the day’s grime. He was hunched over, pen in hand, scribbling in his usual frantic way. The dim glow of the tent’s single overhead light flickered, casting long shadows on the canvas walls.

Sam, lying back on his own cot, hands folded behind his head, watched him with an amused expression. “Man, I gotta ask, what’s the deal with this girl?”

Bucky’s pen paused mid-sentence. His shoulders stiffened, but he kept his eyes on the page. “What girl?”

Sam snorted. “Oh, don’t even play dumb. You’ve been writing to her damn near every night since we got here. I don’t even write my sister this much.”

A couple of the other guys in their unit chuckled, listening in. Bucky sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s complicated.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “So uncomplicated it. You either love her, or you don’t.”

Bucky hesitated, tapping his pen against his knee. “Of course I love her but It’s not that simple, man. We were always… almost something. There were a million moments where I thought she felt the same way. But then I’d think… what if I was wrong? What if she was just being sweet, and if i put it all out there, and it ruined everything? What if I lost her completely? She’s my best friend, I couldn't handle that.”

Sam sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. “So where are her letters?”

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Sam shook his head, exhaling.“You’re writing to her, but I don’t see any from her.”

Silence.

Bucky stared down at his half-finished letter, his grip tightening around the pen.

Sam’s expression softened. “Buck…”

“I lied to her,” Bucky admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sam’s head tilted slightly. “What do you mean?”

Bucky swallowed hard. “I never told her I enlisted.”

Sam blinked. “Shit.”

“I kept putting it off,” Bucky continued, his voice strained. “I knew she’d be pissed, and I was in too deep with our plans. We were supposed to go to New York together, go to school, start our lives. And I…I was too much of a coward to tell her that wasn’t gonna happen.” He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “And then I got the letter a week early. They wanted me in for training sooner than my set date. I was literally packing my bags when she showed up at my house, and she…she saw me getting ready to leave.”

Sam winced. “Damn, that looks really bad.”

Bucky let out a long breath, eyes shining with something unreadable. “Yeah.”

“What did she say?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “She told me she hated me, that she never wanted to see me again.”

Sam’s expression softened. “Buck, there’s no way she meant that.”

Bucky laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Then why isn’t she writing me back?” His voice cracked. “It’s been a year, I’m over here, and she’s over there, and I…I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder, firm and grounding. “We got another eight months, then we’re home.”

Bucky swallowed, his throat thick.

“And when we get back,” Sam continued, “you’re gonna go get your girl and no chickening out this time. We do it for real, especially if I’m involved.”

That got a small, watery laugh out of Bucky. “Yeah?”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, man. We’ll fix this. You’ll see. I’m the best wing man out there.”

Bucky nodded, exhaling slowly, staring down at the unfinished letter in his lap.

Eight more months.

Then, he’d go home and he’d finally get to be with you.

----

It was time, you had to go home and you didn’t want to. You wanted to go with Bucky but you had a life, a life that no longer felt like yours with your whole world standing in front of you. The airport is loud and busy, but to you, it feels like the world has shrunk down to just this moment.

Just you and Bucky, standing at the gate about to part ways again.

Winnie is nearby, speaking with the flight attendant, her eyes flickering back to the two of you every few seconds, watching, waiting.

Bucky exhales slowly, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. His bandaged shoulder is stiff, his body still adjusting to freedom, but right now, all of his focus is on you.

“So… when are you coming home?” His voice is quiet, almost hesitant.

Your stomach twists.

“Bucky, I—” You sigh, shaking your head. “Things are… complicated.”

His brows furrow. “Complicated how?” He knew you had your own family but he was being selfish but he only really felt happiness around you, when you weren’t there his mind would wander to the last 8 years and what he went through.

You look down, fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “I have Lily and Steve. My whole life is in New York now. I can’t just…no matter how much I want to, I just…” You bite your lip, looking up at him. “I promise I’ll be there soon. I just need time to figure some things out.”

Bucky nods, but you can see the pain in his eyes, the way his jaw tenses like he’s holding something back. “I really don’t want to be away from you again, I don’t know if I can..”

Your chest tightens. “I know,” you whisper.

His eyes are glistening, a tear threatening to spill. “This is really hard for me.” His throat bobs.

You swallow the lump in your own throat and reach for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I know, Bucky. But we’ll call, we’ll video chat every day, okay? It’s not like before. We have ways to stay connected now. I promise, I’ll be there as soon as I can, this hurts me too.”

He nods, swiping a hand over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

The speaker overhead announces your flight. “Final boarding for Flight 763 to New York.”

You let out a shaky breath, shifting on your feet. “I guess that’s me.”

Bucky nods stiffly, his hands twitching at his sides like he doesn’t know whether to pull you in or let you go.

So you make the choice for him. You throw your arms around his neck, holding him as tightly as you can.

He clings to you instantly, burying his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply like he’s trying to commit this moment to memory.

“Call me the second you get home,” you murmur. “My number is still the same, I never changed it. Just in case.” You whisper.

“I will.” His voice is thick, shaky.

You pull back slightly, and Bucky doesn’t move far.

He looks at you for a moment, then leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, he lingers there not long enough.

It makes your heart ache.

You step back, forcing yourself to turn around, to walk toward the gate, to leave but you stop. Something inside you won’t let you walk away just yet. You turn back around, digging into your bag. “Wait.”

Bucky’s brows knit together. “What?”

You pull out a worn, leather-bound journal.

The one Steve gave you, the one you filled with letters to Bucky.

His eyes widen slightly as you hold it out to him.

“I have something for you.”

Bucky stares at it, hesitant, like he’s afraid to take it. “What is this?”

You exhale softly. “Steve got it for me. I wrote you back.”

His breath catches.

“What?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“I—I tried to get through it, the guilt, the pain and Steve thought it would help if I wrote to you, so I did.”

Bucky finally reaches for it, his fingers brushing over the cover, tracing the B on the front.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “Of course. I wrote to you, it’s meant for you.”

He clutches it tightly, like it’s the most important thing in the world.

Without warning, he pulls you into another hug, tighter than before. He’s afraid to let go. “I’ll see you soon?” His voice is small, uncertain.

You nod against his shoulder. “I promise.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Bucky pulls away.

You back away toward the gate, your eyes locked on his. “Goodbye, Bucky.”

He swallows hard, gripping the journal like it’s the only thing tethering him to the ground. “Goodbye, sweetheart.”

You force yourself to turn around. To keep walking, to leave.

And Bucky watches you go, standing there in the middle of the airport, his heart breaking all over again. “I love you.” He whispers to no one.

----

The gym was dimly lit with twinkling fairy lights, the bass of the music vibrating the wooden floor beneath Bucky’s shoes. The air was thick with the mingling scents of cheap cologne, perfume, and the sickly sweet punch that had definitely been spiked.

Bucky barely noticed any of it, he was too busy scanning the room, searching for you.

He had been doing it all night, barely listening to whatever Stacy was saying, nodding absently at her giggles and mindless chatter. His hand rested limply on her waist as they swayed lazily to the music, but his body felt tense, like he was in the wrong place like he was supposed to be somewhere else. Or maybe he was just supposed to be here with someone else.

“You sure you don’t wanna dance properly?” Stacy teased, pressing closer to him.

“I’m dancing.” Bucky muttered, distracted, his eyes still scanning the room.

“Not really.” She huffed, pulling back slightly to study him. “You keep looking around like you’re lost or something.”

He wasn’t lost or maybe he was, he always felt off when you weren’t in his sights. When he finally saw you a breath left him.

You were across the gym, standing by the refreshments table, your eyes bright, your smile easy. You were laughing at something that idiot John said, probably and then you poked his chest, and your face changed, you were upset, then John’s hand shot out, gripping your arm a little too tightly.

Bucky’s entire body went rigid. His jaw locked, his fingers clenched into fists.

Before he even had time to think, he was moving.

“Bucky?” Stacy tugged on his hand.

He barely heard her. His entire focus was on you, he moved through the crowd when he finally got to the spot he saw you at, you were gone. He watched as John stormed off toward the exit, his face twisted in frustration. Bucky twisted around, his heart racing.

“Where are you going?”

Stacy’s voice snapped him out of it, her fingers tightening around his wrist.

Bucky barely heard her. His eyes were locked on the empty space where you had been just moments ago. His chest felt tight, like something was pulling at him, urging him to run after you.

“I need to check on Y/N.” He tried to pull away from Stacy, but she only gripped him harder.

“You’re on a date with me,” she scoffed, her voice sharp, eyes narrowing. “You can’t just go running after some girl.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “She’s not just some girl.”

Stacy let out a dry laugh, her grip tightening like she was trying to keep him in place, trying to make him listen.

“Whatever, she’s your friend,” she sneered, rolling her eyes. “And you need to start realizing that if you keep hanging around her like this, nobody is ever gonna wanna be with you, Bucky. Everyone already thinks you’re in love with her!”

His heart stopped.

The words hit him like a brick to the chest, and before he could even think, before he could stop himself, he said the words that had been buried deep inside him for years.

“So what if I am?”

Stacy blinked.

For a second, just a split second, she looked genuinely shocked. But then she laughed again, like what he said was a joke, like she hadn’t just cracked him open like a glass window in a hurricane.

“I feel sorry for you,” she said coldly, her voice laced with something cruel, something cutting. “Because if you think she could ever love you back, you’re dumber than we all thought.”

His stomach twisted, and suddenly, he felt small. Because he had two insecurities you and the thought of never being good enough.

“Why wouldn’t she love me back?” His voice was quieter now, but no less desperate.

Stacy’s smirk faltered slightly, but she recovered quickly, straightening her spine. “Because she’s going somewhere, Bucky! And you’re not. You’re gonna stay here, just like everyone else. And even if you do follow her out of here like some lost puppy, what do you have to show for your life? Nothing! At least your father was a veteran and left your mother something, but you? You’re a joke.”

Bucky looked away, his jaw clenching so tight it ached.

Stacy shook her head, stepping back with a scoff. “And that’s exactly why she’ll never see you that way. You Bucky, you're nothing."

His fingers curled into fists at his sides, his mind racing, his pulse hammering against his ribs. He should have said something back, should have told her she was wrong, should have defended himself.

But instead, he just met her gaze, his voice lower, calmer than he felt.

“For the record, Stacy,” he said, his tone sharp as glass. “She’s not just some girl. You are.”

Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and left, shoving past the crowd, his only focus on finding you.

When he finally did you were outside, pacing the school steps, arms crossed over your chest, your face flushed with frustration.

“Hey,” Bucky called out, stepping toward you. “What’s wrong?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Nothing, just always stuck with the assholes, like always.”

He frowned. “What happened?”

“What happened? Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that every single guy in this stupid school is a fucking dick.” You ran a hand through your hair.

Bucky’s entire posture stiffened. “Do you want me to go back in there and beat him up?” His voice was low, serious. “You know I would, right?”

Your frustration wavered, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I know you would.”

He nudged you gently. “So? Do you want me to?”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “No, it’s not worth it. We graduate soon, we get out of here, and I leave all these stupid people behind.”

Bucky studied you for a long moment, then he finally sat down on the old wooden bench, patting the spot beside him.

After a few beats, you sat down.

The cool night air was a sharp contrast to the sticky warmth inside the gym, the stars twinkling above, and for a moment, it felt like just the two of you, like it had always been.

Bucky sighed. “I’m not one of those stupid assholes, am I?”

You turned to look at him, your expression softening.

“Never in a million years.” You shook your head. “No matter how hard you tried, you’d never be one to me.”

Something warm flickered in Bucky’s chest.

You sighed, pouting. “It just sucks,” you muttered.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What does?”

“They’re playing my favorite song in there, and I’m stuck out here. I don’t even get to dance to it.”

Bucky stood up immediately, holding out his hand.

“My lady,” he grinned. “Can I please have this dance?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Bucky, you don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do,” he smirked. “Been a bucket list goal of mine to get a dance from you.”

Your cheeks flushed.

Bucky’s heart did a double take. He had seen you blush before, but this felt different.

Slowly, you took his hand.

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, his arms sliding around your waist.

‘And all I can taste is this moment, and all I can breathe is your life, and sooner or later, it's over, I just don't wanna miss you tonight”

The distant music from the gym faded, the only sound left was the soft hum of the night, the crickets, the rustling leaves.

His heart pounded in sync with yours, a slow, steady rhythm. It felt like the world had stopped. Your fingers brushed against the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

Bucky leaned in, just slightly. You moved forward and his eyes were searching yours for any indication that you didn’t really want this, that you didn’t really want him and before he could close the distance a group of rowdy teenagers burst through the gym doors, laughing loudly, shattering the moment.

You instantly stepped back, clearing your throat, looking away.

Bucky clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling in his chest. Because this time? This time, it wasn’t a drunken kiss that led to something else, It wasn’t a fleeting, careless moment.

This was real; he could feel it and once again the universe had ripped it away.

---

Bucky stares at the worn leather journal in his hands, his fingers tracing the edges, gripping it like it might disappear if he lets go.

The plane hums around him, but he barely registers it.

He’s aware of his mother beside him, of the way she keeps glancing at him, her eyes soft and knowing.

“What’s in your hand, sweetheart?” Winnie finally asks gently.

Bucky swallows hard. His throat feels tight. “She wrote to me.”

Winnie’s brows pull together. “She did?”

He nods, exhaling sharply. “Yeah. She said Steve..” he hesitates, the name unfamiliar and heavy in his mouth. “He got it for her. She wrote me back finally.”

Winnie’s lips press together, emotion flickering across her face.

Bucky swipes a hand over his mouth, fingers shaking slightly as he flips open the journal.

The pages are filled.Front to back, page after page, all of it in your handwriting.

His breath stutters. “Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes scanning the first few words.

Bucky,

I don’t know why I’m doing this. Steve thinks it’ll help. I think it’s stupid. You're never going to read any of this.

But then again, I also think it’s stupid that you left me. That you’re gone. That I never wrote back when I had the chance. That I let my own pain keep me from you when I should have been writing you every damn day.

I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for that.

Bucky inhales shakily. His eyes burn, his fingers grip the journal tighter. But he keeps reading.

I tried, you know. I tried so hard to forget you. Not because I wanted to, but because it hurt too much to remember.

Because every time I let myself think of you, I could feel it all over again, the way my heart shattered the day you left, the way I wanted to scream when I saw you in that uniform, the way I wanted to beg you to stay even when I knew you wouldn’t. You never told me why, why you left me behind, why Bucky why?

A tear slips down his cheek. He wipes it away quickly, furiously. Winnie says nothing, she just watches him with sad eyes. Bucky takes a deep breath and keeps going.

I married a good man. He’s kind, he’s steady. He helped put me back together when I didn’t even know I was broken.

But Bucky, I don’t think I’ve ever been whole since the day you left. I don't think I'll ever be again, what kind of life is that?

Bucky closes the journal.

His chest aches, he presses his fingers against his eyes, his shoulders shaking.

“Oh, James.”

His mother’s voice is soft, her hand warm as she rubs gentle circles on his back. Bucky breathes deeply, trying to steady himself; he knows it is useless. Because since he got back, since he was rescued, since he breathed in fresh air again he finally sees just how much was stolen from the both of you.

Bucky is silent, staring down at the journal, his thumb running along the edge of the worn pages.

The plane rumbles beneath him, but he barely notices. His mother has stopped speaking, stopped watching him, she knows that he needs to read. That he wants to read. That he needs to let himself feel this. So, he turns the page.

Bucky,

I always thought it was going to be you. Always hoped it would be.

I don’t even know when I first started believing that. Maybe when we were kids, when you pulled me behind you and told those boys to leave me alone. Maybe when we had our first kiss that summer before middle school and swore it didn’t mean anything.

Maybe when I realized that even when I had other people in my life, you were always my person.

I think I knew for sure the first time we got drunk together at that dumb party and ended up in the back of your truck, under the stars, just us.

The first time you touched me like I was something fragile, something precious. The first time you whispered my name like you were afraid of what it meant and I almost asked you that night. I almost asked you if you wanted me the way I wanted you.

But I didn’t. Because we always danced around it, didn’t we? Always cheated that line between friendship and something more, but we never let ourselves cross it and I don’t know why.

Because I loved you, Bucky.

I love you.

I think I always have and now, you’re gone, and I feel like I’ve lost the biggest piece of myself. Like I’m walking through life without my heartbeat.

Without my soulmate and I don’t know how to exist in a world that doesn’t have you in it.

Yours, always.

Y/N.

Bucky stares, the words blur together, his vision swimming.

Because he never knew, never thought you felt the same way. He always thought it was one-sided because he could never wrap his head around you actually wanting him, all of him in the way he wanted you, in the way he loved you, he thought he was the one holding onto something that would never be.

But you love him, you actually love him in the way he loves you. But he can't have you.

--

The late summer air was warm, a gentle breeze rolling through the streets of your small town. The sun had just started to set, washing the sky in soft shades of pink and orange.

You and Bucky walked side by side down the quiet sidewalk, ice cream cones in hand, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your shoes the only sound between you for a while.

Out of nowhere, Bucky spoke. “So after we move to the big city and accomplish all our dreams… is that it?”

You looked at him, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He licked his ice cream, eyes focused straight ahead. “I mean, is that where we’re staying? Is that where you’re gonna have your family and I’m gonna have mine?”

You nearly stumbled, stomach twisted, and suddenly, the sweet taste of ice cream in your mouth felt bitter. You had never really considered that Bucky’s future wouldn’t include you.

Sure, he had never actually said anything about the two of you ending up together, but… it was always just implied. Right? You had always assumed that when he talked about we and our dreams, that meant the two of you, together.

But hearing him say it now, like he had already envisioned a separate future for himself, a different life, a different family it stung. Because you always thought you two would end up together, it was just a matter of time.

You forced yourself to lick your ice cream, shrugging, hoping your voice wouldn’t give you away. “No.”

Bucky glanced at you, one brow raised. “No?”

“No,” you repeated, staring straight ahead.

He tilted his head. “So that’s not where we’re gonna end up?”

You swallowed. “I don’t know where you and your family are gonna end up, but me and mine?” You took a deep breath. “We’ll eventually come back here.”

Bucky snorted. “Really? Here?”

You turned to him sharply, scowling. “Why do you sound so harsh? Didn’t you love growing up here?”

His expression shifted. The teasing faded from his face, his lips pressing together. “I loved growing up with you,” he murmured.

Your heart clenched.

He said it so simply, so easily, like it wasn’t the most important thing you had ever heard.

You exhaled, looking out at the familiar town, the place that had raised you, shaped you, built you into the person you were. Every street, every corner, every tree, every lake… it was all part of you.

“I have so many memories here,” you said softly. “So many great ones. I wouldn’t want my kids to find those anywhere else.”

Bucky watched you carefully, his lips parting slightly.

You pointed up ahead, toward the outskirts of town, toward Miller’s old place, an old farmhouse that had been abandoned for as long as you could remember. The land stretched out for acres, beautiful and untouched, tucked away from the rest of the world.

“Right there,” you said, nodding toward it. “One day, I want to buy that land and build a house with all the money I’m gonna make from my big girl job in New York.”

Bucky was quiet for a long moment then softly, surely. “Okay.”

You blinked, turning to him. “Okay?”

He licked his ice cream again, nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

Your brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “It means whatever you want, I’ll be there.”.

You stared at him, your ice cream melting slightly in your fingers, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

“Wherever you go, I’ll go,” Bucky murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your throat tightened, but you forced out a small, teasing smirk, nudging his arm. “What if I end up in some super boring town in the middle of nowhere?”

Bucky grinned. “Then I guess I’ll be in a super boring town in the middle of nowhere.”

Your chest ached, you weren’t sure why.

You laughed, shaking your head, but deep down, you clung to those words like a promise.

Because that’s what it felt like.

A promise.

---

The plane hums softly beneath you, the cabin dimly lit as passengers settle in for the long flight.

You should be exhausted. You should be closing your eyes, letting sleep pull you under after the emotional whirlwind of the past few days.

But you can’t. Because all you can think about is Bucky.

It’s an ache that sits deep in your chest, something heavy, something pulling you in a direction you don’t quite know how to follow yet.

You grip the armrest, staring blankly out the window. The city lights disappear beneath the clouds, and with every passing mile, the space between you and Bucky stretches further and further and you don’t know if you can bear it, you could go back.

You could work from home. If you needed to be in the office, you could make the trip. You could have the life you always dreamed of, the life you and Bucky used to stay up all night talking about.

“What if we got a little place right outside the city?”

“We’d need a good coffee shop nearby.”

“Obviously.”

“And a couch big enough to sleep on when you get mad at me.”

“Oh, I’m always taking the bed, Buck. You can sleep on the floor.”

You smile softly, pressing your fingers against your lips as if it’ll help you hold the memory in place.

A moment you hadn’t let yourself think about in years.

You just turned 18, summer was almost done and the two of you would be headed to the big city in a week.

Lying on your stomach in Bucky’s bed, flipping through a book, your legs swinging slightly behind you.

Bucky was sitting on the floor, leaning against his bed, absently tossing a baseball up and catching it.

“You ever think about it?” he asked suddenly.

You glanced up. “Think about what?”

He hesitated, rolling the ball between his hands. His face looked serious. “Us.”

Your breath hitched. “What about us?”

He shrugged like it was nothing, like he wasn’t saying something that could change everything. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Just… you ever wonder?”

You stared at him. Your stomach felt tight, like you were on the edge of something. “Bucky…”

“Never mind.” He cleared his throat, tossing the ball into the air again. “Forget I said anything.”

You didn’t press, you should have hated yourself for letting that moment slip through your fingers.

Your stomach twists. There were so many almosts…so many times Bucky had almost said something, almost done something. So many times you both did cross the line, only to step back again. He was your first kiss, your first time, your first real best friend. And yet, somehow, despite all of it, you let each other slip away.

How did something that meant everything turn into nothing at all?

The moment you step off the plane, your eyes scan the crowd, searching, heart thudding and then you see them.

Steve is standing tall, holding a small bouquet of flowers, and beside him, Lily.

Waving a brightly colored sign with your name scribbled across it in her messy, excited handwriting.

“Mommy!” she shrieks.

Before you can even react, she’s sprinting toward you, her little legs carrying her as fast as they can. A breathless laugh escapes you as you drop your bag just in time to catch her, lifting her into your arms.

You spin her around, burying your face in her curls, inhaling the familiar scent of home, warmth, and safety.

“I missed you, baby,” you murmur against her cheek.

“I missed you more!” she exclaims, her tiny hands squeezing your face before pressing a sloppy kiss to your nose.

Steve is next, stepping forward with that all-American, steady smile, his eyes soft as he watches the two of you.

“Now I got both my girls,” he says, his voice warm as he wraps an arm around both you and Lily, pulling you against his chest.

You melt into him, into the strength and familiarity of his embrace, into the way he holds you like he never wants to let go. You kiss him, slow and soft, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it.

Lily groans, dramatically covering her eyes. “Ewww!”

Steve chuckles against your lips, pressing one last kiss to your forehead.

“You had a good flight?” he asks, handing you the flowers.

You nod, but the answer doesn’t come right away. Because you’re happy, right? You feel loved, wanted, safe but Bucky lingers in the back of your mind. Like a whisper, a pull, a presence that you can’t shake.

Steve sees it. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he does. His eyes flicker for just a second, his jaw tightening ever so slightly before he smooths it over with a gentle smile.

Because he knows and, deep down, so do you.

Because you can’t shake the feeling that this is it, the last chance the universe is giving you to be with him.

----

The rain tapped softly against the small window in your basement, a rhythmic hum that blended into the low sounds of Bucky’s video game. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, controller in hand, his brows furrowed in concentration while you lay on your stomach on the couch, flipping through old magazines and cutting out images for your scrapbook.

It was something you’d always done, ever since you were kids, manifesting the things you wanted most through paper and glue. But this one was different, this one meant something more.

Bucky let out a victorious whoop as he finished his level, tossing the controller onto the floor before stretching his arms above his head. “Alright, I’m starving,” he groaned, turning to you. “Wanna get some lunch? I mowed old man Harrison’s lawn last week, so I got a little extra cash, my treat.”

You didn’t look up, focused on carefully gluing down a delicate picture of a lace wedding dress. “Yeah, just let me finish this page.”

Bucky, now curious, leaned over the back of the couch to peek at what had your attention. “What are you working on this time?” He plucked the scrapbook gently from your hands before you could stop him.

“My wedding,” you admitted, pushing yourself up to sit beside him.

His lips quirked into a smirk. “Your wedding, huh?” He flipped through the page, his fingers tracing over the elegant images of white roses, candlelit aisles, and grand ballrooms. “You want a big wedding?”

You shook your head, smiling softly. “Not necessarily big, but… I want the full thing, you know? The flowers, the music, the dress. I want it to feel dreamy, like a fairytale. Like something out of a movie. Just… beautiful.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing absently over the corner of the page. Then, his voice dropped just slightly, more thoughtful than teasing. “You’re gonna get this someday.”

You glanced at him, tilting your head. “You think so?”

He nodded, still staring down at your scrapbook. “Yeah.” His voice was certain, steady. “Your future husband’s gonna want to give you everything you dream of, no question.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart skip.

You swallowed, looking down at the magazine clippings, at the life you had imagined for yourself. “How do you know?”

Bucky finally looked up, his blue eyes locking onto yours, his lips parting like he was about to say something, something real, something that had been lingering between you for years.

But instead, he just shrugged, his expression soft, wistful.

“Because I would.”

[xiiithhazard]

Those That Follow

Why is Knuckles so afraid of ghosts? (Movie Verse)

Word Prompt - Atonement

@year-of-the-echidna

…

“Alight!” Sonic crowed happily, as he started the movie before anyone could see the title. It was finally his turn to pick, and he had plans. But just so he was out of the danger zone, he’d brought his bean bag chair. Something Tails had clearly picked up on, as it wasn’t a normal habit of his, but he hadn’t commented yet. Thus, allowing the hedgehog’s scheme to continue uninterrupted. “You guys are gonna love this one. It’s a classic.”

They proceeded to sit back with their individual bowls of popcorn and drinks to watch an elderly lady collecting discarded books from a library, before taking them down to the maze-like basement for storage. Of course, the action started pretty soon after that, when a couple of books floated off the shelves on their own, to seemingly reorganize themselves.

“Sonic?” Tails whispered, instantly understanding what he was up to. But he quickly shushed the fox, as they both turned to watch Knuckles, for his reaction. Already he was tensed, however, he didn’t quite understand what was happening yet and continued to watch the woman, as she made her way through the shelves, only to look back when a dozen or so tiny drawers opened on their own, allowing thousands of cards to fly into the air without any visible means to be doing so.

Immediately she began to scream and ran to the exit, only to continuously get herself lost in the endless shelves of books, until she finally rounded a corner and was attacked by a glowing, terrifying creature just off screen. Then the title appeared, and the theme song began to play.

‘Ghostbusters’.

“Oh, come on, man.” Sonic proclaimed, trying and failing to keep a straight face, when Knuckles stood up and walked out of the room. “We haven’t even seen the ghost yet.” He pointed out truthfully. However, it was pretty clear that he wasn’t coming back, so he decided to just let his chuckles run free and relish his prank.

“Sonic, that wasn’t very nice.” Tails insisted, not at all finding it funny. “You know how he feels about that.”

“Oh, give me a break. He’s gotta get over it at some point.” Sonic countered, waving his friend’s concerned off like it was just an annoying bug and started the movie again. Only for Tails to get up and leave as well. “Hey. Come on. It was just a joke.”

“If that’s how you feel, then you can watch it alone.” The fox seethed and exited the room in a huff. Leaving Sonic, as promised, alone on a night that the three of them were supposed to share.

And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.

Jumping up, he rushed after his friend, only to find that Tails had run into Maddie on his way to the attic. The hedgehog winced, knowing what was about to transpire. And he wasn’t disappointed, as her gaze suddenly snapped to him, as he tried to sneak back into the living room.

“Sonic.” Her voice was calm, but firm, thus, he found himself basically forced to obey and froze on the spot, despite his better judgement. With that he just sighed and turned to await his punishment. “Why would you do that?” She asked sternly.

“It –” He began, tugging at one of his gloves sheepishly. “It was just a joke.” She folded her arms, never a good sign. “Oh, come on. It’s ghosts.” He insisted, though he knew he was just digging his own grave at that point.

“I seem to recall a certain blue hedgehog having an irrational fear of water.” She pointed out and he quickly jumped to defend himself.

“It’s not irrational. I could drown.” He insisted truthfully. But she just continued to glare at him.

“In the bathtub?” She clarified and he was suddenly less certain.

“It could happen.”

Maddie remined quiet for a moment, just watching him, until she finally spoke again, though her voice was just a little softer now. “The point is, you have a fear, a fear you cannot control. And no one makes fun of you for it.”

He found himself looking at the floor, as he realized she was right. She always was. “I’m sorry.” He said at last, but she wasn’t convinced.

“I’m not the one you hurt, Sonic.” Her specific choice of words made him cringe. He never wanted to hurt his friends. But then she knelt down to be at his level, and he felt a teaching moment coming on. “Have you ever bothered to ask him – why he’s afraid?”

“He wouldn’t talk about it anyway.” Sonic said, at least 98% sure that he was right on that front. However, she just scowled at him again and he sighed, ready to face his fate and started walking to the attic. Only for her to reach out and stop him again.

“The reason for asking is not to actually get an answer.” She explained, though, that hardly made any sense at all. “You ask because you care. Even if he never tells you. It’s your job, as his friend, to be there – and listen.”

Sonic realized just how heavy her words had been, as they really sank in, and he looked up into her eyes. “I – I’ve been really bad friend.” He admitted, almost ready to cry. But Maddie gave him a supportive smile, her eyes filled with understanding.

“Then – it’s time you make it right. And, thankfully, all you have to do is talk to him. It might mean more than you realize.” She encouraged and stood up to give him a gentle pat on the head, before stepping aside and allowing him to head to the attic.

He was halfway up the stairs, when he realized he had a shadow and looked back to find Tails following him, though he didn’t ask why, he could see it on his friend’s face. His own guilt for not stepping up to stop the prank, when he realized his friend would be hurt and a simply desire to just make sure Knuckles was okay.

So, together they climbed the stairs and found their friend sitting on his bed, his back to them. Thankfully, Tails was the first one with enough courage to step forward, and walked over until the echidna could see that he was present.

“Are you okay?” He whispered and Knuckles smiled, though it didn’t light his face at all.

“Yes.” He answered and Tails took that as his cue to sit with him. Thus, forcing Sonic to swallow his pride and walk over as well. Though he didn’t receive as warm a welcome.

He probably deserved that.

“Hey Knux.” He said nervously, fiddling with the cuff of his glove once again. “I – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He started, only for his friend to lift his head a little, like he was waiting for more. However, Sonic had run out of preorganized thoughts. “It really was just a joke.” He insisted, only for Tails to glare at him sharply. “But – that isn’t an excuse.” He finally let his hands fall to his sides, as he admitted defeat. “A joke isn’t a joke if it isn’t funny. And – hurting my friends is never funny.” He lifted his eyes to meet Knuckles and held the gaze, determined to make this right. “I really am sorry.”

It was all he could really say. But thankfully, his friend’s stern expression slowly softened, and he finally smiled again. This time actually looking like he was okay, instead of just saying it, despite the fact that he clearly wasn’t.

However, Knuckles ended up being the one to look away first and sigh, as he stared at his hands in sudden frustration. “It is not that I don’t understand. I do.” He admitted quietly and Sonic carefully inched backward to sit in a chair, so they would all be on the same level. “It is not becoming of a warrior. It is – irrational.”

There was that word again. “That doesn’t make it invalid.” Tails came to his rescue, but Knuckles didn’t look convinced. Instead, he just clenched and unclenched his fists a few times. Seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“Maybe – it would help if you talked about it.” Sonic suggested, trying to take Maddie’s words into account. “I mean – if you want to.” He added uncertainly. Honestly, with only a few short years of experience under his belt, he could be forgiven for being kind of bad at this whole ‘talking to people,’ thing. But if nothing else, he and Knuckles could find a shared understanding of each other through the loneliness they had each experienced, as well as their desire to find companionship.

“I – I’m not exactly sure how to explain it.” Knuckles admitted after a minute and went quite again. And, for a time, Sonic thought that he wasn’t going to try and found himself struggling over whether to push or let it go.

Thankfully, their resident emotional compass was there to help the process along. “Maybe just start at the beginning.” Tails suggested warmly and the echidna looked up at him for a moment, then back at his hands.

It was then that Sonic realized the real problem. Knuckles knew he needed to talk about it, he wasn’t stupid, but his isolation had left him unable to do so. Now it had been so long that he just didn’t know how to address it and, what’s worse, he was ashamed. To a stubborn warrior like him, he knew how childish this fear must seem to others, but yet he couldn’t fight it. And that shame made him want to close the bottle again, giving it even more pressure, which would only make the unavoidable explosion that much more devastating.

Trying to bridge the gap, Sonic just said the one thing he sometimes still needed to hear himself. "You're not alone." He said softly and finally, Knuckles looked up, a hint of rarely seen vulnerability in his eyes, then he took a deep breath and spoke.

“Do you recall the owl’s temple on the mountain of snow?” That was unexpected, but Sonic still considered the question.

“You mean where we found the compass?” He asked and Knuckles nodded. “What about it?”

“The murals there. Did you see them?”

Sonic and Tails looked at each other, recalling the stone walls and their story of the creation of the Master Emerald. “Yeah.” Tails answered after a moment, just as confused as Sonic at this point.

“There was one, a depiction of an ancient warrior that once used the Emerald to drive back an invading army.” Knuckles explained and the other two winced a tad, recalling that rather distressing image. “That warrior – was my direct ancestor. Enerjak. In many ways, the power that flowed through him on that day – now flows through me.”

“Oh.” Sonic murmured, honestly unsure how to feel about that and was still confused as to what this had to do with anything. But again, Tails came to his rescue.

“So that’s where your chaos powers came from?” He asked quietly and Knuckles nodded. “I always wondered.” The kid admitted but held back from pushing the topic any further.

“What the murals did not show – was the aftermath of that battle.” The echidna finally continued. “As its Guardian, Enerjak was able to do what many could not. Harness both halves of the Emerald’s power at once.”

“What do you mean?” Sonic found himself asking, despite knowing he should interrupt. But Knuckles explained anyway.

“Chaos comes in two very distinct forms. Negative and Positive. The Emerald acks as a kind of fail-safe. To prevent a single person from gaining too much power, only one form can be accessed at a time.” He said simply. “When Robotnik used its power, he channeled only the negative. When you did so, it was the positive.”

“Oh.” Sonic murmured, having not actually realized that until just now, but he supposed it made sense.

“But – Enerjak was different?” Tails asked and Knuckles nodded, seemingly a little lost in his own thoughts for a moment, thus allowing the fox to ponder another question. “And – does that mean you could do that too?”

“Theoretically, yes.” Knuckles stated, coming out of his thoughts again, though he did so with a kind of shiver. “Though I would very much never like to try.” He admitted, and that more than anything made the other two nervous, for what came next. “In order to save our clan from complete annihilation, Enerjak called on its power. However, whether his cause was worthy or not – it did not save him.” He took another breath to steady himself, before continuing. “When the owls – removed the Emerald from his possession, it was not done – properly – and he was driven to pure madness, as a result.”

Sonic felt himself cringe inwardly, suddenly realizing why Knuckles never wanted to use the Emerald himself, despite arguably having the most right to do so. This also explained why the echidna had been so cautious when Sonic had taken on his golden god form. He had been afraid that the same thing had happened again – in fact, he had to wonder just how close he had been to that fate.

Suddenly feeling squeamish, he looked up to ask, despite not really wanting to know, only to find Knuckles eyes meeting his own, clearly thinking the same thing. However, the echidna’s calm deminer helped him to relax again. He’d not only forced the Emerald out of Robotnik’s body, but had basically put the thing back together again, a few minutes later. Surely, he could have handled a rampaging hedgehog, if he’d had to.

Eventually Knuckles turned away, clearly content that their silent conversation had had its desired effects. “In the beginning, Enerjak’s insanity wasn’t immediately noticeable.” He continued after another minute. “He led our clan to reclaim the Emerald, but they did not realize his only goal was to restore his own power.” He looked away, unusually calm considering the discussion. “It was his leadership that led my people to war with the owls. Even long after his death.” Sonic found himself no longer wanting to talk about this particular topic, but didn’t interrupt, as his friend moved on as well. “In the end, his insanity nearly drove my kind to extinction. He had to be stopped, and the only way to do so was to trap him in the chaos void.”

“What’s that?” Sonic interrupted anyway, before he could stop himself. But thankfully, Knuckles looked relieved to have a change of topic.

“Think of it like an invisible sheet over the universe. It is where all chaos energy comes from. At times, holes will form in this sheet and when the pure power of that void meets our world, a chaos emerald is formed. This is what Enerjak was trying to do. He wanted to create a hole and, with himself in place of an emerald – he’d become a god.”

Both Sonic and Tails winced at that. They could only imagine the kind of destruction someone like that could cause if they reached godhood. Even Eggman’s brief time with the emerald looked almost peaceful by comparison. And that was not a pleasant thought.

“He was stopped. However, he had his – followers.” He explained further, and Sonic roiled his eyes. ‘Yeah, that figured.’ “When I was born, I showed immediate signs of chaos powers, beyond anything my clan had ever seen. They grew concerned that I was his reincarnation, and they feared the possibility of Enerjak’s return. There were honest discussions of simply killing me, just to be safe.”

“Say what?” Sonic proclaimed in horror and his friend finally looked up from the floor, as if shocked that this had gotten such a strong reaction. However, he recovered and smiled at the hedgehog.

“My father vehemently opposed this decision, of course. And his brother, the chief, backed him.” He explained calmly, only to slowly look back at the ground. “There were those that did not agree, and – there were those with – other agendas.

The room went quiet, as Knuckles stopped talking and Sonic and Tails looked at one another again, before the hedgehog leaned forward. “Knucks, are you okay?” He asked worriedly, which seemed to pull him out of the memory a bit.

“If you don’t want to talk about it – you don’t have to.” Tails insisted, but the echidna shook his head, clearly determined to get the rest off his chest. As he soon closed his eyes and took another breath, then continued.

“There was a man, a secret worshiper of Enerjak.” He said, pausing for another second, then shook himself out of it again. “To this day – I cannot remember following him. I just – woke up and I had no idea where I was. He wouldn’t talk to me, he was too busy preforming his ritual and I couldn’t escape, I could barely stand. The energies in the cave were so – corrupt they made me sick. Then I began to – see things. People. People I soon realized were not actually alive.”

Knuckles sighed loudly and leaned back on his hands to look at the sky through the circular window in the ceiling. Like he needed the reassurance that he wasn’t back in that cave. “Then I saw him. Enerjak.” He whispered, seemingly speaking more to himself than them. “I’d heard stories of him, of course. But nothing could prepare me for what I saw. He was – cold. Terrifying. And, somehow, I knew he was there to kill me.”

When he went quiet again, clearly stuck in the memory, Tails reached over to gently touch his shoulder, and he jumped. Prompting Sonic to stand up and sit on his other side, so, he’d have even more contact to prove that he wasn’t alone. But neither of them spoke, there wasn’t really a need.

“In a way. I was right.” He finally spoke again. “It was explained to me later, that the ritual had opened – a hole in my soul. A door, if you will. If the process had been allowed to continue, Enerjak would have forced me out of my own body, to trade places with him. I would have been trapped forever in the chaos void, as he had been. But my father had noticed my absence. They tracked the man to the cave and stopped him, just in time.”

Sonic felt like he could suddenly breathe again, but the tension hadn’t quite subsided. “The ritual was stopped, but – the door remained.” Knuckles went on, slowly lifting a hand to touch his chest, like he could actually feel it there. “I’ve been susceptible to spirits since that day. I still see them everywhere I go. And, though I have had – some positive experiences. My old Chief has often come to me in my times of need.” He clutched his chest fur just a little tighter, as he stared back at the floor. “They can – sense the door and if they feel so inclined, they will try to – enter.”

Tails and Sonic winced again, as that certainly did not sound pleasant. “But – they can’t – take over – can they?” Tails asked worriedly and thankfully their friend looked up to smile at him reassuringly and shook his head. Leaving them both to breathe a sigh of relief.

“That being said.” Knuckles continued quietly, and the sudden fear in his voice made the room’s temperature drop by a couple degrees. “He – still lingers, at the edges of my sight. He waits for the moment that the final pieces of the interrupted ritual are set back into motion. If that should ever happen –” He froze, the words getting stuck in his throat, but they didn’t need him to finish. Sonic and Tails were already completely distressed, trying to imagine one of the people they cared about the most being hunted by a literal god.

“Gees.” Sonic complained, rubbing at his quills, suddenly immensely irritated with himself. “Now I feel like a total jerk.” He looked up to meet his friend’s gaze and found himself practically begging for forgiveness. “Knux, I – I’m so sorry. I – I –”

Before he could completely break down, Knuckles reached over to lay his hand on the hedgehog’s shoulder. “I forgive you.” He said simply and Sonic felt like a planet had just been lifted off his chest. “Besides.” He spoke up again, his smile returning, though it looked much more genuine than it had before. “If he should return – I will not face him alone.”

Sonic perked up at that, and smiled as well, before they were interrupted by Tails suddenly throwing his arms around the echidna’s waste. “No – you won’t.” He whispered, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes and his hold got just a little tighter, causing Knuckles to gently place a hand on his head, clearly unsure what to do. He wasn’t exactly accustomed to this kind of emotional show of affection.

But he’d just have to get used to it, cause Sonic quickly threw his arms around him too. “Never again.” He promised and together, the two practically crushed their older brother. Until he finally had no choice but to give in and gently rested his arms around them both and brought them in closer.

…

The End

[epihlogue]

The affection from Henry was enough to make Alex wobbly at his knees, metaphorically at least. He was so in love with him, he had to be. That’s what this was, wasn’t it? Alex had never been in love before, so he wasn’t sure. But he was certain a person wasn’t supposed to make you feel this way unless you were in it and he was so far gone, so much more than Henry knew and Alex didn’t say anything about it because he didn’t want to scare him off. “Eager, are you?” Alex asked with a teasing grin. “I’m down for that, of course.”

Alex couldn’t help but wince a little at that, though likely not in the way Henry was probably thinking. “Actually, she already knows. June, anyway.” He swallowed, nervous again. “It turns out I can’t keep a secret from her to save my life. That and Nora pretty much sold it from the beginning, so they’re in the know how. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you. But with the way … things are, and you ..., I didn’t want to give you more reasons to be upset at me.” Upset because Henry had turned away from his gesture earlier and Alex hated rejection. “But you’re welcome to tell Bea. That’d be really cool actually. I like her. And I think she’ll be super supportive of you, of the two of us.”

[youngpettyqueen]

do you ever think about Garak waking up and seeing Julian in that chair, uncomfortably crammed in and slumped over asleep, and wonder how he must've felt when he realized Julian wasn't going to leave

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

[angelfic]

jason invites reader over to the wayne manor. in the night, she wakes him up because she cant go to the bathroom alone in the dark hallway

jason todd x reader

warnings — none! other than jason being sexy as usual u know the drill

a/n; thank you for the request safina!! I hope I delivered and made you yearn for sleepy jason as much as i do <3

“Psst! Jason. Jason, hey,” you whisper, gently shaking his arm. “Jay.”

No response.

“Jason,” you try again, a little louder this time, wincing when your voice echoes a little in the dead of the night in his childhood bedroom.

He grumbles, shifting to turn in your direction, eyes still closed. “What?” His voice is thick with sleep, rough but warm.

You let your eyes roam over his sleeping form and smile at the way his features have softened as he slumbers. It’s a sharp contrast from the way he entered Wayne manor, all clenched jaw and expressionless eyes. As the evening went on, he slowly began to shed the protective armour as he bantered with his siblings and held your hand for comfort. You don’t wanna wake him.

Unfortunately, the need to pee becomes agonising and you decide Jason can have a peaceful nights sleep tomorrow.

“I really have to go to the bathroom, Jay.”

Jason shifts again, curling further into his duvet. “So go, baby,” he mumbles. “Bathroom’s down the hall and to the right.”

You bite your lip. “I don’t wanna go alone. It’s scary.”

He opens his eyes at that and stares at you, clearly holding back a laugh. “You serious?”

“Yes,” you huff, crossing your arms and frowning at him. “The halls are creepy.”

Jason sighs, but sits up all the same, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re in a house full of vigilantes. If there were ghosts roaming the halls, we’d know about them. Probably.”

You glare at him. “Jason.”

He smirks sleepily, swinging his legs over the bed and standing up. “Fine, fine,” he mutters, stretching his arms up over his head. His t-shirt is a little small for him and the hems of his flannel pyjama pants don’t quite go past his ankles, evidence of him forgetting to bring something to sleep in and having to sift through his old stuff.

You laughed at him the night before, but the way his shirt is stretching across his chest and his hair is messy with sleep has you forgetting you’re about to pee yourself for a second.

“Let’s go,” he nods to the door, hand outstretched to lace your fingers together, tugging at you to get out of bed. He mistakes your temporary distracted state for apprehension and tilts his head. “Hey, come on. We can brave the big, scary hallway ghosts together.”

You sober up quickly, frowning at him, but letting him lead you out all the same.

Jason steps out into the dark hallway first, and you follow, allowing him to stand you in front of him with his hands around your waist as he walks you down.

You’re too focused on attempting to develop night vision, squinting down the hallway when Jason leans down and whispers, “Boo.”

Twisting to look up at him, you smack his arm. “Jason Todd, I swear—”

“What are you two doing up?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at another voice rumbling up from down the hall, hastily stepping back and jumping back into Jason’s chest. You clutch your chest at the sight of Dick, still looking half asleep.

Jason rolls his eyes, completely unfazed. You’re still catching your breath when the two of you reach the end of the hallway.

“Bathroom,” Jason says, lazily. “Someone was too scared to go alone.”

“Ah,” Dick says, understanding dawning on his face as he smiles politely at you, probably wanting to laugh. Unlike a certain boyfriend of yours, he’s gentlemanly enough not to make fun. Gesturing to the door, he steps back. “Ladies first.”

“Thank you, Dick.” You smile gratefully at him, entering the bathroom, but not before throwing another glare in Jason’s direction as you shut the door.

He shakes his head, unable to stop himself laughing this time as he dutifully moves to stand guard in front of the door.

Dick stays there, watching Jason with a weird look. The growing smirk on his face from watching his brother be so diligent in your protection against… absolutely nothing, has Jason’s own smile fading into suspicion.

“What?” he asks, gruffly.

Dick shrugs. “Nothing,” he replies innocently, but the way the corners of his lips are twitching makes Jason scowl.

“Shut up.”

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “MY BOYFRIEND IS GONNA KICK YOUR ASS !”

WINDBREAKER BOYS PROTECTING YOU FROM PERVS. ft. kaji ren, togame jo, umemiya hajime, sakura haruka, hayato suo, toma hiragi, kiryuu mitsuki, & kyotaro sugishita x f!reader

sfw. wc: 2.6K. oh how i’ve been wanting to write this since i finished the manga! but individual warnings are below <3

KAJI REN. referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ comments about your outfit

“My boyfriend’s real scary y’know.” Your voice falters a bit as you take another step back, hands coming up defensively. “And he’ll be here any moment.”

It’s a lie that you hope sounds convincing— because Kaji coming to save you today may be nothing more than a desperate wish of yours. How would he even find you in a place like this? You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed since you’ve started running, but you’re certain that by now, you and Kaji should have already been inside the bakery, finally getting to taste test the new fruit pastries you’d been dying to get your hands on.

It started off as just a loud whistle your direction, then led to an uncomfortable conversation about how you’re not interested— and that you have a boyfriend. One thing led to another, and somehow you’ve ended up here, out of breath from speed walking and completely lost— and to top it off, the only person near you is the one you’ve been running so desperately from.

You wish Kaji was here already.

“Oh yeah?” The man in front of you takes a step towards you, lips contorting into a sick grin when he sees your hands trembling. “I don't see him.”

Your lips tremble a bit when he reaches you, towering over you with ease. “Don’t you dare touch me.” You warn, “My boyfriend will beat your a—” you yelp as you’re suddenly pulled to the side, stumbling into someone’s chest as they pull you flush against their front.

The familiar scent of candy melts away your fear in a split second.

“Kaji!”

You can tell when you glance at him just once that he isn’t happy. His forehead is damp with sweat, and he looks disheveled, chest rising up and down with labored breaths— he must have been running around trying to find you this entire time.

Your boyfriend clicks his tongue in annoyance, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the man in front of him. “Problem?”

He rips off his headphones, letting them hang around his neck as the man feigns an apology, unapologetic eyes looming over your figure again seconds later. “But y’know man, you should be keeping a closer eye on your girl,” he points to you with a smug smile, “she was practically begging for me to say something with the way she’s dressed.”

“I wasn’t!” You protest, face burning as you tug on ren’s coat. You thought your outfit was cute— and definitely not anything crazy— you double checked. You really did. But he’s pointing at you now, rambling on about how you wanted this— and you can’t help the way tears start to blur your vision.

“Huh?” Kaji snarls, head tilting to leer at the man. The arm around your waist pulls you tighter against his chest, and you hear the angry thumping of his heart. “What'd you say?”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving now.” The man chuckles in defeat. “I was just joking. Wasn’t gonna actually do something to your girl.” he waves him off. “You should lighten up—”

He chokes when Kaji grabs a fistful of his shirt, pulling him off balance before knocking him backwards, your pursuer falling roughly onto the floor as he winces in pain. “Then get outta here already.” Kaji glares, a stark contrast to the gentle way his hand is pressing against your lower back to guide you away.

“And don’t let me catch you looking at my girl again.”

TOGAME JO. referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ you wear his jacket

Togame gives you a sleepy smile as he watches you from Miniso’s entrance, excitedly sorting through the newly restocked blind boxes. He was resting his back against the wall behind him when he caught his first glimpse of that guy.

He’s wearing a dark hoodie, head turning back to shamelessly stare your direction as he passes by slowly. It’s enough to get togame back up on his feet immediately, quickly heading your way just as the man reaches to get a feel of your thighs—

“How shameless.” Togame laughs, big hand squeezing painfully into his wrist. “Tryna bother my girl?”

In any other situation, Togame would chuckle at your obliviousness, your headphones cancelling out any noise as your eye catches the cinnamoroll section, letting out an excited gasp as you head that way. You really had no idea.

“M-my bad man.” He stutters, ripping his arm from Togame’s grasp. “Just thought she was my sister— was just gonna tap on her back to grab her attention.”

Togame raises an eyebrow at the lazy excuse, leaning down until the man takes a nervous step back, eyes darting to the side to avoid Togame’s glare. “Sister? That’s my Shishitoren jacket she has on, no?”

The man feels heavy beads of sweat roll down his face when Togame’s hands curl into clenched fists. “You mean to tell me your lil sis is from Shishitoren?”

“I said it was my bad,” he repeats, chuckling nervously. “It won’t happen again okay? I won’t bother her again.”

Togame’s hands return to his pockets. “Won’t let you off so easy next time,” his voice is low as he steps aside to let him off, “so you’d better keep your distance.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME. referred to as she/her, ‘your girl’

Umemiya instinctively perks up when he hears two voices behind him, momentarily tuning out your gushing about how cute the little plant kits at barnes and noble are.

“….She's probably taken.”

“Is that her boyfriend behind her? Think she's talking to him.”

There's a chuckle between them. “Doesn’t matter. Go tell her what you just said to me when she's alone.”

“What?” The man laughs. “Ask her if i can grab a handful of that ass?”

More laughter.

Umemiya’s jaw clenches, eyes darting back at you in a flash, and he’s relieved when he sees you’re still gushing about the flower kits— completely oblivious to the two men just beyond this aisle. He’s by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh.” You turn to press a quick kiss against his temple, smiling when he melts into your touch. “Hi, Haji. Did you find a book?”

“Nothing here.” He sighs dramatically, his embrace around your middle tightening just enough for you to barely notice. “But we can grab some of those flower kits.”

“Really?”

“Of course—”

“Hey.” A familiar voice interrupts him with a stifled laugh, followed by a tap on his shoulder. With the roughness, it’s more like a jab— but he lets that slide.

“Ah— your friend, Haji.” Your voice comes off as a mix between a question and a statement.

“Hey, my friend has something to ask your girl.”

Umemiya’s jaw clenches again, and your eyes widen a bit at the sudden change in the atmosphere. The first friend’s hand is swat off of his shoulder in a split second, Umemiya straightening back up to look back at them.

Their first thought is that he’s a lot taller than they had pictured. A lot more muscular too— and they take note of the way his muscles bulge against the fabric of his shirt. “What, you have business with her?”

They flinch at the tone.

“Ah— sorry.” The second friend stutters. “We got the wrong person.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“Ah— what happened?” Your hands delicately cup Sakura’s face, ignoring the way his cheeks instantly turn into a deep shade of scarlet. “N-nothing happened!” He weakly swats at your hand, a futile attempt to dissipate the heat spreading through the tips of his ears.

“I was only in the bathroom for five minutes.” You laugh. “How’d you manage to get into a fight so fast?”

He stiffens when your arms come to wrap around his bicep, resuming your ramble about some recipe you wanted to try tonight. Macarons…or something. He doesn’t pay much attention, because he knows whatever you end up making will be good anyway.

“—Are you listening, Sakura?”

The clueless look he gives you confirms it. “So you weren’t. I had a feeling— but it’s okay.” You giggle. “But you didn’t answer my question from earlier either. How’d you get into a fight?”

His eyebrows furrow deeply as he decides whether or not he should tell you. “They were….” he clicks his tongue angrily, “they were talking about you when you walked by.”

You can feel his muscles tense as he deepens his scowl, still trying to fight off the blush plastered across his face. “I just gave ‘em what they deserved.”

HAYATO SUO. referred to as she/her, mentions of how you’re dressed

“What a bitch. She was totally asking for it.”

I know— dressed like a whore.”

Suo stands up from the bench outside your local convenience store, hands dusting off the dirt on his pants. You had asked him to wait outside earlier because ‘you wanted to grab him a super delicious snack that he would most definitely love.’

He had a feeling the two dirty men who entered the store minutes later were bad news, so he was already on high alert before listening in.

“That whore— you mean my girlfriend?” Suo’s voice comes out calm, a stark contrast to the sickening anger and pressure he feels building up inside his chest.

“Huh—oh. Yeah.” One of them chuckles, jutting their thumb at the entrance. “That bitch inside your girl? You let her prance around with her tits hanging out for everyone to see?”

He's calm and composed as they size him up, their chins tilting up to look down at him. “She's pretty, isn't she?” and Suo fails to stifle the chuckle that escapes his lips. “Did she reject you too harshly for your liking?”

One of them balls his fists, muttering profanities under his breath as he leans closer to him. “Now how'd you know that? You should really teach that bitch some fucking manners.” He reaches forward to grab Suo by the collar, eyes blinking in confusion when he finds himself spun behind Suo seconds later, feet struggling to find their balance.

“—The fuck did you do?”

“It’s a bad habit of hers,” Suo continues. “I understand it though, not wanting to be around a pathetic thing like you.” The edges of his lips tug into a faint smile.

The other man’s eyebrows twitch, spitting empty threats as he he throws a wide swing, only to find himself reduced to his knees seconds later. “T-the fuck...” he grumbles to himself— he could have sworn he could practically see his fist connect. What happened?

“You'd be better off looking for someone to protect yourself the way I do for her.” His words are mocking as he heads towards the store’s entrance. “And— it'd be really unfortunate if i see something like this happen again.”

TOMA HIRAGI.

“H-Hiragi? What are you doing?”

Your lips are pressed in a nervous line as your hands come to shyly rest on his chest, sucking in a breath when his arms come to roughly cage you against the train’s walls, strong body towering just over yours.

“Do you…need more space?” You whisper, heart racing at the proximity. You can smell his cologne so well at this distance.

Hiragi simply shakes his head, distracted gaze shifting between you and something behind him every few seconds. “It’s okay.”

He swears his stomach isn't churning like this without good reason. It’s not just a coincidence that the same person who he had noticed eyeing you at the boba shop had gotten onto the same train. He could let it go at that, but the same man had been slowly worming his way through the crowd to get closer to the two of you. And while he’s not certain, he thought he saw the man take out his phone and try and angle it beneath you, but not before jolting and dropping his phone onto the floor when Hiragi's hands abruptly slammed against the wall beside you.

The train suddenly rocks, sliding his phone to the other side of the train, and you’re knocked off balance, face slamming against Hiragi's chest. “S-sorry!”

“It’s okay.” He gives you a smile, hand coming to cradle the back of your head and pull you closer. “You okay?”

“I’m okay...” you mumble, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Your chest is hard.”

He responds with a light chuckle. It’ll be okay like this, he thinks. He’ll protect you with his body for now, and figure out what to do with that guy later.

KIRYU MITSUKI. ‘pretty thing’

“It’s no wonder she doesn't like you,” Kiryu sighs. “You're gross.”

Your mouth is ajar as you stare at the state of the man who was harassing you only moments ago, his unconscious body resting neatly against the wall after Kiryu had dragged him there.

“Sorry you had to watch that, pretty thing.” His hand comes to gently interlace with yours. “But he didn't leave me with much of a choice, did he?”

“It’s okay.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “That was so cool of you.”

His eyes widen a bit before his lips curl into a small smile. “Oh? You think so?”

“Mhm. I don't know what would’ve happened to me if you were there...” your voice trails off a bit.

You really don't know what would have happened, because it's not like you know how to fight or anything. Getting hit on is enough to make you nervous, so a pushy guy like that was too much— you froze up as soon as he started spitting threats after you expressed your disinterest.

There’s a light squeeze around your hands, and you’re reminded of this gentle warmth that Kiryu always brings with him. “Don't worry about it.” He gives you a small smile. “I’ll just need to accompany you more often when you go out. It’s no problem.”

KYOTARO SUGISHITA.

“You’re like a bodyguard, Kyo.”

You giggle at the huff beside you. “How’d you even react that fast?”

It all happened within a second. You were walking beside him, stopped for a brief second to bend down and peer at the plushies lining the shop window, not noticing the man approaching you— his grimy fingers coming to take a peek under your skirt. Before you had even registered the feeling of the cloth moving, there was a loud crack, and the man was on the floor, groaning with his hands covering his bloodied face and a very angry Sugishita on top of him.

“He made me angry.”

Of course he would be. And if you weren’t with your boyfriend, it would be an entirely different story. You’d bring along your assortment of self defense items, ranging from pepper sprays to taser lipsticks— and you’d be a thousand times more cautious. Pay extra close attention to everything around you.

With Sugishita, however, it’s different. You think of it as being able to turn off your brain… or something like that. Whatever lets you truly relax and enjoy your time with him, and it’s always okay because your boyfriend is there to protect you. “Well, don’t be so mad, cutie.” You smile, your fingers reaching to interlace with his as he tenses at the nickname.

“Everything is okay— I’m okay. I’ll even get us smoothies to help lighten the mood.”

He lets you drag him to your favorite smoothie shop in silence— still fuming about the incident. He wonders why you’re not shaken up. Ifnhe had been one second later, that piece of shit would have lifted up your skirt. In public. His jaw clenches at the thought, angry eyes darting at any anyone who dares look your direction.

“Why’re…” his voice trails off, remembering what Umemiya said about toning down his choice of words around others. “Why’re you so happy?”

“Hmm? I’m not too worried.” You laugh. “You’re my bodyguard right? Nothing will happen if you’re here.”

part 2

[nanaslutt]

It's not a wet dream

cont: fem reader, somnophillia, pre-established consent, oral(m!r), dirty talk, Geto has sensitive balls, teasing, deep throating, overstimulation, cum eating

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You winced when Suguru's door made a loud creek as you pulled it open, slipping inside his room slowly. You turned the doorknob all the way down before pushing it back, closing the door. You were enveloped in darkness once more, save for the small orange lamp in the corner of Suguru's room. He must've been too tired or drunk to turn it off last night.

Suguru was out until almost 4 am celebrating Gojo's birthday with Nanami and a few other friends of theirs. Nanami said he would keep an eye on Geto and make sure he got home and an appropriate time, but when you heard the two men drunkenly stumbling their way through yours and Geto's apartment in the middle of the night, you surmised that Nanami had gotten pressured into drinking more than he said he was going to. 

You were almost impressed. After all, it took a lot to knock Nanami Kento out. You had to be careful making your way through the living room and into Geto's room, trying not to trip on the rug and fall to the ground, afraid of waking Nanami. 

You sighed a breath of relief when you made it to his room without making a sound. You weren't sure about Nanami, but Suguru was a heavy sleeper. He could sleep through the end and rebirth of the world. Which made your little plan perfect. 

It was a little earlier than you normally get up on weekends, but a certain dream about your long-haired boyfriend woke you up with a burning fire between your thighs. You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous though. You knew Geto had told you he was okay with this kind of thing, his exact words being, "You can do whatever you want to me pretty girl, I'm okay with anything as long as it's you." but even with that, you had made no attempts to try anything. 

You shook your head remembering his prior words from weeks ago, your face heating up at the thought. Your eyes immediately found his strong body, sprawled out on the bed. Suguru was only clad in his boxers as he lay on his back, one knee bent and leg hiked up, one arm by his side, and the other underneath his head, cradling it. 

His hair was down completely, the dark strands falling gracefully down his shoulders and on the white sheets underneath him. He looked so peaceful, handsome face completely relaxed and tipped to the side, revealing his strong jawline and the perfect strong slope of his pointed nose. 

You swallowed hard, you were starting to see the appeal in this. He was completely at your mercy, and he liked it. You released a shaky breath as you dragged your eyes across his chiseled body, completely bare for you to look at. You couldn't tell if Geto had a boner or not, you could see the outline of his impressive cock from where you stood at the end of his bed, but unless you felt it, you wouldn't know. He always was a shower. 

You bit your lip before crossing your arms over your body and grabbing along the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off of your body. Your tits laid bare into the air of the room, the bottom half of you only clad in a thin pair of black panties, basic, Suguru's favorite.

You carefully placed your hand on the end of his bed and crawled onto the sheets, going as slow as possible to not wake him so soon. If he woke up once you had his cock in your mouth, fine, but you had to have some fun with him first. His legs were spread just enough to give you the perfect spot to lie down between them. Your tummy and chest rested on his soft comforter which had been shoved down the bed, only covering half of his shins and his feet.

The thought of Geto kicking off his sheets in his sleep because of the heat made you smile. His face probably looked so grumpy and uncomfortable. 

You tentatively placed your hands down on his hip bones, rubbing your thumbs in small circles against them. Geto stayed completely still, making you release the breath you didn't even know you were holding. You decided to test your luck further. You extended your arms, rubbing up his naked torso while you rested your head against his thigh, watching your hands move over his porcelain skin.

Your fingers traced the indents of his abs all the way up to the bottom of his paks before you started slowly sliding them back down, this time caressing the side of his body, over his ribs. You noticed his cock jump behind the confines of his boxers as you touched his burning skin, making a mischievous smile grace your features.

You dragged your fingers down and down until you reached his sharp v-line. Adding a little more pressure, you traced the deep indents, resulting in another twitch of his cock. You bit your lip, dropping your eyes down to his crotch which was eye level with you. It was steadily stirring to life as you ran your fingers along the hem of his boxers, teasing him.

Suguru had the sexiest happy trail that started just below his belly button, you couldn't get enough of it. You lightly scratched your nails down the trail of hair, going past the hem of his boxers and over the material, ever so slightly grazing the head of his cock before you dragged them back up, repeating that process a few more times.

Suguru's abs tightened before relaxing, his cock throbbing in tandem. He was starting to feel it. You raised your head off of his thigh and leaned forward, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to the shaft of his dick. He wasn't fully hard, but he was getting there. 

With that, you tucked your fingers underneath the band of his boxers and started sliding the material down far enough to where his cock and balls were out. His cock twitched heavily against his thigh when you exposed it to the air, removing him from his confines. Suguru turned his head to the other side of the room, his eyebrows ruffling almost unnoticeable before his relaxed expression was back on his face.

You kept a watchful gaze on his face as you reached out to grab his twitching cock. It was stirring like it had a mind of its own, eager for relief. You wrapped your hand around the midsection of his half-hard cock and slowly stroked your hand down his shaft before going back up. A bead of pre-cum dripped out from the head, smearing on your hand as you stroked him off, easing the slide.

Suguru's abs tightened repeatedly before relaxing each time you jerked your hand up and down slowly. You paused your movements, grabbing him at his midsection before you released your thumb from him and started rubbing tight circles around his frenulum. Geto's breath hitched, his eyebrows furrowing again made you wonder if he was going to wake up, but he stayed knocked out.

"Good boy." You whispered, sliding your hand up to jerk off his sensitive tip, focusing all of your attention there. A soft grunt left your boyfriend's throat, the corner of his lip twitching with it. You couldn't help but cross your legs over one another, bringing some relief to the burning heat between your thighs. 

Geto was stirring more now, legs and abs flexing, more soft, barely there sounds leaving his throat. He wasn't going to stay asleep for much longer. Geto was now fully hard, his thick cock straining strongly agaisnt your hand as you rubbed his soft tip, making more pre-cum spill from the tip. Squelching noises rang in your ears, making your heartbeat speed up. The sound was so lewd. 

Sliding your hand down to the base of his cock, you grabbed his hip with your free hand and angled his cock slightly down to your mouth. You stuck out your tongue and let your hot breath tease his cock, making it twitch harshly before you gave it a few soft taps against your tongue, the small taste of it alone making your tastebuds erupt with the salty-sweet flavor of his cum.

Wasting no more time, you took him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around his cock. Geto's body jerked violently at the feeling of you instantly taking as much of him into your throat as you could. You bobbed your head up and down on him, using the grip you had around the base of his cock to smear your saliva onto the rest of him.

Suguru groaned when his tip hit the back of your throat, the feeling making your eyes water as you fought back a cough. You pulled off of him completely, your hand jerking him off quickly and smoothly with the added wetness as you dropped your head down to his balls. You took one of his balls into your mouth, rolling your tongue around it softly the way he always begs you to when you suck him off.

You should've guessed this would be what woke him up. Geto's bent leg straightened out as he stirred from his sleep, the dark-haired man almost immediately feeling the pounding in his head from his awful hangover. But there was something else along with that sensation, something that overwhelmed it in a positive, pleasureful way.

Geto rubbed the sleep from his eyes with one hand while the other went down to grab his cock, or at least try. He was met with the feel of hair against his hand, his fingers splaying out along the top of your head. "Oh fuuuuuck, baby?" Geto groaned, his hips thrusting shallowly into the air, fucking his dick into your hand. Geto dropped his head down to look at the scene that was unfolding below him.

There was still sleep flooding his eyes, making his vision slightly blurred but he couldn't mistake the sight of your gorgeous face, sucking on his balls while you jerked him off. "Oh baby, oh fuckk..." Geto groaned, his jaw falling open at the sight before he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

You unlatched your lips from around his sack with a wet popping sound, turning your head right away to face him with a dopey, cock drunk smile. "Good morning Sugu, how are you feeling?" You asked, not giving him a second to answer before you replaced your hand with your mouth. You took his cock into your throat with ease, your hand that was jerking him off splaying out on his pelvis around the base of his cock as you sucked him off with no hands.

"Holy fuck, oh fuck, so tighttt" Suguru groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair at the feeling of your hot mouth around him. You kept your eyes on him as you bobbed your head up and down, humming around him. The vibrations were getting sent straight to his balls, already readying to spill his seed. "Good now baby, s-so good, ohmygod so good." Suguru groaned, trying to answer your question but getting swept away by the pleasure.

"I fucking love you so much, holy shit." The man groaned in his deep, sleepy voice. You had to fight back a smile, not wanting him to feel any teeth as you sucked him off. "Keep going, s-suck my balls again baby, please." He begged. His voice was so much deeper than usual, it was so raspy and needy, it made you grind down into the bed, rubbing your clit against the inside of your thighs pressed so tightly together.

You released his cock from your mouth with a cute "ahhh-" sound before you were leaning down again to suck his balls into your mouth. Geto's eyes rolled back in his head as he released a long groan, his hand pressing you harder against them. He caught you off guard when he wrapped his hand around yours that was jerking him off, speeding up your pace.

His hand was shaky and jerky, and it had no rhythm, Suguru just needed to feel like he was doing something because he was feeling so much. He was so overwhelmed with pleasure, and so early in the morning after drinking so much the night before- you couldn't blame him for being so overstimulated and disoriented.

"Yeah baby, yeah baby, yeah baby, harder, suck 'em harder-" Geto slurred through his teeth, lips pursing around them. His hand stiffened over your own as his body went rigid, almost on the brink of his orgasm. You moaned around him, unable to keep your own pleasured noises down from how good making him feel good felt. Geto's thighs pressed together around your body, the muscles under the skin starting to tremble as his nails scratched against your scalp.

His head thrashed back and forth against the bed, his eyes squeezed tightly together, eyebrows knit with them. His back started arching ever so slightly with his impending orgasm, his groans turning into short gasps as his mouth dropped open and closed like a fish out of water.

"Don't stop pretty don't fucking stop, 'm gunna cum, c-cumming cumming!" Geto whimpered out his words, the last word being your name coming through his lips cracked and ruined before you felt the first hot rope of his cum land on the side of your face.

You moaned around him, sucking harder and squeezing his cock tightly as you worked him through his orgasm. Geto groaned as he released his seed, his hand stilling over yours which kept jerking him off, milking all the cum out of his cock. "T-thank you, baby, ohhhh fuck- thank you-" Geto groaned through his high. His balls clenched and throbbed in your mouth as he released his seed, even more so as you ran your tongue over them, encouraging him.

Geto's, and your own hand was covered in his cum, as the last few spurts of his seed had been weaker, merely dribbling out over your fingers from his tip. Once Geto was throughout done cumming, you detached from around his balls, letting them rest empty and wet against his thighs. Geto was still fighting to catch his breath, his hand on the back of your head falling to the nape of your neck as he no longer had any strength left in his body to hold you tight.

Releasing his cock, his hand falling off of yours, you wiped his cum on the bedsheets next to him. Crawling up his body, you straddled his hips, your panties undoubtedly getting soaked with his leftover cum as his softening cock pressed agaisnt your cunt. Suguru's unfocused eyes found yours, his jaw open and a pretty deep blush spread across his cheeks.

Smiling, you swiped your fingers across the cum on your face, pulling them away to look at his mess. Suguru watched you carefully, knowing exactly what you were planning to do even despite his fucked out state. You brought your fingers to his mouth, to which he eagerly accepted. He took your cum coated fingers into his mouth, his tongue licking off his own seed and swallowing greedily before he released them, letting you pull them back.

"How did that taste Sugu?" You asked teasingly, holding his chiseled cheeks with both of your hands, wiping the long stray hairs off of his face that were stuck there by his sweat. "Fucking delicious." God he was so shameless, it made your cunt throb with need. "How did I end up with such a dirty man?" You asked, fighting back a laugh as you shook his limp head back and forth, a dopey smile on his lips.

"You love how nasty I am, get's 'ur pussy all wet," Suguru said, his words slurred together and ridden with sleep. "Damn right it does," you answered, leaning in to kiss him softly against his lips before you pulled away, sitting up on him.

You placed your hands on his chest, letting your cunt rest firmer against his spent cock, an action that made him groan deep in his throat. "You gonna help me out too? Gonna let me sit on your face for waking you up so nice?" You whispered, teasing the skin of his pecs with your nails. 

Suguru licked his lips and tipped his head to the side, his hands finding purchase on your thighs before he gave them a squeeze, his eyes squinting as he smiled. "Of course princess, come up here 'n give me a taste." 

[dawneternal]

now my head's splitting at the seams

✴︎ in the labyrinth of my pain, would you find me?

✴︎ Azriel x Valkyrie reader, platonic Cassian x reader

✴︎ Summary: you miss a few days of training, down with a bad migraine. It turns out Cassian has a few misconceptions about your condition and, possibly, about pain itself.

✴︎ Warnings: mentions of nausea and vomiting (no descriptions), pain, toxic positivity and ableism, internalized ableism, Cassian's a jerk in the first half. Also I'm so sorry for the tense changing back and forth 💀 I would definitely not call this one a masterpiece

✴︎ Word Count: 3.4k

AO3 Link / Writing Masterlist

✴︎ Notes: somehow writing out my feelings about having a migraine turned into something pretentious about pain and ableism. I think a lot about John Green's "pain is the opposite of language" and how much that's changed my perception of pain

Also listen I love Cassian and I have no problems with him but I had to pick someone to take my feelings out on I'm sorry 💛 also just want to acknowledge that everyone experiences migraines differently and it's not a topic I'm an expert on so I'm sorry if you don't feel well represented by this.

Tbh I could write several essays about the way pain and disability are handled in the acotar books but that's for another time.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and twist your knuckle into the pressure point at the base of your palm, chasing the momentary relief it'll give you from your nausea. It works for a minute, and you're considering making your way to the bathroom before another wave hits you when your bedroom door flies open.

"You're late," Cassian's voice bellows through the room and he doesn't see you wince. He strides into the room, footsteps booming across the floorboards, and he's left the door open behind him, letting a traitorous amount of light into your dark room. What good were black out curtains if your darkness was going to be invaded like this anyways?

"Oh my gods you've got to talk quieter," You curl tighter around yourself, head clutched in your hands.

"So you're hungover?" He stops near your bed, arms crossed as he towers over you.

"No, I have a migraine."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

You squint up at him, scowling, swallowing every bad word threatening to spill off your tongue. Though maybe he deserves it for coming into your room without asking.

"Please leave," You say quietly, all the venom you could usually imbue into your voice completely swallowed by your current condition.

"You've missed three days of training." He says by way of answering, definitely not following your request to lower his volume. "You can't coddle yourself like this."

His words punch the air from your lungs. Coddle? Something terrible is rising in your gut, along with the desperate thought that you can't deal with this right now.

"I'm not - this isn't - I don't think you understand how much it hurts." You scramble for words, cheeks heated from pain and anger.

"You've gotta push through it," He says, no hint of sympathy.

"Cassian please."

"I'm not leaving until you agree to come with me."

You don't have time to respond before you're running to the bathroom and throwing up whatever you'd managed to keep down last night, head throbbing with every movement.

Breathing hard, you lean back from the toilet and clutch your head in your hands. The silence rings in your ears and you aren't sure if Cassian is still there or if he finally took mercy on you and left, until his voice makes it's way to you, with just a hint of remorse in it -

"I'd better see you up there."

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Cassian did not see you at training that morning, and you're assuming you've bruised his ego because the next day he doubles down.

The thing is, Rhysand knew of your condition. The other priestesses knew. It's only Cassian being out of the loop and if he understood what a migraine felt like, you're certain he wouldn't be dragging you up there. You were used to dealing with people who didn't understand, had worked hard to learn how to give yourself kindness no matter what other people said. But it's like he knew exactly what things to say, what buttons to press to undo all of that progress.

It was like he'd pulled off your armor, piece by piece, leaving you cold and exposed. Going back to that world where weakness was your given name and it hurt worse than stepping into the ring and fighting the pain. If you could prove him wrong, just make it through a couple of hours, you could return to your sanctuary of darkness. And at least then, you wouldn't hate yourself on top of everything else.

So you followed him up to the training ring, struggling to open your eyes all the way in the morning light, hunched over to make the pain down your shoulders and neck just a bit more bearable. You sway on your feet, but Cassian either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

When he moves aside, revealing your small, huddled frame trailing beside him, Gwyn gasps.

"Cassian!" She cries, her tone scathing, and the hint of smug triumph slips from his face. It disappears completely as Gwyn rushes to your side, folding you into her arms to block your eyes from the light. You groan into her shoulder and go limp in her arms, grateful for the support.

Azriel stands to the side, watching with narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest like Cassian's, but there is no determination or judgment in his posture or expression. There's angry, crackling flames as he watches the redheaded Valkyrie thread her fingers through your hair and murmur soft comfort.

"She missed training all this week," Cassian says, but he's not barking any more. He's feeling a little bit small underneath the glares that pin him where he stands.

"Yeah, we know," Gwyn says, and it's the closest she's gotten to snapping at him in the whole time they've known each other. She turns to you and her eyes soften. "Let's get you back to bed, love."

"No," You murmur, guilt and shame bringing your resolve to the surface once more. You gently push her away to stand on your own, raising your squinted eyes to meet Cassian's. "I can do it. I'll be fine."

She watches you take shaky steps to the nearest mat and begin stretching, body obviously stiff from a few days in bed. You're conscious of all the eyes on you, far too sympathetic for your liking. This is exactly what you hated.

"Are we starting or not?" You let out a stiff laugh, too aware that your words are lightly slurred. That is absolutely not helping the hangover accusations.

The other priestesses shuffle to get into place, bumping into each other as they move to find their positions. There was still a horrible silence, crackling with fierce anger, all rippling in Cassian's direction. He halfheartedly called a few orders, visibly uncomfortable with the energy in the ring.

And you tried. You tried hard. To move your body through the stretches like normal. But your muscles protested every move, threatening to lock back up, sending stabs of pain through your skull. It didn't take long for the nausea to take over, forcing you to the edge of the ring, doubled over and dry heaving.

"This is ridiculous," Gwyn scoffs before she's at your side again. "You're going to back to bed."

"I will not be weak," You growl at her, panting as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "I am not lazy."

Gwyn's head snaps around to find Cassian, mouth dropped open in fury as she silently dares him to confirm that he may have suggested weakness to you.

"You're not and you know it," She says softly, hauling you up and leading you away from the training ring. “Don't do that to yourself.”

Cassian is feeling like he's surrounded by wolves, all the glares that are being sent his way. He understands by now that he's messed up, and in front of a group that may not be easily inclined to forgive him. He's sure every single one of them has experienced the disbelief that he foolishly shoved your way. For their pain, or for anything else.

He thought you would snap back to your normal self after a bit of warming up, shake off your symptoms with a bit of movement and sunshine. You were strong enough to, if you wanted to. He'd seen it before. He thought you just didn't want to.

A small, firm hand lands on his arm and he finds himself looking down at Nesta. There's sympathy in her expression, but her eyes twinkle with the threat of a nasty bite if he dares to say anything stupid.

"She gets them after particularly bad flashbacks," Nesta says, "Or sometimes they're just random. Madja says there's no fix for the pain but darkness and sleep."

Cassian's stomach twists so terribly he thinks he might puke, too. In the midst of attempting to instill resilience, he's understanding that he knows nothing of this kind of pain. This is something different, something that cannot be conquered in the same way as emotional pain, as every day aches and injuries. You are a soldier in a battle he has no strategy for.

He may understand the concept of emotional resilience, of getting back up and into the training ring when you don't want to. But this is different.

The final blow, the thing that makes him want to cower and hide, is meeting his brother's eyes. Seeing the fire there transports him back in time, sending flashes of a smaller Azriel pushing himself too hard, determined to show the world that he'd never be less because of the damage to his hands. Fighting against words far too similar to the ones his own brother had spouted to you this morning, desperate to become strong enough that no one would ever doubt his pain and live.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

It was not a surprise that Cassian found himself in Rhysand's office later, confessing how thoroughly he'd fucked up, desperate for a little direction in how to fix this mess.

"It has to be their choice," Rhysand is saying, eyes meeting Cassian's over his glass.

Cassian's mouth opens and closes as he tries to conjure a response. He knows that. Of course he knows that. But apparently, his brain had not wrapped around how far that concept might go.

Cassian let out a grunt as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed. Rhysand knew he didn't have to push any further, he recognized the conflict in his brother's eyes. So he sat with him, quiet, while he processed.

"Do you want to know what it feels like?" He broke the since after a while, as the idea came to him.

"What?" Cassian blinked, startled from his thoughts.

"A migraine," Rhys explained, "Do you want to know what it feels like?"

Cassian frowned, studying his brother's expression for anything resembling amusement, but there was none. So he nods.

Not even a full second later, his skull is attacked with throbbing pain, deep in the base of his neck. He hadn't even noticed the fae lights before, but now they overwhelm him, causing a dull pain to surface behind his eyes. Nausea curled up his throat, threatening ruthlessly.

"Oh gods," He leaned forward and clutched his head in his hands, finding that his limbs trembled under his own weight.

"Do you push yourself when you feel like this?" Rhysand asked softly, not taunting. Prompting.

"I don't really ever feel like this," Cassian grumbled out.

"Hm," Rhysand mused, his brows drawing together. He'd experienced episodes like these often, under the mountain. He knew that Azriel struggled with them through his teenage years, like his brain still struggled to process his senses outside of a dark cell.

Deep in thought, he only remembered to ease up on Cassian's mind when his brother whimpered.

"Some say pain cannot truly be described with language," Rhys says, gaze somewhere else as Cassian gulps down air. "And that your pain is one of the few things that is truly yours, that you can never share. Even if you manage to describe it, it will never be felt by anyone else."

"I thought she was just hungover," Cassian says, but he's not defending himself. Rhysand knows.

"What if she was, though?" He tilts his head to the side, watching his brother carefully.

And that is the thing that had begun to unfurl within Cassian as he stood surrounded by the priestesses he'd wronged. He understood that having true control of your body meant that dictating how pain is handled had to be yours, too. He understood that pushing someone to deal with pain in his own way was a violation in and of itself. He had stepped into the world that you had carefully balanced and re-built around your condition and dared to tell you that you may have done it wrong.

"Will she get better?" He asks, thinking of the agony he'd just experienced for a few short minutes. The same one that you'd been experiencing for three days, now.

"It's hard to say," Rhysand shrugs, "Madja says she will likely experience these off and on for the rest of her life, but she may have some periods of remission."

He tilts his head at his brother again, "You know that a majority of the priestesses have an invisible disability of similar kinds, right? They won't get better. They will be in pain every day until they die."

Rhysand sighs, thinking of the hundreds - possibly thousands - of tins of salve that Azriel has gone through, numbing the pain of his nerve damage. Trembling hands hidden in black gloves, tucked into his body and away from the world. And that is the reason he's bothering telling Cassian of any of this. Otherwise, he might let him figure it out on his own.

"But the healers-" Cassian begins.

"Are there to help them cope with their emotional pain and trauma," Rhysand nods, "But some of them, a lot of them, were disabled as a result of what they went through and will never get better. Like Clotho.”

Oh.

It clicks in Cassian's mind, then. Who else Rhys meant. Who else Cassian had insulted. He had never barged into Azriel's room, insisting that he still train even when he could not flex his fingers without wincing, without trembling too hard to hold a glass of water. But he'd done it to you, in front of him. And that pinned his disbelief on Azriel all the same.

Azriel's pain, your pain, were enemies that neither of you could defeat. And here he was, shoving a sword into your hands, and insisting that you try.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

A soft knock sounds against your door, so quiet you almost don't hear it. You stare at it, wondering if you should pretend that you didn't. But then the knob turns slowly and it opens just a crack, and a soft voice is saying into the darkness,

"Hey, it's Azriel. Can I come in?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch his shadows dancing back and forth through the thin wedge of light he's letting in.

"Sure," You say, moving quickly to smooth your rumpled clothes and tangled hair before he steps in. You're not exactly sure what he thinks of you after this morning.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. His eyes seem to glow in the darkness, an amber-honey color, and somehow you can still see his shadows, like they're even darker than your room with no light.

"I just wanted to check on you," He says, crouching down beside your bed so you don't have to sit up.

"I'm okay," You say, still getting over the surprise of the Shadowsinger in your space. It's true, though, you suppose. You're used to all of your other symptoms by now, and your heart hurts worse than your head.

"He's an idiot sometimes," Azriel says, basically spits. A smile begins to spread on your face so he continues, “Like, sometimes he's just an asshole, straight up. But this time, believe it or not, I think he actually meant well and was just an idiot.”

“I know,” You give him a sad smile and all of the anger melts from his face.

“I think he went to buy flowers if that makes you feel any better,” He sighs. You know he's just as mad at Cassian as you are, maybe even more mad. But he still can't help vouching for him. It's definitely going to take more than flowers to forgive him, but it's a good start. You also appreciate that Azriel has bothered to warn you ahead of time, in case you wanted to avoid Cassian's apology.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, so quietly. And you wonder who else has earned this tenderness from him.

“It's not too bad right now,” you say truthfully, though you know that sitting up or going outside might be pushing your luck.

“Still hurts?”

“Yeah. Still hurts.”

He nods. “I can try something that helps me, sometimes.”

You search his eyes for a moment, then nod.

“Can I touch your face?” He asks, almost a whisper.

Your heart leaps into your throat and you fight to keep your face neutral as you nod again, no idea what he's planning to do with you.

Slowly, leaving enough time for you to stop him, he reaches out. He's not wearing gloves, like usual, and in the dark you can just barely make out the uneven silhouette of his dimpled, scarred hands.

His fingers land gently on your forehead, and he presses his thumb between your brows. Gently at first, and then harder, circling a tender point under your skin. It makes the pain in your head sharper, and you let out a hiss.

“I know,” He says, “Bear with me a minute.”

You close your eyes, biting back a whimper, but after a moment the pain begins to ease. He keeps going for a few minutes and you feel your whole body relax, pain free for the first time in days.

You don't realize how much you've leaned into his touch until he gently pulls away and you find your head falling forward with him.

“What is that?” You open your eyes and blink at him.

“A pressure point,” He grins, and it almost looks like he's blushing.

“That's magical,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, and then, “you can sit on the bed if you want.”

Azriel smiles and straightens, and you move your pillow to the side to make space for him. He slides off his boots and sits on the bed next to you, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. You place your pillow next to his lap and settle back into it.

“Thank you,” You say, your body feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Of course,” he says.

A silence settles, but it's not uncomfortable. There's something in it that you understand. He's just keeping you company. Here to sit with you in your pain.

It's easy to relax in his presence, between his calm aura and the pain relief he's offered you. And you find yourself spilling the question that's been circling though your mind since this morning.

“What if I can't fight, someday? What if I can't be a Valkyrie anymore?”

Azriel stills beside you. It's a long moment before he says anything. You're tense beside him, and it makes you flinch when he brings his hand so gently to rest on your head. Not moving, just resting.

“First,” He says, in the same soft voice, “You'll always be a Valkyrie. Because you cut the ribbon. Because you sisters will never let you go. And because I know for a fact that the Valkyries did not strip their warriors of their title if they became disabled by an illness or an injury.”

“Really?” You breathe.

“Mhm,” He hums in affirmation. You forget sometimes that he knows the Valkyries from more than history books.

“And second,” His voice drops lower, like he's sharing a secret with you. His hand moves, fingers slipping gingerly through your hair. And it makes you realize that he came here with his hands uncovered as an offer of solidarity. Combing his scarred fingers through your hair, he is offering you vulnerability, like recompense for what you bared this morning. A trade. A truce.

“If you cannot fight,” He continues, “Then you will show the world that a formidable woman can be made from more than fighting skills. You will still be - will always be - something incredible.”

Tears prickle at your eyes, form a lump in your throat. You reach up to grasp his hand, the only thank you that you can manage in the moment, and he lets you.

There's another silence, as he holds your hand in the dark.

“Who helps you?” You ask, turning to look up at him. He watches your eyebrows knit together, so serious, and he swallows a smile.

“What do you mean?” He says.

You bring one finger up to tap the space between his own eyebrows.

“With your pain? Who helps you like you helped me?”

“Um,” He shrugs, “Sometimes Rhys if he has time. Otherwise, no one.”

That's what you thought, but it still makes your heart twist in your chest. It takes a deep breath before you have the courage to say the next words out loud.

“You should tell me next time you're in pain. And I'll help.”

Azriel stares back at you, something bewildered in his eyes. Because he sees your suggestion for what it is. The same thing he offered you. A trade. A truce.

A beginning.

“Yes,” He whispers into the dark, and his hand closes around yours. “I will.”

[hyeinette]

☘︎ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏─────𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖻𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗌 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋.

𝗳!𝗿 ⠀⠀🗝️ ⠀⠀𝑓. est rl kisses fluff psh drabble ─── 11OO >ᴗ< 𓈒 𓈒 亲

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝑙𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑦 ⠀⠀⠀୨୧ ⠀⠀⠀𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀⠀〝⠀ 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄

the air was warm. everything felt warm to sunghoon right now, really. his head, his body, his heart… well, the last one couldn’t really be blamed on the sweltering fever that currently had him bedridden. it was because you were here, in his kitchen, making him chicken soup. the thought that you came for him made him smile despite himself.

then, as if his throbbing forehead had pulled him away from his blissful thoughts of you, sunghoon groaned, pressing the heel of his hand against his blazing skin. the sound of his pained voice made you put down the ladle and peek over your shoulder, glancing at sunghoon, who looked like a cat, sprawled over the couch on his stomach, a sight that made you giggle.

sunghoon thrashed around with discomfort, hoping that if he acted pathetic enough, you’d hurry it up. “babyyy.”

somehow, it seemed to work, because next thing he knew, the floral smell of your lavender perfume wafted through the air and into his (very congested) nostrils. sunghoon abruptly lifted his head towards the source of the scent, feeling straight away relieved at the sight of you holding a soup bowl, looking unfairly pretty under the sun’s eventide glow.

sunghoon huffed and sat up, or tried to; the second he pushed himself off the couch, he winced. he couldn’t even complain before you were by his side, propping him up on one too many pillows. the cool, gentleness of your fingers on his shoulder was a nice contrast, and he found himself leaning towards your arms.

“you’re burning up,” you murmured worriedly.

sunghoon lifted his head to meet your concerned eyes. his chest tightened at the way your eyebrows knitted together and your lashes fluttered as your gaze travelled his reddened face.

“i’m fine, really.” both of you knew he was lying.

something about being cared for made sunghoon feel oddly guilty, like he didn’t deserve your ministrations.

“hoon, you are not fine. don’t be stubborn.” you scolded in the softest way you could.

he wanted to protest, to tell you he was fine, that all he needed was—

“all i need is a kiss from you,” he rasped.

you rolled your eyes, but still had to bite the insides of your cheek to stop a smile from appearing. unfortunately, the blush gave you away, making sunghoon chuckle (which quickly turned into a cough.)

“you sound delirious,” you teased, pushing a few strands of dark hair away from sunghoon’s damp skin.

finally, sunghoon relented, falling into the couch while watching you pick up the bowl of soup and sit as close as possible without being on top of him.

you blew on the soup and then nudged his lips with it, as if daring him to refuse. sunghoon had a certain glint in his eyes, like he wanted to be difficult, just so he could see that small blush creep up your neck and hear you reprimand him. but he resisted, for your sake.

he opened his mouth and the soup soothed the scratch in his throat quickly.

“there,” you smiled, satisfied. “not so bad, hm?”

all sunghoon could manage was a hum in response. he wanted to tell you that it wasn’t bad at all, but he didn’t trust his voice currently; it would probably sound like a dying frog, or something, and you’d probably laugh at him.

this pattern continued for a while: you feeding sunghoon, him holding back from kissing you senseless every five seconds. after he’d managed around half the bowl, you set it aside and picked up a thermometer, deciding to check his temperature.

you furrowed your brows and fumbled with the instrument. after finally getting it to work, you turned back to sunghoon, whose eyes haven’t left you. you moved closer to him, to the point that you were hovering over his body.

sunghoon’s half-lidded eyes met your wide ones, which made not only your breath but your heart hitch, as well.

“yn,” sunghoon muttered earnestly, placing his hands on your waist in an almost tentative manner. before he could overthink it, he found that his arms were completely enveloping your torso and pulling you down into you. you gasped, the thermometer slipping as your hands found purchase on his shoulders.

his head rested against your stomach, and the moment your warmth met his skin, he felt himself being grounded by just the feel of you.

“yeah?”

“i hate being sick.” his voice was muffled but truthful.

you giggled, running your hands through his hair and twirling it through your fingers, for it was very soft. “i know, love. at least you’re a very cute sick person?”

sunghoon grumbled, the sensation vibrating through your chest. despite feeling embarrassed, sunghoon didn’t let go, not when you in his arms felt like the only right thing in the world at this moment.

“how can you say that when i’m dying here…” he complained, pulling you completely onto his lap now, so that you were sitting sideways facing him.

“you’re not dying,” you placed a kiss against his forehead and playfully booped his nose, making him scrunch it and then push your hand away, only to entwine his fingers with yours a moment later. “you’re dramatic, is all.”

sunghoon hesitantly flickered his gaze to your lips and swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close you were to him. he felt himself burning up all over again, though this time not because of the fever.

“i like when you take care of me,” he admitted, making you tense for a second, before quickly relaxing.

“it’s a good thing i like taking care of you, then.” you smiled, tilting his head up and gently placing your forehead on his.

sunghoon shut his eyes for just a minute, wanting to revel in your tender embrace forever. before he could think, he felt your soft lips against his, smiling.

after a few seconds, you pulled away, giggling at the way his lips chased yours just slightly.

“you should sleep now. i’ll be here when you wake up.” you promised, slipping out his grasp slowly.

content with your words, sunghoon let his body slip into the couch while you threw a warm blanket over him.

sunghoon felt his breathing even out as he slowly fell asleep, with the only thing on his mind being you. with a smile on his face, he decided that if being sick meant he’d have your undivided attention, he didn’t mind it so much.

𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝓈𝗍. @bywons @sugarikiz

[im4rmy]

when he hurts you during sex by accident - OT7 (idol AU)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Mark　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• after growing up with only men, he's still trying to size down his strenght when he's around you, but when he's lost in the pleasure of pounding into you chasing his climax... he loses that last thread of control. and that's a little too much for you.

• you squeeze his shoulders to get his attention but he doesn't seem to notice. "mark- wait, slow down please"

• nothing. but when he thrusts again roughly, hurting you, you scream and squirm away from him, finally getting his attention.

• "what's wrong baby?" "you were hurting me- ugh" you groan clutching your lower belly.

• mark widens his eyes. "w-what? oh my god, i'm sorry! are you okay baby?"

• you take a deep breath and relax your legs, feeling the ache already fading. you give him a little smile and get closer to him again, but his face and body are completely shutted down.

• "i'm so sorry... it's- are you okay?" "yeah, it's nothing. don't worry, okay?"

• he keeps on apologizing again and again until you snort and decide that the night it's over

• he feels so guilty that he won't touch you again for almost 2 weeks

• "i just- i fear i will hurt you again" "that was an accident, baby. i trust you"

• let's say that the sex with him will be VERY gentle and careful for the next two months or so.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Renjun　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• he's not rough in bed but he's freaky: he likes to tie you up (and to be tied up but this is not the case).

• but tonight he seems to be a little too lost in the moment to notice that you arching your back that way is not from pleasure but pain: you're lying on your belly with your hands handcuffed behind you while a whiny renjun pounds into you from the back.

• and when you feel like your back is about to break in half, you decide that is the right time to use your safe word. "APPLE PIE!"

• renjun instantly stops his movements and takes a breath to regain awareness of his surroundings and when you try to relax your back squinting in pain, he comes out of you gently. "are you okay baby?"

• "no please- u-untie me"

• you don't need to say anything else: your hands are free in no time and you collapse on the bed with a whine, face buried in the pillow.

• "talk to me pretty, is it your back?" you nod against the pillow and you feel his warm hands on you, softly massaging you.

• you breathe a few times relaxing your whole body, then you turn around to lay on your back now. you meet his worried eyes and offer him a little smile "i'm okay now"

• "are you sure? we can stop-" "nono, it's okay, really"

• you lift a little to kiss him and he reclutantly melts into your warmth again. he's still a little hesitant but it doesn't last long: you two comunicate a lot and you have a safe word for a reason. it's not the first time one of you isn't comfortable in a certain sexual activity since you both love to experiment new things. you say the safe word, the other stops and then you can continue your love making without overthinking it.

• that's why now renjun is thrusting in you again, slowly and deeply, passionately but gently, kissing you and taking care of you in his embrace. you smile at him and anything else doesn't exist anymore.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jeno　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• you love sex with jeno. you absolutely LOVE it: he's hot af, he knows what he's doing, he's a pro at using his hands and mouth. he isn't even that rough but he's strong and sometimes he doesn't notice if he's gripping your sides or your wirsts with too much strenght. let's be honest, you don't notice either in the moment.

• in the morning, however, you feel the skin on your hips BURNING. and when you look in the mirror and see dark bruises here and there... you know that jeno can't see these or he'll never touch you again. (you can't let that happen omg)

• but when you can't seem to mask the winces every time you twist your body, he knows something is wrong. he ignores your protests and lift your hoodie, revealing your secret.

• "what the fuck happened??" he looks at you worried and when you can't even look at him nor answer- he realizes it's his fault.

• "oh my god baby- did i do that? i'm so sorry, why didn't you tell me i was hurting you?!" "because you weren't! i swear it didn't hurt till this morning"

• he looks at you with mortified puppy eyes and hugs you tight. "i'm so sorry baby. does it hurt a lot?"

• you giggle and enjoy his cuddles. "no it's okay, really. it'll fade quickly, don't overthink it okay?" "mhmh"

• you stayed cuddled up like that for a while, he even skipped his gym session with jaemin just to stay with you and do absolutely nothing but spoil you with endless cuddles.

• the next night he makes up to you eating you out like never before.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Haechan　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• sex with him is messy and loud and whiny. so it's understandable that he doesn't notice immediately when your pleasure moans turn into pain ones.

• when he angles himself wrong and thrust in you roughly, you choke out a cry and flinch, but he thrusts in you again making you scream.

• he finally looks at you sensing that something is wrong and he widens his eyes seeing your hurt expression. he's out of you in a second.

• "are you okay?" "fuck- ow"

• you hold your legs to your chest to ease the pain and take some deep breaths.

• "y/n you're scaring me, say something" "i'm okay, i'm okay" "can i take a look?"

• his soft and gentle voice and his warm hand caressing your knee are enough to make you relax. you nod and let him spread your legs.

• "you're not bleeding sweetie. what if i prepare a hot bath and we can cuddle until it gets cold and then i massage your whole body with my lotion and then i cuddle you until you fall asleep in my arms?"

• you giggle at him, locking your arms around his neck letting him lift you up and bring you to the bathroom. "why i have the feeling that you're going to enjoy this more than me?"

• "impossible! i'm using my good and expensive lotion for you!" "and rubbing it on all of my naked body is not worth the waste?" "it'll be SO worth it omg"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jaemin　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• jaemin is a HUGE... anal lover. you have to be honest: you don't enjoy it as much as him but he loves it so every now and then you give in, despite the initial discomfort you know you'll feel.

• but today you seem to not be able to overcome the stiffness, not when you're pressed against your door, completely naked, with your buff boyfriend thrusting in and out of you from the back holding your breasts like his life depends on it. that would be the hottest thing you two did in a while (and you two do a lot of steamy sex sessions so-) if you could at least relax just a little...

• "wait jaem- please stop" "w-what?" "i-it hurts- please"

• jaemin stops his movements and release the pressure on your body. "are you okay?"

• you collapse back against his body. "i'm sorry baby- i'm sorry i can't" "what's wrong princess?" "i don't like it- it hurts"

• he starts to caress your belly leaving sweet kisses on your shoulder. "i'm sorry... was i too rough?" "no it's just- i can't relax tonight"

• you can FEEL his smirk against your skin. "mhhh my girl wants to relax? i know a thing or two that will do the work"

• in less than thirty seconds your discomfort is well forgotten and replaced by the pure bliss of his head buried deep between your thighs. a win is a win.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Chenle　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• it cannot happen. during sex, chenle is entirely focused on you. he can't lose himself enough to not notice if he's hurting you.

• his every move is oriented towards YOUR pleasure so it's hard to believe he would hurt you even by accident.

• the worst it can happen is him doing something you don't really enjoy.

• "oh you don't like this? noted. and what if i do it like this instead- yeahhh that's my girl c'mon"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jisung　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• jisung is not rough or wild in bed, at all. but- he's big. you're the experienced and freaky one in bed so you can play and tease him all you want masking it as foreplay but honestly- you do all of that to make sure that you're wet enough to take him without accidents (and of course you enjoy the foreplay).

• but today jisung is tipsy from wine and he seems to feel like taking control. you don't mind it, he's hot af and you're really down bad for the clumsy and awkward boy.

• so when he eagerly undresses you and BOLDLY licks and kisses your breasts you're on cloud nine, but when he goes straight between your thighs and you feel him against your core- you flinch and widen your eyes.

• "wait ji- SHIT"

• he enters in you (or at least he tries to) but you're not lubrificated enough. you curse squirming away from him, who is looking at you confused as fuck.

• you get on your feet to ease the pain and shot him a glare. "are you insane? you can't do that straight away! ouch"

• you moan in discomfort and take a few steps around his room. you're not angry at him, of course, so you take a deep breath to calm your scared heart.

• "did i- did i really hurt you?"

• you look at him and your heart melts in your lungs: he's on his knees on the bed, very naked, cheeks flushed and eyes popping out. you sigh and go back to the bed, sitting beside him. "baby, you're too big to just slide in"

• "t-too big?" "yes baby" "so i hurt you every time we-" "no! make love to you is my favourite thing in the world. but i have to make sure that i'm ready to take you. you understand?"

• jisung keeps looking at you with puppy eyes. then his gaze goes down, directly between your bare legs. he wouldn't be able to do that without alcohol in his system. he faintly nods. "i understand. i should touch you first"

• you blink a few times and try to answer but you feel his fingers on your clit and your words die in your throat. you feel his unexperienced but effective movements and relax instantly.

• "is this working?" you laugh giving him a kiss. "yes, my good boy"

• (he came right in that moment)

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

other OT7 chapters:

your contact names in each other's phone

his favourite part of your body

when he hurts you during sex by accident ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you're here!

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Rocking Chair - A Joel Miller Drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: E, unprotected p in v, slightest of breeding kinks?, idk y'all I just went feral here. Word Count: 2156 a/n: Happy TLOU Sunday! I genuinely blacked out while writing half of this in some kind of NyQuil induced haze! Enjoy!

Something is bothering him.

You clocked it the second you walked over the threshold of his brother's home. Actually, you knew something was up long before that, when he kept trying to make excuses as to why you and Ellie should go and he should stay home, despite the fact that it was his brother. Eventually, you convinced him to follow you down the street, Ellie chattering excitedly about the prospect of having a baby in the family while Joel dragged his feet.

His mood only worsened as the evening went on, following the trend of distance he'd been following since the baby arrived, a pattern that made you uneasy. Tonight, it was difficult to tell if it was the result of the mirage of questioning from the handful of close friends Tommy and Maria had invited over to meet their new son or because of whatever was lurking in the depths of his mind, but you kept trying to pinpoint it. You could only assume that it was some combination of both, a hypothesis only strengthened by the look of disappointment in the younger Miller brother's eyes when his sibling politely declined the opportunity to hold his nephew.

You're next to Ellie on the couch, the newest resident of Jackson tucked into your arms, when you meet his eyes from across the room for what feels like the thousandth time since you arrived. He's leaning against the door to the kitchen and you can see the discomfort in his posture and the way his shoulders tense further as yet another person approaches to congratulate him as though he was the new father and not his brother.

"Can I hold him?" Ellie asks suddenly, pulling your attention back to your side of the room. You turn to find her bright eyes looking down at the sleeping child, and it's impossible to stop the spread of warmth through your chest at the teen's eagerness. After a quick glance at Maria for permission, you gently pass the bundle over to Ellie, showing her how to properly cradle his head.

Joel's still watching when you turn back to the kitchen, his gaze securely set on the way Ellie is beaming as she holds the newborn. There's something hovering beneath the surface of his dark gaze, the root of whatever has truly been bothering him, and you feel certain you've almost worked it out when Ellie elbows you.

"He's waking up! What do I do?!"

"Just keep holding him, it'll be okay," you reassure her, although when the crying starts a moment later you can't help but join in the laughter filling the room as Ellie quickly hands the baby back to his mother. She breathes a sigh of relief and flops back on the couch the second he's out of her arms, and you give her a pat on the shoulder before you naturally seek out Joel once more, only to find him gone.

You don't see him again until the gathering winds down. He's eager to get home, and soon he's resuming his vigil of silence on the walk back down the street. He's behind you, always behind you, his shoulders still set in the same rigid formation they've been in all night, and you walk a few feet ahead with Ellie, doing your best to answer her questions about when the baby will start talking or walking and whether you think he'll look more like Tommy or Maria when he gets older.

The delicate balance that has been hanging between the three of you all evening holds steady until you're back through your own door, when three sets of eyes land on the rocking chair that still sits nearby, the silence soon enveloping you all.

"I thought you were going to bring that for Tommy and Maria?" Ellie asks, breaking the tension in a way that has you wincing, even if she's right. The chair still smells of fresh lumber, the smooth edges molded by Joel's hands in the late hours of the night when he couldn't sleep, and it's still sitting in your living room.

"Didn't he want it?" she continues, earning her an elbow to the ribs courtesy of your right arm. Joel grumbles something behind you as Ellie winces, and you're already silently begging her not to push it further. She must catch the look you give her because a moment later she's heading upstairs with a heavy sigh, the door of her room closing with a soft click.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" you inquire firmly once you're alone, arms crossing over your chest as you watch Joel move into the kitchen.

He dismisses you with a shake of his head and a muttered "nothin's wrong," but the way he stands, unmoving as he stares at the sparse contents of the fridge, tells you otherwise.

"No, something is bothering you, so do you wanna start with why you've been distant all week or would you rather discuss the way you tried to stay as far away as possible from your new nephew tonight?"

It's easy to see the way he tenses when you finish your questioning. You've known him long enough to recognize the subtle straightening of his spine whenever you hit a little too close to the mark and the way he avoids eye contact when he turns back in your direction, a signal that you have indeed gotten under his skin. It's in the familiar quiet that descends upon the kitchen as you wait for him to speak.

Only, unlike the clockwork routine you expect to follow, the one that usually has him letting down a few of his walls for you and you alone, you instead find yourself hauled against his body like a man possessed. When his grasp trails to your thighs, it's mostly instinct that has you jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist in a practiced motion.

He's pinning you against the counter within seconds.

"Joel," you mumble, trying to sound stern even as his lips trail along your jawline, down your neck, and across the expanse of your chest, trailing lower until he's found where you're wet and wanting. You try to get him to look at you, hands raking through the hair he's refused to cut as of late, hopeful that his gaze will tell you something about the way you can feel him avoiding whatever it is that's on his mind. A hint as to why he's using you to forget instead of working through the emotions that are obviously controlling his every move.

But when your eyes meet his again, you only see the feral haze of lust, and you can do nothing but give in when he's pressing his nose against the damp spot between your thighs, leaving you thankful for the warm summer air that made you choose one of the few dresses in your closet as your attire for the evening.

He's slipped your panties from your legs in record time, leaving you squirming atop the edge of the small island in the center of the room. It's obvious that he won't be gentle, not tonight, not when he's hard between your thighs a moment later, filling you in a swift motion that has you wondering when he managed to even unbutton his jeans. You bite into the soft flesh of his shoulder, holding in the scream that could alert the teenager upstairs about what's currently happening in the kitchen, but the sound crawls up your chest with each pound of his hips against yours.

"Quiet," he whispers harshly in your ear, an unnecessary command because a moment later he's devouring you again, the frantic movement of his lips against yours concealing any evidence that threatens to escape. It's fast, the way he's rutting into you, within you, driving you higher until you're no longer certain where he stops and you begin.

And then you notice it. You catch the way he's focused on something over your shoulder, but it isn't until he's lifted you from the counter and carried you effortlessly across the room that your mind begins to process.

Ellie's earlier question slips from your mouth when he settles you in his lap, your knees braced against the wood on either side of his hips. "Thought this was for Tommy," you grit out when he guides your hips against his own, the chair rocking back in a way that leaves you feeling off balance. "I thought it was for the ba..."

He cuts you off with a grunt, pulling you back down and holding you tightly against him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He's strangely silent, his movements slowing to nothing even as the chair continues to shift slowly back and forth beneath you. The only sound remaining is the heavy rhythm of your breath, your body relaxing further against his in a way that makes it impossible not to feel him everywhere.

"Hey," you ask, voice softer now, more at ease, because you know he'll hear you this time. "I saw the way you were looking at them, earlier." He says nothing as you trace your fingers along the greying stubble on his jaw and you wait to see if he'll answer you, even if you already know his answer to the question you haven't asked.

It wasn't a secret to anyone that Joel was struggling with the idea of his brother having a kid, but it left everyone treading a fine line between the eager new father and the man still plagued by the memories of his lost daughter. The prospect of new joys mirrored only by the multitude of moments stolen long, long ago.

So when Joel had brought up the idea of the rocking chair, it caught you off guard. Things had been understandably tense between the Miller brothers, but it felt to you like Joel was finally finding peace with the situation, the rocking chair serving as an olive branch. One that might just help repair the broken parts of their relationship. But now, wrapped up in his arms, you begin to realize that perhaps you've been reading it all wrong.

You smooth back his hair from his forehead, looking down at him, and you see it. It's not just the loss of Sarah he's mourning now. It's the loss of all of it.

So you do the only thing you can think of. You move.

The sound that escapes his lips as you lift from his lap can only be described as a growl, one that you can feel rumbling in his chest when you brace your hands against it. You're slow at first, letting his length drag along your walls until he's nearly slipped from your heat, and then you fall back down. Joel's hands slip beneath the fabric of your dress, pushing it up along the expanse of your back as his fingers trail along your spine.

He pulls you closer then, his grip just as possessive as earlier, tugging you against him in a way that has you keening. You do your best to cling to reality, gripping the wood behind his head, nails digging into the surface as he continues to guide you. But when he tries to lift you from his lap, as he tries to proceed through the practiced motions that will leave him spilling across your stomach, you stop him.

"It's okay," you whisper against his ear, "let go."

For a moment he resists, his eyes clamping shut with the effort it takes to ward off his own climax as you continue to clench around him. But when you whisper it again, it's all the encouragement he needs. He finally snaps, pulling you somehow closer as he buries his length in your heat, the movement causing the chair that supports you both to rock back and forth gently as he fills you to the brim.

The air in the room feels different as you come back to earth, the two of you still nearly fully clothed as you perch atop his lap. He's softening inside you, the gentle feeling of his release trickling down your thigh and onto his jeans, but neither of you have the will to move aside from the way you gently rest your head against his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" Joel asks a while after, the question sounding redundant as his hands run soothingly along your back.

You nod against him, pressing your lips to the spot where his shoulder meets his neck. "I'm sure. Although," you pause, pulling back, "I think you might need to make another chair for Tommy and Maria."

"And why would that be?" he questions in a way that, for the first time in weeks, makes you feel like the man you love is back.

"Because," you kiss him softly, "we're gonna need this one for us."

[yueebby]

4:36am – gojo satoru

synopsis. satoru is dying (he has a fever) and he needs his darling wife (you) to nurse him back to health 

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, even in sickness gojo can still flirt, he yaps a lot abt marriage and he’s kind of perverted, but he’s just so in love why dont you just give him one chance?

notes. i tried to make this very shoujo-esque. cant have a good shoujo anime without a fever episode!  this has also been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute. enjoy yet another fic of me showering satoru with affection (sigh).

the cold wooden floors of your dormitory creak underneath your waddling feet. your sleepy haze does not deter you from the strong desire for a cold glass of water.

surprisingly, the usual dark communal kitchen is illuminated by the small lightbulb inside of the fridge. you hear shuffling of some items from the white icebox, removing any ounce of sleepiness from you. it was unusual for anyone to be up at four in the morning.

a tuft of white hair peeks over the refrigerator door, giving the culprit’s identity away.

“satoru? i thought you were still on that mission in sendai?”

the sounds of digging pauses. satoru’s rises to his full height, towering over the rundown refrigerator door. he gives you a crooked smile that you rarely see. it’s dopier than one of his signature cocky smiles.

“missed me? don’t worry, i tried to speed run it since i knew i had such a beautiful woman waiting for me back home.” 

you placed a hand on your hip, scoffing at his pathetic attempts to flatter you. a snarky response was about to fall from your lips, but a series of painful coughs from the lanky male stopped you. 

you recoil back to avoid his germs. “gross. are you sick?”

satoru sniffles, pointing his nose in the air. the same nose that was starting to turn pink from irritation. “i can’t get sick. it’s physically impossible.” 

“don’t be stubborn, satoru. why didn’t you call for help?” 

he huffs, eyes trained to the floor. “it’s too early. shoko’ll kill me for waking her up.”

sometimes you forget that satoru had an image to uphold. he was the great gojo satoru, after all. 

but if you don’t take care of him, then who will? and despite your disdain at the thought of coddling his ego, it was only basic decency to take care of a fellow peer (or that was what you’d like to convince yourself).

silently, you place the back of your hand to his forehead. you’re not surprised by the warm sensation that you feel. 

satoru’s hazy eyes watch as you move your hand from his forehead to his cheek.

you purse your lips in concern. with the way satoru was stubbornly denying that he wasn’t sick, you were nearly certain that he was indeed not fine. without warning, you grab the collar of his white t-shirt and pull him to your room.

“at least take me out to dinner before~”

“shut it.”

it wasn’t hard to get satoru to settle in your bed. in fact, he seemed giddy at the opportunity. while he was happy cuddling with your rilakkuma plushie, you came to two conclusions: either satoru had a wound from his mission that got infected, or he was simply sick.

knowing his pride, you lean towards the former.

the boy in question winces when you grab his shoulders to inspect the damage done to him. the sounds of furious pats and heavy breathing is the only thing you can hear over your rapidly beating heart as your hands run down his body to check for any injuries. satoru sucks in his breath when your hands cup his cheeks to loll his head to check for any damages done to that pretty face of his. 

his body tensing up doesn’t go unnoticed by you. your imposing hands immediately retract, afraid of inflicting any more damage on him.

“where is the wound?!” your frantic eyes meet his blissed out ones. 

satoru sighs happily, lazily grabbing your hands to bring back onto him,  “there isn’t one, this just feels nice.”

your chest angrily puffs up before you shove him into your soft mattress. he grunts, but you know it didn’t hurt.

“[name]!” he whines, rubbing the arm that cushioned his fall.

you cross your arms angrily, “you scared me!”

gojo mimics your actions, crossing his arms while weakly glaring at you. his efforts to intimidate you prove futile as he shivers uncontrollably, resembling a newborn kitten.

sighing, you delve into your closet, emerging with an oversized black sweatshirt that you toss to him.

he catches it with ease, a chuckle escaping while he inspects the sweater, “i never took you for the type to wear this.”

“....that’s not mine.” you give a nod in the direction of the men’s sweater. the sparkle of amusement vanished from satoru's eyes, coinciding with his jaw dropping.

his grip on the dark sweatshirt tightened while his head darted back and forth from you to the clothing item. “then whose is it?!” 

“suguru’s.”

you think that you’ve broken him when his face scrunches up in disgust. it’s laughable how his mouth had managed to stay wide open the entire time.

“sugu-suguru?!” he splutters. you slowly nod, careful not to make any sudden movements that could provoke him any further. “why– how– explain yourself!”

you cast an uneasy glance at the sweater, finding it challenging to summon any recollections of how you obtained it, especially with satoru's piercing cerulean eyes fixed on you. his scrutinizing stare has the power to reduce you into a puddle.

“well? go on,” he urges you when you stay silent. 

“it’s nothing, really. i believe it was from that mission i had with suguru a while back. somewhere up north. i had packed light and suguru offered me his sweater.” you tap a finger on your chin to recall the memory. “i guess it just slipped my mind to return it.”

“slipped your mind, huh…” satoru sniffles before letting out a sneeze loud enough to wake up japan. you nearly jump out of your skin.

“suguru was just being friendly… and be quiet! yaga will have our heads if he finds you in the girls’ wing!” you warn the weary boy in front of you, prompting him to respond with a dramatic sigh.

“how mean!” he whines before making a pained expression. you quickly rush to his aid. when you make it to his bedside, satoru weakly hands you a clean tissue.

you stare at it blankly.

“be a darling and help me blow my nose?” he gestures for you to hold the tissue up for him. all you can hear are muffled whines when you shove him underneath your plush covers. 

when your flurry of attacks ends, he cautiously lifts his head from beneath the sheets. to his surprise, a steaming bowl of bitter melon miso soup is presented to him. while the broth isn't your personal favorite, shoko appreciates its bold flavor, spurring your decision to prepare it the night prior. despite its bitter components, the concoction had a perfect track record of treating illnesses. you have your brown haired friend to thank.

perhaps it was cruel of you to take enjoyment while he eyes the bowl in horror. you know his sweet palate couldn’t handle it.

he looks up at you with big pleading eyes while shaking his head. you roll your eyes.

“c’mon, it won’t kill you.” the bowl inches closer to him by your doing. “please?”

satoru's pallid complexion contorts into a hesitant frown. "i’ll eat it…” he concedes reluctantly. however, his gaze lingers on the bowl with a mixture of uncertainty and reluctance. you respond with a hopeful smile, but it fades when he adds, "on two conditions."

“this is for your own health, not mine satoru.” you remind him.

“doesn’t it pain you to see me suffer?” he brings up, eyes glittering in the darkness.

you suck in a breath. “...not really.” lie.

“you wound me, love.” he clutches his shirt like he has been critically hit. 

you bite your lip, tired of his theatrics. “what are the two conditions?”

just like that, gojo comes back to life.

“condition number one! you have to feed me.” he points one finger into the air, paired with an innocent smile. “and two: i want you to warm me up like that night in our first year.”

an unflattering appalled expression is cast over your face. no words leave your mouth for a good minute. “y-you’re disgusting. why are you the way you are?”

“love,” he sighs. “anyways, what kind of wife wouldn’t feed her husband while he’s dying?”

“satoru,” you warn. he was starting to babble nonsense again. “if i accept your conditions, will you shut up?” your eyes were starting to feel heavy. it was the middle of the night, after all.

he nods fervently.

carefully with the bowl of soup in hand, you gently squish yourself next to satoru on your full sized bed. the tight fit left you little room to move, forcing the two of you to nestle closely to each other. with a gentle maneuver, you rest your head on his chest. his arm slowly drapes itself protectively over your shoulder.

“your heart is beating awfully fast.” you whisper, tilting your head upward to take a glimpse of satoru’s feverish face. his breath hitches.

he takes a hand and holds your head back onto his chest to prevent your movement.

“shut it. i didn’t think you would actually accept my conditions.” he mumbles.

“don’t get used to it. this is another moment of weakness.”

you stir the spoon in the broth, basking in the silence of the night, save for satoru’s erratic heartbeat.

“this is very intimate isn’t it?” he gushes. “it’s almost like we’re married—”

“keep your side of the deal,” you remind him, lifting a spoonful of broth up to his mouth. satoru looks straight into your eyes as he opens his mouth to receive it.

his adam's apple bobs when he swallows, “i’m going to tell our grandkids that we were written in the stars.”

you shove another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

extra notes

satoru magically recovered from his fever the next morning.

his second condition (for you to warm him up like that night in your first year) refers to this fic from earlier on in the series.

satoru also made you promise to never accept another hoodie from suguru. if you needed one, satoru was more than willing to give you his! (you halfheartedly agree, only because he was acting all delirious because of his fever).

as of right now, there have only been three occasions where satoru has fallen asleep in your presence. he can testify that those were the best nights of sleep in his life.

shoko went into your room for a spare pair of stockings the next morning only to find you tucked into gojo’s chest. she chases him out of your room all while calling him a pervert . bless her heart.