#i know this is out of the blue kind of but I know someone who recently voiced they were uncomfortable sometimes because they felt like they

[buttercandy16]

The Bully

PAIRING(s): DarkStudent!Agatha Harkness x Student!Reader

SUMMARY: Agatha Harkness, a senior, takes pleasure in tormenting you, her shy junior. As the bullying escalates, you can’t shake the feeling that there's more to her cruelty than just power.

WARNING(s): Non-Con, Bullying, Obsession, Psychological Abuse, Manipulation, Violence, Harassment, Power Dynamics, Dark Themes.

A/N: Gotta admit this is twisted. Better not proceed if this is not your cup of tea.

The first day of junior year was supposed to be a fresh start. It was supposed to be a time for you to blend in with the crowd, get through the year unnoticed, and maybe—just maybe—feel like you belonged somewhere.

But that dream was shattered the moment Agatha Harkness laid her eyes on you.

Agatha was not the typical queen bee of the school—she didn’t just command attention; she demanded it. Beautiful in a way that made you feel invisible by comparison, her striking blue eyes had a chilling coldness to them, as if they could see right through you. She moved through the halls like a predator stalking its prey, her every step deliberate, her smile a weapon that made even the strongest students quake in their boots.

You? You were nothing special. You were shy, quiet, the kind of person who tried to stay out of the spotlight. But Agatha, in her twisted mind, saw you. From that moment, you became her target.

And Agatha was relentless.

At first, Agatha’s bullying was subtle. A misplaced book here, a whispered insult there. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that it was just part of the high school experience. But the problem was, Agatha didn’t stop. She enjoyed it.

You’d be walking down the hallway, and Agatha’s friends would bump into you on purpose, sending your books scattering across the floor. The laughter that followed was always louder than necessary. Her voice would ring out from behind you, sharp and mocking, “Watch where you’re going, loser.”

She’d whisper just loud enough for the people around you to hear during group assignments: “She doesn’t even belong here. Do you know how pathetic you look?” The others would laugh, and you would shrink in your seat, staring at your half-eaten meal, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole. The words stung, but the sneers from the others—the agreement in their faces—cut deeper.

On one memorable occasion, she ensured your diary ended up projected on the screen in homeroom. Every scribbled insecurity, every desperate wish for normalcy, displayed to the class as Agatha read from it aloud, her voice dripping with mockery.

"Oh, look! 'I hope someone notices me.' How sweet! Everyone's noticing you now."

You begged her to stop, choking back sobs as laughter roared around you. Agatha didn’t relent. She wasn’t just enjoying your misery; she was feeding on it.

But Agatha was only getting started.

By the time the second month of school rolled around, Agatha’s cruel games had become a daily torture. Every corner you turned, there she was—either waiting for you or making sure you felt her presence.

One day in the cafeteria, you sat with your tray, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in your stomach. As you picked up your fork, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Before you could react, Agatha’s voice pierced through the noise of the cafeteria. “Hey, loser, don’t forget your real place.”

Suddenly, her drink—what had to be an entire cup of soda—was poured over your head. The sticky liquid dripped down your face, soaking your hair and clothes, as the entire cafeteria erupted in laughter.

“Smile for me, sweetheart,” she purred as you cried, leaning in close enough for you to smell her faint lavender perfume. “You look so pretty when you break.”

Your throat burned with the urge to scream, but you couldn’t make a sound. The laughter of your classmates filled your ears, drowning out everything else.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, frozen, drenched in humiliation. All you could do was stare at your hands, your fingers trembling while you silently cried.

But what terrified you most wasn’t the public bullying or even the physical taunts. It was how she stared when no one was looking.

Agatha watched you.

Her blue eyes followed you down corridors, across the cafeteria, and into the deepest parts of your nightmares. Sometimes you’d catch her in the distance, leaning against a wall, smirking as you tripped under her latest setup. But sometimes, you’d find her lurking nearby, standing too close, leaning too near, the edge of her voice dropping into something soft and intimate.

“You’ll thank me one day,” she murmured once, brushing an invisible strand of hair from your shoulder as you flinched back. “When you realize I’m the only one who cares enough to notice you.”

Over the next few weeks, the bullying turned sadistic. It wasn’t just about humiliating you anymore; Agatha wanted to break you. She wanted to make you feel like you didn’t belong. She wanted you to feel the weight of her presence crushing you every single day.

Your clothes were slashed—deliberately, carefully, the marks too precise to be an accident.

Your locker was spray-painted with cruel words. “Ugly” was the least of them. “Slut,” “Worthless,” “No one will ever love you,” the words taunted as you opened it.

Every time you tried to stand up for yourself, Agatha was there, sneering. “What? You think you have any power here? Look around you. No one cares about you. You’re nothing.”

You felt broken. Every day you woke up, dreading the thought of facing her. But you couldn’t escape. You couldn’t run.

By mid-semester, you were unraveling. Your grades slipped, and you stopped attending events. The weight of constant ridicule hung over you like a storm cloud.

You stopped eating, stopped sleeping. You stared at the ceiling at night, wondering if it was worth getting up in the morning.

She had you exactly where she wanted you

When Clara transferred to your school, you thought you’d found salvation. Clara wasn’t afraid to sit with you, to stand between you and the others who Agatha had rallied to her side. For the first time, you felt seen in a way that didn’t break you.

But the price of Clara’s kindness was high. Agatha hated her with a fervor you’d never seen before.

Agatha was watching, always watching. The moment she saw you with Clara, a new kind of fire ignited in her cold eyes. She was jealous. Jealous of Clara’s ability to make you smile, to make you forget for just a second the hell you lived in.

Clara’s presence only intensified Agatha’s cruelty. She started targeting Clara, too, making her life as miserable as she made yours. 

And Agatha enjoyed every second of it.

It started with petty taunts. Clara’s appearance, her laugh—nothing was off-limits. But Agatha’s rage simmered just under the surface.

Then Clara’s locker was defaced. “Homewrecker” was scrawled across it in angry red paint.

When Clara found her gym bag shredded and her phone destroyed in the cafeteria, Agatha’s smug grin was all you needed to see.

“Why can’t you just leave us alone?” Clara finally snapped one afternoon, shoving past Agatha in the hallway. You’d never seen her stand up to Agatha like that.

But that was the mistake.

Agatha didn’t respond. She simply stared, a storm brewing in her eyes.

The day it all shattered was an ordinary one—or so you thought. The cafeteria buzzed with its usual noise, students laughing, trading whispers, and tossing food across tables. You sat with Clara, your head low, desperate to avoid Agatha’s gaze.

But the room stilled the moment she walked in.

Agatha’s steps were slow, deliberate, every student shrinking back as she passed. You could feel the heat of her stare long before she reached your table.

“Move,” she snapped at Clara, her voice like steel.

Clara squared her shoulders, her hand trembling on the table. “I’m not going anywhere.”

What happened next was a blur. Agatha grabbed Clara by the hair, yanking her from her seat and dragging her to the center of the cafeteria. The screams echoed in your ears.

The students gathered in a horrified semi-circle as Agatha pulled out a blade. She pressed it to Clara’s neck, her voice eerily calm.

“She’s mine,” Agatha said, her eyes finding yours as she tightened her grip on Clara’s hair. “You’re mine. No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to love you.”

“Stop it!” you screamed, rushing to pull Agatha away.

There was no cruelty in her gaze—only desperation.

“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. I had to make you see me.”

Her confession twisted something inside you—a sick, horrifying realization that the torment, the humiliation, all of it, had been her twisted way of keeping you close.

You choked on a sob, unable to respond, unable to comprehend the scene unfolding before you.

Then, with a deliberate motion, Agatha sliced a thin line across Clara’s cheek—not deep enough to do permanent damage but enough to draw blood. Clara screamed, struggling against her hold.

“Do you see now?” Agatha’s voice broke, her obsessive rage bleeding into desperation. “No one can have you but me!”

She threw Clara to the floor, letting the crowd scatter like flies as she advanced toward you. Blood smeared across her hand as she reached out, grabbing your wrist in a viselike grip.

“You don’t need anyone else,” she whispered, her eyes wild and glistening with something raw and unhinged. “Say it.”

The room seemed to spin as her breath brushed your ear. “Say you’re mine.”

Tears streamed down your face as the truth—her obsession—finally clicked into place. This wasn’t love. This wasn’t even hate. It was something darker, more consuming, and far more terrifying.

When you didn’t answer, Agatha’s grip tightened, her nails biting into your skin.

“You don’t have a choice,” she hissed. “You’ve always been mine.”

The cafeteria ringing with the chaotic noise around you, the violent energy from Agatha and the blood that painted the scene still pulsating in your veins. The sight of Clara’s blood streaking down her face mingled with the stares of students who had no idea whether to intervene or stare in utter terror. Some stared, captivated by the violent outburst, while others simply backed away, knowing better than to involve themselves.

Agatha’s pupils dilated in sheer madness, her smirk was full of an almost palpable hunger that gnawed at you, making you feel nauseous. Her fingers were still stained with Clara’s blood. "That was your fault, you know," she purred. "If you hadn’t pulled Clara into this, you would still be mine alone.”

The air felt thick with dread and something darker—a possessive heat, almost sexual in its intensity. Agatha's voice was lower now, dripping with an edge that made every word feel like a knife twisting into your heart.

“Isn’t that right?” she whispered.Her body pressed up against yours, no longer the cruel manipulator, but the woman possessed, desperate, and incapable of understanding love beyond her twisted perception of ownership.

You couldn’t breathe. Your throat felt like it was closing up as Agatha continued, undeterred, making the space between you feel suffocating.

“You think you can escape me?” Agatha’s hand caressed your cheek—deliberate, slow—and then, before you had a chance to react, she forced her lips onto yours in a searing, aggressive kiss. The cold edge of the blade still gleamed in her fingers, pressing against the soft, trembling skin of your neck. She was testing your limits, consuming you.

“You belong to me. You’ll always belong to me,” she whispered against your lips as you tried to pull back, your body repulsing the contact, but Agatha wasn’t giving you an escape. She was insistent. Every inch of her energy radiated possessiveness and torment. It was unbearable—her grip tightened on you, suffocating all sense of resistance you had.

The pain inside you deepened, like your very identity was being ripped apart.

Her teeth scraped against your bottom lip, drawing a whimper from you that only seemed to fuel her hunger. The blade pressed harder, a silent threat that kept you frozen in place as her other hand slid down your body, rough and possessive. She didn’t care that the entire cafeteria was watching, that Clara was bleeding on the floor, that you were trembling in her grasp. All that mattered was her need to dominate, to own you completely.

Her fingers found the hem of your shirt, yanking it up with a force that made you gasp. The cold air hit your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of her touch as she groped your chest, her nails digging into your flesh. “You think you can hide from me?” she sneered, her breath hot against your ear. “You think anyone else can touch you like this?”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you tried to push her away, but she was too strong. Her hand moved lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat. “No,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Please, Agatha, don’t—”

“Shut up,” she hissed, her fingers pressing against you, rough and unyielding. “You don’t get to say no to me. You’re mine, and I’ll take what’s mine whenever I want.”

Her touch was cruel, deliberate, designed to hurt as much as it was to claim. You bit your lip to stifle a cry, but she didn’t miss the way your body shuddered under her hand. “That’s it,” she purred, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “You can’t hide how much you want this. How much you need me.”

You wanted to scream, to fight back, but the blade at your throat kept you still, your body betraying you as she worked you with ruthless precision. The room spun around you, the sounds of the cafeteria fading into a distant hum as Agatha’s touch consumed you. Her breath was hot against your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as she whispered, “You’ll never escape me. Never.”

Her fingers moved faster, harder, and you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, a sound that only seemed to fuel her frenzy. “That’s it,” she growled, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Let them all see how much you belong to me.”

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the world, but it was impossible. The feel of her, the smell of her, the sound of her voice—it was everywhere, consuming you, breaking you. And when she finally pulled her hand away, leaving you trembling and exposed, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “This is just the beginning. I’m not done with you yet.”

The blade disappeared from your neck, but the threat lingered, heavy and unspoken. Agatha stepped back, her eyes blazing with a dark, possessive hunger.

The weight of her command rolling off her tongue with the kind of authority that made the room shrink.

"All of you. Leave," she said, her voice low but biting. The onlookers flinched, uncertainty flickering in their wide eyes as they shifted nervously. "And let me make this clear—what you saw here today? You saw nothing. Speak of it, and I'll remind you why that blade was mine to wield."

The tension was suffocating. One by one, the witnesses filed out, not daring to meet her gaze. Some stumbled in their haste to flee, boots clattering against the stone floor, even Clara followed along but Agatha didn’t seem to care. Her focus remained fixed entirely on you.

When the last of them had gone and the room was swallowed by silence, she turned her full attention back to you. Her lips curled into something too satisfied to be called a smile, yet not quite sinister enough to be a smirk. It was the look of someone who had just claimed exactly what they wanted—someone who knew the gravity of what they’d done and reveled in it.

Her presence was all-consuming. She didn’t move closer, didn’t speak, but the air between you still bristled with the weight of unspoken things. The blade was gone, yet its absence almost felt worse—like the void it left was filled with something sharper, heavier.

Agatha tilted her head, studying you, as if relishing how small and cornered she’d made you feel. Then, finally, she broke the silence.

"You're mine now," she murmured, her voice silky and unyielding. "And you’ll come to understand—I always get what I want."

Her gaze lingered a moment longer, searing into yours, before she turned away, leaving the room heavy with the remnants of her presence.

_-_-_

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[lilacstro]

"I'll imagine we fell in love, i'll nap under moonlight skies with you"🌙 pac: what does your forever person look like<3

hey y'all, I hope you're fine. It's been a while since I posted a pac, so here we are. I love love love this song, its so beautiful. I hope you play this song after this if you don't know this one, I am sure you'd not be disappointed ;)

support me on ko-fi

Paid readings open

★Pile 1★

mini energy check: ok pile 1, it seems like you may be introverted, or maybe just isolated currently. that was one thing that was coming through. You may have been waiting for this person for forever or quite sometime now is one more thing coming through. It may feel delayed, setbacks or something may always come in between.

Physical appearance: This person may be asian, especially east asian?? or they may have monolids. For others, they may also have tattoos, a very lively yet intimidating face? Something about them may want you to reach out to them but also scare or intimidate you at the same time. This person has something very bright, very noticeable, almost as if you can recognize them in a big crowd. They may have a young, innocent face, bedroom eyes and an athletic body, if not necessarily muscular. Gives me boy next door vibes speaking of which there is maybe a band called boynextdoor and they are japanese? if I'm right? because Japan was coming a lot in this reading, maybe they have really good fashion sense.

Their personality, vibe and energy: They are likely to be ambiverts, someone who has bursts of energy. If we talk about MBTI, they may be the turbulent types. Idk why but Leo Mercury coming through as well. This person would be all over the place, I am hearing, "everything, everywhere, all at once" and then get tired. They have a child like spirit and curiosity to them. They may also have trouble concentrating for long hours, and may get disappointed if they are not able to do 173920 tasks that they wanted to. They are a leader, and like to lead people, take responsibilities and learn and do many new things, but at the end of the day, behind all this energy and hype, there is a silent, introspective soul. Extremely aware, to a point where they may even get into an almost meditative state, feeling their pulse. I am hearing, "going numb", so this person may often feel incomplete, or unhappy inside despite having all.

your relationship with them: your relationship with them may take some time to bloom, but be assured, it would prosper long term. This may likely be because of how aware and introspective this person is, but once they decide that you are the one, they become "the man", the person you want and need. Extremely emotionally available. They are not the types who would play mind games with you. This person will show you the real intimacy. I am hearing "talking hands", this person either may love tarot? or other forms of divination? but mostly they would stand on their words and prove them with actions. There would be beautiful merge of feelings, and intellect and communication. Words of affirmations, you'd never feel lonely or unloved with this person. Just how a flower blooms slowly, you would open up to this person and this relationship would progress in its time, there is no force other than the one of nature.

★Pile 2★

mini energy check: some of you guys here could be breaking out a lot? or maybe feel itchy? There can also be some kind of discomfort in the body, as in feeling restless or just uneasy? You may feel extra cautious towards your skin, food and body these days. Korean skincare coming through??

Physical appearance: This person looks mature, and reserved and would not like attention to themselves. A sharp jawline. Scorpio and Capricorn may be significant in their chart or they may have such intense features. They may like wearing black a lot, especially flowy clothing. A tall, intimidating stature, idk why but I am hearing this person looks like an anime? yandre? I am so sorry I am not aware about anime or anything, but all I can say is this person looks mystifying and intense.

Their personality, vibe and energy: This person may be rather reserved and may not present their cards on the table for everyone to see. They may like to have different ways and personalities to deal with different kinds of people. This person is not a leader tbh, more like an owner, a boss, an authority figure. I am hearing "I own it". This person may even have nervous energy inside them but you would never guess. Some people may find them shallow, but they just do not reveal themselves to anyone just like that. Its hard to know them. This person is a visionary, a creative and full of ideas though. There can be an irritable, erratic, and elusive nature them sometimes, especially when it comes to their work, they are serious. They may have built their way to the top to what they have. Extreme hardworkers. They cannot be bossed around tbh. They may enjoy nature a lot.

your relationship with them: Your relationship to them is a breath of fresh air. This relationship would heal you, unwind you to your core, and help you let go of any past traumas you've had. This person gives me total "book bf" vibes, because they would love you like no other. I am hearing "kiss me on the mouth, and love me like a sailor". This person is a total softie for you tbh. This relationship would be incredibly healing, and your love would be more than valued and reciprocated. For some of you, this person would have to manage stuff between their job/studies and you, and be assured they would. You guys may see each other in dreams a lot, a lot of closeness and intimacy. You both would complete each other tbh. This relationship may very well be a past life, incomplete love story kind of romance. Your world would feel like full of warmth and sunshine after you meet this person. You guys may also enjoy doing art, or exploring art and music together. You both would bind each other down for good. idk why am i hearing "whispers in your ear" lmao. I am also hearing "mother at first sight"? Maybe the envision a family with you or you may remind them of a mother figure, or you may fill that space in them through your love. This person sees you as divine, almost like a goddess.

★Pile 3★

mini energy check: you guys maybe the eldest in your house? or may be really bossy, unwilling to listen to someone or work under someone as such. A lot of independent, masculine energy. Tbh you guys may be the one who know this song at the very least if not like it a lot. Its giving me the vibe of "I am a strong independent women who need no one but a cute guy would be nice idk" lmao. You guys may have recently completed something and some of you may also have started to embrace themselves, take your mask off, do self help stuff, and impose healthy boundaries recently. Some of you here really need to give your ears a rest if you use headphones lmao

Physical appearance: Some of you here may have already met this person, whether it be that they are friendzoned or you are dating them, there is no ex energy here and if this isn't your case then ofc you haven't met them yet. You guys may also have been attracted to pile 1, and 2 as well? or may have hard time choosing. This person looks really young, like really young. For some of you this person may also look androgynous, but really beautiful and charming. They may also have an innocent look onto them or something. A very "pure" looking person. A glowing face, charming presence. I am seeing bruno mars for some reason? This person also may not be super tall or something but rather a bit short if not "too" short or something. A very beautiful face, both the genders may find them appealing tbh. Very well could have Moon or Venus or both in 1st house. May have long, untamed hair as well. Some of them may also have that "jazz bar" look. Good body proportions but may usually stand with crossed hands or some protective look.

Their personality, vibe and energy: This person does not like drama and conflict. I was already getting a Libra vibe from them in the physical appearance check. They are also brave, very consistent and someone who would never give up, even on you (aw). They are the perfect mix of a mom and dad energy, they would fight and protect, everyone, including their friends and family. This person may also be super stubborn and defensive sometimes, especially when its about someone or something their emotions are tied to. A big homebody kind of person. This person would not hide a lot from anyone and would most likely be up for a conversation most of the times, extroverted energy coming through. They may even study philosophy, I almost said "philanthropy"? So they may even have some kind of connection to that? Could be because this person is extremely giving, to a point where there is no energy or time left for them. They are the friend people call at 3 am lmao.

your relationship with them: This person first of all may like grand gestures of love, serenading you for example or telling you how much they love you, whatever it is. This person may have STRONG scorpio kind of energy with you. Almost like they would merge you, two souls in one, and not let anyone lay their eyes on you, to an obsessive level. May get jealous easily. You guys would be very coherent and very emotional, both of it, in extremes. This would transform you honestly, this person and relationship, both. Your ancestors may lead you to this person. There is an energy of "I ain't letting you go" and "you got me fixed on you" lmao. This person would be your guide and love through the toughest times of life, maybe that's why this would be transformative, but even if not that, this person would show you direction in life, maybe that's why ancestral thing was coming through. This person would heal and accept your shadows and flaws, nothing to hide from them :)

[darlingdaisyfarm]

one night, two Pines ⋆˚࿔

tags: nsfw, Stan x fem!reader x Ford, threesome, praise kink, dirty talk, reader deserves a medal for this, rough sex, oral sex, p in v, fingering, pet names

tagging: @cailleachcola <33

a/n: i cant help it i love making Ford jealous even tho he wouldn’t show it so obvious like Stan for example ?? it’s my headcanon idk

for those who wanted second part and love jealous!Ford - click here

The Mystery Shack groans under the weight of another snowfall.

You glance toward the window, its edges crusted with frost, the outside world disappearing into an eerie haze of blue-gray dusk. Shadows stretch long and lazy across the wooden floor, falling on cluttered bookshelves lined with things Ford insists are cursed, but Stan swears they’re just old junk.

The coldness settles into your bones, making your fingertips ache and even the thickest socks don’t seem to help. The mystery Shack is equipped for this kind of weather. . . well, supposedly, but Stan always mutters about “old buildings” and “better insulation next year”. You’d laugh if your teeth weren’t busy chattering.

It got all got worse when the lights blinked once, then died completely. And now you're sitting in the darkness.

“Goddammit!” Stan’s voice barks through the room and it makes you jump from how loud it is. You barely make out his silhouette in the darkness.

Ford is pacing, muttering about fuses and the electrical grid. Stan, meanwhile, is busy cursing up a storm, flashlight gripped tight as he rifles through an ancient toolkit he probably hasn’t touched since 80s.

“Perfect fucking timing,” Stan growls, tossing a wrench over his shoulder. It clatters against the floor. “lights go out the one time we actually need ‘em. Figures.”

Ford, ever the optimist or maybe just too stubborn to agree with his brother, snaps back, “Well, if someone hadn’t overloaded the system with those ridiculous inflatable decorations outside—”

“You wanna run that by me again, sixer?” Stan turns, pointing flashlight to land directly on Ford’s chest. “i’ll have you know those ‘ridiculous decorations’ are what keep this place lookin’ festive, unlike your dusty ass journals stacked all over the damn place.”

You sit back, pulling old, oversized sweater tighter around yourself as you smile. They’re always like this. You can’t help it, the giggle slips out before you can stop yourself. Both of them turn to you.

“What’s so funny, kid?” Stan asks you.

“You two,” you reply, wiping the mirth from your lips with the back of your hand. “you argue like you’re in some bad sitcom.”

But it’s still dark, so dark you can barely make out their faces anymore, just shadows moving around the room and your fingers are already numb because it’s freezing, the temperature drops fast without the heater running. You exhale through your nose and hug yourself tighter, but it’s not helping much, honestly. The cold feels sharper, biting through your sweater and you decide you’ve had enough of waiting for them to figure it out.

“Okay,” you say, pushing up from the couch and ignoring the way their heads both snap toward you again, twin pairs of eyes watching your movements. “i’m getting candles.”

“Candles?” Stan repeats, sounding so bewildered.

“Yep, candles. You know, those things that make light and heat?”

Ford hums softly and smiles at your suggestion. “That’s actually a good idea,” he says and you think you hear Stan mumbling something like “of course he’d say that”, but you’re already moving toward the kitchen.

The candles are old, probably from some forgotten stash Mabel left behind last Christmas, but they’re pretty, short and fat with uneven edges, dusted with glitter and wrapped in little bows. And you carry them back to the living room with an armful of mismatched holders. You light them one by one and they glow softly, beautifully, their tiny flames flickering against the walls and filling the room with the faint scent of cinnamon, as room turns warm and so, so comforting. However, while you’re busy lighting the candles, you again hear two men arguing.

“I'm just saying,” Stanley huffs. “if you’re so damn smart, you could’ve fixed it yourself.”

Stanford pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing “And if you’d actually listen—”

“So, if you two are done arguing. . .” your voice interrupts their squabble. “maybe we should focus on keeping warm instead of trying to win whatever petty contest this is?”

Ford looks sheepish, running a hand through his hair, giving you an awkward smile while Stan grumbles “not petty, just proving a point”.

“But yeah, okay,” Stan waves a hand, brushing off your concern. “got plenty of blankets upstairs, i’ll grab a few.”

“And what, huddle together like we’re on some survival show?” Ford quirks a brow sceptically.

Stan’s reply is immediate. “Unless you’ve got a better idea, genius.”

Ford pauses, he doesn’t seem to have an answer. His gaze falls on you instead as he takes in your curled-up figure in the candlelight.

“Blankets it is, then,” he murmurs finally and Stan smirks a victorious “damn right.”

A few moments later, you’re all sitting closer than you probably should with the scratchy warmth of mismatched blankets draped across the three of you. Stan takes up the space of two people, leaning back with a wide grin, absolutely proud of himself and the way things goes now. Ford is stiff beside you, trying his best not to make contact to not make you uncomfortable, but the limited space forces his arm against yours.

It’s awkward, kind of, the silence. The proximity because you’re hyper-aware of every breath, every move, every accidental brush of skin. The candlelight dances across their faces, painting them in shades of gold and orange and you catch Stan watching you out of the corner of his eye, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Cozy enough for ya, sweetheart?”

Ford clears his throat, visibly bristling at the nickname. “I think she’d be cosier if someone didn’t take up half the blanket, Stanley.”

“Oh, cry me a river. Besides, she looks plenty warm to me. Ain’t that right, doll?”

And damn it, you do feel warm now, but not because of the blankets or the candles.

You sigh and swallow nervously, nodding and preparing for any outcome of the situation, but still, you move slightly, leaning into Ford just to see what happens, just to fucking see. At that, his breath hitches as his eyes widen, Stan catches it immediately.

“Huh,” Stan drawls, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “looks like sixer’s finally found his voice.”

Damn, it’s insane how quickly the room heats, despite the little useless candles you brought. Ford, for all his intelligence, looks at you, frozen in place, every muscle taut as though he’s weighing a hundred different outcomes. Meanwhile you feel the other twin already leaning in, closer and closer because damn, he’s been waiting for this moment for far too long.

“You cold, sweetheart?” Stan’s eyes dart briefly to where Ford’s arm presses against yours. “or maybe you just need a little. . . extra heat?”

Ford tenses beside you. “Stanley,” he fights the urge not to roll his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, poindexter, you’re tellin’ me you haven’t thought about it? Not once? She’s sittin’ right here, for fuck’s sake.”

You bite your lip nervously, caught between them, their weight, their heat, the very presence of them pressing into you from both sides. Your body betrays you, leaning into Ford’s shoulder again, just to test the waters or maybe because you’re tired of pretending that you don’t notice the way his eyes darken when they meet yours.

Ford’s hand brushes yours, hesitant. Too careful. His fingers curl slightly, catching yours in a loose hold and you already think he’s going to pull away again, but no. His grip tightens and little smile appears on your cold lips.

“It’s, uh, it’s—” Ford begins, stuttering, but the words die on his tongue when your free hand reaches up to touch his face, grazing the edge of his jaw with your thumb. Oh, he’s warmer than you expected, softer, too and then he leans into your touch, what tells you everything you need to know about how much he’s been holding back.

“Don’t be a coward, sixer.”

Ford’s head immediately snaps toward his brother, shouting him a glare, but then your fingers trail lower, brushing along the collar of his sweater and he stops, softens. You don’t miss the way his chest rises and falls too.

You tilt your head, asking quietly in soft voice. “What are you so afraid of, Ford?”

It’s Stan who answers, leaning in close enough that you feel his breath on your neck. “He’s afraid you’ll like me better,” his hand finds your thigh beneath the blanket, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp softly right into Ford’s face. “ain’t that right, genius?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then prove it,” Stanley’s hand slides higher as he touches the bare skin beneath your clothes and you shiver, definitely not from the cold this time. Meanwhile Ford’s grip on your hand tightens as he watches Stan’s movements.

“She’s yours too, isn’t she? Or are you just gonna let me—”

Whatever Stan’s about to say dies in his throat because Ford moves faster than you’ve ever seen, his free hand grabbing Stan’s wrist and pulling it away from your thigh.

“Enough,” Ford commands, his hand slides to your cheek, tilting your face toward his and surprisingly for three of you, his lips are on yours. But you don’t even get time to enjoy the kiss.

“So she tastes as good as you imagined, Ford?”

Ford pulls back to glare at his brother, but his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, dragging it down slightly and when good answer appears in his smart head, he smiles.

“Better,” his eyes stay locked on yours, searching, needing.

Stan watches this for a moment, his grin softening, turning less cocky, since when his brother got so romantic? “Well, great,” he leans back in, his hand returning to your thigh, caressing your skin. Ford finally pulls away, unable to take his eyes off your pretty lips now. Before you can say something, you feel Stan's mouth on your neck, so warm as he nibbles on your skin while Ford’s hands slide lower, pulling you closer.

And you’re not cold anymore. Not even a little.

Your breath tangles in your throat when Stan squeezes your thigh while Ford kisses you again. It’s everything you thought it’d be and nothing you could’ve prepared for, a tension that’s been threading through the air for weeks, months and now it’s finally snapping. You think you might drown in the intensity of it, feeling Stan’s hand dragging higher, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties as his teeth graze the shell of your ear.

“You’ve been playin’ coy for weeks, sweetheart,” you hear Stan muttering behind you, his other arm loops around your middle, pulling you back against the solid weight of him and your head falls against his chest. “makin’ us work for it, huh? You got no idea what that’s been doin’ to us.” his mouth is rough on your neck, trying to mark every inch of you and when he nips at your pulse, you can’t stop the sound that escapes you, it’s half a gasp, half a moan and you feel Ford’s hand twitching against your hip.

“You sound so fuckin’ pretty like that,” Stan’s hands are big and rough like the rest of him, so when he slides them under the blanket, slipping between your legs, you gasp louder.

The heat in the room doesn’t come from the candles or blanket anymore, it’s from their bodies pressing closer, crowding you against the sofa’s cushions. Ford is still in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours as if he’s trying to solve the most complicated equation of his life, but his trembling hands betray him, desperate to touch you. Stan’s behind you, his chest solid against your back, arms bracketing you in like a warm cage, and when his lips find the shell of your ear, you feel his grin.

“Tell him, sweetheart, tell sixer what you want.”

You don’t answer right away, you look at Ford, noticing his pupils blown wide and his breath uneven. He’s waiting, waiting for permission, waiting for you to say the words he clearly doesn’t have the courage to ask for himself.

Stan’s hand is skimming along your stomach, fingers curling over the hem of your sweater. “Or maybe you don’t want him to touch you,” he adds, teasing. “is that it? you’d rather just let me have all the fun?”

You shake your head, making the most needy face ever, giving Ford puppy eyes. “no. . . no, I want him to.”

“Hear that, Ford? our pretty little thing is giving you the green light.” Ford is still silent, his eyes are glued to where Stan’s fingers have disappeared beneath the hem of your sweater.

You shift slightly, arching your back as Stan’s hand slides higher, dragging the fabric of your sweater with it, inch by slow excruciating inch. The air feels cooler against your skin now. Ford’s hand freezing just short of touching your bare waist.

“Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Stan purrs, his hand finally stopping just beneath your chest. He pauses, though, his thumb stroking a line along your chest as he waits.

You realise what Stan hints at, your eyes meet Ford’s gaze again and you give him a little coquettish smile. “Do you want to see?”

Not waiting for his brother’s slow and awkward response, Stan’s fingers curl under the fabric of your sweater, lifting it higher, exposing your skin painfully slow until the candlelight catches the soft curve of your beautiful breasts. The room is dim, the fire casting flickering shadows across the walls and you swear you can feel Ford’s gaze burning into you, hotter than the flames.

“Fuck, would you look at her. . .”

You should feel exposed, vulnerable, but hungry gaze of two men make your head spin.

“Touch her, dumbass,” Stan prompts as he tilts your chin back against his shoulder. “don’t just sit there looking, she’s right here, beggin’ for it.”

Stanford hesitates, the effort of restraint is physically painful for him. But then you breath out needy “yes, please” and his hand finally moves, he trails his fingers to cup your breast, brushing his thumb over your nipple in a touch that’s far too gentle for how much you’ve been aching for this.

His breathing quickens, blood rushing to his lower body and you watch his throat bob as he swallows nervously, his gaze fixed on the soft peaks of your breasts, bare now in the cold air. Your pretty nipples pebble, whether from the chill or their eyes drinking you in. His touch feels so warm and when his fingers catch on the sensitive peaks, you sigh, your hips jerking slightly against Stan’s thighs.

Stan chuckles, letting his hand go lower your stomach now. “there you go, see? not so hard, is it?”

Ford doesn’t answer, too focused on studying your beautiful face every time he tweaks or rolls the delicate skin beneath his six fingers. You whimper softly and the sound seems to spur him on, his movements becoming firmer, more confident, and oh god, you’re melting between them.

“You’re just so beautiful,” Ford glances at you, his eyes searching yours to make sure you believe him. “do you know that?”

You don’t get the chance to answer because Stan chooses that moment to push his hand lower, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric of your panties and brushing between your wet folds. You let out a gasp, reaching to grip his arms, but Stan just laughs.

“Looks at that, she’s dripping, all for us. ain’t that right, sweetheart?” his fingers circle slowly, teasingly and you let out a choked moan, your hips bucking against his hand.

Ford’s gaze drops as he takes in the way Stan’s hand moves, your body responds to every touch as you move your hips to chase the pleasure. “Stan, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” his twin interrupts, grinning. “don’t touch her? don’t make her feel good? or is it that you don’t wanna watch?” he presses his fingers on your needy clit. “because if that’s the case, you might wanna look away now, sixer.”

Oh, you’re trembling, your whole body is shaking apart under the weight of their hands and their voices. Stan’s thick fingers already teasing your little hole, penetrating just a little, but enough to make you moan, the obscene wet sounds filling the room now, slickness coating his fingertips. It’s shameless, loud and you should feel embarrassed for being this fucking wet, mortified even, but all you can focus on is Ford watching.

He’s staring at where Stan’s hand disappears between your legs, his own six fingers twitching, can’t decide where to go next.

“Go ahead.” Stan slides his fingers deeper into your pussy, earning another helpless moan from your lips. “she’s fucking soaked for you.” he turns his head, brushing his lips against your ear, and murmurs, “tell him, baby, tell him you want it.”

Your lips part, but no words come out at first, your brain too fogged up with heat and touch while Stan scissors his fingers inside you, spreading your wet folds, exposing your needy pussy to Ford. When Stan’s thick finger brushes against that tender sweet spot your vision goes white and you finally manage to whine. “Ford, Ford! please,” you reach your hand out blindly to grab his wrist, guiding him to you. “please, touch me.”

Ford settles his hands on your thighs and you immediately notice how his touch is so different from Stan’s, soft, tentative, awkward, trembling, scared to move too fast, but then you make this soft, pleading noise and it flips a switch in him. His hands slide up and he finally pushes Stan’s hand away, sliding his fingers into your dripping cunt with an eagerness that makes your head spin.

“Holy moses,” Ford groans as he presses his fingers deeper. “You’re— you’re so warm, so wet.” he moves slowly, exploring, testing and it’s clumsy, because you can feel how hard he’s trying to do it right.

“Woah, didn’t know you had it in you.” Stan’s hands move up your stomach until they find your breasts again, cupping them with a roughness that makes you arch into him. “don’t forget about these, though. They’re just as perfect as everything else.”

You moan when Stan’s thumbs circle your sensitive hard nipples, squeezing a little bit, meanwhile Ford’s fingers find a rhythm inside you that has your hips rolling forward, chasing the friction. “Oh, Stan, Ford,” you breathe, your head falling back against Stan’s shoulder, “pleasee. . .”

“Please, what? please touch you more? please fuck you right here in front of sixer? or is it sixer you want to—”

“Stanley, don’t, ugh, don’t talk like that!” Ford glares at his brother, but his long fingers never stop thrusting and moving, curling and twisting inside you, making you cry out while he scolds Stan for being “too dirty”.

Your thighs tighten around Ford’s wrist and you can’t stop the sound you make, you couldn’t even if you tried. You sound so high and broken, so loud, a trembling little wail that falls into the air and hangs there, suspended between the flickering candlelight and sound of Stan’s chuckle.

“That’s it, doll. Go on, let him see it, let that nerd see how pretty you are when you cum. Isn’t that right, Ford? Isn’t she the prettiest damn thing you’ve ever seen?”

And damn it, Stan can talk so well that his voice and words alone are enough to get you close. You whine again, taking everything they both give you like the goddamn obedient thing you are. Fuck, you're so ready to let Stan or Ford finally fuck you, feel that cock stretch you open, but you are so horny that even being stuffed full, you'll still be begging for more. And all you can do for now is cumming on Ford's fingers before you'll get the real thing.

Ford doesn’t answer, not in words, at least. He drops his gaze back to where his fingers disappear into you, his movements growing faster, more confident as he rubs your sensitive bundle of nerves that has you keening.

“Yes, fuck, yes, just like that,” you whine, close. “please, i’m— gonna cum!”

“Good girl.” you’re so lost in pleasure you can’t recognise who even says that. Ford’s fingers press deeper, until he finds that spot again, that perfect, maddening spot as his thumb circles your little clit. “just let go, sweetheart, i’ve got you. We’ve got you.”

Just like that, your hips jerk as the coil inside you tightens to the point of snapping. You bury your face in the crook of Stan’s neck, your soft cries muffled against his hot skin as you cum, shuddering in release while Ford’s fingers still working you through every last wave of it.

“Fucking hell,” Stan mutters behind you. “all fucked out and dripping down your hand, bet you’ve never seen anything so damn beautiful, huh?”

Ford just stares at your pretty face and the mess your pussy made, his fingers still buried deep inside you as he glances down at his own hand, glistening in the low candlelight. “Yes, shes just incredible. I don’t think i’ve ever—” but his response is too slow.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Stan shuts his brother up, his tone edging on impatient as his hands move down, grabbing your thighs and pulling you back against him. “but i’m fucking done waiting.”

You whimper softly when Stan pulls you away from Ford, manhandling you like you’re nothing more than a toy in his grip. “Stan—” you start, but your words are cut off when he spins you around and lays you back against the couch, towering over you.

“It’s okay, baby.” his hands are already at his belt, yanking it loose. “you’re mine now.”

Ford looks up, finally waking up from his fantasies, still kneeling by the couch, his hand hovering like he doesn’t know what to do with it anymore. “Wait, what? But we—”

“Tsk, you’ve had your turn, sixer.” Stan glances at him with a smirk, pushing your legs apart with his hand. “but this pussy is mine.”

Then he tears open the foil packet with his teeth and you swear you never saw anything this sexy. Stan’s hands working fast and you can’t help the soft, needy sound that escapes you as you watch him rolling the condom on. You just wish to be filled now. “Been waiting too long for this,” Stan positions himself at your wet entrance, the head of his cock rubbing through your sensitive folds, coating his length in your wetness.

Fuck, the stretch burns, but it’s good, so good and that guttural groan Stan lets out as he sinks into your pussy deeper fills your stomach with butterflies.

“Fuuuuck,” he hisses as he bottoms out, feeling your soft walls around his cock. “tight little cunt’s squeezin’ me like a fuckin’ vice. How the hell are you this perfect?”

“Stanley!” your voice sounds so breathy, your hands reaching for him, clutching at his shoulders as your thighs tremble on either side of him.

Ford’s breath catches he watches the way you arch beneath his brother, the way your gorgeous body trembles with every thrust, every touch. His hand moves unconsciously toward the bulge straining against his trousers.

“Shh, sweetie,” Stan coos and presses forward, sinking into your cunt slowly, until he’s buried to the hilt. “fuck, you’re perfect.”

Stanford watches, wrapping his hand around his own cock, stroking himself in slow pulls as he takes in the sight of you, so flushed, trembling, undone as you let his brother fuck you. He can't really believe that this is happening right in front of his eyes, he didn't even have time to protest, his eyes flicker between your face and where Stan’s hips meet yours, his jaw clenching as he watches the way your little pussy stretch around him, taking him in so easily, so beautifully.

“You’re missing out, Ford,” Stan pulls his hips back before thrusting forward again slowly, his cock penetrates you deeper. “she’s so fucking tight, so warm, guess you’re wishing you’d been a little greedier, huh?”

Your lashes flutter, damp with tears you didn’t realise had spilled, your lips parted, all swollen, trembling and your voice is slurred now, pouring out in little whimpers that are hardly words at all, just fragments of syllables that tumble over each other.

“S-Stan, oh! oh god, it’s s-so big,” your nails digging into the couch as your hips stutter against his, helpless to the rhythm he sets.

“Just like that, honey.” Stan growls, gripping you hard to hold you still. “you’re taking it, sweetheart, all of it. Fuck, being such a good girl for me.”

“Good girl,” you echo back in the sweetest, dreamiest tone, your words spilling out soft as silk, trembling with every breath you take. Your head falls back against the cushions, strands of hair clinging to your hot flushed cheeks and you can barely manage another gasp before Stan presses his cock into your pussy again, harder this time. “m’good, right? f-fuck, fuck!” the question slips out, a broken little thing, barely there as your fingers claw helplessly at the cushions. You’re drowning, drunk on the way his dick drags against every sweet sensitive spot inside you, pushing you further and further into some heavenly haze.

Ford’s hand moves in slow strokes over his hard cock, every now and then stopping to squeeze at the base, his knuckles pale with the effort of holding himself back. He watches you, only you, his sacred vision meant to be cherished, wishing it was him filling you up instead.

His gaze devours every delicate part of you: how your lips tremble as you moan Stan’s name, the soft arch of your spine when his brother thrusts deeper, the way your body, so soft, so sweet, melts against every rough movement. Ford’s chest rises and falls as he breathes shallowly and uneven, his jaw tight.

“She’s stunning, isn’t she?” you hear Stan’s proud voice, every thrust making you cry out, your body jolting forward only to be pulled back by the iron grip he has on your waist. “look at her, sixer. Look at this perfect little pussy takin’ me so fuckin’ well. But eh, what a shame you’re not brave enough to handle her like this, are you?”

Ford’s lips press into a thin line, he tries to ignore his brother’s mockery, tries to avoid conflict, narrowing his eyes, but his cock twitches in his hand at the sound of your soft begging voice. “Foord,” you whimper, reaching for him with trembling fingers.

“Go on. Let him see how much you love it. Let him hear how good this thick fuckin’ cock feels inside you.”

“You’re insufferable,” Ford finally snaps in serious voice. His hand tightens on his cock as he uses his thumb to smear the slick of precum over the swollen tip while he kneels beside you. “you think brute force is all it takes to please her? Amateur.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Stan spits back, though there’s a slight falter in his thrusts, more sensual and slow, bringing you more pleasure, making you whine. Your pussy clenches around him and the sound of your soft cries only makes him groan.

“Stan, oh fuck!”

“There you go, doll.” his grin widens as he watches you come undone beneath him. “You don’t even know how pretty you look right now, do you? All spread out for me, crying on my cock.”

“Yes, yes! it’s, oh god, it’s too good—”

“Oh, you’re just drunk on it, aren’t you?” he teases, his hips snapping forward again, drawing another broken cry from your lips. “Go on, sweetie, tell me how good it feels, tell me how much you love it.”

Your words are a jumbled mess, tumbling out in a rush of breathless babble: “so good, so big, can’t! oh, can’t think, Stan, i— i love it, i love you so much!”

“Take it, baby. Keep talking, let me hear that pretty voice.”

“S’too much, too deep,” your head is shaking, your cheeks flushed, your eyes glassy as you stare up at him, your lips trembling with every word. “c-can feel deep, so deep, feels so good. . . oh, please, please don’t stop—”

“Damn it, damn it,” Ford mutters from where he’s still kneeling by the couch, his eyes are locked on the spot where Stan’s hips meet yours, watching the way you take him, the way you stretch around him, the wet, messy sounds filling the room. “you’re going to fucking kill her.”

“Nah, she’s tougher than she looks, aren’t you, pretty?” Stan glances down at you, brushing his thumb over your swollen lower lip, then wiping your sweet tears off your cute face. “c’mon, sweetheart, show sixer how strong you are. Tell him you can take it.”

“C-Can take it,” you echo again as your lashes flutter. “wan’ more, need more, please, don’t stop, don’t ever stop—”

Stan laughs at how desperate you sound, so dumb and drunk on his cock sliding in and out of you, his hand moves down between your thighs, finding your swollen clit as he starts toying with it, and the sound you make is pure music, a beautiful cry that makes his cock twitch inside you.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking, hhnngh, perfect, could fuck you forever. Might just do it. . . keep you here, all pretty and fucked out and crying for me.” his thrusts grow harsher, dragging against your cervix in a way that has your toes curling. It’s too much, too good and the only sound you can make is a sweet, broken hum, your lips parted as drool threatens to escape.

And through it all, Ford is still there, his gaze devouring you. His six-fingered hand, so deft and steady in every other setting, now trembles as it pumps his leaking cock, betraying the tension rippling through him. His flushed dick twitches in his hand, as he tries to match the pace of Stan’s thrusts.

“Hah, you really wanna join in that bad? Go ahead, help yourself. I’m sure our doll here wouldn’t mind, right?”

Your head turns weakly, tears slipping down your cheeks as you nod, your lips quivering with your next plea. “Ford, please, please, wan’ you too. . . need you, need both of you. Can take it, promise, promise i can.” your brain turn to mush.

He exhales sharply through his nose, his broad shoulders heaving as he tries to control himself, tries to fight the pull of your voice, soft and begging and oh so sweet. But that bastard thrusts harder into you, making you forget about everything at once, especially about that worried look on Ford’s face. Stan fucks you even faster and your lips part. “Stan, Ford, wanna be good, wanna be so good for you, im. . . i’m your good girl, yes? wanna be good, please, let me—”

Stan uses his thumb to touch your flushed, tear-streaked cheek. “Oh, you’re more than good, sweetheart. You’re fucking perfect, our perfect little doll, huh?”

Ford’s brows furrow as he leans closer. “she’s. . . she’s really out of it. Stan, are you sure—”

“Cmon, sixer, you’re tellin’ me you wouldn’t do the same if you were in my shoes? she’s so fuckin wet, bet you’re wishin’ you’d been the one to break her in, or am I wrong?”

You can’t even think anymore, not a coherent thought left in that pretty, spinning head of yours. You sob out his name again, your hips bucking up against his, your head tilting back as the pleasure builds, until it’s too much while you moan “faster” and “please” as you fall apart all over again, babbling incoherent nonsense. But what comes out of your mouth next is definitely something Ford didn't expect.

“Ford, you’re s’good, so handsome. . . not fair, hnngh, you’re both so pretty. . . you, with all your. . . your smartness an’-an’—” your brows knit as you lose the thread of your sentence, but the pout that takes over your mouth is enough to make Ford combust on the spot.

Stan chuckles at your words, moving his fingers in slow, unrelenting circles that have you squirming. “Don’t try to flatter him too much, pretty. His ego’s big enough as it is.”

“She’s completely gone, Stan, is she even coherent anymore?”

Stan snorts, leaning back to admire the way you look beneath him, your tear-streaked cheeks, your glossy eyes and parted lips with drops of saliva running down your chin. “Oh, coherent enough,” he uses his hand to cup your jaw and tilt your pretty face to his brother. “tell that nerd how good you’re doing.”

“S-So good,” you sob. “so good, m’your good girl, promise, jus’ need you both so bad, so bad it hurts—”

“She’s. . . she’s not making any sense. She’s—”

“She’s good,” Stan cuts him off, sliding his hand down to rest against your lower belly, pressing lightly to feel the way his cock moves inside you.

“M’fine, m’really good, s’good. . . love you, Stan, love Ford, too! wanna—” your words break off into breathy giggle as you reach for Ford with trembling hands. “wanna kiss you, Ford, please, please, lemme—”

And just like that, Ford’s resolve shatters like glass. “Damn it,” he kisses you. It’s hesitant at first, his lips brushing yours so lightly it feels like a dream, but the soft, desperate moan that spills from your mouth pulls him in deeper.

“S’pretty,” you murmur against his mouth dreamily, your fingers curling around the collar of his sweater. “Ford, you’re so pretty, so smart, so perfect. . . wanna make you feel good, please, can i? please?”

“She’s gonna eat you alive, sixer,” Stan grins, slipping his large hand beneath your sweater to cup one of your breasts, brushing his thumb over the stiffened peak. “better give her what she wants before she drives herself crazy.”

“Y-You can take me too, can’t you?” Ford’s voice sounds like he’s barely keeping himself together.

“She’s made for it,” his twin answers for you, slowing his rough thrusts to a roll of his hips that grinds into just the right spot. “aren’t you, sweetheart? made to take every fuckin’ thing we give you. Tell him. Tell sixer how bad you want your pretty mouth full.”

“Please, wanna make you both feel so good, please, Ford, wan’ your cock, just wanna taste you— ah!” your moans are interrupted when Stan pushes roughly into your warmth again.

So Ford’s restraint doesn’t last. He lets out a broken groan, cradling your jaw with one hand while the other ghosts over your lips. “Open for me, darling,” you obey without hesitation, your tongue peeking out as he slips two long fingers into your mouth. The warmth of you makes his cock twitch again, his face flushed and torn with guilt. “Good girl,” he breathes, brushing his thumb against your cheek as you suck, your pretty lips glistening with spit.

“Fuckin’ adorable,” Stan slams his cock into you hard enough to make the couch creak. “think she loves you talkin’ to her like that, sixer. Makes her even wetter, fuck.”

“Can you take me here, darling? You're already so full, but i know you can take more. You’re extraordinary, after all.” you babble nonsense in response around Ford’s fingers, tears and spit mingling on your face as your gaze locks onto his. When his fingers leave your mouth, a string of saliva connects them to your lips, and Ford swallows thickly before leaning forward.

“Hear that, baby? you’re so goddamn perfect, even sixer here can’t help himself. Go on, open that pretty mouth for him.”

You don’t know if it’s that crazy desperation you have for both twins or Stan’s tone or that needy look on Ford’s face, but your lips part without hesitation again, and Ford exhales, his cock presses against your tongue, the weight of him dizzying as you wrap your lips around him, taking him as deep as you can. He whimpers and that noise makes your pussy throb once again around Stan’s length.

Six-fingered hand moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, not forcing, just guiding, as he starts to move, slow thrusts that press against the back of your throat. “Perfect, love, you’re. . . a-ah, perfect. Look at you, taking both of us like this. . . such a good little thing for us. . .”

You’re too far gone to answer, too consumed by the overwhelming fullness, Stanley is relentless, thrusting into your pussy, dragging against your cervix, making you sob around Ford’s length. It’s filthy, the wet sounds of your mouth and cunt harmonizing in this dirty symphony, echoing off the walls.

“Look at her,” Stan growls, gripping your hips to keep you in place as he grinds deeper. “bet you’re jealous as hell, huh? wishing it was you stretching her out like this?”

Ford’s response is a fractured groan as your throat tightens around him. “Don’t— don’t say shit like that, Stan.” even though Ford seems to be more gentle than his brother, his hold on you is firm as he guides your pretty swollen lips down and you let him. You let them, because that’s all you’ve ever wanted, to be theirs, to be good for them, to be their fleshlight they can use whenever they want.

Your body trembling from the overwhelming fullness, Stan splitting you open below while Ford’s cock steals the breath from your lungs. Tears streak your cheeks, glittering like gemstones in the candlelight, and Stan leans forward, his rough thumb smearing them away. “cryin’ so pretty for us, baby.”

Your warm mouth stretches as you take Ford in and he moans, moans and moans again, low-key turning into same mess as you when your tongue curls and presses against him. He accidentally thrusts too deep, making you gag lightly, tears spilling anew, but you keep going, keep sucking him off like the good girl you are. Because you’re their good girl, their sweet, obedient little thing who gives and gives until there’s nothing left. You hum around his length and the vibration making his knees buckle.

“Mmmph,” you manage, pulling back briefly to gasp for air before diving back down on Ford’s cock, hollowing your cheeks, your throat tightening as you try to take him deeper. “s’good, so full, love you both, love being yours. . . love being your good girl. . .”

Ford’s brows knit, his stormy eyes softening as he cups your cheek with one hand. “Careful, darling,” he caresses your spit-slicked lips with his thumb. “don’t push yourself too hard.” but his body betrays him, his cock twitching against your tongue, desperate for more of your warmth, your wetness, your everything.

“Careful? Sixer, you really think she’s not begging for more?”

You are. God, you are. Your body arches as Stan’s thick cock drags against that devastating spot inside you, your mind blanking with every sharp snap of his hips. “Please,” you gasp, pulling off Ford with a wet pop. “More, need more, please, Ford, want you both.”

Stan chuckles darkly, gripping your waist as he ruts into you, watching your beautiful nipples in the candlelight while he ruins your little pussy with every deep thrust, making you cry out around Ford’s cock. “Ugh, bet she’d beg to have us both at once if she could talk right now.”

“D-Dont—” Ford’s response falter as his head tilts back. “she’s, oh fuck, she’s doing enough.”

Your eyes flutter shut, your mind blank and when you pull back to breathe your voice is swallowed immediately when Ford presses his cock back into your mouth, your hands clinging to his thighs as your body shudders between them. Too rough.

Ford regrets his action immediately, his gaze softening as he watches you. “S-sorry, love, i didn’t m—“ he cant even finish his sentence as you take him deeper again. “Ahh, there. . . there's my good girl,” he strokes your cheek gently.

Stan’s growl sounds through the room as his grip tightens on your hips, burying himself deeper, his balls tighten as he pulses inside you. “fuck, angel, you take me so good, tight lil’ thing, this perfect pussy was made for me, wasn’t it? hell, im gonna cum. . .”

You’re trembling under him, eyes heavy-lidded and watery, your nails scraping helplessly against Ford’s thighs as your mouth hangs open, while he nudges his cock on your cheek now, rubbing it against your skin, giving his beautiful girl time to breathe and rest. But god, Stan’s cock makes you cry out so pretty it could’ve brought a man to his knees.

Ford’s gaze flicks to his brother, the irritation obvious in his eyes. “Stanley, she’s already so overstimulated. Can’t you slow down?”

“Slow down? Ford, look at her, she’s fuckin’ drunk on it.”

“Can’t you— damn, at least touch her properly?”

“What the fuck do you think i’m doing?” Stan drops his hand low, and when those thick fingers starts teasing that tender little pearl of yours, you cant stop the pitiful, muffled sob that leave your throat. “Happy now, professor? she’s got my cock buried in her and my fuckin’ fingers making her melt. Nothin’ to complain about.”

Ford falters, his brows furrowing as his eyes dart to yours, searching for any sign of discomfort on his beloved girl's face. Instead, he found you gazing up at him, adoring, your lips parting around his tip with a soft, wet sound. “I. . . still, Stanley, you could—”

“Don’t you ‘Stanley’ me. You’re not exactly mr. gentle here yourself, sixer. You practically fucked her throat.”

Ford flushes, holding your hair as his composure slips another notch. “I’m not, she’s just so—” he groans as you use opportunity and take his cock in your mouth again. “I just—! I don’t mean to—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Stan’s rhythm falters when the tension in his body finally reaches its peak as his head drops back with a deep moan of your name. Fuck, the condom is the only thing stopping him from flooding you completely, but its hardly enough to dull the intense, claiming press of him inside you.

“Fuck— fuck, angel,” he pants. “gonna fill you up so bad if this wasn’t in the way— goddammit! wanna see it dripping out of you, doll.”

“S-Stan,” you whimper, trying to form a coherent thought. “so good, so good, i—”

Ford feels a mix of frustration and worry, watching the way his twin manhandles you. “Ugh, you’re going to break her at this rate. Do you even care that she’s—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, sixer. Tell the man yourself, baby, you’re loving this, right?”

You manage a soft, breathless “yes, wan’ more, wan’ all of you—” before your words dissolve into a string of muffled moans and nonsensical sounds, your thoughts too hazy to form anything coherent because the way Stan fucks you feels unyielding.

Stan’s fingers flex against your clit one last time and then he’s gripping your hips like a man possessed, his teeth bared as his cock twitches one last time inside you, it pulses against the grip of your velvet walls. He holds you in place as he empties himself into the condom, muttering a string of incoherent curses. Your breath hitches, your body still oversensitive, needing and when his thumb circles your clit lazily, but deliberate, you shiver hard enough that you nearly collapse.

“Take it, baby,” Stanley tortures your sensitive pearl over and over, feeling your pussy flattering around him and he grins when you whimper. “such a mess, doll. S’pose we’ll have to fix that, huh? Fill you up proper next time. No damn rubber in the way.

Ford, meanwhile, is so ruined. His face is flushed and he’s pulling out of your mouth with a wet, sticky sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His cock twitches, shiny with your spit, he chokes out something that sounds suspiciously like a protest to his brother's words, but his voice falters when your hand wraps around the base of his cock, your tongue darting out to catch a bead of precum dripping from the flushed tip.

“I'm close, I'm so cl-close. . . Wait, wait, love, need tissues, dont want. . . don't want to make a mess.”

But you disagree. “Ford,” your gaze hazy but full of affection as you press your lips against his palm. “you don’t have to worry. I want to taste you. Please?”

Ford’s eyes going wide as his cock twitches in your grip. He looks at you like you’ve just said the most scandalous, sinful thing imaginable and you have.

“Go on, sixer, you heard the lady.”

Ford still has doubts, but he's not in a position to think and analyze for a long time. That's why when you taste the head of his cock, his resolve crumbles. You give his tip another gentle kiss, humming softly at the salty taste of him. Your hands cradle his hips as you move slowly, your tongue swirling around him, savoring every drop like it’s the sweetest treat.

He guides you back to him, his cock throbbing against your lips as you take him in, inch by inch. “Yeah, feels so good. . . ” his voice breaks, his fingers threading through your hair again.

You moan softly in response, your eyes closing as you focus on Ford, taking him deeper, letting him feel the full warmth of your mouth as your tongue presses against him. His hips jerk, setting the rhythm that lets him fuck your throat slowly, he mutters something that sounds like an apology, though it’s swallowed by a desperate groan.

“Darling, please, so good. . . You're so good for us.”

You can't help but get turned on by his voice again, even though you're not sure you can handle the second round right now, you still need to catch your breath.

Ford's gaze locks with yours and he nods as a warning that he’s close, watching your shiny lips, swollen around his length. The sound he makes sends a spark of heat straight to your core. Its messy, and noisy, and when Ford finally spills into your mouth with a sharp cry of your name, you swallow it down to the last drop, wishing he'd fill your pussy too, but it can wait. For now.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re somethin’ else, doll.”

Ford pulls you into his arms the moment you release him, his hands cradling your face, checking if his precious girl he’s terrified to lose is okay. “Thank you, love, you were such a good girl for me.”

“For us, Sixer, for us.”

The room falls silent after the last of your trembling fades, and the three of you, sweaty and exhausted, lie on the couch.

Somewhere in the background, the storm outside rumbles one last time before finally giving way to quiet.

Then. . . click.

The lights flicker on, suddenly, obnoxiously bright, washing the room in unforgiving fluorescence. You squint, blinking against the glare as you lift your head from Stan’s chest, a groggy, borderline-irritated groan slipping from your lips.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” your voice sounds so weak from all the. . . well, everything.

Stan grunts, throwing an arm over his eyes as if to block out the light. “As i said, goddamn timing.”

Ford sits up a little, rubbing at his neck with a wince. His glasses are crooked on his face, and his hair is a mess, though not nearly as bad as Stan’s.

You can’t help it, you snort, slapping your hand against Stan’s big chest playfully. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Yeah? Well, you don’t look much better, sweetheart,” Stan retorts with a tired smirk. “besides, i’m too old for this shit. Don’t expect me to move for at least an hour.”

“Make it two,” his twin adds, leaning back with a tired sigh. “i think i’ve pulled something.”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up on wobbly legs. “Oh, you two are pathetic.”

“Says the girl who can't even walk straight now.”

You stick your tongue out at Stan, though you know he can’t see it because poor man already closed his eyes.

“Whatever, i’m taking a shower, try not to die of old age while i’m gone.”

Ford smiles softly at your behaviour, but Stan just groans, waving a hand at you dismissively. “Have fun. Don’t expect me to move a fuckin’ inch.”

You roll your eyes again, muttering something about men as you disappear into the bathroom.

But what you don’t see and what Stan doesn’t see too is how Ford’s gaze lingers on you as you go.

The door clicks shut, and Stan sighs heavily, already half-asleep. “Wake me up in a week.”

Ford glances at him, smirking faintly. “Sure, Stanley. A week.”

The bathroom.

You’re standing under the spray of hot water, letting it wash away the stickiness and sweat, when the door creaks open behind you.

“Stan, i swear to god, if you’ve suddenly decided you can—” you start, turning to glance over your shoulder only to freeze when you see Ford stepping inside.

“Not Stan,” he answers as he locks the door behind him.

Your brows shoot up. “Ford? what are you—?”

“He’s out cold,” Ford says simply as he steps closer. “and besides,” his fingers brush over your hip, and you shiver from wild contrast of his cool touch against your heated skin. “i didn’t get nearly enough of you earlier.” he presses you back against the cool tile, cupping your face, tilting it to capture your lips in a kiss which now feels more possessive than gentle.

“Ford,” you whisper, half-scolding but mostly breathless. “he’ll—”

“He won’t,” he interrupts. “and even if he does. . . well, perhaps it’s time Stanley learned to share properly.”

Before you can respond, his hand is slipping between your thighs, using his fingers to part you.

“Now, let’s see if you can stay quiet, darling. Don’t want to wake him, do we?”

[notlhecxzsa]

I'd Marry You With Paper Rings - N.R

Summary: Natasha is many things but a person who knows comfort and care. But, with you, why does it come off naturally? As if, all her life, it is what she was trained to do—to you and only for you. She could feel it on the way home and her friends surely could hear it in the silence, but things happened. Would she still be the greatest warrior in this game of terror and save you or...?

Author's Note: Ahhhh, finally, here we are! 5k words, not proofread (im really sorryyy, i wanted to give it to you quickly since you guys have been bombarding me ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ)

Warnings: simp!natasha, soft!natasha, tooth rotting fluff, happy y/n=happy natasha, ahhh Beefy!natasha, literally the calm before the storm, Y/n having some adult... thoughts about Natasha's hands

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3rd Person's POV:

Natasha was never the one to show sympathy, maybe for her friends who treated her more like a family than her own. They are the boundary between Natasha's humanity and Natasha's out of this world characteristics of a human.

Not that Natasha would care enough if millions of people would see her as a monster—hell she doesn't even care enough about the downfall of hundreds of companies before hers while she makes it to the top.

But, even with all that, it doesn't mean that Natasha doesn't tend to show her once in a blue moon kindness. Not 'show' show, as it is often done through the dark, in the silence of her name being labeled as anonymous. Doing things like donating half of a million to different charities—giving extra when it is Christmas.

Even so, Natasha couldn't careless to hear how grateful those people are for her, already being contented when Maria would say that it was already given.

All that only for her to show such care for a girl she was forced to marry—the same girl that caught something inside her she didn't know existed. How could she? When all she's ever known is how to hold a gun? How to fight raw with her trembling body until she passed a test that no teenager should got through? How to not prioritize how she feels?

She's grown to believe that her calloused hands are never meant to hold someone so dearly. For her mouth that ended life after life to never speak with such care and mold with gentleness. For her mind that only craved for revenge and thought of unholy things to and never those comforting words that left her mouth when she spoke to you.

Never believed that her heart could ever feel things that she felt for you.

"Do you want some juice to go with that?" She analyzed you carefully, as if you would break even with just a wrong glare of a pair of eyes.

She reminded herself to make up those words that left her mouth with a certain gentleness—witnessing how you would tensed visibly when she or Maria would speak out of nowhere, especially after what happened 3 days ago.

"N-no... water's good." You spoke quietly, looking at her briefly before you focused on the food again.

Natasha stood up, going to the fridge to get the orange juice that she often sees you pouring yourself with before eating. Also pouring herself one, she brought those two tall glasses on the table, offering you a small smile that she seemed to be wearing oh so often whenever you would look at her.

"T-thank you..." She watched as a certain light sparked in your eyes, almost the same one she found herself yearning to get a glimpse of again.

Clearing her throat, Natasha was close to feeling embarrassed with how long she set her gaze on you, turning back on her food once again. "Maria bought some fresh fruits earlier, you can just get some in the fridge if you would want." She said before taking a bite of the rotisserie chicken you made.

Even with all your energy seemed to be wiped off of the face of the earth, you still managed to give her the best of your cooking and never failed to make her stomach grumbled in happiness. Natasha could swear that all the foods you make is enough to make her work non stop without being tired, but she would never tell anyone that.

Even if the foods you make are against her diet and workout routine.

But, then again, she would never ever tell a soul about that.

Natasha saw in her peripheral vision how you only nodded, a very small tight lip smile—almost invisible, stretch its way out of your face, but still, Natasha could clearly see that.

Inhaling a bunch of air quietly, Natasha shook her thoughts away and decided to eat in silence once again. "Mr. Clint and the others... when will they come here?" Natasha heard you asked quietly.

"Oh... I don't know..." Natasha answered, gazing up to your face only to notice how you shoulder deflated. "It's been so busy in the company, but I'm sure they'll come visit soon." She almost cringed with how she rushed to add that answer, but felt a wave of contentment when she saw you nodded.

Having small conversations with Natasha seemed to become easier these past few days, and you are more than happier to entertain it while it lasts. Pushing aside your shyness, taking advantage of every seconds talking with her.

Silence once again covered the atmosphere before she heard you clear your throat and started to talk. "W-when are we getting married?" A question that never left your mind ever since you got there, having no idea what no idea what will even happen.

Or how things will happen. It felt right to ask that—to talk to Natasha about the barely spoken matrimony that will be happening to the both of you, or what you thought to be happening.

Natasha stopped moving, it felt as if her blood also stopped flowing. What Yelena said came rushing inside her head, feelings and emotions came clashing with each other in just a mere split of a second.

You didn't know. You never knew.

"Uh..." Natasha started speaking, not wanting her silence to bring more questions inside your naive mind. Remembering how she sometimes treated you so low just because of the forced marriage that came upon her door. You are more of the victim than she was in this. "My parents... and yours, are still working on it." She offered you a glance, not knowing if she's trying to reassure herself you're believing her.

You slowly nodded, looking at her in the eyes. "Hmm, okay... we just... haven't really talked about it... and I- I mean, I..." You slowly looked down, as if it makes you feel embarrassed to admit what you were about to say. "I just wanted to... uhm, know more..." Looking at her through your eyelashes, the same look that makes Natasha's heart wince with something she would never dare to name what.

Natasha nodded, not knowing anymore what to say. She is a woman full of words, knowledge and everything.

Shame on her parents for giving her the only person who could bring her to her knees, but that would be something that Natasha will never let herself admit, even to herself.

She just knows that she will think of something about the case of your marriage. Something that doesn't involve disappointing you more than you might already have.

Thinking of an escape, she inhaled, remembering the question she wanted to ask ever since she watched you too long while you were gazing out in the balcony. "Would you like to get out of here?" Your gaze snapped up at her, your eyebrows raised in an adorable manner—well, Natasha thought so.

"Go...? Out?" You asked as if in disbelief.

You've never be out of this huge penthouse ever since you step a foot in here—not like you weren't also caged back in Hawaii.

"Yeah..." Natasha answered, cutting herself a piece of the chicken as if she just asked something casual. For othe first time, she was gonna take you out. Not like how she felt when she saw you longingly look out in the window. "You know... mall? or, wherever you want to go."

It made you feel giddy, having to finaly roam the place you only gaze at on the big windows and spacious balcony that Natasha has inside the penthouse. "Yes." Natasha could hear the visible high pitched tone in your voice, making her heart swell hearing a certain joy in your voice.

Looking into your eyes, you're surprised to see how a small smile could reach her green eyes. "Would you like to go out today?" Your mouth was agaped, looking at the clock.

"N-now?" You asked, hesitating. As if you're not believing what she was saying.

"Yeah, I mean, if you're in the mood. But, if you're not, I'm sure I can settle my busy schedule for you." Oh how she would do anything to spend time with you—what she would do to give you everything.

Perking up, you dismissed her offer, your hands clasping together in front of you as if you're pleading to her. "No!" Her small smile slowly stretched widely. "We can go now, Natty!" If you were both in a cartoon show now, the way her ears perked up at the nickname would be visble, almost as visble as the flush spreading from her neck up to her cheeks.

You didn't seem to mind the adorable nickname you've just given her, she thought. So, she kept it behind her thoughts, noting to deal with it later—when you're out of sight.

"Are you sure?" She said, slowly taking a bit of the food, as if it was to hide her smirk.

You head shook up and down, Natasha couls see how tight you're gripping the utensils beside your plate like a chile. How you're trying to suppress a huge smile she wished she could force out of you. "Yes... yes, Natty."

God, shame on her parents for giving her the only person who could bring her to her knees—who could make her do impossible things.

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Natasha glanced at the back of your head for the nth time, only to avert her gaze on the road. Not sure if it was because of the fear of getting caught or the new rule she made earlier. Always keep you safe.

"There's a park near at the 2nd stoplight ahead..." She started, her pointed gaze staying on the road but she could see how you turned to look at her. Did she forced herself not to gaze back into your awaiting eyes that sparkles as if she held the stars in the sky? "But, there's also a Mall a few blocks away from it with an amusement park behind it. Many options are laid out everywhere, where would you like to go?"

As she explained, her tone was surprisingly soft. Not the one she would use to her people—not even the one she would use to her friends and especially to her family.

"I-I don't... Where do you want to go?" She heard you say, as if scared to make a decision. A decision that's big. There was a certain edge in your tone, but she could hear it from the tip of your tounge.

She had seen your eyes that big ferris wheel from her balcony, always facing the way towards it as if your biggest wish is too touch it from miles away.

She turned to look you in the eyes, taking advantage of the red lights stopping the motions of the flowing cars. Your hair was down, a spectacle hanging on the arch of your nose, since you were having a headache earlier as you said, saying it just might be your visionary problems, she watched as you put it on.

"You choose, detka. I promise, I'm fine with wherever you want to go, yeah?" She said ever so gently before reaching out to pat your head, as if you were some child.

Natasha is good with so many things, really, but not when it comes to physical touch. Only knowing how to knock out people with a punch and kill with a gun.

She watched as you look down and fumbled the ends of your blue dress, that fits oh so perfectly well with your body, hugging all its curve. It took her all the will power she has to not check you out and make it weird with hwo long she was staring earlier. Only if you knew what you do to her.

She averted her gaze when her eyes catch a couple of faint bruises that seems to be healing already. It kept her awake at night wondering what your body has been through for the bruises to stay for that long.

She was surprisingly happy when she saw you wore a dress, even with the cardigan on top that you forgot to wear earlier, giving her a chance to see you. Clearly, Natasha would rather for you to take it off, but she found herself prioritizing you as her heart ached seeing you fumble the cardigan, fastening it around you.

Whatever you're comfortable with. She thought.

She caught herself staring at your lips a little too long before averting her eyes and inahling deeply, making sure she's quiet while doing so.

"How about we go to the park first? After that, we can eat at the mall and if you would like to buy something, we can do that also?" She caught in her peripheral vision how you snapped your head towards her, making her turn to you once again, hoping for time to slow down. "Then after that, we can go around the amusement park and do whatever you want?" She watched as you took in everything she said, with that same expression you always wear whenever she's talking.

The same one that makes Natasha feel so seen... and heard.

She's a woman of her words, giving people no choice but to listen, obey and watch everything that she does. But with you, it feels different.

You nodded, giving her a small shy smile before settling your hands on your lap. "I'd like that."

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Y/n's POV:

Clutching the cardigan in one hand, I hold the melting ice cream in the other that Natalia had bought me. It made me laugh thinking that she might've been reading my mind since I was just looking at the ice cream truck, with so much longingness to get a taste and she insisted on buying the both of us.

We walked side by side, letting her lead me as my eyes trailed everywhere. My heart jumps in happiness at every person I see, every structure that fascinates me, and every joyful moment I witness.

This scenery can't be seen from the balcony at the penthouse—god, how much I wish I could see it from there.

"Here..." Turning to look at her, I saw her wiping the bench with her bare hands for any invisible dirt before standing up straight. "Sit. We could see everything from here and so your feet won't get tired also." She explained, wiping her hand from the back of her pants.

I smiled, suddenly feeling giddy for some reason. She waited until I was seated, taking a seat beside me, unconsciously making me get a whiff of her expensive perfume that I grew accustomed to. I could smell it everywhere in the penthouse, making it weirdly feel more... comfortable.

"Thank you, Natalia." I mumbled, looking at her even though she just kept her gaze towards the scenery in front of us, only nodding as she ate her ice cream that is almost finished already. I haven't even eaten mine halfway!

I rummage through my small sling bag, taking out a hand sanitizer and bumping it to her biceps that are finding inside a black polo that she paired with some slacks. "Your hands are dirty, you shouldn't have wiped the seat." I murmured, catching her gaze for a moment before taking the sanitizer.

I took her ice cream so she could use both of her hands. "Oh, thanks." I heard her say almost inaudibly and she went on to sanitize her hands. "You could've gotten dirt on your dress, detka. It's light." She said, and I only shrugged, nodding as I watched her hands while licking the ice cream.

Even her hands looked so expensive. I found myself staring at it for too long, feeling something I've never felt before. I bet it would be larger than mine. The veins around it are visible, but it didn't change how... cool I see it.

"You have beautiful hands, Natalia." I blurted out, offering her a small smile as I showed my adoration.

I caught a glimpse of her throat's movement of swallowing, as her gaze snapped to mind. She didn't smile but kept her lips in a tight line and nodded a little. She's the one who put the sanitizer back in my bag before taking her ice cream as I lick mine, catching her eyes sticking to the movements I made before looking back towards the scenery in front of us.

I did the same, minding how she cleared her throat a couple of times and the way her shoulder moved as she inhaled deeply.

"Do you often go here?" I asked, and her head moved to the side, not meeting my gaze but a sign that she listened to me and is paying attention.

I watched as she shook her head. "Hmm, no. It's my first time here. I just passed by the same road on the way here very often." Narrowing my eyes, I was surprised.

"What? Really?" If I lived here before, this would be my favorite place! There's a breathtaking fountain in the middle, trees surrounding the area that provides fresh air, food truck vendors littering almost everywhere. "I'd go here everyday, that's for sure." Giggling a little, I stared at my ice cream, looking at the certain side that is already melting and licking it all the way up, tilting my head to the side as I did so.

While doing that, I caught Natalia's gaze since her head is still facing sideways. Once again, her eyes stick to the movements I made before she looked away as if my gaze shot laser beams at her face.

Clearing her throat once again, she answered, "You like it that much?" She said, already finishing off the cone.

I nodded even though she couldn't see me with a smile playing on my face. "I love it." I said with a certain enthusiasm that I made sure she heard.

Her head moved in satisfaction. "Good."

"Why do you not come here?" I asked further, checking if I'm not annoying her with my questions.

"Hmm, not the... kind of places I like to go to." She confessed and I slowly nodded, jumping in to reply.

"We could go now if you would like." I offered, watching the side of her face.

I found myself almost insecure with how well defined her face is, her nose is so perfect and how her lashes seemed to be so well cut even though it's so full.

Her eyes met mine, only then did I realize how intently I was staring at her. My gaze fell down on her lips that looked as soft as the clouds to avoid her eyes. "No—I mean, it's fine... I'm enjoying it." She gave me a smile that warms my heart, it felt like I was hugging Tamtam.

Nodding with a content smile on my face, I caught how her gaze on me softened a little more before I looked back at the scenery and finished my ice cream.

I am loving this day more and more!

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I felt a hand circling around my waist as we walked inside the mall—a very huge one, and seemed to be so expensive. There are a lot of luxurious brands around that I have seen my Mom and Dad have back at home. There were a lot of guards more than usual when we entered the place, but it seems like it was normally like that as Natalia guided me inside.

There's so many people, but it's not crowded either. It doesn't look like the malls that Lucy would take me to. It could not be an ordinary mall.

"Would you like to buy something? Or should we eat first, hmm?" Turning to look back at Natalia who was looking around the area, only then did I realize how close she is to me, but I didn't make a big fuss about it—finding it rather... comforting.

"I-I..." Looking around, I caught a glimpse of restaurants that seemed to be very expensive too. Well dressed people going in and out, walking past us. "I don't know, Natty..." My attention is getting everything and capturing everything.

Not used to going out and being with so many people in foreign places is not something that felt comforting to me, though it is not bad either. Things just tend to... overwhelmed me.

"Okay, how about we eat first hmm? Then we can go buy whatever you want." I felt a hand tucking the strands of my hair behind my ear, out of my face making me look back at the owner of the same calloused hand.

She's smiling down at me, urging me to make a decision but doesn't make me feel pressured at the same time. "I'd like that, Natty." I said, grinning up at her as I clutched her hand.

"Okay then, come on, detka. I have a favorite restaurant around here, you'll like it." We started walking as she pulled her hand away from mine but kept her other hand around my waist, keeping me close.

"Oh, you go here a lot?" I asked, looking up at her.

Without returning my questioning gaze, she answered. "I own the Mall."

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"Ms. Romanoff."

"Good afternoon, Madam."

"Great to see you again, Ms. Romanoff."

Greetings after greetings from people from the restaurant and until now in a very big shopping area where she lead me. I smiled through it all even though I haven't heard them saying my name, noticing as Natalia did not even seem to acknowledge all of it, only nodding in the air.

"You pick whatever you want, alright?" She said to me, leaning down as her hands stayed put around my waist, as if whispering a secret. "Here..." She turned and pulled out a cart that was behind here.

"I-I..." Looking up at her hesitantly. "I don't think I need anything." It took her a moment to respond, looking at me with what seemed to be an amusement or surprised in her eyes.

It is true. I don't think I need anything. I have clothes. I brought a couple of my outside bags and shoes.

"It's..." She trailed off, making me look at her confusedly before she turned and motioned a person to come. They started talking, so I took the chance to wander my gaze around the floor, still staying in her hands that seemed to be glued around me.

There's so many... things in here. I feel like everything can be found here. Bags, alcohol, necessities, clothing, jewelry, I could also see a food shop at the end of a hall—just everything.

There were lots of workers too, buyers going in and out and around.

"...No, I want the best one. Give me the latest one you have..." I overheard Natalia talk but my attention quickly went to a stuffed toy that looked so cute! Oh god, now I missed my stuffies back at home.

I suddenly felt giddy and my hands itched to touch them. Thankfully, I brought my wallet with me and Natalia had insisted on paying for the earlier payments. Maybe I could buy her one too!

I turned to check on her if she's already done talking to the man, as soon as I heard them finishing up the conversation, tha man walked away and I quickly tugged on Natalias arm. "Natty." Her gaze immediately went down to meet mine, her eyebrows narrowing in question. "Can I go over there?" Turning as I point towards the pack of stuffies that comes in different kinds, sizes and colors. "Please?" I added as soon as I look back to her, she was already looking at me with her lips turning upwards on one side—smirking.

"I mean—if it's okay with you—but if not! We can just go and look at some other things." I immediately said, pulling away from her.

Quickly, in return, she took ahold of my hand again. "Come on, detka." The cart on one hand and mine on the other, she tugged me towards it. "Would you like to buy those?" She asked as soon as we got near towards it.

Forgetting to answer, my hand quickly reached out to take a hold of the biggest one in the center before leaning towards it to give it a squeeze. "It's so adorable! It's so fluffy!" I squealed, making sure that only Natalia and I could hear. "Natty!" Calling out as I turned to look at her, "Come! Take a look—hold it, it's so fluffy!" Catching the smile from her face fade quickly as she stood up straight, looking around as soon as I reached my hand out.

"I don't—I don't think..." She sounded hesitant as she continue to look around, as if checking if people are looking at us, but as soon as her gaze met mine, her shoulder relaxed a little and I watch as a small smile stretch its way out of her face.

Taking my hand in hers as she walked slowly, I tugged her until she's just as  close to the stuffy as I am. "Squeeze it! Like this." I hugged the huge brown teddy bear, only to be stopped by a voice.

"Sorry, Miss, but you're not allowed to do that." It was flat and seemed to be upset, looking back I saw one of the worker here. She was looking at me with one of her eyebrows raised as her gaze trailed up and down my figure.

Quickly pulling away, I bowed my head down. "Oh! I'm-" I was going to start apologizing but Natalia's booming cold voice cut me off.

"Go. We will be buying this, don't worry." The woman stammered as soon as Natalia walked in front of me, putting her hands around my shoulder.

The woman stammered the apologies that slipped her mouth, walking away quickly after finishing. "N-Natty, I-I'm really sorry, I didn't know-" With my heart almost beating its way out if my chest, thinking that Natalia might have been so disappointed at my actions.

"Hey, hey, stop with those. Touch everything you wanna touch, try everything you want, don't mind them, alright?" I coyly looked up to her, my hands wringing together in hesitation.

"Come on now, pick what else you might like, okay? I'll get this delivered in the penthouse, I don't think it will fit with us in the car." Her small laugh made my smile, before I frowned.

"Wait, how much is this?—" Again, I was cut off.

"Something you shouldn't be worried about, baby." With that, she called a new worker and started discussing about the delivery transaction, leaving me gazing at her.

"Now, what else would you like?"

°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~

Natasha's POV:

"What- What is this?" Stopping my movements to start the car, I looked down to Y/n's outstretched hands with what seemed to be a wallet in her hold.

"You didn't let me pay..." She turned her head down, as if scared to meet my gaze. "I wanted to buy you those other stuffies earlier. Here, take my wallet and take how much it costs or... or... oh, also the other things that you got me from the store. It was so many and expensive, it might've cost you a lot." Looking back to me, she forced the wallet into my chest as I gaze at her in disbelief, smirking as I did so.

This girl never fails to surprise me. Chuckling, an idea came up to me.

Taking a hold of her arm, I took her wallet. "Those numbers comes back to my bank account every minute, darling. But... I'll take this." Her eyes widened a little as I put her pink wallet inside my blazer.

"Oh- a-all of it?" She asked, and I start the car.

"Yeah... all of it." Smiling at her as I pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, holding it on her lap.

The blush on her face didn't go unnoticed as I smiled, gazing towards the way.

"O-okay..." She settled down on her seat, both of her hands holding mine.

"Are you tired already, solnechnyy svet?" I could feel her confused gaze burning holes into the side of my head but I didn't bother explaining what the word meant just as she didn't bother asking what it is.

"Not really, no." I heard her say as she leaned back to the seat, gazing back at the road where the city lights laid out before us.

Looking towards her, catching a glimpse of how the lights reflected over her face. I could feel myself breaking a smile, which I let on, going back to looking at the road.

"Are you sure, detka?" I asked once more, my tone playful.

"I just want to rest already, but not yet sleepy." She explained, her voice soothing my ear.

"Hmmm." I hummed in acknowledgement. "Not yet sleepy. Alright, princess." I added, turning the wheel around the corner.

I felt a tug on my arm before she started speaking. "Can we watch a movie later?- I mean, only if-if you're not tired... but also if uhm- if you would like to. But, it's fine if you won't." Gazing back at her face, I reached my hand to caress the side of her face on the skin that I could reach for a few second, calming her down.

"We could do that, I'll cut more fruit for you for snack. I don't think Maria got us some popcorn." Before turning away, I catched how she perked up, making me smile unconsciously as my heart seemed to jump, which I ignored.

"That's awesome, Natty!" She said in delight. "I would really love that."

I have felt that killing people who deserved it is fulfilling. Watching companies and people burn down as they tried to pick up a fight with me brings the spark of happiness and contentment to my insides.

And, I never knew there will be much more greater things than that.

Now, I found out, only a voice is enough to explode such a thing inside me.

Enough to make me feel as if I'm on top of the world.

°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~

Author's Note: Ahhhh, finally! I apologize for making you all wait, I did see the multiples of asks that have been sent to me, I didn't have enough energy to answer them, I'm really sorry. I was sick for days, but I'm doing a lot better now! I also got the next chapter on the works already, and I'm sorry in advance for it 乁⁠༼⁠☯⁠‿⁠☯⁠✿⁠༽⁠ㄏ

[rafesbangs]

𝜗𝜚 farmgirl!reader surprises stableboy!rafe with a picnic

c!w; basically none... fluff ! yippee! soft!rafe !

notes; first actual farmgirl!reader fic yayay ( someone take my tumblr away before i make too many !readers. i'm obsessed. )

the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the sprawling fields. the scent of wildflowers mingled with the earthy smell of freshly tilled soil as you tugged rafe’s hand, practically dragging him behind you. his larger frame followed reluctantly, boots crunching against the grass, his gruff protests falling on deaf ears.

“what’s the rush?” he grumbled, his deep voice tinged with amusement, though he made no effort to pull away. “i’ve got chores to finish, y'know.”

you glanced back at him, rolling your eyes as you tightened your grip on his calloused hand. “you’re always working,” you shot back. “besides, you’ll like this. just trust me, okay?”

he huffed, his expression skeptical but curious. “’m not sure i like surprises,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

the field stretched wide before you, its gentle slope leading toward the crest of the hill. the soft rustle of the grass in the breeze mixed with the distant hum of cicadas, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d done too much. rafe wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who cared about pretty views or picnics, but you’d wanted to do something for him; something simple, something good.

when you finally reached the top, you stopped and turned, throwing out your arms like you were presenting a masterpiece. “ta-da!”

he stilled, his brows furrowing slightly as his gaze swept over the setup. a faded checkered blanket was spread over the grass, a wicker basket sitting in the middle, surrounded by wildflowers you’d picked that morning. from here, the view of the setting sun was perfect, painting the horizon in streaks of amber, pink, and lavender.

“you... did all this?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost uncertain.

you nodded, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his intense gaze. “'course. for us.”

rafe looked at you then, really looked at you, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. his jaw tightened for a moment, and then he exhaled, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “you’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

his words sent warmth blooming in your chest as you dropped onto the blanket, patting the spot next to you. “figured you deserved it. all that hay doesn’ stack itself.”

he sat down, his weight sinking into the ground beside you, his knees brushing against yours. “can’t remember the last time someone did somethin’ like this for me,” he admitted, his voice gruff but honest.

“well,” you said, pulling the basket closer and opening it up to reveal the food you’d packed, “someone’s gotta take care of you. you’re always so busy taking care 'f everything else.”

his eyes softened, the usual guarded look he carried melting away as he watched you set out the meal. “you’re too good to me.” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

the two of you ate in comfortable silence, the sun sinking lower with every passing minute. rafe leaned back on his elbows, his broad shoulders stretching the worn fabric of his shirt as he watched the horizon.

“this is nice,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

you smiled, lying back beside him. “see? i told you you’d like it.”

when he turned to look at you, the fading sunlight framed his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the softness in his blue eyes. “i don’t deserve you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place.

you opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, he shifted closer, one hand cupping the side of your face. his touch was gentle, his thumb brushing against your cheek as his lips captured yours. the kiss was slow, deliberate, filled with a tenderness that didn’t match the rugged front he usually put on.

his other hand found your waist, pulling you closer until you were pressed against him. when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“you drive me crazy, y'know that?” he whispered, his voice low and rough.

“good,” you teased, a breathless smile tugging at your lips. “someone’s gotta keep you on your toes, stable boy.”

he chuckled, the deep sound rumbling through his chest as he kissed you again, this time with more urgency. the world around you faded, the soft hum of cicadas, the cool breeze, the golden light of the dying sun. it all melted into nothing but the warmth of him, the weight of his hand on your waist, the way he kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered.

and as the stars began to dot the sky, you stayed like that, tangled together on the blanket, the field quiet except for the sound of your laughter and the steady beat of his heart against yours.

taglist ! ; @drewscoquette , @dollyfiles , @holes4rafe , @filthyrafe , @bambiangels , @rafesheaven , ( pls lmk if you want to be added or removed, i wont mind ! )

[bellaed1t]

- mysterious man -

pt. 1 pt. 2

rapper!rafe & singer!reader meet at the grammys

warnings: none that i can think of!

authors note: first time writing btw! sorry if you don't like it

word count: 552

You stood backstage at one of the most pivotal moments of your career—the Grammys. Tonight, you were set to perform the songs from your highly anticipated new album, “Behind My Back.” The album, raw and deeply personal, poured out the pain and betrayal of your past relationship—one where love was shattered by infidelity. This performance was your moment to not just share your music, but to reclaim your story.

On your way to the dressing room, you collided with someone, the impact jarring you slightly.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, looking up.

He was tall, with an athletic frame and piercing blue eyes that held an intensity hard to ignore. His sharp jawline accentuated his striking features, and his buzzed hair gave him a clean, effortless look. Handsome, without a doubt.

“It’s fine,” he replied curtly, his tone clipped as if he were in a hurry.

Before you could say more, he was already moving past you. You shrugged it off, shaking the moment from your thoughts as you stepped into your dressing room.

With your outfit perfectly in place and a final glance in the mirror, you were ready. The crowd awaited, and tonight’s setlist included “Because I Liked a Boy” and “Brutal”—songs that held all the power of your truth.

You walked onto the stage, the lights blinding at first before settling into a dazzling glow that bathed the crowd in electric energy. The roar of your fans filled the arena, their voices echoing your lyrics with raw emotion. The beat dropped, and the rhythm pulsed through the floor beneath your feet.

As you sang your heart out, you saw them—faces illuminated by passion, bodies moving to the music, and arms raised in unison. The air was alive with the sound of your truth.

And then, there was him.

Amid the swaying crowd and the sea of dancing silhouettes, his eyes locked onto yours. For a fleeting moment, time seemed to slow. The intensity of his gaze lingered—sharp, unwavering, and impossible to ignore.

But the music was louder, and the spotlight was yours. You poured every ounce of pain, power, and triumph into your performance, leaving everything on the stage.

After the ceremony, you clutched not one, but two Grammys—your very first wins. The weight of the golden trophies in your hands was nothing compared to the joy that lit up your face. Cameras flashed, your smile wide and unstoppable as you soaked in the moment you had dreamed of for so long.

As the crowd thinned, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows.

“Hey,” he said, a playful glint in his piercing blue eyes. “Are you going to the after-party?”

There was a subtle confidence in his voice, the kind that hinted he already knew your answer—but he asked anyway.

You blinked, caught off guard for a beat, before a grin tugged at your lips. “Umm, sure!”

He smirked, a slow, knowing expression that made your heart skip.

“Good. I’ll see you there.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you rooted in place.

Your cheeks felt warmer than before. Did he just make you blush?

A part of you couldn’t wait to see him again. Another part of you burned with curiosity, wanting—needing—to know more about the mysterious man who had so effortlessly stolen your attention.

navigation | masterlist | taglist

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i can still see you

( bachira meguru x gn! reader )

♡ a/n — for my new series :)

♡ content — bachira meguru x gn! reader, gn! reader, friends to lovers, established relationship, you can infer they're engaged at the end :) , mentions of bachira's demon, set before blue lock then goes to when he's playing pro soccer, made this with him being 20+ in my mind

♡ synopsis — Bachira Meguru didn’t need to be part of other people's world all those years ago. He had always been destined to make his own, and you had been with him every step of the way.

The sharp whistle of the coach’s signal echoed across the field, but it didn’t faze Bachira. He’d grown used to its bite, to the way it demanded more from him than he was allowed to give. His teammates moved like clockwork around him—predictable, synchronized, and utterly boring.

He saw opportunities they never did, tiny gaps in their defense that begged to be exploited. But no one ever passed him the ball. When he waved, calling for it, they ignored him or chose someone else.

“Stop trying to show off, Bachira,” one teammate sneered after a scrimmage. “This isn’t street soccer.”

Bachira didn’t answer. He never did. He just smiled, letting their words roll off him, though it stung more than he cared to admit.

From the bleachers, he caught sight of you, the only person who never looked at him like he didn’t belong. You sat with your chin resting on your hands, watching him intently like you always did, and when his gaze met yours, you waved.

The smile that tugged at his lips this time was real.

“You shouldn’t let them get to you, you know,” you said later, sitting cross-legged on the grass beside him. The team had long since cleared out, but Bachira lingered. He always did. It was as if he couldn’t leave the field until it felt like his, even if only for a moment.

“I’m not letting them get to me,” he replied, his voice light, but you saw the way his fingers picked at the edge of his shoelaces. “I don’t need them anyway. I’ve got my monster.”

“Your monster,” you echoed, leaning back on your palms. “What’s it saying today?”

Bachira tilted his head, like he was listening to something only he could hear. “It says I’m right. That I’m better off alone.”

You frowned. “Meguru, that’s not true.”

He shrugged, but the motion felt hollow. “Maybe it is. They don’t want me here. They think I’m weird, right? Maybe I don’t belong.”

The words were soft, quieter than he usually spoke, and they made your chest ache.

“You don’t belong with them,” you said firmly, and his head shot up to look at you. “You’re better than that.”

A laugh bubbled from his lips, and it was bright, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always say that. Better than what?”

“Better than their small minds,” you shot back. “Better than this boring little team that doesn’t know how lucky they are to have you.”

His smile faltered for the briefest moment, replaced by something softer, something almost vulnerable.

“You really think that?”

You leaned forward, your voice steady and sure. “I know that. You’re not like them, Meguru, and that’s not a bad thing. One day, someone’s going to see what makes you special. Someone besides me.”

His laugh this time was genuine. “Someone besides you? Impossible.”

You smiled, nudging his shoulder with yours. “You’ll see. And when it happens, I’ll be the first one cheering for you. Always.”

Bachira’s golden eyes sparkled under the fading sunlight, and the grin on his face stretched wide. It wasn’t the same grin he used to mask his pain—it was the kind of smile he reserved only for you.

He didn’t say anything back, but the way his shoulder lingered against yours told you everything you needed to know.

The crowd erupted as the ball sailed past the goalkeeper, slamming into the back of the net with precision and flair. Another goal for FC Barcha, courtesy of Bachira Meguru.

The stadium roared with chants of his name, the commentators losing their minds over his second goal of the night. His teammates rushed toward him, arms outstretched, ready to celebrate, but Bachira was already moving, sprinting past them all.

His golden eyes scanned the VIP section, searching, and when they landed on you, his grin widened into something radiant, something that belonged to no one else but you.

He stopped in the middle of the field, ignoring the chaos around him, and pointed at his heart with two fingers, tapping twice. Then, he turned his hand and pointed directly at you.

You stood there, hands cupped over your mouth, tears already pricking at the corners of your eyes. The ring on your finger caught the stadium lights, sparkling like a star, and when you started clapping, the entire section followed your lead.

You were the first one to cheer for him—just like you always had been.

Bachira’s teammates finally caught up to him, tackling him into a celebratory hug, but his gaze stayed locked on you. Through all the noise, through all the glory of the game, there was only one person who truly mattered.

He didn’t need to be part of their world all those years ago. He had always been destined to make his own, and you had been with him every step of the way.

meguru bachira they could never make me hate you

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[xo-zozo]

libby grambs headcannons •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

a/n: and zoey rises from the dead once again... she's literlly the cutest patootie but she's also kind of hard to write headcannons for sooo if some of this is out of character please ignore- enjoy!

tags: @your-mommy-ems @arqbella @reminiscentreader @x-liv25-jamieswife @inmyheaddd

@alwaysthefangirl @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @annamatix @lyrakanefanatic

@123letsgobestie @hathorneheiress @midiosaamor (comment if you want to be added or removed)

let's get one thing straight, you can not tell me her body is not TEA

she watches animated tv shows from her childhood instead of anything else any other full grown adult would watch

she has an "i heart cowboys" tshirt and she is not afraid to wear it in public

tried to pick up electric guitar (it's up to you whether of not she was successful)

she likes goldfish (she just gives me the vibes idk)

one of her favorite movies is coraline and it's where she got the inspo to dye her hair blue

in general loves any tim burton movie (I KNOW CORALINE ISN'T TIM BURTON OKAY)

drags nash with her to the mall almost every weekend to buy new clothes that she doesn't really need

her babies are always either dressed like her or nash. do i need to elaborate?

back when they didn't have a lot of money she would go to trift stores and buy clothes for her future kids, this was inspired by a tiktok that i saw

she has a bunch of ear piercings but whenever she goes to get a new one she gets scared and needs to have someone there with her

she probably got into at least one fight in her high school days

hannah is the person who inspired her to work at the hospital, not only the fact that she was one too but she also wanted to be able to help people like hannah

she has one necklace that she never takes off

she's definitely a silver jewelry girl too

i know my girl can rock a good pair of black cowboy boots from time to time

she owns multiple pairs of crocs

she likes going to the zoo, and she was super excited to be able to take her kids there

sometimes her and avery hang out and all they do is play episode

nash is her number one hype man so whenever they go out he makes sure to get good pictures of her

she has an insane collection of cute pajamas

kinda a little question of the day but who do you think would walk her down the aisle on her wedding day?

[goddamnitmahtin]

How I think it would go if I ended up inside a tumbler dc x dp universe

Okay so falling through a portal into Crime Alley? Not the worst thing that’s ever happened. Definitely not the best either though. Phone? Gone. Money? Gone. Mental and emotional stability? Was gone before this ever happened. So this is fine…

The dark streets and the sun’s refusal to come out of the clouds literally ever would probably scare most people but honestly it was a nice vacation from bright light. The city itself was gods awful and hella unsafe but hey- it had aesthetic you know? The only thing that really made it hard to live here was the fact that no one wanted to hire me.

“You look like one of them Wayne kids. Don’t even bother with me. Just go back to your mansion and ask Brucie if you need cash.”

Ah. Well. I would if I actually was “one of them Wayne kids.” Alas I was not. Eventually I was rejected enough times that I started to contemplate whether or not “asking Brucie” would actually work. According to locals he seems ditzy enough and adopted more children than he could keep track of. Was it a stupid idea? Absolutely. Was I gonna try it anyways? Fuck yeah.

Anyways that’s how I ended up living in the walls of Wayne Manor for like a month.

…

To be honest? It wasn’t that hard to get in. I looked the part so to speak with black hair and blue eyes so when I hopped into the back seat of a fancy looking limo, the driver just kind of assumed? and drove me right to the manor.

It was late and it seemed like there wasn’t much staff in the house itself. Just some old butler guy that looked like he knew way too much. About what I couldn’t tell you but he had that vibe that he’s seen enough death to know when to not ask questions.

“Master Wayne?” I looked at the man. He totally knew I wasn’t supposed to be there. He had that look in his eye. But he was playing along.

“Uh yeah. I’m just gonna go grab some food real quick and then leave,” maybe if I just bounced from the joint after a meal he wouldn’t tell anyone?

The butler nodded, “I will prepare you a meal then and have it ready for you in the dining room.” Holy shit he was actually playing along for real. Okay well then.

After exploring the place a little, it seemed pretty empty at the moment, I went to the dining room and sure enough this butler guy had actually made me some food. And it was fucking good. After living on the streets for several months at this point, this was the best thing ever.

I ate as much as I could, shoveling food into my face. This was the first real meal I had been able to really eat since spawning into Gotham. Hell it was the first real meal since even before that.

After I ate as much as I could, I stole as many bread rolls I could fit into my pockets and was about to leave just like I had promised I would when I heard voices that did not belong to the butler guy.

I uh… well I didn’t make the best decision when I hopped through the wall to hide. I was expecting to find another room on the other side but no, these wall were thick and I could stand comfortably in the space between the plaster on either side of me, given I didn’t bump into a wire or two that was running along the studs.

I was planning to leave once the coast was clear but ended up passing out as the exhaustion of constantly fighting off muggers and evading goons from various villains (not me mention I hadn’t slept in nearly 72 hours) caught up with me.

After that I just kind of… forgot to leave? It was easy enough to get around the manor just inside the walls and whenever I did need to get somewhere in the manor where people could see me, I was most of the time mistaken for someone else who also lived there.

“Oh hey Dick,” said by a sleep deprived and slightly delirious man I later learned to be named Tim as he headed out one day.

“Tim go to bed,” said by a just as, if not more, sleep deprived man who was older than the rest that I figured was Bruce. He had been in the library and had seen me walk by.

I once got a wave from a blonde girl who seemed to be on a mission to get somewhere.

Only the butler who I learned was called Alfred seemed to really grasp that I was in the house at all. And I knew this because he kept leaving plates of food or cookies or even sometimes small handfuls of candies out for me to find. Sometimes he would even give the wall a little tap to tell me he left me something.

Life in the walls of Wayne Manor was alright enough. That was until I kind of… well I got bored. I figured that if I could pull off pretending to be one of them in passing and even for short conversations, why not try to up the wager a little? For fun.

So during one of the family dinners that they held together sometimes, I just kind of… sat down at the table. And started eating with everyone.

At first it was pretty easy to keep my head down and not be super noticeable. Bruce hardly looked up from his food and everyone else looked too tired to really think about how many people were actually at the table.

That was until a tank of a man walked in and sat at the table, late for the function. He reeked of death. The amount of anger and grief this guy had oozed out of him and it was honestly suffocating.

“Hey B, when did you adopt another one?” Jason asked as he sat down.

“I didn’t-?” Bruce looked up from his food and scanned the table, his eyes eventually falling on me, “… who are you?”

Shit

“Ah- well…” I didn’t get to really explain before Bruce spoke again.

“And why didn’t anyone tell me someone was in our house?”

“Ah well I just kinda assumed,” said Tim.

That got a lot of murmurs of agreement from the rest of the table, Damian giving a pointed, “Given your track record Father, you cannot blame us.”

Bruce sighed and looked back at me, a very tired man, “What are you doing here?”

“I uh… I’m here for the food mostly.” It was all I could really think to say at the moment.

The air hung thick with tension as we all sat silently for a longer time than I was really comfortable with. That was until I heard a familiar voice.

“Hey guys, sorry for being so late. I would have gotten a ride from Jason but I had to work a little later than I wanted to.”

Motherfucker.

I whipped my head around to look at the man that just walked in, “DANNY?!”

[arcanechariot]

watching for shiv (spoilers)

he looks like a pretty boy i may not survive

that didnt take long! (hes so pretty im gonna die)

the quality of this rip is so low but i love him

ayyyyy its jason flemyng (i had a period hyperfixing on him for a while)

dude i need to ride himmmmmmmm

silly lil guy just wants to watch the price is right

average russian gang members (i assume)

same energy:

'what is that?' 'french fry'

vs

'not even her own avatar' 'avatars. blue people. love that film'

(also can i just say this movie is like really kind of depressing and then it cuts to shiv and his shenanigans and i just love him hes so silly goofy 🥹🥹)

honestly? hes baby

i dont think baby boy wants to be a gangster really

silly goofy boy hes melting my heart

'please dont fuck with me im not having a good day'

honeybunnyyyyyyyy

hes so slutty tho ughhhhh

the type of guy who thinks he does a really good job of hiding the fact that hes gay but everyone knows hes gay

honey barely knows what a metaphor is and you expect him to know what happens when the body is exposed to radioactive material?

honey doesnt know mental maths i can relate so hard

THE GUY BAILED ON HIM OML

WHY IS STEVEN BERKOFF HERE GET OUT I DONT WANNA THINK ABOUT MY THEATRE STUDIES A-LEVEL RN

hes so cute okay im gonna marry his dumb ass

pls someone give him a fucking break

NOOOO HONEY

ALSO THE GUY BAILED ON HIM AGAIN JFC

pls give him one win

i want to love him and protect him and make him happy and

no heS SO IMPORTANT TO ME WHAT THE FUCK

MARRYING HIM RN NOONE CAN STOP ME IM PUTTING A RING ON THIS MANS FINGER

THEY KILLED MY HONEYBUNNY IM GOING TO COMMIT MURDER

hes still alive in my heart i love him so much 🥺✨

im adding him to the roster and im writing for him so hard bc he deserves it and i adore him and he deserves the world okay

[buckbuckleykinard]

here's a little snippet from a fic i probably wont ever finish but may repurpose into something else

He curls his legs into his chest and presses the warm glass of his phone screen to his ear.  With his free hand, he drags his fingers across the rough, night cold grit of the stone beneath them, just to feel the scratch against his skin.  Little grits of sand and moss lift up and stick in the whorls of his fingerprints as his phone rings once, twice, three times–

“Evan?  Are you okay”

Tommy’s voice is drowned out a little by the distant but unmistakable sound of chopper blades whirring to a stop.  It’s only 6pm in L.A. and Tommy is still on shift.

“Shit, you’re at work.  Sorry.  I forgot about the time difference.  I’m fine I–”

“It’s okay.  We just got back from a call, just give me a second to get somewhere quieter and I can talk.”

Buck considers telling him it’s fine, that he’s fine, that his crisis can wait till Tommy isn’t at the tail-end of a 24 but the problem with that is that he wants. And maybe he’s selfish and childish and all the terrible things his parents think he is but maybe Tommy wants, too.  

Because Tommy answered his call.

“Okay, I’m in the bunks now.  How are you?  How are your parents?”

“I'm good.” A lie. “My parents are fine.  How they usually are.”  The painful truth.

A semi truck speeds by, blaring its horn at nothing, headlights cutting through the dusty blue evening.

“How are they usually?”

Mean, Buck wants to say.  Careless, oblivious, belittling.  Maddie always says they’re not bad people, just bad parents, and he has always parroted it back.  He feels like he’s said it so often that it had just become true, but at the time he hadn’t been around them.  It was easier to put on some rose-coloured glasses and pretend that things were better than they actually were, or at least less painful.

“I don’t think they like me very much.” Maybe it’s too honest but he finds the more they talk, the more he wants to be honest with Tommy.  Some wicked part of him thinks that maybe if he shows this man the ugly, jealous rot of his insides, that he’ll leave before it hurts too much.  That it won’t be like Abby, who he’d thought he loved, or Taylor who he knew he did.

His parents loved Daniel, and how fucked up is it that he’s jealous of someone whose dead.  Then again, maybe they're more alike than he thought because yes, they had loved him, but they erased him too.  They scrubbed their lives clean of him, threw out his things and painted over the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling.  Maybe the only difference is that Buck is still alive.

“Yeah?” Tommy says, a little probing but kind.  Buck knows that if he dropped it, if he moved on to something lighter, that Tommy would let him.

“They repainted my room”  He knows it's ridiculous as soon as it comes out of his mouth.

“They didn’t tell you they were going to?”  Tommy asks, like this is a completely normal thing for an adult man to be upset about.

“No, they didn’t say anything.  They threw out all my stuff too.  Not that there was a lot there, but stil–”

“They should have at least given you the opportunity to come get what you wanted to keep.”

“Yeah, exactly!”  He says with a chuckle.  “I mean, I’m pretty sure my skateboard was still in the closet up there.  They’re not cheap, you know.”

“You skateboard?”  Tommy asks.  Buck swears that he can hear the smile in his voice.  

“I used to, sort of.  I'm pretty sure I spent more time falling off than actually riding.”

“God, you were a total punk in high school, weren’t you?”  Tommy laughs.  It’s nice, like warm honey settling low in Buck’s stomach. 

“Oh, definitely.  I think I spent most of my childhood injured in one way or another.”  It’s hard for him, looking back, to find a memory that doesn’t include bandages or a cast or a sling of some kind.

“You know, considering that the first time we met was flying a helicopter into a hurricane, I’m really not surprised to find out that you’re incredibly reckless with your own safety.”

“I had a motorcycle, too.  Got it basically as soon as I learned how to drive.”

“God, Evan.”  His voice is still tinged with amusement.  It floors him a little, how Tommy had managed to steer the conversation away from his morose family musings toward something lighter.  It makes Buck want to run through every time he’s ever almost died.  Chase away the amusement and ruin this on purpose before he does it by accident.

“Does it bother you?”

“Depends on why you're doing it.”  Tommy doesn’t ask what he means, doesn’t need to.  Buck wonders if he can smell his insecurities through the phone line.  He waits for Tommy to continue.

“Every time you go into work, you put yourself in dangerous situations to save lives.  So do I.  That’s the job.”  Buck can hear some shifting from Tommy’s end, tries to imagine him sitting on the edge of one of the bunks at the Harbour station, phone pressed against his ear.  Maybe he’s gotten more comfortable, lying down, eyes closed as he tries to get a little bit of rest between calls.  They shouldn’t be having this conversation over the phone, but the thought of having to do this in person, to have to look Tommy in the eyes and ask to be soothed, sends a chill through him that's much stronger than the one caused by the rapidly cooling evening air.

Some kind of sports car speeds by, music thundering through the closed windows as it slows around the corner and disappears.

“But being reckless with your life because the only time you felt like your parents looked after you was when you were hurting?  Yeah, that bothers me.”

And there it is, The Breaking Point.  He’s found a way to push Tommy too far.  Tommy, who’d already given him far more chances than he deserved.

“I mean, I’m familiar with shitty parents, believe me, but if I made my kid feel so unloved that they thought they had to hurt themselves to get my attention, I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself.”

Huh.

That’s unexpected.

“Evan?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m here.”  There is another beat of silence.

“Sorry, if I overstepped.  I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t.”  Buck says, definitively.  “I’ve just never really had anyone see it like that?”

“Like what?  What do you mean?”

“Like my reckless behaviour isn’t some sort of defect of my personality.  Like maybe, I was hurting, too."

[yeonmuse]

BLUE HOUR | Day 15

PAIRING lyricist/soloist Joong x stranger reader

WORD COUNT |

GENRE Smut, Escapism

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ‼️

SUMMARY wanting to escape the nuisance of his fame and clear his head Joong goes for a stroll through the sleepless city. What he hadn’t expected was he’d meet someone as daring as you.

MORE | Day 15 of the Groupie Love Series

Fame always came with a price, whether it was those that sold their soul or those that worked all on their own to get there, life was never easy. No matter how you achieved it it never became easy, the stress or anxiety never went away, and privacy the one thing you’d wish to have would slip through the cracks of your fingers.

Hongjoong knew that better than anyone, there had been many days where he wished he hadn’t entered the rock scene, yes he loved the music but the constant attention on him wasn’t exactly something he craved. Tonight was the one night where he had finally found some sort of peace, a heavy silence washed over him as he walked along the beach after what felt like hours upon hours of being on his feet performing. He had been walking for so long that the stars and the mood had begun to take the place of the sun and the clouds, blue hour had fallen upon the city.

“You look like you had a rough day.” Someone's voice draws him out of his inner thoughts, he mentally curses himself for not having realized their presence ahead of time but they had seen them now and it was too late to not acknowledge them.

“A tiring one for sure, this is the first time I’ve gotten peace in the last week.”

“You chose the perfect time then, blue hour, it's always beautiful when you catch it at the right time, there’s something surreal about it.” As he finally turned to fully acknowledge the presence of the woman beside him, he fell silent, she herself was also surreal.

“yn, I come here often around this time, and you are?” She didn’t know him? Though hongjoong was relieved to finally be talking to someone that had no idea who he was, after seeing you he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that someone as beautiful as you had no idea who he was.

“Kim Hongjoong.”

“Well hongjoong, there's more to the city than just the beach, if you’re looking for more to see. When life gets tiring and you need something to make you feel anything other than that.”

“If I take your word then how about you show me, lead the way.”

“You’ll let a complete stranger show you around the city?”

“I met completely strangers everyday and trust them with far more.”

“Well the Hongjoong, let me show you my city.”

Hongjoong honestly didn’t know what the fuck he was thinking letting a complete stranger show him around the city, knowing his managers would throw a complete fit but in all honesty he didn’t care in that moment. You were like some sort of beacon of light that attracted him to you, and the longer the night went on the more that attraction grew. He didn’t even know if what he had been doing at that moment was legal nor did he truly care. He watched from down below as you ascended the ladder of the apartment building and he wasn’t too far behind, he found howls staring at your ass as he climbed up behind you, how could he not when it was right there on display before him, that of course didn’t go unnoticed by you.

Once the two of you finally made it to the rooftop, Hongjoong was stunned to say the least, by the view of the city. Though he could easily access a view like this in a penthouse or plane, there was something different about seeing it this way, out in the open. Blue hour was a magical time. His gaze then shifts from the view to you, he wonders how you yourself even knew how to access a view like this, his wondering then turned into admiration as he once again drank in the view of you.

“You’re staring again.”

“Again?”

“You gonna pretend you didn’t stare at my ass the entire climb up here?”

“Can’t exactly resist when it’s in full display in front of me, besides it’s kind of a hard sight to miss.”

“Well which view is better then?” Hongjoong was taken back by your sudden boldness, though he was used to women throwing themself at him or acting desperate, she was the complete opposite, you hadn’t once tried to throw yourself at him, and perhaps that was the reason he found himself attracted to you even more.

“I honestly think I prefer the city.” He responds, simply wanting to tease you though that may have backfired on him in the best way possible.

“You prefer that view over this one?” You respond giving a full spin, stopping with your back facing him. Tension between the two was now building, this night had been turning into something he had absolutely not been expecting, but he didn’t hate it.

“This view is also very tempting.” He responds, his eyes now glued to you, you had him hanging on your every move.

“Tempting? Does it tempt you?” You respond finally turning to face him again.

“Should we head back down? You still have more to show me right?” He wanted to end things here, to change the subject because he knew if they got caught you’d be dragged into the life that he himself was growing tired of, but you were making that hard.

“Tell me then what’s so tempting about me?” He watched as you bent your body over the edge of the building, your arms resting on the concrete balcony.

“Fuck.” He mumbles under his breath at the sight.

“Are you tempted to touch it? Or was your mind going further than just a touch?”

“Yn I shouldn’t-“

“Touch me then, go on.” He fell silent, you were giving him a clear invite and as much as he wanted to refute, the way you looked bent over that balcony made any possible self control leave his body.

“Fuck this.” In less than a few seconds he had his hand around your throat and your body pressed to his as he kissed on your neck.

“Can I? Fuck, please say I can?” Hongjoong wasnt used to this, he had never in his life pleaded to fuck anyone mostly because it usually came easy, but here he was aching to have you, to taste you, hear your moans.

“Yes.”

He wasted no time then and there ripping through the fabric of your jeans , it was then that he had gotten the most satisfying view, your legs spread wide as he had you bent over. Once he lifts your shirt and unlatches your bra he lets out a curse at the way your breasts fall loosely from your lifted shirt. It made for all the more satisfaction once he filled you up from behind. His eyes traced your every curve. From the dip in your back to the curves of your waist, but the main visual was getting to watch the way his cock so easily pushed past your folds until he was completely bottomed out inside of you, your tight grip around him immediately pulling a groan from his lips.

“Fucking hell If you keep clenching so much you’ll be full a lot faster than you should be sweetheart.’’ Hongjoong groans as he rests his hands on your waist and his head falls back. His hand wraps around your throat from behind and the other rest easily on the small of your back.

He gazes down at you, eyes full of hunger, he wanted to ravish you, to make sure every time you walked the next week all you would think about was him and the things he was now doing to you. A complete burst of pleasure overwhelms your body and you’d have sworn you saw stars as Hongjoongs fingers meet your clit, he rubbed rough circles against you as he watched how his entire cock pushed in and out of you. He didn’t miss the way your legs trembled or you’d occasionally fuck back against him which needless to say brought a smirk to his lips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, you keep sucking me in?’’ His gaze had lingered on you long enough to know that you were reaching your limit, too bad even when you surpassed that limit he wouldn't be done with you.

“Shit just hold out a little longer pretty.” He grunts, his nails digging into the skin of your hips earning a soft cry from you which set a fire in his eyes. As the two of you were reaching your climaxes it seemed his thrusts grew rougher, Each thrust getting less merciful, he pushed into you with feverish movement, and he didn’t let up until your cunt was completely full to the brim with evidence of his doing. The two of you came at the same time, he gave a proud smile at the feeling of your legs trembling under him.

He loved the way you seemed to fall apart completely, that. He now had you leaned against the balcony struggling to catch your breath, your hair a complete mess and makeup ruined, the remnants of this encounter lingering all over your body.

[falling-star-cygnus]

i've been toying with this idea for a while now, but the weekly release of s3 has been giving me motivation to post more Link Click stuff!!!

so, Lu Guang's ability allows him to look into the 12 hours following the aftermath of a picture- right? sooo hypothetically, if someone knew about this ability- they could set a trap not a 'trap' trap, obviously, but like- they could hurt him with it yk? it'll make more sense in fic form

kinda hand-wavey when it comes to timeline placement, but let's just say it's before Lu gets stabbed :3

"So..."

"...yeah."

"How weird."

Three pairs of eyes stare at the little envelope left on the counter.

"Neither of you left it here? Cheng Xiaoshi?" Qiao Ling asks- rather accuses her brother, while Lu Guang reaches for the package.

"Wh-!? I was out with you all day! When would I have even- Guangguang's the one who's been here!"

The accused in question tunes out the bickering siblings to pry open the glue seal. This argument was nothing new, after all, not this lifetime and not this week. It was kind of comforting, like a white noise machine.

What was new, was this package.. that only held a single photo. And no return address, or name attached... It wasn't even a particularly remarkable photo, just- a room. An empty, rusted room.

"Don't accuse Lu Guang! He's much more responsible than you-"

"Well how else could it have gotten there!?"

The pale haired boy wracked his mind for any ounce of familiarity, but... nothing. He can't recall having ever seen this place, or any timeline where this thing was dropped off. It didn't make any sense.

"LU GUANG!" the siblings shout at him, each slamming their dominant hand onto the counter. The photo slips from his fingers as he jumps.

...maybe he tuned them out a bit too much.

Cheng Xiaoshi catches it to take a look for himself, appearing equally as puzzled.

"Sorry, Qiao Ling-ji," Lu Guang ducks his head, "I stepped out for a second to check the darkroom. I didn't see who left it."

And wasn't that disconcerting. Someone had managed to sneak in and out of the studio without ever alerting the ever vigilant time-traveler. It left a weird itch under his ribs.

Were they in danger again? So soon? They hadn't even met the twins yet... had this timeline changed too drastically to be saved?

Apparently, his discomfort showed on his face too- his spiraling sanity as red threads frayed around him- because the next thing he knew he had his roommate nudging his side and offering the photo back.

"Guangguang? We're not actually upset, you know.."

"Uh... right." he didn't think they were, but he'll take the escape. And distraction.

"Yeah! Mistakes happen," Qiao Ling chirps, reaching up to ruffle his hair, "No harm, no foul, Lu Guang. We'll check the tapes."

The time-traveler can't help the rosy blush that colors his cheeks under the siblings' onslaught of affection and attention. Affection and attention that he didn't deserve for lying to them for so long. But.. he was greedy. Greedy for their friendship and so, so terribly afraid of what he would become without it.

"Oh, so the landlady gets to touch your hair without permission but when I do it-" annnd then Cheng Xiaoshi was ruffling his hair too, saving him from his head again in a far more chaotic fashion than his sister [yet he was no less gentle], "you get all complain-y!"

"Idiot, you're still hung up on that? It was years ago-"

"Hardly!"

Qiao Ling giggles at their antics and takes her leave- presumably to go check the tapes like she said. The two watch her go from their peripherals.

And then get to work.

Lu Guang raises the photo, trying to ignore the fuzzy feeling that spreads in his chest when Cheng Xiaoshi adjusts to block him from the view of any onlookers. They didn't need words at this point.

He could feel his friend's eyes on the side of his face, as if drawn to the blue light for some inexplicable reason. It was fine, he could dissect that feeling later. Or never, preferably never.

Right now, he had to figure out why this picture appeared.

Nothing happened at first. The photo was taken of and empty room, and the man who took it sat in a chair just behind the camera. It almost seemed like a prank. One hour passed, then two, three... four.. six.. nine.

Lu Guang was prepared for his time- his limited, precious time- to be utterly wasted. For Cheng Xiaoshi to be laughing at him when he resurfaced, and for that tight ball of anxiety in his chest to loosen somewhat when-

"How long are you going to hide in the past?"

His heart drops to his stomach, the empty space it left behind squeezing like a vacuum.

"Do you truly think you can save them?"

The man stands up, still facing the same half of that empty room.

"Do you think you deserve to, Lu Guang?"

"How do you.."

In all these timelines, all these threads he ties and breaks and travels and resets, he's never- no one has ever- Whoever sent this knows about him and his powers. Knows about the timelines.

Lu Guang runs through potential names.

Qian Jin? The twins? Vein? Liu Xiao? Liu Min-

"Don't bother guessing. I doubt you'd get it, even with all the time in the world."

"...what?"

He couldn't tell if the man was responding to his thoughts or words or just- knew him and was covering each base.

"See, people like you are interesting. People who think they're above the rules are interesting.."

A pale, crooked hand runs over grimy bricks. The hour creeps past eleven.

"You were raised better than that."

Everything happens at once.

The man turns around, revealing a mirror barely a foot away. Lu Guang doesn't get a chance to make out more than burning amber eyes before the room goes up in light.

| + + + |

Cheng Xiaoshi's knuckles are white on the counter.

He doesn't want to mess up Lu Guang's focus, or accidentally hurt him by pulling him prematurely out of the photo but.. he looked so scared.

It wasn't an emotion he was used to- or liked- seeing on his friend at all. If Lu Guang was scared, then what- the dark haired boy shook his head. If Lu Guang was scared, then... Cheng Xiaoshi would just have to be strong enough for both of them.

He could do that- he could totally do that! After everything Lu Guang helped him with in the past, Cheng Xiaoshi would offer his own hand tenfold.

"How do you..." his friend muttered, voice weak and fragile and quiet.

"Guangguang?"

As far as he's known, Lu Guang had never talked when inside a photo before. After and before, sure, but... never during. He itched to reach out, to brush that soft white hair off his friend's suddenly clammy brow.

Lu Guang's slender fingers trembled.

"...what?"

....he shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But Lu Guang's never acted this way before! Not when he was awake. Maybe he wouldn't even notice-

No. No no no, he shouldn't risk it.

Cheng Xiaoshi would just- take him out for milk tea after this. Yeah.

A few more minutes pass, filled only by soft breaths and the tap-tap-tap-tap of Xiaoshi's finger on the counter. Lu wouldn't notice.

Would he?

No..

The photo falls from Lu Guang's hands at the same Cheng Xiaoshi lunges for him.

Barely, just barely does he manage to tuck his hand between the shelves and the soft white hair of his best friend- seconds before collision and so, so worth his undoubtedly bruised knuckles.

"Lu Guang? LU GUANG!"

The sound his friend looses is primal- hurts his chest in a way he didn't know possible- and his hands, slender and crooked in the knuckle, clutch at his face with such ferocity that his nails almost break skin. Cheng Xiaoshi guides him to the floor as gently as he can as the pale haired boy's knees give.

"It's okay," he whispers, looking around for something- anything- that could help, "It's okay.."

"I can't-" Lu Guang gasps, his chest heaving and his eyes still blue, "I can't see- I.. I can't-"

"Okay.. okay.. it's okay."

He feels like a broken record, but he doesn't know what else to say when Lu Guang is in so much obvious pain. God, could he even hear him? Who would- how-?

Cheng Xiaoshi bats his friend's hands away from his face and quickly covers his eyes for him, not wanting to add scratches to Lu's discomfort.

"Just breathe, Lu, I'm right here.. I'm right here." he says, tucking the pale haired boy against his chest until he was sure he could hear the thump of his heart, "Just focus on me, okay?"

That always seemed to calm Lu Guang down, at least.

"What did you see? Lu Guang, what did you see?"

"I don't- I don't know- there was.. there was a room.. and a man- and- and then light. He knew-"

He wish he hadn't asked. he hadn't heard Lu Guang this panicked and raw in a while. He was in pain. And Xiaoshi couldn't do anything about it.

"Okay.. it's okay," Cheng Xiaoshi digs around in his pocket, keeping his friend bracketed by his legs, "Lu Guang-"

Okay, okay, deep breaths. You can't help him if you're panicking too. Deep breaths. Don't tell you don't know what to do...

He tucks himself around his best friend, as if he could hold Lu Guang together with his body alone and rescue him from this awful, awful pain he was in. They never should've opened that envelope.

Eventually, Qiao Ling wanders back in, and she looks far more troubled than when she left. To be fair, so do her boys.

From there, it's a blur.

Lu Guang gets checked into a hospital, the sibling's lie to the police, Xiaoshi gets grilled by his sister on why they had to lie to the police, and everything spirals out of control.

Or, at least- that's what it feels like.

"Cheng Xiaoshi," Qiao Ling speaks up, from where the two are hovering anxiously outside of Lu's room. And wow, does this feel achingly familiar.. in a way he can't quite put his finger on..

She's biting on her thumbnail.

"The person who left that envelope on the counter... "

Cheng Xiaoshi looks at her, fist clenching in his pocket in preperation to swing at whoever dared-

"It looked like Lu Guang."

"...what?"

[judesdrabbles]

The Cure (part III)

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 4

On a night out, you stumble upon an uncomfortable situation with a strange man. Luckily, there was a certain someone that was just in the neighborhood.

word count: 2.1K

A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for reading The Cure. I’m glad people enjoy it. These next few chapters are going to be a lot more intense, so prepare and make sure to read the warnings! Let me know what you guys think. <3

Warnings: obsessive tendencies, yandere behavior, (mentions of) assault, misuse of power position, reader is drinking, smoking, SA, foul language

He had given his number to you after the incident with your car at his office, and of course he covered it up with a smooth lie. ‘If you ever need an emergency session,’ He had said. ‘You can always call me.’ After that, you had raised your eyebrows, and on his usually stoic face a grin appeared. ‘Or- if you find yourself stranded with your car again, and need your psychiatrist that is not versed in mechanics at all to help you out.’

You had shrugged it off as you chuckled. But you did save his number on your phone.

-

‘Come on, Y/N. First to complain about their love life had to take two shots. You’re pathetic!’ Your friend laughed, sliding two shot glasses filled to the brim with vodka across the bar. You cover your head in your hands and smile. ‘I guess I kind of am, huh?’

Red and blue lights danced across the room. Everywhere you looked there were people, dancing to the mediocre music that the underage, drug addicted DJ from your local town played. You didn’t go out that often, yet you could quite enjoy it. If you had enough to drink, that is.

You chug both shots down in one fluent motion, grimacing slightly. The numbing warmth began to spread trough you.

‘What do you think of him, huh?’ Your friend poked your side, teasing, then nodded in the direction of a stranger leaning casually against the bar.

You squinted trough the haze of lights. ‘Are you for real? He looks like he goes trough some shit.’

‘Isn’t that exactly your type?’ Your friend snorts.

‘Not exact- ugh, whatever.’

You take another shot.

‘Come on, you have to take some chances, Y/N. You’re so stuck up.’ Your friend jumped up from the barstool and grabbed you by the arm. ‘Come, come.’

You faintly struggled, but the alcohol clouded your judgement. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to get back in the game. Who knows?

She pushes you to the man’s direction. He smirks. ‘What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?’ He immediately drawled, his eyes scanning you shamelessly.

Alright. Maybe this was a bad idea.

You look around for your friend, but as usual, she had gone to the other side of the building to go and have some fun with God-knows-who.

You were alone in this.

‘Uh, yeah. Nothing much. Just having a nice time.’

The man puts up his hand and signals the bartender for two more shots.

‘Sure you are. I saw you staring at me already.’

This man was cocky. You didn’t like it.

‘Oh- well, my friend just thought it would be fun to-‘

‘You wanna come back to my place, beautiful?’ He didn’t even let you finish talking. This man’s mind was set on one thing.

‘What?’

‘What? Don’t tell me you don’t want the same thing. Why else would you be here?’ He gestures around the room.

You hate that he was kind of right. Didn’t excuse him for being a total dick, though.

‘This was a mistake. Good night.’

You quickly get off your seat and stumble swiftly outside. Your mind swam a bit. Even with that nice, numb feeling in your head you wouldn’t go home with such a loser.

‘Where are you going, pretty thing?’

Your eyes widen as you quicken your pace.

‘Leave me alone. I said that it was a mistake.’

‘I don’t think you get to decide that.’

The cold air outside quickly turned piercing as you felt a strong grip around your arm. One tug and you were off the main road, in an alleyway, with that same man in front of you.

‘Let me go, you asshole!’ You say as you twist around, but the man’s grip doesn’t butch as he grabs a fistful of your hair and makes you look at him. He had a burning cigarette pressed between his index and middle finger. The smoke was dancing around in front of your face.

‘Listen up, bitch. You better fucking behave before I decide to do worse things to you.’ His breath smelled strong, like cheap whiskey and cigarettes.

You wanted to disappear completely off the surface of the earth. The vodka shots from earlier really did a number on you and made your vision stir. The only thing you could do was whine- and a feeble attempt to push him away from you.

‘Let me go.’ You choked out, your voice trembling more than you’d liked it to.

But then a sudden sound- measured footsteps echoing off the alley walls- pierced trough the haze of your fear. The rhythm was steady, deliberate: each step louder than the last.

‘Y/N.’

Your head snapped toward the sound. The voice was calm. Almost unsettlingly so. What? Was that..?

In the midst of the darkness, a tall man walked over, his polished shoes clinking on the wet, paved stones. His hands were in the pockets of his well-tailored suit. His face was as calm as ever, but his eyes- they were dark. It was Dr. Vincent.

‘Do you know this man?’

‘Hey, man, get the fuck out. I’m busy here, can’t you fucking see?’ The man hissed, tightening the grip on your hair.

But Vincent doesn’t glance him one worthy look. He looks at you.

‘Do you know this man, Y/N?’

You shake your head. ‘No..’

Vincent presses his lips together. ‘I see.’

He strides over to the two of you in a few steps. And then it all happened in a heartbeat.

Vincent’s fist connected with the man’s face in a sickening crunch. The man released you, groaning loudly as blood gushed out of his nose and his eyes started to tear up. You stumble back, getting away from the man as Vincent seems clearly not done with him yet.

‘Don’t look, Y/N. Take a deep breath and wait for me.’ Vincent says calmly, looking at you. He quickly scanned you up and down, and was relieved to not see any visible injuries.

You nod, not getting any words over your lips. It was like they were sealed shut. The world spun even more around you, and you decided to squat down, running a hand trough your hair. You were shaking. What just happened? Why was your psychiatrist here? At this time? I mean, why do you even mind? He just saved your ass from something that could have unfolded to be way, way worse.

Vincent grabs the man by the collar and takes the burning cigarette from his calloused hands. ‘Such a pathetic excuse of a man.’ Vincent whispered, only inches away from the man’s face. The man sputtered, but any coherent words didn’t seem to come out. The cigarette was burning in Vincent’s hand, and the man instantly knew what was going to happen the moment he rolled one of his sleeves up.

‘Hey, man, come on-‘

He pressed the cigarette out on the man’s wrist as he could only squirm and cry out in his grip.

‘Look at you.’ Vincent gritted his teeth as he spoke, calmly as ever. ‘Isn’t this way milder than what you were gonna do to her, hm? Then fucking bear it. You disgust me.’

He throws the man harshly on the ground head first, the cigarette sticking to his skin for a bit before falling down with him. Vincent spits downward in the man’s bloodied face.

‘I’m not done with you yet. I’ll find you.’ He merely said as he turned back to you. He collected himself for a while, taking a deep breath as if trying to calm himself down.

You look up to see Vincent walking over to you. You didn’t see much of the man, since Vincent made sure to beat him up out of your sight.

‘I- Dr. Vincent.. what are you even doing here?..’ You let out when he came near. You were still squatted down, swaying a bit. It was clear to him that you were drunk.

‘Y/N.’ Vincent crouched down in front of you. ‘What did that man do to you? Tell me.’

Oh, how he wished he could hold you. How he wished he could kill that guy up front for even thinking of touching you. For coming near you.

He wanted so much. But he controlled himself. This was traumatic enough for you.

‘He- I was drinking- at the, uh.. bar.’ You say, looking into Vincent’s eyes. They were gentle. Not so .. dark anymore. ‘He followed me. He said if I struggled he would do worse stuff to me.’

‘Did he touch you? Anywhere?’

‘No.. no, he just..- you were on time. Just have a little bruise, I think.’ You roll up your coats sleeve and reveal the bruise the man left from grabbing you so harshly.

Vincent’s eyes flickered with something. He hesitated, then softly took off one of his leather gloves and reached out to your arm. He traced his fingers along the bruise. He had never thought he would do this to anyone; the mere thought of it made him sick to his stomach. But with you? It was so, so different. He wanted to kiss that bruise. Make it better for you.

But he didn’t. Not now. Not yet.

You felt Vincent’s rough fingers run along your bruise. What was he doing? Checking it? The doctor always made sure to keep his distance from you. And, mind you, this guy already had gotten a nervous breakdown about some mud under a guy’s shoe in his office.

So what was different now?

‘Thank you. For.. getting me out of this mess. I really owe you.’ You chuckle, although you just wanted to to melt into the cold pavement as your cheeks burned.

He noticed, of course. He always noticed.

‘You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. What that man did to you was vile. I’m relieved I could intervene in time.’

His hands slipped under your arms, steady and firm, and helped you up to your feet. You were still slightly woozy.

‘What ..- what were you doing here anyway?’ You ask. ‘Were you also going out?’

Vincent lets out a low chuckle, his lips curling into the faintest smile. ‘No, I’m not much for nightlife. I was running errands when I spotted you on the main road.’

It was true; he had never anticipated seeing you here tonight, but the universe had a funny way of aligning things. A chance encounter, though marred by the evening’s earlier ugliness, now felt like an opportunity. An opportunity he couldn’t waste.

‘Hey, Y/N. Let’s take your mind off things, hm? I say we go to my home. Talk a bit, and you can sober up. I wouldn’t like to leave you alone here. Not after this.’

You look up at him.

‘Isn’t that slightly .. unprofessional, doctor?’

‘Oh, well, it’s outside of office hours, isn’t it?’

You were not sure if that is how the rule went, but you nodded anyway. Besides, you would lie if you said you weren’t curious about your stoic psychiatrist.. who just beat up a man in an alleyway for you. Eh, you were too tipsy to drive anyway.

Vincent smiles at you. ‘Let’s go then.’ he said, stepping aside to give you some space. ‘My car is parked not far from here, outside the shop.’

‘You were wanting to run errands, right? Did I stop you from doing that?’ You say, noticing there were no bags in his hands.

Vincent’s eyebrows raise slightly. ‘Yes, I suppose you did. But..’ He checks his watch. ‘The store is still open. Would you like to come with me? My treat.’

‘You are being awfully generous.’

‘You don’t like that?’

The words had a sharp edge, as if to challenge you to disagree. Vincent did know you well. You spill all your secrets to him every week in every therapy session you have with him, after all.

‘Touché, doctor.’

A small victorious smirk appeared on his lips as you arrive at the store. The fluorescent lights felt jarring after the dim streets. Vincent made you pick out some snacks to eat. ‘To sober up.’ He said as he payed for you both at the register.

His thoughts wandered after letting you sit in the passenger seat of his car- next to him. He was slowly driving to his house on the edge of town and oh, how he wished he could just keep you there forever now. So you don’t have to be afraid of those irritable, creepy men on the streets. Their prying eyes. Their lustful gaze. He wouldn’t mind to buy you those nice snacks every day, any day, or anything at all, really. What is professionalism, if not being responsible? He was just being responsible for you. Looking out for you.

That was all.

[juyeoz]

˙ㅤ۪ 𓂋⠀FOR THE PLOT — AN 02z SMAU

003 ┆ chronicles of narnia 2 (0.6k words)

The Juniors game was fun. It was sad that they had lost, but at least they were sweet. Triple ball wasn’t so bad either. It might have been since you were with Haerin and another club member, but it wasn’t as dreadful as you thought it’d be.

However, that was before you saw the senior’s walk in. They were quiet and quite scary. You glanced over at Haerin who adjusted the blue cloth in her pocket and made her way to the scorekeepers. 

The match wouldn’t start for another 10 minutes, so you had a lot of time to kill.

“(Last Name)!” A voice called, causing your head to whip over toward the sound. It was Sunghoon, your friend from kindergarten. He smiled at you with a wave and you returned the action. 

You jogged over towards the boy and his teammates all while being careful near Sunwoo, the boy you found scary.

“How was it?” Sunghoon asked while placing his belongings on the wall behind their team bench. 

You shrugged. “It was pretty good. Not as bad as I thought it would be.” 

“I told you.” He replied with a smile. Sunghoon pulled his practice t-shirt over his head, practically showcasing himself shirtless in front of you and many others.

“What are you trying to show off?” You asked, disgusted. 

“What are you talking about?” Sunghoon asked and threw his t-shirt over his belongings while reaching for his jersey. 

“Are you trying to impress someone in the bleachers or something?” 

“I’m just changing.” He said and slipped his jersey over his head. 

“Really? It’s almost as if I couldn’t tell.” You joked, causing Sunghoon to smile. 

“Also, can you chest-pass the volleyball to me instead of rolling it? It helps me with my serves.” He questioned as you nodded. Whatever that meant, at least.

The boy began to wrap his fingers, satisfied upon hearing you agree with his request while you looked around in hopes that your friends were sitting in the bleachers as they said they would.

Three hands went up in a waving motion, catching your attention immediately. It was them. Your eyes brightened at the sight as you made your way closer to the bleachers while waving back at them.

“(Name)!” Karina called from above you as you smiled back at them. 

“Hi!” You cheered, earning more smiles from the four. 

“Here, wait, BeReal moment!” Karina said while holding out her phone as you and the four posed at the same time.

The four held up hand signs or did a silly face while you held up a peace sign and looked up at them. 

“She’s so small.” Nayeon said with a slight laugh while looking at the screen of her phone.

“What are you looking at?” A voice called from behind where she sat in class, causing Nayeon to flinch and almost drop her phone.

“You need to stop doing that! I’m just looking at a BeReal my friend sent me, look,” Nayeon said while showing the culprit—Jake—her phone screen. 

“Is that (Name)?” Jake asked, squinting his eyes to get a better look at the girl alone.

“Who?” Nayeon asked, confused.

“The girl who’s standing alone.” He explained and pointed at her.

“I’m not sure, I don’t know who that is.” She replied, still confused than ever. 

“How do you know her?”

“We were friends from second grade to fifth grade, but quarantine happened and we kind of drifted apart since I moved as well. We would email and text here and there, yet it wasn’t enough to keep our bond going.” Jake explained, a hint of dullness in his voice.

“I mean, I could ask if it’s her…” Nayeon continued.

“If you want, you can. I doubt she remembers me anyways.” Jake said while reaching over Nayeon’s shoulder for his duffle bag. 

“I’m off to practice now, see you later.” 

“See you…” She mumbled, still hung up on what Jake said earlier. 

Whoever this girl was, she must’ve been important to Jake for him to recognize her from such a far distance and a low quality image.

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[loveletters2myself]

Hi, I appreciate your blog as it helps me be more mindful in my daily habits

Do you have any suggestions for those trying to lower cortisol levels? Like activities, supplements, etc :) thanks in advance 🧚‍♀️

hello, it’s always so nice to hear that my posts help out a lot of you, thank you for sharing kind words! 🩷

supplements that can help are ashwagandha, omega-3 fatty acids, prebiotics and probiotics, arctic root, maca, ginkgo biloba, L-theanine, magnesium glycinate. of course when it comes to supplements, keep in mind any medications you’re on, or allergens you can possibly have. speak to your doctor, or at least do proper research about certain supplements before taking them. i don’t know your medical history or lifestyle to force personal suggestions! and i say that for any advice given here, take everything into consideration and do your part in educating for your personal needs/wants!

other things to follow —

eating nutrient dense home cooked meals. avoid over consuming processed foods, artificial sweeteners, etc.

limiting your daily blue light exposure as much as possible.

do not drink coffee on a empty stomach.

stay focused on what you can control, rather than what you can’t. learn to balance your emotions.

limit your media consumption. it’s definitely important to be aware of what’s going on worldwide, but if you’re someone who gets easily affected by it, keep your exposure to a minimum. same goes for who you follow on social media. if you find that certain things trigger you or you find yourself feeling disappointed in yourself due to comparison, follow those you motivate you.

adrenal cocktails.

levelling your vagus nerve.

expose yourself to safe daily sunlight + spend more time outdoors.

self care routines that calm you.

opt for low impact movement daily like walking, pilates, yoga, etc.

keep your home/space clean and organized.

get proper sleep.

improve your circadian rhythm.

set firm boundaries.