#i’ll come back to this when i have a thought about it that isn’t a vapor wave sad face rotating in my mind

[innerfare]

Teasing or Overstimulating - Part 2

Summary: Do they tease you or overstimulate you?

Characters: Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // oral sex, shameless dirty talk, sex toys, unprotected sex, service dom Ace, sadistic Sabo, daddy dom Law, feral Kid

——— 

Ace: 

Not only is he going to overstimulate you, you’re going to thank him for it. He wishes those weren’t the rules- really, he knows how hard it is for you, he can see you struggling to get the words out- but you have to be a good girl and thank him. Really, it’s for your own good. He knows your pussy is his, and he takes that responsibility seriously, and part of that is ensuring you have good manners when he’s inhaling your scent and tonguing your overstimulated clit, even if his manners went right out the window the second he got you out of your panties. 

“It’s my fucking pussy, and I’m gonna do whatever the fuck I want with it. Isn’t that right? Don’t say yeah, say yes sir.” 

He’s a service dom, which means he’s already made you cum by the time he’s pulling out his thick, veiny cock. With the taste of your cunt still on his lips, he’ll decide whether you need to be fucked slowly in missionary or bent over and railed mercilessly while he slaps your ass, and it’s lucky he does, because by the time he’s pushing that cock into you, you can barely string together a coherent thought.  

“I know you’re tired, but you still have to say thank you, sir. That’s my good fucking girl. Just give me one more orgasm, and I’ll let you take my load.”

Sabo: 

He’s both a kinky little fucker and a bit of a sadist, which means he teases the hell out of you. He’ll tease you until you’re blue in the face, crying because you just need to cum so bad but you can’t reach your clit in your restraints, and then he’ll tease you a little more, twisting your aching nipples with a wicked grin and pointing out how wet you are. 

“Come on, sweetheart. I haven’t even touched your clit yet.”

He’s notorious for pulling you around a corner or into a supply closet, shoving his long fingers into your panties, working you to the edge of orgasm, and making you suck his fingers clean before leaving you to recover, knowing full well you’ll jump him as soon as you can get him alone- not that he’ll be all that accommodating when you do. He also makes good use of the remote control vibrator he purchased, to the point that half of the RA thinks you have IBS for all the times you tense up and scurry out of a room. 

But for all the times he does it on purpose, there are other times he’s not even aware that he’s doing it. He gets so pussy drunk with his head between your legs that he’s barely cognizant of your pleas. He just knows that your orgasm is the best part, and he wants to hold out as long as possible, because he swears your pussy tastes better when you’re sweating and panting. After slowly tonguing your clit for what feels like hours, stopping just short of letting you orgasm several times, he’ll drag his head up and make eye contact, only to realize just how long he’s been torturing you. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I lost track of time. I’ll make it better, I promise.” 

Law: 

Yes, he teases you, but only because you deserve it, annoying brat that you are. You are, after all, teasing him constantly- the sway of your hips, the way you bend over in front of him, the knowing smile you give him when no one else is looking. What is a man to do if not punish you for it? And if you’re a nuisance about it, mouthing off and talking back even as your pussy aches for his cock, even better.  

“If only the others knew what an impudent little brat you are, how many spankings it takes from your Captain to keep you in line, how wet it makes you.”  

His favorite is to tie you up, face down. He’ll make you count out loud as he spanks you, only stopping when you finally admit that you deserve it, and then he’ll run his nose through your slit, relishing how wet you are and inhaling your scent but refusing to give you any relief until you say, “please, daddy,” enough times. And when he does finally probe your clit with his tongue, he’s just as stingy with the pleasure he gives you. 

“You know what you have to say if you want to cum.” 

If you’ve been extra bad, he’ll punish you with a vibrator, keeping it on its lowest setting and only ramping up the power when you’ve broken down and begged him to do it, shoving his cock into your dripping cunt to fuck you through your orgasm. 

Kid: 

Kid’s philosophy in life is simple: more is more. And that applies to your sex life, most definitely. He has an insanely high sex drive and turns into an absolute fiend if he doesn’t get off everyday, and him getting off require you getting off, too, which means you’re in an almost constant state of overstimulation as this man’s cute little fuck bunny. Since you met him, you can’t remember a single day that he left your clit alone. 

“I don’t care if you still have my cum in you from last time, you’re gonna take some more. We both know you’ll cum when I give it to you.” 

Usually attacks you like a feral dog, squeezing your face in his powerful hand until you slap him away, chewing your nipples raw, jamming his tongue into your cunt and a finger or two up your ass, manhandling you however he pleases. And he doesn’t shut up the entire time, either, goading you, making fun of you, even laughing at and making fun of you when you cum. 

“How the hell did you get off before you had me to make you cum, huh? Poor thing, you’re desperate for it.” 

Has tied you up and left you with a vibrator between your legs several times, and on these occasions, didn’t come back and cuddle you. No, he came back and fucked you like he’d never see you again, twisting you up like a pretzel and pushing his entire, massive cock into your tight little hole until it’s as sore as your clit. He’s had Killer and even Heat and Wire hold a vibrator to your clit before because you’re so cute when you cum he just has to share (though fucking you is his privilege). 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[delphi-shield]

— 「 BODYGUARD 」

lighter lorenz x reader — 2.2k summary: you're not his responsibility (not yet), but the guilt will eat him alive if he doesn't get your drunk ass home safely. content: lighter's pov, vomit, alcohol use, sappy lighter, jealous lighter beyonce's bodyguard is so him to me i can't do this anymore fellas

You call; he answers.

Some things in life are just that simple. Lighter tries to keep it that way for you.

You don’t normally call in the middle of the night, though. Lighter doesn’t mind – honest, he doesn’t. He had been tossing and turning since he laid down, passing the time by picking open old wounds, letting the regret sting the raw edges. It takes time to realize that the ringing isn’t in his ears, that he’s flat on his back in bed, not in the ring. He almost ignores the call, but when he rolls over and sees your name flickering back at him, he dives to pick up before the last ring.

You're silent on the other line, nothing but muffled talking and rustling against the microphone. All sorts of scenarios race through his head. You're stuck somewhere - trapped in a hollow, or cornered by a rival gang. His past has caught up to him, mired you in all this ick. His stomach turns.

Adrenaline works way better than caffeine and he’s known that for a while, but he wishes he wasn’t so familiar with the helplessness that grips him. Lighter sits up, swings his legs over the side of his bed, poised to run to you.

It’s nothing so serious. When you finally get your phone up to your face and greet him with a (too loud, too sloppy) ‘hey!’ it becomes painfully obvious. You're drunk. That's what all of this is about.

Lighter needles the details out of you bit by bit, trying to glean information from your ramblings. Stranded out in Badger Springs. You met some guy out there for a date, he went to the bathroom and didn’t come back. You don’t laugh when he offers to deck the guy, and he can’t tell if you’re really torn up about this or if you just didn’t hear him.

Lighter pinches the bridge of his nose. He exhales long and low, away from the mic. He shouldn't encourage this. Can't keep bailing you out every time you get yourself in a sticky situation. But the thought of you drunkenly stumbling around the Outer Ring, bumbling your way into real trouble, has him fumbling to get his arms through his jacket.

“Stay put. I’ll be right there.”

Badger Springs. Seriously? Why’d you have to go so far out? What was so wrong with getting a drink in Blazewood?

Irritation pricks at him, has his hands feeling staticky even when he grips the handlebars of his bike. You probably went out there so no one would interrupt your date. What, were you trying to hide it? Did the girls know about this? No. No way. You would have called one of them to pick you up if that were the case. Right? You weren’t trying to hide it from him, not specifically.

He has a long ride ahead to stew about it, to knot the meaning of your actions into ugly shapes and then smooth them out, only to twist it all up again another mile down the road. This wouldn’t have happened - he kicks the stand down on his bike - if he’d manned up, if he’d asked you to watch the movie he’d rented. (New release, independently produced, apparently based off some old civilization tapes that had only been spoken about in a scant few records - some horror flick called Seen that you had been raving about. Not his thing, but your eyes lit up when you spoke about it. He figured he could just watch you during the bloody parts.)

But he didn’t ask, and now he’s here, freezing his ass off in the middle of the night, parked outside this shithole bar, two towns over. The bar is a dump. Looks like your date couldn’t even take you anywhere nice. You’re off by yourself at the end of the bar, shoulders drawn in close, crowding over your drink. At least the regulars are leaving you alone. A quick look around tells him that there’s too many people in this place for it to be a quick fight, if it came down to that.

He strolls past tables and booths, lets his hand fall heavy on your shoulder. You jump, turning sluggishly to look up at him - eyes wide and red. C’mon - don’t tell him you’ve been crying over this prick. Your expression smooths the moment that you recognize him. 

“Lighter!” Your arms fling around his middle, squeeze him tightly.

The tide of adrenaline that he washed in on pulls back, drags his relief away. Anger shores up, quick and sudden. It soothes in another pulse of his heart; understanding. It's kind of flattering if he doesn't think about it too hard. You trusted him enough to come pick you up. Probably couldn't even think clearly - just knew you wanted to go home. Knew he would get you there, safe and sound. Not a bad prize for driving all the way out here; he tries to enshrine this moment in his memory. Later, trying to fall asleep in his room, he’ll feel like a sleaze for delighting in being your hero like this.

He pats the top of your head, takes advantage of the distraction to wave the bartender over, check if you’ve still got an open tab. He slips him a couple extra denny for the trouble, keeps you distracted and talking with carefully placed ‘oh, really?’s and ‘mhm’s.

"You're wasted, huh?"

“Not that bad.”

You sound confident. He steps back, lets you hop off the bar stool on your own. Lighter hooks a thumb in his pocket. He drums his fingers against his thighs, watching you sway back and forth in front of him. Your eyes are hazy and unfocused, looking in his general direction with a dopey grin on your face.

Pride feels better than anger. He latches onto that. You make it so easy to feel when you cling onto his arm, lean into him. He keeps you close, ignores the whispers he overhears about the Red Scarf. His step quickens. He’s not getting into any trouble, not when he’s here for you.

You struggle to keep up, all uncoordinated limbs, your head probably spinning. He helps you onto the back of his bike and passes you a helmet. He’d grabbed it on his way out - figured if you were as trashed as you sounded on the phone then it was better safe than sorry. He’s glad he did.

Somewhere along the ride home, you stopped babbling. He had felt your words pressed against his back more than he had heard them. He stops just before home to check on you. Can’t have you falling asleep. He doesn’t want to hear it about riding in with you all banged up on the back - he’d never let it down. He’d never let himself live it down, more accurately, but his bike starts back up before you hear that part.

Honestly, he’s almost positive you won’t remember much past when you first called him. That doesn’t stop him from treating you gently. He helps you off his bike, keeps your hand in his to guide you around stray milk crates and cacti that just seemed to leap into your path.

It’s just a little further. He’s almost got you back to your place when he hears it. That ominous groan. Your face pallid, cold sweat breaking out against your forehead.

“Gonna throw up?” He asks, big hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

You shake your head, the force of it knocking you off balance. You would have stumbled right into a cactus if he hadn’t hauled you into his side by the back of your shirt. (Like scruffing a kitten, he catches himself thinking. Cute.)

He tries to guide you to the closest trash can, but you can’t quite make it. Your legs are quaking, all the strength sapped from you while you expel that contents of your stomach into one of Old Demir’s flower pots. He gathers your hair back from your face gently, caging it all in one hand to rub your back with the other. Somewhere between gentle coos of ‘there you go’ and ‘let it all out’, he manages to make out your garbled apology. You thread it between heaves, between sobs, but he catches it all the same and shushes you for it.

“All better?” He asks when the dry heaving has stopped. You nod slowly. The tiniest whimper he’s ever heard drifts from your lips. He knows from experience that much more movement than that will hurt.

Lighter sighs. The scent of your perfume curdles with the stench of vomit. He arranges your hair back as best he can, trying to replicate the way you had done yourself up - all pretty for another man, he remembers. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, and he pulls the end of his scarf free.

“No, Lighter–”

Your hands are clumsy. He dodges your attempts to stop him easily. He clicks his tongue and swipes the vomit from your chin. “Don’t worry about it. This scarf has seen worse.”

It’s about time to get it cleaned, anyway. Add that to his growing list of chores.

You’re moving slower than before. He tucks you into his side to give you some more stability. When you pause at the steps to your place, he sweeps an arm under your knees, cradles you close to him. He had expected a protest, or an apology - something in line with the rest of your behavior this evening, but you curl closer to him. 

It’s a fumble to find your keys - shifting your weight from one arm to the other until he finally finds them in your back pocket. He knows your place well enough to dodge the shoes left in the entrance way, to step around the box that sticks out into the hallway from your bedroom. He settles you into your bed, rolls you onto your side - just to be safe.

Lighter keeps watch for a few moments, making sure you’re not going to roll onto your back, pressing the back of his hand against your sweat-chilled forehead. Once he’s certain the worst has passed, he leaves to fill a glass of water for you. Your eyes are half-open when he gets back. He draws up a chair, tries to figure out how to ask if you want his help changing into something more comfortable without sounding like a creep.

You rip that idea from his head when you blindside him with a question.

“D’you think it’s my fault?”

“Course not,” Lighter answers before he can even put together what you’re asking. “Everyone has too much fun sometimes. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re not even gonna remember this.”

“No, I mean…” You curl tightly around your pillow. He could have sworn he heard a hitch in your voice. His heart lurches. Christ, you can’t start crying now. He can’t take it. “Why would he just leave?”

Lighter has to remind himself not to pull a face. Not what you need right now. He’s already said too much. He’s just going to wind up upsetting you more. He wants to tell you that guy is a douchebag, that none of it had been your fault. The guy just wasn’t man enough to be upfront. That was all.

“I just don’t think I’m meant for this,” you whisper. His train of thought crashes abruptly. "Like– love, and stuff.”

“You’re so much fun to be in love with,” Lighter says, and if you were sober you would clock him for just how quickly he did so, “and someday, someone’s gonna see that.”

“How do you know?”

Because my heart feels like it’s buckled into a roller coaster and I can’t figure out if I’m having fun or if I’m scared shitless. Because I’ve got eyes. Because it’s you.

He can’t say any of that. Not now, while you’re shivering and small, a little bundle of raw nerves that he rescued from some dump. Christ, you really are a kitten right now. He chucks your chin with a knuckle, his smile twisting to something bittersweet.

“C’mon. You should know not to bet against me by now.”

For the first time since he got you through the door, you smile. Barely there and flimsy, but you’re only just clinging to consciousness. Your cheek presses back against your pillow, eyes slipping shut.

“Thanks, Lighter,” you murmur.

You’re out cold within the next minute.

Lighter lingers overlong. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be in your room while you’re passed out like this, but he can’t bring himself to rise. His shoulders hunch, expression dropping, stomach churning. Through your window, dawn is just beginning to break. The Outer Ring is bathed in a cool blue light, the horizon tinging purple at the edges.

You have a hell of a morning ahead of you. He runs a hand down his face and forces himself to stand, to get his day started properly. Another sleepless night. Maybe the next time he finds himself awake, staring at the ceiling and tormenting himself, he’ll call you first. Maybe he’ll do it before anyone else has a chance to.

Lighter locks your door on his way out and tucks the key under your mat. He should act. He should tell you.

He walks back to his place in silence, resisting the urge to grab his phone, to text you and say let me know if you need anything.

Maybe one day.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Hiiii I see u are taking request for Lucius Verus x reader.

I was thinking something like at the end when he becomes emperor he will need a new wife…👀 but he doesn't want a new wife so he tries to delay the choice, but then he meets the reader (us) and we can be whatever u like, I was thinking about like a slave or something idk.

Sorry if my English isn’t right !!

Hell yes I can write this for you ❤️❤️❤️ thanks for requesting!!

————-

“But Imperator—”

“But nothing,” Lucius interrupted, holding up a hand. “I have already made my decision.”

Ravi clicked his tongue in disapproval, lowering his voice. “It is no use being so stubborn, my friend.”

Lucius huffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “It is not without reason.”

“I know that, but that was another life, and her memory has carried you this far,” Ravi said, his tone tactful. “She would not want you to not have heirs to carry out your legacy.”

Lucius thought about it for a moment. He had fought so hard to get to where he was, staying alive despite the pain of his losses. Now that he was Caesar of Rome, he couldn’t let all his efforts go to waste and hand down the crown to just anyone. Especially knowing how easy it was for someone like Macrinus to try to seize control.

“I would be… open to having a meeting,” he began, but when Ravi’s face lit up, he lifted a hand again. “But that is no promise that things will progress beyond it.”

“Good enough for me,” Ravi said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I know someone, a widower, just like you. She was one of my patients, in the past.”

“I leave it in your hands, then. Bring her for dinner.”

—————

Lucius had no expectations about meeting you. In truth, a part of him had been dreading it, not knowing how he was going to act.

But when he saw you at the atrium with Ravi, he stopped in his steps. Ravi introduced you and you curtsied, daintily holding out your hand so you may kiss his ring.

Lucius blinked at you, unaware he was staring until Ravi cleared his throat. Reacting, he gave you his hand and you bent your head to kiss it.

When you straightened, you shared a slightly amused look with Ravi, biting down a chuckle.

“It is a great honor to meet you, Imperator Lucius,” you said. “Thank you for allowing me into your home.”

“The honor is mine,” he said, inclining his head and smiling a little. “Please, come sit. Would you like wine? Something to snack on?”

“Well, I cannot very well decline anything our gracious host offers, can I, Ravi?” You said, following both of them to the triclinium.

“But of course, Lady,” Ravi said.

Lucius offered his hand to help you onto the lectus, a couch where you could recline while dining. You took it, holding the skirts of your dress as you sat. He took the one across from you and Ravi sat on the one between both of yours.

Lucius shared a look with Ravi, who raised an eyebrow. Stubborn, he pursed his lips, but one of the corners still lifted in a small smile. It was then that Ravi knew he had done a good job.

“So, I should like you to tell me about you,” Lucius said, leaning forward eagerly.

“What would you like to know?” You asked, taking a sip of wine and hoping your face wasn’t too flushed from his attention.

“Everything,” he said. “If that is not too much for a first meeting.”

You laughed and he realized he wouldn’t mind listening to it echoing through the halls of the palace more often.

“Let us make a bargain, then, if it is not too presumptuous of me,” you said. “If by sunrise you are not satisfied with all I have shared, then perhaps we may reconvene for another meal.”

He didn’t even have to think about it twice. “I’ll take that bargain, though I suspect your coming back won’t be from lack of satisfaction.”

————

[janeyseymour]

Drunk Actions, Sober Thoughts- part 2

Part 1 @theboreworms @schemmentisbaby @ literally everyone else who bullied me into writing a part 2, i hope this lives up to your expectations.

Summary: Are drunk actions really sober thoughts?

WC: ~2.35k

When Melissa wakes up, she wakes with a groan. Jesus Christ, how much did she have to drink at Janine’s party last night? And who let her drink that- it hits her at a dizzying rate. Barbara was determined to get Sea Barbara to come out, which she succeeded in. And because she and the redhead usually go shot for shot with heavy handed pours, Melissa also got absolutely hammered. 

The second grade teacher turns, and she realizes she’s in her bed. How did she get- Holy shit. She vaguely remembers flirting with you the entire night. Does that mean you brought her home? Did she say anything stupid? Did she try to make any moves on you?

“Never goin’ shot for shot with Barbie again,” Melissa grumbles to herself as she reaches for her nightstand drawer to grab Advil. Of course though, there’s already a glass of water and two pills sitting nicely on top. She downs them and prays to God himself that this hangover will go away quickly.

Once she’s secure in the fact that she isn’t going to get sick standing up, the redhead makes her way out of bed, secures her reading glasses on her head, and heads downstairs. And sitting on the coffee table is your note. Her tired eyes can’t read your note without her glasses, so she pulls them down and sets them on the tip of her nose before scanning what you had written.

“Fuck,” Melissa mumbles to herself. “What the fuck did I do last night?”

As she cooks herself breakfast, memories come back in pieces. She remembers taking shots with Barbara, you coming in, dancing with you- her hand in your back pocket.

Meanwhile, at breakfast, you’re doing everything that you can to try to stay focused and pay attention to what your dad is telling you, but it’s quite difficult.

“What’s got you so distracted today, kiddo?” your father asks. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because it’s clearly something.”

You shrug. “Just… had a long night last night.”

“Why would that be?” your dad chuckles. “You knew you had to be up bright and early to be with your old man today.”

“My coworker had a party, and I ended up having to take my other colleague home,” you explain, and you quietly pray he doesn’t pry any further.

  Of course though, he does. “Was it that Melissa character?”

Your cheeks turn red at the memory of last night. “Yeah,” you mumble.

“What happened? Did you tell her how you feel?”

You shake your head. “Of course not. But, uh-” You scratch the back of your head. “She might’ve told me how she feels about me.”

“Oh?” your dad raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his coffee. “So what came of that?”

“Well,” you sigh softly. “Nothing yet. I had to leave to come meet you, but I told her I would come back so we could talk about it today.”

“Why the hell are you here with me, kid?” the man across the table asks you. “You should be there with her.”

“I wouldn’t cancel on you, dad,” you roll your eyes. “I haven’t seen you in a while, and I wouldn’t cancel on you.”

“Well, I’m telling you now to get the hell out of here and go to her.”

“We’re in the middle of breakfast.”

“And I’ll see you again next weekend,” your father tells you as he takes a bite of his hash brown. “Go get your girl, kid.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

He nods. “Go. I’ll be waiting for your call to tell me how it went.”

With a heavy breath blown out, you stand, grab your purse, kiss your cheek, and head out of the restaurant.

Your father watches you go before picking up his cell phone and calling your mother. “Jude, I think our girl might finally get her girl.”

“It’s about damn time, Bobby.” 

Your heart is racing by the time you pull back into Melissa’s driveway. You can see her silhouette through the window and take a deep breath for getting out of the car and making your way up to the house.

You have no idea how this is going to go, but you can only hope that it works out in your favor. You knock gently, and she’s at the door about thirty seconds later.

Her hair is up in one of the messiest buns you’ve seen, her glasses are on the tip of her nose, and even though she’s simply in her pajamas, you can’t help but think about how beautiful she looks right now. How waking up next to her this morning was something that you’ve wanted to do for a long time.

“Hey,” she sighs softly as she steps aside to let you in.

“Hey,” you reply just as gently. “How are you feeling this morning?”

She shrugs. “Woke up with a ridiculous hangover. Thank you for the Advil and water this morning.”

“Of course,” you chuckle quietly.

She gestures for you to come inside. “Well, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to come in?”

You make your way into the house on light feet and set your purse down on her couch. “I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah,” Melissa hums. “Listen, about last night… I’m really sorry if I crossed a boundary.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t cross any boundaries,” you promise her. “I just think we need to talk about the things that were said and done last night. How much of it do you remember?”

She relays to you what she remembers- drinking with Barbara, having you near her most of the night once you got there, the dancing… her hand placement.

“You remember more than I thought you would,” you can’t help but giggle. “Especially for how gone you were last night.”

“I’m sure there’s more that I’m not remembering,” the redhead scratches the back of her neck. “Care to fill me in?”

You worry your lip between your teeth for a few seconds before you sigh softly. “Mel, you… you kept telling people I was your girl. When I brought you home, you… you had me pressed up against the wall.”

The redhead’s mouth falls open in shock. “Holy shit.”

“You told me you have feelings for me and what you love about me,” you continue.

“I-” Melissa puts her head in her hands to hide her embarrassment. “I am so sorry.”

You shrug. “I wasn’t mad about it. I just- is that really how you feel about me?” You subconsciously tuck a stray hair behind your ear. You quirk your lips to one side and keep your eyes on the ground. If she didn’t mean what she told you last night, you don’t want Melissa to see the disappointment on your face. That would be beyond embarrassing. What you don’t see is the slight widening of Melissa’s eyes as she remembers something she said last night.

“Hun.” A soft hand cups your cheek and forces you to look into those jade eyes of her own.

“Mel,” you sigh softly. “It’s fine.”

Red hair sways back and forth gently as she shakes her head. “Drunk words and actions are sober thoughts,” she tells you the sentiment she slurred out last night. 

And then her lips are on yours again. And although she had kissed you before previously, you aren’t expecting it this time either. It takes you a few seconds to set your hands on her waist and pull her closer to you. When she pulls away, there’s a warm smile on her face, and her eyes are a softer shade of green than you’ve ever seen. The sparkle in them is as bright as ever.

“I meant what I told you last night,” Melissa tells you quietly. “I just… never thought I’d actually get the girl.”

“I thought I’d never get the girl,” you chuckle softly as you lean in to kiss her again. “Holy shit.”

“Just wait until you can see what else I can do,” the redhead smirks.

You end up spending the day with Melissa. It’s warm, it’s cozy. It’s quite similar to how you would usually spend a day with her outside of school, but there’s more stolen kisses, more hand holding, arms wrapped around your waist as you cook lunch and dinner together.

“So,” you hum out quietly as you sit next to her for dinner today. “I do think we should talk about what… this… is.” You gesture between the two of you.

“I don’t want no fling,” the redhead tells you. “I want you. And if that’s something that you can’t handle, then I think we need to call it-”

You stop her with a kiss. When you pull back you roll your eyes at her. “Melissa Schemmenti, I haven’t even been on a date since I started working at Abbott because the only person I can think about is you. I don’t want a fling either. I want you. I want this.”

She nods with that starry smile of hers. It dims a few seconds later though. “Do you think… think we can just keep this under wraps for a little bit? Like, at least with the work group?”

“You aren’t going to tell Barb?” you chuckle.

Melissa shrugs. “She’ll find out in her own time… probably when I drag you along to one of our brunches over the summer.”

You end up calling your father on the car ride home from your now girlfriend’s house.

“Kid?” your dad picks up. “Hey, I was expecting your call a little earlier than this. Is everything okay?”

“I’m good,” you sigh softly. “Sorry. I was just spending time with my girlfriend.”

You can hear your mother gasp in the background. “Girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend,” you confirm.

You can practically see smile on both of their faces. “Oh, how wonderful.”

“When do we get to meet her?” your mom asks loudly. You can faintly hear your father telling her that she doesn’t need to scream into the phone to be heard.

“I’m sure she’ll make an appearance sooner or later,” you laugh. “We are keeping it quiet for the time being, but… you’ll meet her over the summer.”

Your girlfriend ends up accompanying you to the family fourth of July picnic. As you could’ve guessed, your parents absolutely adore her. She’s the perfect amount of charming while also maintaining that mysterious and sarcastic aura around her. She’s great with your younger cousins, and also their parents. Quite a few of your family members end up pulling you aside to tell you that if you let her go, they’re taking her side in the matter. You just reply with the same thing each time: an eye roll and the statement, “I’m not planning on letting her go.”

The rest of July, you spend a lot of time down at the shore. Melissa and her ex-husband have a time share, and your now girlfriend prefers to use it during July while he would rather have June. It’s convenient the way that all worked itself out. You don’t think you’ve eaten so many curly fries in vinegar before this summer.

July passes by quickly, soaking in the sun, taking in the views (of your girlfriend in her bathing suit), resting and relaxing. And then August creeps up on you, and it’s about time for the two of you to begin thinking about going back to school.

“So we’re still keeping it on the down low?” you ask gently as you crawl into bed the night before professional development starts.

“I think so,” the redhead shrugs. “I like this little bubble that we’re in- don’t you?”

You smile and kiss her warmly. “I do.”

“An’,” your girlfriend shrugs again. “If they find out, they find out. Ain’t like we hiding it like Janine and Gregory.”

“I still can’t believe we saw them at the park last week and they didn’t see us,” you chuckle out.

You somehow manage to make it through the week of professional development, and your kids are starting back up before you know it. You’re down the hall in the classroom next to Gregory’s, and Melissa is right across from Janine. It’s a nice little square that the four of your classrooms make. And it’s funny as hell to both you and your girlfriend how obvious they’re being, and yet they somehow still think they’re so subtle.

You, Barbara, Ava, and Melissa all get pulled to do a talking head for one of the camera men. He asks what you think is going on between Janine and Gregory.

“We all know,” the four of you state at once. The four of you continue on to state that you have no idea how they could even think that they’re hiding their relationship- what dumb asses. The four of you aren’t dumb either, but none of you really care. Well, aside from Ava who thinks that it’s an insult to her intelligence. 

The four of you go to leave the hall from your interview, only for the camera crew to keep Barbara behind. Ava tosses her hair and saunters off while you and your girlfriend just smile at each other before parting ways.

“Are there any other changes that you’ve noticed over the summer?” he asks the kindergarten teacher.

Barb glances around to make sure no one is listening before leaning in just slightly. “Melissa and Y/N? Ooh, they are playing the same game that Gregory and Janine are. And I have a feeling… Gregory and Janine aren’t the only two who got it together that night at the end of the year party. Hmm.” She points to the two of you- you leaning against Melissa’s doorframe.

The camera quickly pans over to the two of you, and you don’t know it… but you and your girlfriend are just as bad as your counterparts. 

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead

[pandapetals]

Tennesse Whiskey

You go over to Xavier's mansion looking for Charles only to be greeted by Logan.

dofp!logan howlett x fem!reader - logan is a bit of an ass, no y/n used, no reader description, cussing, reader has fiery personality inspired by daisy jones, 70s setting, making out, liquor play, sweetheart/gorgeous and good girl pet names used, rough kissing, cussing, teasing banter

a/n: AHKJAHSAJKH - this is me rn because i am a bitch in heat. someone asked for a sequel to electric fever and i was like wtf am i supposed to write? then the tiktok gods blessed me with a scene from crashing (thank you jonathan bailey, i love you) and here we are. *takes several deep shaky breaths*

The car’s engine sputtered to silence as you rolled to a stop in front of the ruins of what was once Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. The sign above the crumbling arch hung crookedly, the paint faded and peeling, like the rest of the mansion. The grass had given way to dirt, and vines snaked up the sides of the building like nature was reclaiming it.

You killed the engine, the sudden quiet making the eerie emptiness of the place feel heavier. For a second, you hesitated, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. It had been a few days since you had sex with Logan, and no matter how much you told yourself you didn’t regret it, there was still a weight in your chest. Maybe it was irritation. Or curiosity. Either way, you hated that he lingered in your thoughts.

With a sharp breath, you shoved the door open and stepped out, your knee-high boots crunching against dry dirt where there should have been grass. You squared your shoulders, slung your bag over one arm, and marched up the weathered stairs to the front door, slamming your fist against the wood three times in rapid succession. Each knock echoed into the emptiness like the whole mansion was mocking you.

The door creaked open slowly, the hinges protesting loudly. And there he was. 

Logan filled the doorway like a permanent fixture, wearing a tight white tank that clung to his chest and shoulders like it was painted on. His hair stuck up in its usual wild tufts, and there was that smirk—the same cocky, aggravating one that made your blood boil. He leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand resting on the edge, the other holding a half-smoked cigar.

“Was wondering when you’d come begging for more,” he drawled. The scent of smoke and whiskey clung to him like an aura.

Your eyes narrowed. “In your dreams, Logan.”

“Pretty sure you’ve been dreamin’ about it, sweetheart,” he shot back, stepping aside as you pushed past him into the mansion.

“Where the fuck is Charles?” you snapped, your boots echoing against the dusty wooden floors as you glanced around. The place was cold and hollow, and the quiet gnawed at your nerves. “I have no idea what’s going on, and I’m not in the mood for your shit. So where is he?”

Logan let the door fall shut behind you with a heavy thud, his smirk only widening as he tucked his cigar between his teeth. “He isn’t here.”

You turned on him, hands on your hips. “Then when will he be back? What about Hank?”

“Gone, too,” he said, shrugging like it was the least of his concerns. “But hey, you’ve got me.”

You glared at him, your patience wearing thinner by the second. “Guess I’ll wait here.”

Logan chuckled, a deep, rough sound that sent heat curling low in your stomach— which you immediately ignored . He sauntered closer, his boots scuffing lazily against the floor as he towered over you, his presence almost suffocating.

“Sure you wanna stay? ‘Cause I can think of at least a dozen ways you could make better use of your time,” he teased, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that made you want to slap him. Or kiss him. No, definitely slap him.

“Don’t,” you snapped, pointing a finger in his face before he could finish whatever smug remark was brewing. “You’re too cocky for your own good.”

Logan leaned in just enough for you to catch the faintest hint of smoke and whiskey. “And you love it,” his voice dropped to that infuriatingly low, gravelly tone that scraped against your nerves.

Your glare burned hotter, but you didn’t flinch. “Keep pushing me, and you’ll find out exactly how much I love punching that smug grin off your face.”

Logan’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he backed away, hands raised like he was surrendering. “Alright, alright. No need to get feisty. I’ll behave...”

He spun on his heel and walked away, his broad shoulders still annoyingly relaxed. “But hey,” he called over his shoulder, voice dripping with amusement, “if you do wanna go another round, you know where to find me.”

You let out a frustrated groan, your fingers itching to throw something at the back of his head. Instead, you dropped your bag with a thud and stalked after him.

“Got any liquor, asshole?” you snapped, catching up to him as he crossed into what used to be the mansion’s formal parlor.

Logan’s chuckle rumbled through the hollow space, and the sound made your teeth clench. “Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart, but Charles drank it all,” he said, not even bothering to turn around as he sauntered toward an old end table by the far wall.

You rolled your eyes, quickening your pace until you were walking in stride with him. “Since when did Charles turn into a goddamn alcoholic?” you quipped, earning yourself a half-smirk from Logan.

“Apparently, you’ve missed a lot of things,” he replied, his voice dripping with amusement as he reached the end table. He pulled the cigar from his mouth placing it on the table. Sitting on top was a tarnished gold tray, a lone bottle of whiskey, and a single glass. He picked up the glass, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he poured himself a generous splash. The amber liquid caught the faint light streaming through the grimy windows.

Your eyes narrowed as you leaned against the massive wooden table in the center of the room, crossing your arms. “You’re fucking kidding me,” you said, your tone sharp. “You have whiskey? After all that, you’re just gonna pour yourself a glass and pretend I don’t exist?”

Logan turned to face you, glass in hand, and that damn smirk of his widened. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little disappointment?” He took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving yours, like he was daring you to argue.

Your lips curled into a scowl, the heat in your chest climbing fast. “Do you have to be so insufferable? Or is that just a natural talent?”

“Natural talent,” he said easily, setting the glass down on the tray before picking up the bottle. He held it up, inspecting the label like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “And besides, there’s not enough here for two.”

You straightened up from the table, your fists planted on your hips. “Like hell, there isn’t.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, turning his full attention to you, the whiskey bottle dangling from his hand. “You that desperate, sweetheart?”

“Desperate?” you repeated with a sharp laugh, stalking toward him now. “I’ve put up with your bullshit long enough, Logan. If there’s one thing that’ll make it even remotely tolerable, it’s a drink. So, stop being an ass and pour me one.”

He didn’t move, though his smirk deepened, his teeth glinting wolfishly. “You want whiskey that bad?” he asked, his voice dropping to that gravelly, infuriating drawl that sent a shiver up your spine, whether you liked it or not.

“Obviously,” you snapped, stopping just short of where he stood.

“Alright then.” He set the bottle back on the tray, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. When he turned back to you, his eyes glinted with something dark, teasing, and far too confident. “C’mere.”

You blinked, your brow furrowing. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, stepping closer, his boots clicking softly against the floorboards. He towered over you now, his body radiating heat, and you could feel his breath, warm and laced with whiskey, as he leaned in. “You want a drink? I’ll give you one.”

“Logan, if this is one of your—”

Before you could finish, his hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly and setting you down on the edge of the wooden table. The rough surface creaked under your weight, and your boots dangled an inch above the floor. You glared at him, heat rising in your cheeks as you pointed a finger at his chest. “You are such a—”

“Open your mouth,” he interrupted his voice a low growl, his hands still resting lightly on your hips.

Your jaw dropped—not from obedience but from sheer disbelief. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

He nodded, his smirk practically feral. “Dead serious, sweetheart. Now, open up.”

For a second, you debated decking him right then and there. But there was something in his eyes—a challenge, an invitation—that made your blood run hotter. Against your better judgment, you rolled your eyes and parted your lips.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and the low rasp in his tone sent a flicker of heat straight to your core.

You barely had time to glare at him before he brought the whiskey glass to his lips and took a slow sip. But instead of swallowing, he leaned forward, his mouth brushing against yours as he tilted his head. The whiskey spilled between your lips, hot and smooth, but before you could react, his tongue followed, sliding past your teeth and deepening the contact.

The kiss hit you like a punch—messy, heated, and all-consuming. The whiskey burned down your throat, but it was nothing compared to the fire spreading through your veins. Logan’s hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, and your hands instinctively tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer.

Your teeth grazed his bottom lip, and he let out a low growl, his hands sliding up to grip your thighs. The table groaned under the weight of your combined intensity, but neither of you gave a damn. His tongue teased yours, the lingering taste of whiskey making you crave more—of the drink, of him, of everything.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Logan pulled back just enough to look at you. His lips were wet and swollen, a faint sheen of whiskey lingering on them, and the gleam in his eyes—dark, dangerous, hungry—sent a jolt straight to your stomach.

You licked your lips, tasting whiskey and him, and your voice came out more breathless than you intended. “Now are you going to pour me a glass, or what?”

Logan let out a low, gravelly chuckle that made your thighs tighten where his hands still rested. “Are you gonna beg for it?”

Your eyes narrowed, your irritation flaring instantly. “Do I look like a girl who begs?” you snapped, moving to hop off the table. But his hands didn’t let you. His grip tightened on your thighs, rough and unyielding, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he rasped, his smirk widening. “You’re the one who asked for a drink. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”

You glared at him, the heat in your chest climbing higher. “I’m not backing out of shit,” you shot back, your fingers darting toward the bottle still sitting on the tray. “If you’re not gonna share, I’ll just help myself.”

You managed to grab the whiskey, the cool glass smooth in your palm, but before you could bring it to your lips, Logan’s hand shot out, covering yours and wrenching the bottle away with infuriating ease.

“Nice try,” he growled, tilting the bottle to his mouth and taking a long, deliberate swig right in front of you. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and when he lowered the bottle, his tongue flicked out to catch the drop sliding down the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a goddamn child,” you bit out, seething. “Can’t even share a drink.”

Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips. “Oh, I’ll share. But I don’t think you really want the whiskey, sweetheart,” he said, stepping closer until your knees pressed against his sides. “I think you just wanted an excuse to kiss me.”

You huffed out a laugh, sharp and biting. “You’re full of yourself.”

“And you like it,” he shot back, his voice dipping low as he leaned in. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, and the deep rasp sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Admit it.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of rattling you—at least, not yet. “You’re delusional,” you muttered, though your voice faltered when his lips trailed down to your jaw, the scruff of his beard scraping against your skin.

He hummed, the vibration made your breath hitch. “Am I?” he murmured, his mouth skimming down to the curve of your neck. His teeth grazed your pulse point, and you gasped softly, your hands instinctively gripping the front of his tank top. “Because I think I’m in your head, sweetheart. Under your skin. And I think you like it.”

You opened your mouth to snap back, but then his lips latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Heat bloomed across your skin, spreading down your chest and pooling low in your stomach as his tongue soothed the spot before he moved lower, biting and kissing a trail along the side of your throat.

“Logan,” you said, his name spilling from your lips half in warning, half desire.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and wild, his hands sliding up from your thighs to grip your hips, firm and possessive. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough and fraying at the edges. “Admit it.”

You swallowed hard, your nails digging into his chest. “Admit what?” you asked, your voice shaky but defiant, even as you felt your resolve crumbling.

“That you like how I get under your skin,” he said, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. His breath was warm, tinged with whiskey, and it made your pulse race. “That you like the way I make you crazy.”

Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t look away from him, your breathing uneven as his hands gripped you tighter, his thumbs stroking small, maddening circles against your skin.

Finally, you huffed, rolling your eyes as your cheeks burned. “Fine,” you said, your voice sharp but barely more than a breath. “I like it. You happy now?”

The second the words left your mouth, Logan growled—a deep, guttural sound that made your entire body shiver. “Not yet,” he muttered, and then his mouth was on yours again, harder this time, hungrier.

His kiss was fierce, devouring as if your admission had broken whatever thread of control he’d been holding onto. His hands slid up your sides, tugging you closer to the edge of the table, and you wrapped your legs around his waist without even realizing it, your body moving on instinct.

You tugged at his tank top, fisting the fabric in your hands as his lips moved against yours, hot and demanding. When his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, you gasped, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours.

Your fingers slid up into his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a low groan from him, and the sound sent a thrill racing through you. He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down your neck again, nipping and sucking in a way that had you arching into him, your breath coming fast and uneven.

“ Logan ,” you managed to gasp, your head tilting back as his teeth scraped against your collarbone. 

Logan’s lips moved against your neck like he had something to prove, teeth grazing just enough to make your breath hitch. His hands were everywhere—rough palms sliding up your waist, fingertips pressing into your ribs like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

Your brain was short-circuiting, every thought scattered to the wind except for more . It was all you could think, all you could feel as the heat of him pressed closer, his broad body trapping you against the table.

“More,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his tank top, pulling him closer, needing him closer. “I need more.”

Logan growled low in his throat. “You sure about that, sweetheart?” he rasped, his breath hot against your skin.

Before you could answer, his hands moved, tugging at the hem of your shirt, and before you knew it, the fabric was sliding up and over your head. He tossed it aside without a second thought, baring you to him in nothing but your bra. His gaze dropped, and the way his eyes darkened made heat flood through you, your entire body flushing under the weight of his stare.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, his hands cupping your waist as he leaned back in, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that stole the air from your lungs. His hands roamed higher, his thumbs brushing over the edge of your bra, and you let out a soft gasp against his mouth.

Your legs tightened around his hips, and he groaned as your fingers slid under the fabric of his tank top, nails raking lightly against the hard planes of his stomach. Logan’s mouth was everywhere, moving from your lips to your jaw, then down your throat to the sensitive spot at the base of your neck.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he growled against your skin, his voice rough and ragged.

“Just hurry up,” you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair as his teeth scraped against your collarbone.

Logan chuckled, low and dark, the vibration of it making you shiver. His fingers fumbled with the clasp of your bra, and you were about two seconds away from helping him when—

“Ahem.”

The sound cut through the heated fog like a bucket of ice water, and Logan froze. His lips stilled against your skin, his hands halting mid-motion.

Your head snapped up, and there, standing in the threshold was Charles and Hank.

Charles’s expression was between mildly amused and thoroughly exasperated, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. Hank, on the other hand, was wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open slightly like his brain hadn’t quite caught up with what he was seeing.

Logan reacted faster than you, snapping into action like nothing had happened—though the growl rumbling low in his chest told a different story. He grabbed your shirt from where it had been tossed, spinning you away from the two men as he yanked the fabric back over your head with the kind of speed and efficiency that only Logan could manage.

“Don’t look,” he barked over his shoulder, his hands still adjusting your shirt as though shielding you from view would undo the last few seconds. “Turn the fuck around.”

Hank immediately slapped a hand over his face, turning away so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. “I—I didn’t see anything!” he stammered, his voice pitched a little too high.

Charles, however, didn’t move, his lips twitching as though he was suppressing a smile. “Logan,” he said calmly, the faintest hint of dry amusement in his tone. “I see that you’ve been… preoccupied.”

“Not another word,” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous as he adjusted your shirt one last time before stepping in front of you, blocking you from view entirely.

You, still catching your breath and absolutely mortified, peeked out from behind Logan’s broad shoulders, glaring at the two intruders. “Now you want to show up?” you snapped, your cheeks burning hotter than they ever had in your life.

“Quite honestly, I didn’t expect to find… this ,” Charles replied smoothly, gesturing vaguely to the two of you. “If I had known, I assure you, I would have announced my presence more tactfully.”

Charles cleared his throat, glancing down briefly at the floor before looking back up at Logan with an air of professional detachment. “We’ll give you both a moment to, ah… compose yourselves,” he said, gesturing for Hank to follow him out.

Hank, still not looking at either of you, mumbled something unintelligible and practically bolted for the hallway. Charles followed at a much more measured pace, but not before casting one last glance over his shoulder. “When you’re done, Logan, I’d appreciate it if you could join us in the study. We have matters to discuss.”

Logan didn’t respond, his glare enough to send Charles out without another word.

The moment they were gone, you let out a sharp exhale, your hands covering your face as you groaned into your palms. “I hate you,” you said, though your words were muffled.

Logan chuckled, turning back to you with a shit-eating grin. “No, you don’t.”

You glared at him through your fingers. “I mean it, Logan. I hate you.”

“That right?” he said, stepping closer, his hands finding your waist again as his smirk softened.

Your cheeks burned hotter, and you shoved at his chest—not that it did much, considering he was built like a goddamn brick wall. “I’m serious. I hate you.” 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he shot back, leaning down to press a quick, teasing kiss to your lips before stepping away entirely. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go deal with these two before they pass out from whatever they just walked in on.”

He held out a hand to help you off the table, and though you glared at him for a long moment, you eventually took it, letting him pull you to your feet.

“You owe me whiskey after this,” you muttered, adjusting your shirt as you brushed past him.

Logan chuckled, following close behind. “Oh, I’ll give you more than whiskey, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice thick with amusement. “But only if you ask nicely.”

You shot him a scathing look over your shoulder, but the slight curve of your lips gave you away.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Val’s car was no where to be seen outside the farmhouse, and hadn’t been for weeks. Jo had returned it to her soon after their first tour ended, and day after day it had felt good not to worry about packing her suitcase or driving again. Restful, if she was being honest. Like finding shelter in a windstorm as you waited for it to pass, appreciating simple comforts all the more because you knew you would be out in the open again soon.

When she had gotten home, no part of her had expected the weeks to pass so quickly. She certainly hadn’t expected them to be so enjoyable, especially not after the freedom she had found on the road. Even from the moment she had parked the car, she could still feel the movement of the wheels beneath her heels and the thought of the next tour on her mind. Stepping inside, she was afraid it would never abate; but every passing day since then had been like the best of the years she had spent on the farm, only without the nagging disquiet she had felt then.

Maybe it was because part of her knew that she didn’t have to be there. She wanted to. In those moments her happiness felt simple, governed by a quiet and warm joy rather than rushes of success or power. For the first time since she had come here from New Orleans, she felt as though she could truly enjoy it, because the tethers tying her down were those of her own choices and not begrudging dependence.

Even the simple chores she had once hated had taken on a pleasant edge. They had once felt like desperation; small vestiges of survival at the cost of life, or a matrix designed to keep her hands forever busy and her feet in place. Now, if her nails chipped or her fingers cracked, she had not only the time to tend to them, but reason to. There was an end to it all, a routine of her own making that gave the drudgery meaning and the domesticity warmth.

Perhaps it was precisely because she had been allowed to sate her restlessness that she felt so content to sit still now. Night after night her mind was calm and free from the compulsion to get in a car and drive. Somewhere, just below the surface, she knew that it was there, but she didn’t have to fight it just to be happy.

She actually found herself feeling sorry that her weeks at home were coming to an end; but the excited butterflies at the thought told her that she wanted those weeks of freedom and success just as much as she wanted this. It was like the best of two lives: the one that Gio wanted for himself and she for herself, suspended precariously like a feather on the surface of the water.

She lifted herself up onto his lap, the knowledge that he would soon be here alone motivating her to stay all the closer. The fire crackled quietly in the background as he held her just far enough to look into her eyes when he spoke. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be gone just a moment. Keep your eyes closed until I’m back.”

Perhaps it was a testament to just how happy she was that she didn’t protest. Instead she lifted herself up onto the worn leather couch, crossing her legs in girlish excitement as she blindly listened to him rustle through their bedroom. As his footsteps reentered the room she ignored the temptation to snap her eyes open, instead letting him slip his hand over her face and acquiescing to his request to hold her hands out for him.

As he moved his hands off her eyes and told her to open them, he placed a small, light box into her hands. Before she even pulled at the carefully tied strings, she could already tell that it was something far too expensive to have come from this town. “I know that your birthday isn’t for a few weeks, but since your next tour is before then I didn’t want it to come too late.”

She left the box unopened, instead turning to look at his excited face. “Gio. I can already tell it’s too expensive. Whatever it is. The farm, the tours…and it’s not like I need a present. I - I’ll be closer to forty than thirty. I don’t think it’s much of a reason to celebrate…”

“Nonsense. We’re in a better place than we’ve been in years thanks to you. Besides. I made sure to get something useful. Go on, open it.”

Her worried eyes stayed trained on his, half-heartedly protesting once again before he quieted her by gently leaning her head back toward him. “I’m sure, Jo. Now try them on before I spoil it and tell you what it is.”

She opened the small box to reveal a pair of delicately embossed leather driving gloves, unworn and in such a distinct color that she had to assume they had been custom made just for her. They were red, just like her nails always were now, so that even when she wore them they wouldn’t obscure the color beneath.

Gio rounded the couch as she held them up to the firelight, admiring how the color shined so brightly on the thin leather. As she ran her hand along them, appreciating just how soft and expensive they felt, he dropped to one knee next to her, taking her hand in his as he carefully fitted each glove around her fingers.

As he turned her gloved hand over in his own, it was hard for her not to see the significance of what he was doing. Bent down on one knee, openly and lovingly admiring what could only be seen as a symbol of her independence from him. How much he may have wished it was a ring instead, it pained her too much to ask.

“Do you like them? The saleswoman seemed to think the color was a foolish choice, but I tried to tell her it wouldn’t be for you.”

She could already see one glove wrapped tightly around the black leather sheering wheel, the other dangling delicately from the side of the car. Instead she brought it to Gio’s cheek. “I love them. I love you.” An overwhelming ache filled her chest and threatened to bring tears to her eyes. She wasn’t sure whether to be joyful or terrified; because in that moment, she knew just how much it would always be true.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Home

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 1

Prompt: Snowfall

Rated: M

Tags: Kas!Eddie; Dark Eddie; Mind control; Possessive Eddie; Obsessive behaviour; Brainwashing; Nudity; Implied sexual content; Implied dubcon (in that Steve isn't able to consent or refuse)

Notes: Set in the same universe as Break it first.

“Snow.” 

Kas stirs from his thoughts and blinks at the boy in his arms. Steve’s head is still resting on his chest, that warm, naked body still slotted firmly into his, but he isn’t asleep anymore. Instead, his eyes are trained on the window.

Kas frowns and follows his unblinking gaze. The sky outside is the same as always. Red as blood, with bursts of lightning streaking through the rolling storm clouds. Dust is hanging in the air in thick flakes, maybe disturbed by one of the creatures prowling about. Backlit from behind by the flickering light, it looks white. Pretty, almost.

“Snow,” Steve says again. 

Kas wrinkles his brow, twisting a strand of chestnut hair around his finger. “How d’you know that word, sweet thing?” 

Steve doesn’t reply, which is unsurprising. His words have been coming back sluggishly. A consequence that Kas factored in and expected, after the near complete wipe he did of the boy’s mind. He’s fine with that. Steve doesn’t need many words besides Kas and please and more. Sure doesn’t need any memories of before. Only needs to know who he belongs to now. 

Which is why him remembering that word is … disconcerting. It must’ve been hiding well. Somewhere deep within, in some far recess of his mind, probably tied to some fond memory or feeling of his past life. 

And they just can’t have that, can they?

“Guess I’ll have to take a look, darling,” he sighs, taking Steve’s face in both hands to pull him closer. Steve whimpers but doesn’t fight back, burying his face in the crook of his neck as Kas touches their foreheads together and burrows in.

He doesn’t need to look long. The memory shines like a little firefly against the smooth, blank backdrop that he’s been so careful to craft his boy’s mind into. Just like a firefly, it’s too stupid and slow to escape as he swoops in and grabs it. He turns it this way and that to examine it, and it flutters and thrums feebly in his hold.

Thick, white buds of cotton floating down from a cloudy sky, the cold bite of snow against warm skin. 

A gaggle of kids, shrieking with laughter, feebly hurling their own snowballs back at him. 

The curtain of snow behind a window, brilliant and white against the dark backdrop of the night. 

A mug of hot chocolate in his hands and a head on his shoulder. Cold feet poking his ankles under a woolen blanket and a freckled girl smiling up at him.

Home. 

Kas bares his teeth and snarls. 

The memory struggles in his tightening grip, like a bug attempting to wiggle its way out from under a descending boot. It's trying to get away, trying to skitter its way back into whatever hole it's been lurking in, but he won't let it. 

You let one little pest crawl back where it came from, and you'll have a massive plague on your hands before long. 

The little firefly gives one last, frantic thrum as he crushes it in his grip, and then it snuffs out. In his arms, Steve lets out a tiny sob. Kas makes a soft shushing sound, rocking him and kissing his hair until he quietens down and the tension bleeds from his shoulders.

“It's okay, sweet thing,” he whispers. “It's okay, I got you.” 

Outside, the dust is still dancing in front of the window. Steve spends a long while staring at it, nose scrunched adorably, lips moving like he's trying and failing to grasp at the word that was there a few seconds ago and is gone now. Finally, he sighs in frustration, head sagging heavily against Kas's chest. 

“It's alright, honey,” Kas promises, slipping his fingers into his hair and smiling when Steve’s lids flutter shut. They always make him sleepy, these little check-ups on his mind. “It won't bother you anymore, I got rid of it for you. Sleep now, you're safe. You're with me.” 

Steve blinks up at him, eyes already cloudy and struggling to stay open. 

“Home?” he whispers. Kas feels his face twitch into a large, delighted grin. 

“That's exactly right, my sweet,” he says, reveling in the hesitant ghost of a smile that tugs at Steve’s mouth. “You're home. And I won't ever let anything take you from me again.” 

He wraps Steve back into his arms, wiping the last stray tears from his face and kissing his forehead to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows. Steve sighs into the crook of his neck and melts into his touch, breathing slowly evening out. 

“Home,” he mutters, just as he drifts off. 

Kas smiles to himself and pets his hair, watching the slowly settling dust outside the window. 

More holiday drabbles

He thinks that's a word he'll allow his boy to keep. 

[ultravioletbrit]

“decide / cold” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 449 words

I wasn’t able to do a fic yesterday so doubled up with yesterday’s and today’s prompt. shhh, don’t tell anyone. 🤫  

“James!” Regulus yells from the porch. “Can I please go inside? I’m freezing!” Regulus shoves his hands in his pockets trying to decide if he’s angry or just annoyed.  

“I know! I know!” James calls back. He’s facing away from Regulus, adjusting something Regulus can’t see. “I’m sorry. I swear I was ready and then it just—” James grunts as he moves something. “—and I just need to—” He huffs with frustration at something else “—but I swear I’m almost—” Regulus sees something topple over. James’ shoulders slump forward, and he drops his head with a sigh.

“Never mind.” James tells him, turning to face Regulus, looking like the saddest kicked puppy. He walks up to the porch, eyes on the ground. “I’m really sorry, it’s not ready yet. Go inside and I’ll try to fix it and come get you when I’m sure it’s ready.”

“What is it?” Regulus tries to peer around James, but there’s not much to look at.

James takes an exasperated breath. “It was supposed to be snowmen.” He pouts, and Regulus raises a curious eyebrow. James sighs, “My dad and I used to make showmen of ourselves every year at our house and it was my favorite tradition. So I thought since it’s our first year in our own house, I wanted to make snowmen of you and me, but—” James steps to the side revealing two piles of snow. “—it’s not really working.”

Just when Regulus thought he was angry and annoyed, James has to go and be the most adorable human on the planet. And honestly, it’s taking significant effort for Regulus not to cry right now.

“James…” Regulus starts.

“It’s okay.” James kisses him. “I know you’re cold. Go inside and get warm and I promise they’ll be great the next time I call you.” James tells him and it’s tinged with sadness and frustration.

Regulus takes another look at the snow piles then looks back at James. “Okay.” Regulus tells him.

“Okay.” James says feigning determination.

James walks back to the snow piles and Regulus walks inside.

---------

James isn’t sure what he’s doing wrong or why these stupid snowmen just won’t stay together. He’s about to give up when he hears footsteps in the snow behind him.

Regulus is walking towards him wearing a heavy coat, a hat and scarf and pulling on his gloves.

“What are you doing?” James asks.

“I’m helping.”

“Reg, you don’t have to—” James gets cut off when Regulus kisses him.

“Now, I’ve never actually made a snowman before, but you can teach me, right?” Regulus asks and it’s taking significant effort for James not to cry right now.

“Yeah.” James says. “Yeah, I can teach you.”   

[vrystalius]

Can I have Kyojuro/ sanemi with a s/o who is having trouble with her acne? There are days when the otc doesn’t work and everything feels crummy during some days in the cycle, would love a pick me up <3

Ultimate comfort

It’s the time of your month again- no, not the bloody one, but rather the gloomy, acne and depressed part of your cycle. Although, Sanemi is always ready to comfort you!

Pairing: Sanemi x gn!reader

Sanemi isn’t the best with kind words, nor does he look like he is, but he’s rather observant and attentive to you and your behaviours, meaning he noticed rather quickly how you were avoiding the mirrors and picking on your face more and more often subconsciously.

While you two were savouring a peaceful evening together where your husband doesn’t have to go on a mission or attend some meeting, Sanemi was relaxing on your shared bed, dressed in simple comfortable hakama pants, watching you frown and pout at yourself in the handheld mirror. While he was stuffing his face with sweets and snacks he had prepared beforehand, you avoided all sugary foods as if your life depended on it and gulping glas after glas of water like you didn’t survive of half a cup of water just last week is making his head steam in thought.

You’ve been just miserable, so what’s up with you?

A groan escaped his lips as he rolled over and slid off the mattress, stepping over to you with a tired frown. He gently grabbed the mirror out of your hands and threw it aside onto a cupboard. As you looked up at him in confusion, Sanemi grabbed you by your cheek and pulled on it.

“Whatcha even looking at for so long, huh? You’ve been scratchin’ and pouting all day. All week, maybe.”

You groaned and let your head fall back, sliding out of his grasp.

“I just feel so gross. My face— there’s so much texture and damn cysts, and I want to get it all away, but if I do, it’ll scar and become even worse!! I don’t wanna look in the mirror but at the same time I have to to-“

“Shut, shush. Shhh.”

Sanemi cut you off by closing your lips with his fingers. His face contorted into a scowl while staring down at your face. He isn’t angry at you or disgusted in any way, he’s angry at why you’re thinking like that.

“Tch, don’ talk like that. You shouldn’t care about stupid spots. Hell no.”

Your cheek was gently grabbed by your husband, whining as he pulled at him.

“You’re gorgeous. Always have been, always will be. Shitty weeks come and go, jus’ tell me what to do and I’ll get on my hands n’ knees for you if it makes you feel better.”

“But-“

“Nuh uh, no buts.”

He harshly cut you off and leaned down to you, placing a long kiss on your forehead with a loud “mwah”.

“You’re too damn hard on yourself. Everyone’s got crap they don’ like about themselves, but you? You’ve got more good in you than you give yourself credit for.”

Sanemi’s hand came to rest on top of your head, gently running his fingers through your hair. His tone and words may be a little gruff and he may have pulled on your cheek a little too harshly, but he’s just trying to show his support. Again, he may not be good with words but he is trying his best to show his love in other ways.

He doesn’t let you spiral in your thoughts too long, instead dragging you to the kitchen for snacks, outside for a walk or to bed for a cuddle, forcing you to do something nice with him in order to keep your thoughts away.

And if you really, really want to, Sanemi’ll let you put on a stupid face mask on his face. Everything to make you feel better.

💠

I hope you feel better! Apologies for not writing for this much earlier, I hope the timing was right anyway :,) Also if you like, I can also write a Kyojuro part of this! I thought I should write a little something for Sanemi again since last week was pretty much all about Kyo XD Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this 🫶🫶

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves, mentally and physically <33

[en-eunhee]

✶ ܃ i LOVE YOU, i'M SORRY ( 이희승 ) ───𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 "𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌"

𝑜𝑓 𓈒 heeseung x 8th member!eunhee 1OOOwc. ── idol au, 8th member au, fluff 。。 slight skinship, eunhee being PAINFULLY oblivious : ARCHiVE

다니 ⦂ who decided to come back to this account ? sorry for being so IA ㅠㅠ,, i promise i'll be more active as i have a few unfinished works

HEESEUNG DIDN'T THINK TOO MUCH ABOUT IT AT FIRST. it was a cold night, and the group had just wrapped up an event. eunhee had forgotten her coat—typical. she always seemed to misplace little things, leaving a trail of herself everywhere they went. he had noticed it early on, the way she’d leave a water bottle here, a scarf there. but tonight, her shivering was hard to ignore.

he didn't say a word as he shrugged his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders.

“oh,” she blinked, startled, looking up at him. “thanks, hee.”

she smiled, the kind that made her nose wrinkle just a little, a small quirk he had grown fond of without realizing it.

“you’ll freeze if you don’t wear it,” he replied, brushing her concern off.

“i’ll survive,” he said, hands in his pockets now, willing his body to adjust to the chill.

eunhee didn’t say much after that, just pulled the jacket tighter around herself. maybe it was the way her face softened, gratitude clear even if she didn’t say it out loud. maybe it was how natural it felt to do something like this for her, how easy it was to care for her without thinking twice.

heeseung was starting to realize he didn’t just do things like this for everyone.

heeseung noticed it again during practice. eunhee was laughing at one of jake’s dumb jokes, and there it was—that wrinkle in her nose when she smiled, the kind that felt so genuinely her. it wasn’t just the laugh itself, though that was nice too, melodic in a way he’d never tire of. it was the little details, like the way her head tilted slightly back or how she covered her mouth with her hand, as if trying to contain the joy.

“heeseung, you good?”

jay’s voice snapped him out of it.

“huh?” he blinked, realizing he’d been staring.

jay raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “you’ve been spacing out for like, five minutes.”

heeseung waved him off, mumbling something about being tired. he wasn’t going to admit he’d been fixated on eunhee’s smile again. that would mean confronting thoughts he wasn’t ready for, thoughts that were becoming more frequent and harder to ignore.

“hold this for me?”

eunhee barely waited for a response before shoving her water bottle and phone into his hands.

“yeah, sure,” he muttered, adjusting his grip as she tied her shoelaces.

it wasn’t the first time. eunhee always handed him her things without a second thought, trusting him to keep them safe while she did something or got distracted by something else. he never minded, though he wasn’t sure when it became such a habit.

“thanks, hee,” she said, flashing him that easy smile of hers.

“no problem,” he replied, though his heart was doing something weird again.

heeseung doesn’t think much of it at first.

they’re at the airport, waiting for their flight to another tour stop. eunhee, as usual, is beside him, eyes crinkling as she smiles at something jay says.

eunhee reaches for his hand.

it’s casual, like she doesn’t even think twice about it. her fingers wrapping around his palm, and he feels her thumb brush against his skin as she pulls him toward the security checkpoint.

“don’t get lost,” she says through a laugh, and heeseung blinks down at their hands.

this isn’t what friends do.

he looks at her out of the corner of his eye, at the way her hair falls over her shoulders, at the tiny frown she wears as she concentrates on weaving them through the crowd.

it’s not the first time they’ve held hands. on stage, during rehearsals, in front of fans—he’s done it before. it’s part of the job.

but this isn’t the same.

she doesn’t let go until they’re seated at the gate, and even then, he feels the phantom weight of her hand in his.

that night, lying in his hotel bed, he stares at the ceiling and thinks about how easy it was for her. how natural.

he thinks about how his heart wouldn’t stop racing.

heeseung doesn’t know when he started watching her like this.

it’s their second tour, and they’re midway through the setlist. eunhee’s solo is next, and he’s already perched on the side of the stage, a bottle of water in his hand, pretending he’s not waiting for her.

the lights dim, and the crowd erupts as the opening notes of her song fill the arena.

she steps into the spotlight, and heeseung feels it hit him like it always does.

eunhee is captivating.

but it’s not just her performance. it’s her.

heeseung’s eyes follow the way her hair whips as she turns, the way her expression shifts from soft to intense and back again.

“you’re staring again,” sunghoon whispers from beside him, nudging him with his elbow, and heeseung flinches, tearing his gaze away.

“no, i’m not,” he says quickly, but sunghoon just raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.

heeseung doesn’t bother arguing. instead, he turns back toward the stage, his grip tightening around the water bottle as he watches eunhee hit the high note.

the crowd roars, but he doesn’t hear it.

all he can hear is her. she glances toward where the members are watching, her eyes briefly meeting his, and she flashes a small, almost shy smile.

heeseung feels his heart stop.

it’s just eunhee being eunhee, he tells himself as she disappears backstage. she’s like that with everyone.

but the way his pulse pounds in his ears says otherwise.

eunhee is oblivious, and it drives heeseung insane.

he doesn’t know how she does it—how she can be so close, so present, and not notice the way she affects him.

like now.

they’re at the dorm, sitting on the couch after a long day of rehearsals. eunhee is beside him, her legs tucked under her, scrolling through her phone.

“should we watch a movie?” she asks, turning to him, and he blinks, caught off guard.

“uh, sure,” he says, trying not to sound as awkward as he feels.

she grins, leaning forward to grab the remote, and heeseung watches as a strand of hair falls into her face. without thinking, he reaches out, tucking it behind her ear.

eunhee freezes, her eyes flicking to his, and for a second, he panics.

but then she laughs, brushing it off like it’s nothing.

“thanks,” she says, her attention already back on the TV, and heeseung exhales, leaning back against the couch.

it’s always like this. moments that feel like everything to him, but nothing to her.

does she not see the way he looks at her? the way his heart stumbles every time she smiles?

he doesn’t say anything, of course. he can’t.

but it doesn’t stop him from wondering.

it hits him in pieces, slowly but surely, until he can’t deny it anymore.

friends don’t do this.

friends don’t make his heart race.

friends don’t consume his thoughts.

and yet, he doesn’t tell her. doesn’t tell anyone.

because as much as he wants to, as much as he feels like he might explode if he keeps it to himself, he knows it’s not the right time.

but when he catches her looking at him, her smile soft and knowing, he wonders if she feels it too.

[xxcallmemaryxx]

Could I have a HC of IV letting reader wear his jacket?

He’s a sweetie, his intentions are pure. But sometimes you make him a little bit evil. There’s nothing ten bucks can’t fix. :)

IV x GN reader

Under the cut ~ <3

“IV it’s gone I can’t find it-“

“It’s probably in the car, quick let’s go we’re already gonna be late.”

You guys stayed up late last night. IV had the guys over for dinner, they ended up staying back for some drinks and before you knew it, it was 1am. After a long night of hosting you both crawled into bed, dead to the world in mere moments, and didn’t set any alarms for the plans you’d made for the following day.

A text from ii is what woke IV up, something about traffic and it being best if you two took another route. Which is how you find yourself here. Rushing around the house like psychos trying to get ready as quickly as possible. Except your good jacket, which you had hung by the door especially to wear today, is gone. You can’t find it. And you have no idea where it is.

“IV, I’m gonna be so fucking cold if I don’t have it.”

“I’ll buy you a new one when we get there if I have to, just get your cute ass in the car.”

Spoiler: it wasn’t in the car.

And now you’re on your way to the meeting spot you agreed to meet everyone at, pretending that you’re not even bothered by the cold. Of course the gathering today had to be in a nice park, it’s lovely and it’s quiet. But there’s not one part of you that can enjoy it. You're already dreaming of a hot shower tonight.

“You’re a terrible liar, love.”

“IV, just drop it. I'm not in the mood.”

You frown at the ground. It’s damp and it chills your feet through your shoes. You can’t help but silently wish you didn’t come out at all today.

“One day you’ll realise you’re lucky to have me.”

You can’t even question him on his cryptic comments because your thoughts are immediately cut short. He’s draped something over your shoulders, you don’t even care to find out what it is because the only thing you can acknowledge is that it’s warm. The chill in the wind isn’t nipping at your skin anymore. It feels like you can suddenly breathe again. And when you do all you smell is him.

He’s given you his jacket.

Your head snaps to him. Worry immediately eating at your chest.

“Now you’re just going to be cold why did you-“

Oh.

He was wearing two jackets.

“You were wearing two?”

“Yeah. Thought it was going to be colder but I’m just a bit too warm. Was gonna take it off anyways. Lucky you, huh?”

“This whole time? What kind of evil are you?”

He’s smiling at you. He literally doesn’t care. Because you’re wearing his jacket and you look stunning in it.

“The kind of evil that always comes prepared. I remembered two jackets. You didn’t even remember one.”

You’re huffing and rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him, but you’re smiling. You feel much better now, and you feel so lucky to have him.

“Thank you. But in my defence I didn’t forget it, it’s gone from where I left it I don’t know what happened… I was sure I-“

“Don’t worry about it, love. The day is saved. Now go say hi to the girls. They’ve been dying to see you.”

“You’re an angel, IV. I don’t know what the fuck I’d do without you.”

“Freeze to death, apparently.”

He sends you off with a kiss to the top of your head and a swat to your backside. He watches you part ways for a moment, admiring you dressed up in his favourite jacket. It makes his heart swell and his cheeks warm. It empties his brain and fills it with the impurest thoughts imaginable at the same time.

He watches the girls welcome you into their circle, IIs there as well. He’s happy you get along with his friends. He’s happy they love you.

His ogling is interrupted by a clap to the back from III.

“We get it, mate.”

“Shove off, prick. You’re already on my hit list.”

He has the gall to chuckle.

“Mission success, then?”

“It won’t be if you don’t keep your fucking voice down.”

“Pay up, then.”

IV huffs with a roll of his eyes, but reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a tenner. Slaps it into IIIs palm and shakes his head.

“You couldn’t wait five minutes, could you?”

III can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, yet again.

“Pleasure doing business, sweetcheeks.”

He saunters off with a smile that screams trouble. Headed straight for you. IV watches him say his hellos to you, compliments your ‘new’ jacket with a sickening smile and seamlessly inserts himself into the conversation you were having with II.

He briefly overhears you asking the tall son of a bitch where he disappeared to last night. He makes up some excuse about forgetting to turn his stove top off. IV can’t help the scoff that escapes him. But he doesn’t have long to dwell on it.

“You actually had him do it?”

Vessel stands next to IV, watching you all cozied up in his jacket.

“I asked him to hide the jacket, fucker took it home with him completely, I have no idea how I’m getting it back.”

“You know he’s going to con you out of another tenner, right? He planned this.”

“Yeah well. I can’t say I’m surprised. Plan worked though.”

“You know, I’ve heard just asking your partner to share clothes works wonders.”

“Alright, enough out of you. Keep your mouth shut.”

Vessel can’t help but laugh at his friend, a big old sweetie pie on the outside with a little bit of something sinister on the inside. Even if it means he ends up with more work in the end.

Vessel claps IV on the shoulder and walks him over to the rest of the group. IV zeros in on you. Comes up behind you and pulls you into his side. You’re in his jacket. You smell like him. You’re surrounded by his friends and you’re glowing.

He’s a very happy man today.

He doesn’t leave your side the whole time. As if you wearing his clothes wasn’t enough, he just needed to keep a hand on you all day as well. You learnt a long time ago that IV gets into these moods, you’d compare him to a lost puppy during these times. He follows you around with hearts in his droopy eyes and a smile that could tell a million stories. He’s so soft and gentle, and listens to every word that slips from your lips. (Except for the ones that tell him to leave you alone.) (You do not need to pee with the door shut.) (You’d think you’d get that by now.)

Sometimes he can reel it in. Like today, surrounded by his friends. But you know just beneath the surface his urges are festering. Every little squeeze of your hand. Or kiss to the forehead. Or quick little cuddles when the wind picks up, are his ways of trying to dampen his own urges to whisk you away, take you back home and bury you both back in bed.

He thought he’d be able to handle seeing you with his name all over you all day. Guess not.

There’s one moment, while you’re out, III was hungry and Vessel wanted a coffee, so you decided to take the short walk to a nearby cafe just down from the park. You and IV hang back, slowly following along but far enough away to be in your own world for a little bit. His hand is intertwined tightly with yours and he’s pulled you so close your arms keep brushing.

“You look stunning, love.”

It’s said in a low murmur, like he wants it to be a secret. A secret that only he knows how good you look. Your nose and cheeks are slightly pink from the chill in the air, your lips are a little bit cracked and his jacket drowns you. But to him you’re just beautiful. The smile you give him almost sends him into cardiac arrest. He thinks if his heart beats any faster it’ll create enough energy to power your house.

He ponders Vessels words. Wonders how you’d feel if he just outright asked you to wear his clothes when you go out together. Or when you go out without him. Or when you’re home for the day. Or when you’re going to bed. He knows you’d say yes, but there’s something about you being so oblivious that gets him all excited. How you unknowingly just let him dress you. Thinking it was pure coincidence, and that you really are just so lucky to have him.

He might tell you one day. He knows he’ll cop a good amount of teasing from you, but until then he’ll settle for watching you feel so at home and safe with him all over you.

____

“What the fuck?”

“What’s wrong, Bub?”

“My jackets back there.”

IV quickly turns to see what you’re looking at. Mid way through tossing his jacket back there now that you’re back in the car, he follows your eyes to the backseat.

And there it is.

Bunched up on the floor like it was there the whole time.

“I must be blind or something, I swear it wasn’t there this morning. Fucking hell… all that and it was here the whole time…”

He turns back to the road and bites back an amused smile.

III might put him through strife sometimes, but he’s clearly not stupid. He makes a mental note to send him a text when you two are home.

Lucky bastard lives to see another day.

.

.

.

Thank you for reading. I love you guys.

[littlepetcrow]

So, for the Davrin romancers:

I just replayed the Weisshaupt mission, and I think it’s safe to assume this is the first time a non-Warden Rook learns that when a Warden kills an archdemon, they die in the process. (I always take Lucanis on this mission with me, and when he finds out, he’s genuinely shocked. So surely this isn’t common knowledge.)

But, if so, the implications of everything that comes after are so heavy.

Like, when Davrin asks Rook to “Give Assan a hug for me,” when you SEE how glassy his eyes are, that must hit home for them. Rook literally says “Davrin—” a second before and touches his arm like they want to stop him. Rook knows Davrin is volunteering to die.

AND THEN, when the First Warden interrupts, Rook must have felt a surge of relief. Pure. Selfish. Relief. Because now Davrin doesn’t have to die, right?

Only for that attempt to fail, and when they bring down the archdemon again, they look at each other for a second before Rook tells Davrin to kill it. And he does. But I’ve always wondered, why doesn’t Rook say anything this time? Like “I’m sorry” or “Thank you” or “I’ll take care of Assan”? Rook knows Davrin will die doing this.

But he doesn’t, obviously.

(AND THEN, in the aftermath, when Rook talks to Solas, you can choose the dialogue option to say you would never order one of your companions to do something that would get them killed. You would never make that call. Except you just did.)

SO. Tell me. Where is the fanfiction about Rook going to check on Davrin afterwards and apologizing for giving the order? Where is the 50k hurt/comfort fic that has Davrin yelling about how he was supposed to die, how being a Warden with an expiration date gave him purpose, pushed him, but then Rook is the one breaking down and yelling back that actually, they’re glad Davrin lived, and yeah that’s probably so selfish of them but it has been eating them alive knowing they let him do it? Let him sacrifice himself? Even if it didn’t work? And that shuts Davrin right up because oh shit, Rook is crying now, Rook’s voice is breaking, Rook is devastated at the thought of him dying. And maybe that gives him something else to live for now. Making sure Rook never looks so sad ever again.

Just…food for thought.

[nickfowlerrr]

if i could - 3

series masterlist

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: bit of sad bucky. cuteness overload. reader overthinking like it’s her job. yearning. all kinds of feels. uhhhh that’s it i think!

words: 5.7k

notes: repost because apparently i accidentally deleted the original sometime ago 🥲

You woke up startled and alert to the sound of your front door opening then closing.

It took you a second to calm your racing heart, let your brain truly catch up, and take in your surroundings. You weren’t on the couch, but rather laying in your bed.

And Bucky wasn’t next to you.

You felt a twinge in your heart but told yourself it was simply the rush of anxiety you had just experienced. You heard footsteps coming up the stairs toward your bedroom and shot up, looking toward the door as it opened. You must have looked startled, and maybe a bit scared, because when Bucky’s eyes met yours, he immediately looked sheepish and sorry as he spoke softly,

“Sorry, I thought you’d still be asleep,” he explained with a light nervous chuckle.

“Just woke up,” you grumbled, sleep still evident in your voice. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight. I brought you up here about an hour ago. Steve called and woke me up, I just got off the phone with him.”

“Outside?” you asked, “Isn’t it freezing?”

“Eh, I run hot,” he shrugged with a crooked grin.

“Mmhm,” you eyed him as you made your way out of the bed. “And what was so important that he called you at 7 in the morning?”

“Ah. That’s classified information, sweetheart,” he responded smoothly.

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes at him as you walked into your ensuite bathroom and he followed just behind you.

“Any plans for today?” he asked as he watched you grab your toothbrush from its holder and handed you the tube of toothpaste you had left on the counter.

“Not really. Why?”

“Would you be up for getting your tree today? I’m going to be heading to the compound this weekend instead of next week. Steve’s planning this whole Christmas vacation thing and he wants to get started right away. Plus he’s worried I’ll end up snowed in with the storm heading this way and won’t make it.”

You hadn’t really realized Christmas was so soon. Normally you would have had all your decorations up at the end of November at the latest but it was two weeks until Christmas and you had barely started going through your boxes. You knew Bucky had his own life, too, but you couldn’t help the disappointment you felt when you realized he was leaving so soon. And you had been trying to avoid the feelings you knew would be hitting you any day now. That you had nowhere to go for Christmas this year. That you’d be alone. The idea, in theory, didn’t sound too bad to you. But you knew when the day came, it’d be hard to find yourself truly alone during what used to be your favorite time of year. Did you even have a favorite time of year anymore? This past year had been absolute hell and you couldn’t recall a time you’d been truly happy since before losing your family. Well, until yesterday.

Yesterday, you had to admit, was a really good day. All these thoughts flew through your mind so quickly - and you responded to Bucky right away without even really thinking.

“Yeah, sure. When do you wanna go?” you asked before starting to brush your teeth.

“I’m gonna head to my place and get ready then I’ll come pick you up. Around ten?”

“Mkay,” you said through the suds of toothpaste in your mouth before spitting the excess into the sink and looking at him.

“Okay,” he laughed as he smiled widely at you and began to back away. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t miss me too much,” he joked over his shoulder as he walked out of your room and headed downstairs.

You were glad he couldn’t see you because his words had a very evident effect on you. You shook your head and returned to brushing your teeth before finishing getting ready.

It was 9:57am when the obnoxious sound of Bucky’s horn started blaring through the air. You had just finished putting your shoes on when he pulled up. You couldn’t help the eye roll you gave as you heard his horn - it was essentially a habit at this point. Grabbing your bag and keys and putting on your coat, you walked out into the cold morning air before turning and locking your door behind you. You practically ran to his car that had just come to a stop before opening the passenger door and throwing yourself in. He looked at you bewildered and laughed.

“If you had given me a second, I was gonna get the door for you.”

“It’s freezing cold out there,” you said through chattering teeth as you rubbed your gloveless hands together.

“You’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think?” he continued.

“Excuse me?” you said incredulously. “Just because you ‘run hot’ doesn’t mean everyone else in the world does, too,” you spoke as you adjusted the level of the seat warmer and Bucky turned up the heater even more.

“Yeah, yeah. Just give it a second, you’ll be warm in no time,” he replied as he began to drive out to the Christmas Tree farm.

You recalled last year when you and Bucky had driven to the farm and how excited you were. You had a really great time together and you remembered thinking how happy you both were. So carefree and looking forward to the holiday. You were always looking forward to being with Bucky. And as you sat next to him in his car, you knew you had never stopped. Bucky was always on your mind and in your heart, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

He pulled you out of your thoughts as he turned to look at you and found you already staring at him. You quickly sat up further in your seat and turned to face and look out the windshield.

“Eyes on the road, Barnes.”

You didn’t look over at him, but you knew he was smirking as you felt his eyes still on you.

“How do you plan on fitting three trees on your car, anyway?” you asked, trying to shift the focus off of you.

“I don’t. We’re only getting one. Figured I don’t really need to put up much of any decorations now if I’m going to be gone for the rest of the month.”

“That makes sense,” you agreed, “Really a waste of money yesterday, then. All those decorations you got,” you laughed as you finally decided to look at him again.

“There’s always next year,” he said and his words charged something in you. Grief? Bitterness? You weren’t sure.

“You don’t know that,” you said harshly, instantly regretting opening your mouth. Bucky looked over to you and you could feel his concern though he didn’t say much in response for the moment. After sitting in your quiet, you quickly realized how uncalled for your response was.

“Sorry, I don’t- I don’t know why I said that… like that,” you tried to apologize. You spoke quietly but you knew he heard you.

He shook his head at you,

“You don’t have to apologize to me. I understand. Trust me,” he said as he reached for your hand to hold in his as he steered with his left, “I get it.”

You didn’t attempt to avoid his touch and so you let him squeeze your hand in his before he let go and returned to steering with both hands. You hated when people touched you, but it was different with Bucky. It was always different with him. His touch was comforting and didn’t make you feel so pathetic or crazy.

“Maybe you can take a set of ornaments off my hands? Put them to good use so they don’t have to sit in a container for another year. They’re really nice ornaments, they deserve to be on a nice tree,” he smiled.

“You’re so lame,” you laughed at him.

Before you knew it, you were pulling into the open lot in front of the farm. There were a few cars there already, but it wasn’t nearly as packed as it normally was. Probably because most people already had their trees up and decorated. You were slightly relieved though, the less people, the better as far as you were concerned.

“Here, put these on,” Bucky started as he handed you a pair of gloves from the center console.

“Thanks,” you said as you both made your way out of the car.

The owners of the farm were right outside the entrance waiting to greet you. They were a nice older couple and you remembered them from the previous year as well. The woman had made a comment about how cute of a couple you and Bucky were and had walked away to help a family get their tree paid for before you could correct her. You remembered how embarrassed you felt and the genuine smile Bucky had on his face when you bashfully looked up at him. You had bumped him with your shoulder and walked further down the path to the line of trees in front of him trying to hide your hopeful smile.

“Hey there, folks,” the woman greeted. “Oh, wait a minute, I remember you two! Last year you walked around the trees for two hours before you finally decided on two. You know what’s so funny is, and I know I don’t know you, but we only have so many faces come through here every year, and you guys always do, this is what year three now? I just feel like I know you two. Anyway, I was convinced last year that you were gonna pop the question to this little sweetheart. I’m so glad to see you’re still together. Just the sweetest couple I’ve ever seen, don’t you think Henry?” the older woman ranted on as you two stood before her and her husband. You felt your face flush and the man, Henry, turned to his wife and spoke,

“Helen, you’re embarrassing the poor girl,” he laughed in good humor.

“Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry, darling,” she said to you. “I don’t mean anything by it. Just that I recognize two familiar faces and I’m always glad to see returning customers, especially the ones who stick out to me.” she smiled genuinely while looking between you two.

You didn’t know what to say. Honestly. You weren’t sure you wanted to burst her bubble and tell her that you and Bucky weren’t a couple but you also didn’t want to not say anything and cause any issues between you and Bucky should you just let it go. Before you could speak, Bucky did.

“No need to apologize, ma’am. We love this place, look forward to it every year. It’s like our tradition. And we appreciate how much care and attention you pay to everyone who comes through here. It makes getting a tree feel more special,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side.

“Aw, well, thank you for saying that, honey! We take a lot of pride in our little farm. And it’s the folks like you who make it worth it every year.” Helen said as Henry grabbed a saw and handed it to Bucky.

“You two have fun, now. You need some help putting your tree on your car, just let us know when you get back here,” Henry said with a smile.

“Thank you,” you said kindly as your hand moved to hold Bucky’s that was still around your shoulder. The older couple walked off to greet a small family who had just arrived behind you and when you looked up to Bucky and opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing, he started talking before you could.

“I know, I know. But you saw her face, we couldn’t deny her. If she knew we weren’t together it would have ruined her Christmas, I’m sure of it,” he said adamantly as he nonchalantly squeezed your hand in his while you approached the gorgeous pines. You couldn’t help but laugh at his words.

“I actually kind of agree with you,” you said as you pulled his hand from your shoulder and let it drop from your grasp. You saw the hurt on his face as he looked down at you, but he didn’t say anything and quickly schooled his expression, moving to shove his hands in his pockets.

“So, what size are you thinking this year?” he asked you. You appreciated the way he didn’t push you or try to continue with the previous topic, though you were sure he had more to say. You let it go, though, and allowed your mind to come back to the task at hand.

“Ya know. Like, a normal size,” you shrugged. “Can’t be too tall or I won’t be able to reach the top. But too small wouldn’t look very nice with the open living room, it needs to fill the space. And preferably little to no bare spaces.”

“I forgot how judgy you are about christmas trees,” he scoffed.

“I’m not judgy, okay. I just think if you’re gonna go through the effort of finding a tree, cutting it down, putting it up in your home, and then decorating it instead of just buying a fake pre-decorated tree, it should look the way you want it to look.” you responded as you examined the pines in front of you.

“Mhm. Well how about this one,” he asked as he ushered you to a tree a few plots down from where you were standing. “It’s a good height. Looks pretty full,” he suggested.

“Yeah, maybe. But I wanna keep looking, just to be sure I don’t miss out.”

“Miss out? What would you be missing out on? This tree checks all your boxes,” he said matter of factly.

“I don’t know. What if there’s a tree I like better further down? I wouldn’t know if I didn’t look.”

“But you wouldn’t need to know if you already had this tree, because you’d have your tree?” He said, trying to understand your thought process. Your thought process, which, by the way, made little sense even to you. You had a perfect tree right in front of you, but you couldn’t let yourself commit to it. You couldn’t shake the thought of there being a tree that you’d like better. And it almost stressed you out to think that you could miss out on it, even if it possibly didn’t exist. It was a theoretical tree you were talking about, here. A theoretical perfect tree vs an actual physical real life tree which was admittedly, perfect for your house. Because, what if the theoretical tree did exist? You’d never know if you didn’t look. But again, why would you need to look when you had the perfect tree literally right in front of you. It didn’t make sense. You knew that, but you couldn’t admit it out loud. So instead you just kept walking.

“We literally just got here, I want to look around more,” you whined with annoyance.

“Fine, but don’t start complaining when we come back around for this tree and it’s gone,” he warned as you continued away from him.

You knew you definitely would start complaining should the tree end up being gone but you also really didn’t want to be done at the farm yet. The walking around was the best part and though you wouldn’t tell Bucky, you wanted to spend more time with him. Once you had your tree and he inevitably helped you get it in your living room, you knew he’d head back to his place to pack for his trip and the next thing you knew he’d be gone for the rest of the month.

You slowed your pace and then stopped walking entirely until Bucky eventually caught up beside you.

Pursing your lips, you looked to him and said regretfully, “We should have gotten coffee before we walked over here.”

“Oh my god,” he bemoaned exaggeratedly, “we really should have.” With that he turned and started heading toward the quaint little christmas shop that was part of the farm.

They sold coffee, hot chocolate, fudge, peanut brittle, and various knick knacks and Christmas decorations. It was also the area where you would pay for your tree on the way out.

You scurried behind him laughing to yourself and then entered the warm and inviting shop as he held the door for you.

Bucky walked up to the counter and ordered your drinks while you walked around looking at the individual ornaments. You didn;t realize Bucky had walked up behind you while you were examining fondly a delicate porcelain angel ornament. He stood closer to you causing you to look up at him. With the way he was looking at you, something akin to admiration and curiosity, you had the instinct to put down the ornament and turn from him. You didn’t though, because there was another part of you, the not so terribly insecure part, that wanted to share with him why it had caught your eye. So you did. Looking back down at the ornament in your hand, you held it up so he could see it better.

“My mom had so many ornaments like these. They were her favorite. She always made sure they went on the tree every year. My sister dropped one once and we weren’t allowed to touch any of the rest of them while we finished decorating the tree that night,” you smiled softly at the memory, “I always wondered where she got them. They’re really beautiful. Even as a kid, ya know, I knew they were pretty and they obviously meant a lot to her, but I didn’t truly appreciate them until I got older.”

“It’s definitely beautiful,” he said as he was looking at you, “You should get it. Start your own collection,” he suggested as he continued to stare at you affectionately.

“Yeah, I think I will,” you agreed. Bucky’s name was called from the counter and he walked over to get the drinks while you took the ornament and went toward the register, but not before another ornament caught your eye. You couldn’t help the grin that spread on your face as you looked over the assorted Avengers themed ornaments.

They looked like something you would find on Etsy, they looked hand drawn - each one a beautiful and realistic portrait on it. They each had a different avenger on them and as you sorted through them, you found the one you were looking for. You weren’t sure there would be one for him, but once you saw his face so beautifully sketched on the orb, you grabbed it and brought it up to the counter with you. You paid for the ornaments and found Bucky having a conversation with some guy near the door. For someone with a metal arm, Bucky really didn’t get recognized all that often. And you had a feeling, even when he did, most people were too wary of him to come up or say anything at all. As you approached the two men, Bucky’s back to you, you heard part of the conversation.

“His name is Buddy. He’s right outside with my wife and daughter. I really don’t want to intrude on your day, but it would mean the world to him. He looks up to you, you’re his favorite hero. I actually can’t believe I’m running into you right now. This is crazy. But I mean- would you mind? If not, I completely understand but it’d make his Christmas to meet you.” the younger man said.

“Wo- uh- sure, yeah. I’d - I’d be happy to,” Bucky sounded almost shocked as he responded.

“Great! Thank you so much, I’m gonna get him right now. Thank you!” the man said excitedly as he turned to exit the shop.

“What’s that about?” you asked curiously as Bucky turned to face you.

“I uh,” before he could finish, the door opened again and a little boy about 4 years old entered in front of the man, obviously his dad.

“Look who it is, Buddy.,” his dad prompted the boy who stood in front of Bucky with eyes wide of wonder and amazement.

“You’re my hero,” was all the boy could say as his eyes filled with tears. He ran up to Bucky’s leg and grabbed hold of it and you could feel your eyes starting to water at the sight. It was the sweetest thing you’d ever seen.

It made it all the more impactful as you recalled a conversation you had with Bucky a while ago. He was talking about the school event he had just got back from with Steve and Sam and how terrible he felt about it. How he felt he didn’t belong there.

“I’m not a hero. Not really. Not like Sam and Steve, you know? And those kids, it was like they knew I didn’t belong there, either. They looked… scared of me.” He had said quietly as you both sat out on his porch looking at the stars.

It had been a long night full of meaningful conversation and you remembered telling him how wrong he was about himself. He didn’t agree but you refused to leave until you were sure he wouldn’t beat himself up for the rest of the night. You had turned to him, looked him straight in the eyes and said with complete sincerity, “You’re a hero to me, Bucky.”

The look he returned to you was nothing short of wonder … and gratitude. “You don’t have to say that,”

“No, I don’t have to. But you should know that. I want you to know that.” you said softly. You could even recall the anticipation you felt as he leaned in closer to you, for a moment you had thought he was going to kiss you. But instead he wrapped his arms around you as you did the same. “I dont think you know how much that means to me, Y/N.” he breathed. You spent another hour or so out there before you finally went home for the night.

You had spent quite a few nights that way, actually. Just sitting and talking. You had missed moments like that.

You came back to yourself as the boy pulled back from Bucky and tried to tug up the sleeve of his puffy jacket before turning around and calling, “Dad! Help me get it off, please,”

His dad took the jacket from him and helped him pull up the sleeve of this shirt to reveal his own prosthetic arm.

“I’m strong like you, see!” the boy said to Bucky who was now kneeling down before the little guy.

His smile was wide and beautiful as ever as he talked to him. “I do see. That’s a pretty cool arm you got there, kid,” he said.

“Can I see yours?” the boy asked hopefully.

“Yeah, sure thing,” Bucky said straight away, though you could sense his slight hesitation as he stood to remove his own jacket. You took it from him without him asking and he then went to remove his left glove and roll up his long sleeve. Buddy looked on as Bucky knelt back down to show him his arm.

“Wow. When I get older, I wanna be like you. I’m gonna fight the bad guys and have a cool arm and my- my best friend Sammy is gonna be like Captain America and we’re gonna beat the bad guys and be avengers too,” he spoke in the adorable voice that most every 4 year old speaks with, all out of breath and sweetly spoken.

Bucky and Buddy spoke for another few minutes as you and Buddy’s family both looked on.

They took a picture together, and you made sure to snap one on your phone as Buddy’s parents did the same. They thanked him over and over and Buddy made sure to give Bucky another hug before they left.

Bucky turned to you and as he looked into your eyes, you saw all the emotions that he was going through. His eyes looked glassy and you didn’t hesitate to walk closer and pull him into the tightest hug you could manage while still holding his jacket, your purse, and the bag of ornaments. He returned the hug gratefully as he rested his chin on your head.

“I told you you were a hero, Barnes,” you reminded him, “And that was quite possibly the cutest interaction I have ever seen,” you went on.

Bucky laughed and let you go as you moved to back away. He took his jacket from your arms and put it back on.

“I saw you take that picture, by the way. I better not hear about it from anyone at the compound. I know about that secret group chat you all were in last year - you helped them plan that surprise party for my birthday,”

“You knew about that?! I worked so hard keeping you from catching on,” you complained.

“Oh you did your part, I found the chat on Steve’s phone when he asked me to help him send a text to Nat before they finally got together. Poor guy didn’t have a clue, but I still acted surprised at the party because I’m a good friend,”

“Mm, the best,” you affirmed with a smirk. “Let’s go get that tree before someone else does,” you added.

Walking back, you grabbed your drinks that had been left on the counter and handed Bucky’s to him as he led the way out of the shop. He grabbed the saw he had left leaning against the storefront with a line of others and you walked back to where the tree was, but Bucky walked past it and raised a brow at you when he realized you were just staring at him confused and not following him.

“Did you or did you not say that you wanted to walk around more?” he sassed.

“Oh,” was all you said in response as you walked toward him and sipped on your drink.

You walked and talked for longer than you had planned before finally circling back around to the tree. You held Bucky’s empty cup with yours while he cut the tree down with ease and carried it back to the car like it was nearly weightless. You threw the cups away and went back inside the shop to get your tree paid for. By the time you made your way back to Bucky’s car, he had the car on getting warmed up and the tree tied securely to the roof as he leaned against the passenger door waiting for you. He opened the door for you as you approached and helped you in before shutting you in and walking around to the driver’s side.

You spent the drive back to your place talking about nothing and everything and for a second it felt like old times again. As he pulled up to your driveway, you realized you’d have to say goodbye soon and then you’d be alone again. You tried not to dwell on it and grabbed your stuff before getting out and heading to your front door while Bucky got the tree down.

“You have the tree stand out already?” He shouted as you opened your door. You gave him a thumbs up and walked down the hallway to grab the stand from the box it was sat in. You placed it in the corner of the living room, off to the side of the tv and next to the wall. Bucky came in behind you and you helped him get the tree properly in the holder before standing and taking your gloves and jacket off, putting them on the coffee table where your purse and bag laid.

“Thank you, Bucky. I really appreciate the help,” you started as you handed him his gloves. “And spending time with you, I- uhm- I think I kind of really needed it.” you confessed quietly while looking down at your fidgeting hands.

“I’m always here for you, you know that, right?” he asked as he gently grasped your chin and lifted your face up to look at him. You didn’t say anything, just nodded as he looked into your eyes. He smiled softly at you before dropping his hand and backing away ever so slightly to give you space. “I’ve really missed you, doll.”

“I’m s- I - yeah. I- I’ve missed you, too.”

“When I get back, I’ll help you take it down. And I’ll be expecting those cookies, too,” he joked as he started toward the door. “I should go pack now. I’m driving out tomorrow, gonna try and beat the storm.”

“Sure,” you nodded. “Drive safe. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he echoed, then walked out the door shutting it behind him.

You took a second and decided to just let your body do what it felt like doing…

You rushed after him, stopping him as he started down the steps. You didn’t say anything, just wrapped your arms around him and buried your head into his chest as he returned your hug. You suddenly felt tears threatening to rise and willed them away as you two embraced.

“Seriously, drive safe. The reports are saying it’s supposed to start getting really bad tonight,” you said into his chest.

“I know, I will,” he reassured you.

“Okay,” you responded.

You slowly let him go with a small “Bye,” which he returned in kind. You watched him get into his car and gave him a wave as he drove away before walking back into the warmth of the cabin that you called home.

It was still the afternoon but you really didn;t feel like decorating the tree right then. Instead you turned on the television and put on a movie you’d seen at least a hundred times. You made yourself a grilled cheese and then found yourself slowly nodding off while laying on the couch.

You quite literally had no obligations for the remainder of the year and the only thing you kinda sorta had to get done was your decorating and that could absolutely wait another day. You were feeling so many emotions at once and it was honestly draining you. You didn’t fight to stay awake much longer and resigned yourself to a nap. It was maybe an hour later that you woke up because you were freezing.

You got up to put your heater on and as you looked out the window, you were shocked at the look of the sky and the amount of snow that had fallen in the short time since you got home. You knew it was just going to get worse and found yourself worrying again about Bucky driving all the way to the compound from here in that weather.

You spent the rest of the day putting off decorating and just lounged around until night finally fell. You dressed in your warmest pajamas and headed to bed right before midnight. You slept peacefully while dreaming about Christmas’ past and then about a Christmas future with Bucky.

Quite literally a dream.

But you woke up the next morning with tears streaming down your face.

You had been dreaming about a christmas party with your family and friends and Bucky and it was magical and wonderful, until you realized that your family wasn’t actually there. They were just memories playing out around you and when you turned to Bucky searching for some kind of stability or comfort, he was walking out the door as everyone else around you had disappeared as well.

You were left alone crying to yourself as your every emotion threatened to shut you down.

You wiped at your eyes as you pulled yourself further from sleep and dragged yourself out of bed. You went to your bathroom and threw water on your face before looking in the mirror. You shook off the sadness that was clouding you and proceeded to get ready for the day. Not that you had anything to do or anywhere to go, but habit is habit.

You checked the weather and almost couldn’t believe how much it had advanced in less than 24 hours. You looked outside and figured you might be snowed in by the night. You almost wanted to call Bucky and see where he was, but didn’t want to risk causing a distraction for him if he was driving. Especially in such bad conditions.

You waddled your way downstairs and put on your kettle before getting out your heart shaped waffle maker that you had gotten for your birthday. Your morning passed slowly as you ate your breakfast and drank your tea, watching Psych play on the tv from where you sat in the kitchen.

You put away your dishes and then walked down the hall to the boxes of decorations you had waiting to be put up. You almost didn’t even bother. Truly, what was the point? You were alone for Christmas and would decorating help you at all or just make you more sad?

Instead of leaving them, you decided to at least put lights up on the tree. Bucky had taken the time to drive you and cut the tree down for you. The least you could do for the holiday would be to decorate it. You dragged the box of lights behind you and set it next to the tree before sitting down on the couch.

As you sat there, you debated getting up or just watching tv on the couch for a while. Every move you made seemed to take a lot out of you. You just wanted to lie there and nothing more.

You decided not to force yourself to do anything for the moment and just sat there watching another episode. That episode turned into another and then another and then you had to pee. You got up and used the restroom before returning to the kitchen and grabbing your water bottle, filling it up and chugging water which you had neglected to do all day. It was nearing 7pm, you noticed as you glanced at the time on the stove before making your way back to the couch.

You were stopped, however, by the sudden knocking on your front door.

[otomiyaa]

Day 30: Fantasy

Solomon x Simeon

[Miya & Mia’s Tickletober 2023] - Whether I like Solomon you ask? Well yes a lot. And I also like Simeon a lot lot loooot.

Word Count: 1.3K

“So… Pumpkin-man? Skeleton-boy? Witchy-demon. Bat-girl. Or… Spider-angel? Hmm yeah. Hello? Are you with me? I can’t do the brainstorming alone.” 

For the past minutes, Simeon had only heard Solomon’s voice as a vague background noise, and he snapped awake from his trance when he felt a poke on his side. A squeaky yelp escaped his lips.

“S-sorry. I wasn’t,” he admitted, blushing in embarrassment to have made such a sound. 

“Figured.” Solomon laughed fondly and shook his head. They were together in Solomon’s room, working on an assignment for RAD. Diavolo had asked everyone to get together in pairs and write a story in celebration of the upcoming Halloween Event. The best story would be selected to turn into a detailed script for a theater play next year. 

It wasn’t an optional writing contest though. At the same time it was a mandatory school assignment to help stimulate everyone's creativity, and Solomon being the cunning little shit he was, instantly planted himself in Simeon’s lap, asking him for a collaboration he couldn’t say no to. Surely Simeon knew why Solomon asked him. Because Simeon actually had experience as a writer. However…

“I’m struggling,” Simeon sighed when Solomon continued to give him this hopeful look. Solomon cocked his head.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Simeon rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“It’s just… Most people know I write. Including Diavolo. This pressure, it’s not working well for me. I don’t get inspiration. I don’t think I have enough imagination for this assignment. My fantasy is just… lacking,” Simeon explained. Solomon nodded in understanding. 

“I see, I see. I think it’s a bigger problem in your head than it actually is, but, I should help you with that first, hmm?” 

Simeon looked up when Solomon walked to his bed and sat down on it. He patted it to gesture Simeon should come too.

“Help me with what? We’re going to bed?” Simeon asked playfully as he strode towards him and sat down beside him. Solomon winked.

“Don’t you want to?” He pursed his lips and Simeon blushed slightly. Solomon was a tease like always. 

“How is this going to help?” Simeon asked when he positioned himself on his back, and he held his breath when Solomon straddled him. Was this normal to do between friends? Solomon smirked down at him and held up his hands. Uh… a massage? 

Solomon gave a reassuring nod. “You’ll see your fantasy isn’t lacking in the slightest. But first, I’ll tickle you.” 

Simeon gasped and began to squirm, but Solomon pinned him down firmly.

“T-t-tickle?!” he squeaked. Solomon nodded.

“Yup. Just now I noticed you’re ticklish, which gave me this idea.” Solomon put his finger to his lips, and for the first time Simeon thought he was actually quite good-looking. Not the right timing to start thinking this way about Solomon of all people! 

“So, first I’ll tickle your sides. I found out just now how ticklish you are there,” Solomon started, and Simeon gulped. Solomon started to wiggle his fingers above him without touching him.

“Just like this. It’ll probably tickle a lot, but you’ll get used to it at some point.”

“W-w-why are you beheheing like thihis?” Simeon giggled nervously, squirming under the ghost tickles as Solomon kept wiggling his fingers above him. Solomon chuckled and ignored his question.

“When you get used to it, I won’t do this, but rather- this,” Solomon said, showing clearly how he wiggled his fingers, then he showed both index fingers and made a move as if he was going to poke both Simeon’s sides. Simeon jumped in anticipation and laughed.

“And this,” Solomon said, making clawing moves. Simeon threw his head back and laughed.

“Stohohop! You’re beheheing ahahawful!” 

“But I’m not tickling you yet. Oh, right. After your sides, what do you think would be next?” 

“Nohohowhere! Get ohohoff mehehe!”

“The tummy maybe. A few pokes like this,” Solomon said, lashing out at Simeon’s tummy all of a sudden, but he didn’t touch him. Still, Simeon jerked heavily and let out a yelp.

“Hahahands ohohoff!” he cackled. 

“Oh but my hands are off. I’m not touching you… yet. But how should I say it, you clearly have a vivid imagination Simeon. For you to feel my tickles already just from hearing my words. And you were saying? Lack of fantasy?” 

“Thihis is dihihifferent! Ahahah nohoho!” Simeon just couldn’t stop giggling. Solomon kept wiggling his fingers visibly, faking tickle attacks and making him jump and twitch in anticipation.

“G-gehehet off! You’re heheavy!” 

“After your tummy, hmmm…” Solomon ignored his pleas and made a thinking face. It looked as if he was distracted, so Simeon bucked his hips wildly, but Solomon wouldn’t even budge. 

“Ah right, probably here,” Solomon said, pointing at Simeon’s hips.

“Or, right there,” he said, reaching up and making Simeon yell in surprise when he aimed for his underarms. Simeon wrapped his arms around himself and laughed hysterically.

“Plehehease! Not thehehere,” he snorted. Tears were escaping his eyes. This was so crazy and silly.

“Not where?” Solomon asked.

“Bohohoth!” 

“Can’t do that. I will tickle you in three spots. Then we go back to our homework. So… sides, tummy, and then hips, or your armpits. Please cooperate.”

The fact that Solomon was being so silly with such a serious voice and expression, that alone was enough to make Simeon laugh. Combine it with the fake tickles and the anticipation, he was absolutely losing it.

“Solomohohon! I cahahan’t!” Simeon cackled. Who would have known that just the thought of getting tickled could make him feel this ticklish and flustered. Solomon laughed playfully.

“If you can’t choose, then both it is.”

“Wahhaait no - NOAHhahahhaha!” Simeon shrieked when the fake tickles finally made place for the actual thing. As promised, Solomon tickled his sides and made him flail and struggle like a madman.

“Nohoho!” Simeon laughed, but Solomon really was kind of heavy, no joke, and also pretty strong and clever. He tickled his sides, then his tummy with rapidly wiggling fingers spidering in circles and making Simeon squeal. Then shortly afterwards Simeon’s hips learned how ticklish they were to his own surprise. And his underarms were saved for last.

“Not hehehere, nohoho!” Simeon laughed nervously, squeezing his arms together, but Solomon calmly grabbed his hand and moved it up over his head.

“Just for a little, come on,” he encouraged. Simeon writhed tiredly and blushed when Solomon wiggled his fingers above his outstretched underarm.

 “WAahhhahh!”

“Not touching you yet~”

“Buhuhut!” 

Again, Solomon teased him with a couple of fake tickles before he started for real. Simeon laughed until he couldn’t breathe. He became a blushy, teary mess, and felt like he had run a marathon by the time Solomon climbed off him. 

“Plenty of fantasy in that mind and body of yours if you ask me. Hopefully I tickled some of it to the surface,” Solomon said and he winked again. Could that guy just not? Wink like that? 

“I…. You really…” Simeon weakly joined Solomon again and he took a deep breath to give him a speech about how unnecessary that was. Only then his eyes fell on the paper with notes Solomon had made earlier, and Simeon’s mouth opened in realization.

“O-oh, I have an idea,” he said, looking at the various words and loose sentences from Solomon’s earlier brainstorm moment. He pointed. 

“Our main character is…” And while Simeon slowly but confidently started to help Solomon come up with their story, he was sure he could see the mischievous and proud twinkle in Solomon’s eyes, which he tried to ignore very hard while fighting the everlasting blush on his face. 

Alright, maybe Solomon scored some points here. But whether the tickling and the fake-tickling actually helped, or it was some other magic the sorcerer had performed here, Simeon liked that he finally felt comfortable working on the assignment, and was suddenly hopeful to secure them a good result + potential Halloween theater next year. Just you wait, Diavolo!

[bandsofmarv]

I don’t know if you’ve done it yet but if you haven’t can you please make a part 2 of “claimed by the devil” rafe Cameron

Here we go :)

Claimed By The Devil

Rafe isn’t the type to let go. His obsession with you deepens and his desperation turns dangerous.

Part 1

Warnings - obsessive behaviour.

It had been a week since the party. A week since you’d walked away from Rafe. A week since you’d chosen JJ.

But Rafe hadn’t made it easy to move on.

The texts and calls started the night you left with JJ. At first, they were frantic and desperate. Apologies. Promises to change. Pledges of undying love. Then they turned darker. Accusations. Threats. Reminders that you couldn’t escape him.

JJ had convinced you to stay with him, his small apartment feeling like the only safe place in the Outer Banks. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Rafe was everywhere. His voice haunted your thoughts, his presence lingering in every shadow.

“You okay?” JJ asked, his voice pulling you out of your spiral.

You looked up from the couch where you sat, knees pulled to your chest. JJ stood in the kitchen, frying something that smelled vaguely like bacon. His concern was evident in the way he leaned on the counter, his blue eyes soft.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a weak smile. “Just… thinking.”

He put the spatula down and walked over, sitting next to you. “About him?”

You nodded, your chest tightening. “It’s like he’s still here, even when he’s not.”

JJ’s jaw clenched, a flicker of anger flashing across his face. “He’s not here. He’s never getting near you again. I won’t let him.”

The warmth in JJ’s voice was a balm against the fear crawling up your spine, but even he couldn’t erase the memories of Rafe.

Later that night, while JJ slept beside you, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You froze, dread pooling in your stomach as the screen lit up with his name.

Rafe: Come outside.

Your heart skipped a beat. You stared at the message, your body frozen with fear. Then another text came through.

Rafe: I know you’re with him. Come out, or I’ll come in.

You sat up, your hands trembling as you turned to look at JJ. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Quietly, you slipped out of bed and made your way to the front door.

Rafe was waiting just outside, leaning against his car with a cigarette between his fingers. His eyes lit up the moment he saw you, and a twisted smile spread across his face.

“Finally,” he said, flicking the cigarette away. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“What am I doing here?” he repeated, his tone mockingly sweet. “I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing, hiding out with him like some kind of fugitive?”

“I’m not hiding,” you said, your voice stronger now. “I’m done, Rafe. I told you that.”

He stepped closer, his smile fading. “You think it’s that easy? You think you can just walk away from me? You’re mine, Y/N. You’ve always been mine.”

“I’m not yours,” you said, backing up. “I’m not anyone’s.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists. “He’s not better for you, you know,” he said, his voice dropping. “JJ doesn’t understand you. He doesn’t know what you need. He’ll never love you like I do.”

“Rafe—”

“No!” he shouted, cutting you off. His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “You don’t get to throw this away. You don’t get to throw us away.”

“There is no us anymore,” you said, tears stinging your eyes.

Rafe’s expression twisted into something you didn’t recognize—something darker. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

The sound of the front door opening startled both of you. JJ stepped out onto the porch, his gaze immediately locking onto Rafe.

“What the hell are you doing here, Cameron?” JJ growled, his body tense as he stepped in front of you.

Rafe let out a cold laugh, shaking his head. “Of course. The knight in shining armor,” he sneered. “What are you gonna do, Maybank? You think you can protect her from me?”

“I don’t think,” JJ said, his voice steady. “I know.”

Rafe’s smile faded, and for a moment, the three of you stood frozen in the tense silence. Then, Rafe stepped forward, his gaze locked on you.

“This isn’t over,” he said, his voice low and full of promise. “You can try to run, but you’ll never get away from me. I’ll always find you.”

JJ took a step closer, his fists clenched. “You come near her again, and I swear, I’ll end you.”

Rafe smirked, his eyes flicking to you one last time before he turned and walked away.

As his car roared down the street, JJ pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with worry.

You nodded against his chest, but deep down, you knew Rafe wasn’t done. This was only the beginning of his storm, and you had no idea how to stop it.

[papatacomia]

what i learned during my shifting break

tw: a little demotivating in the beginning, skip if you don’t wanna read!! also long post btw xd

While I was on break from shifting, I took the time to really ask myself “what shifting meant to me?” I’ve spent so much time and effort trying to shift that it became a chore, and something I desperately had to do.

I would have the intention to shift, hype myself and affirm throughout the night only to wake up in my cr. It honestly became stressful, and at times I felt like I was stuck. No matter how much effort or energy I put into shifting, I would always end up in the same place.

At some point, I didn’t even bother trying to affirm or visualize that I was in my dr, I would just roll to my side and hope for the best. I felt hopeless, and decided it was time to take a break from shifting entirely.

Although it hurt taking a break, I decided to use my time wisely by reevaluating what shifting meant to me and what I wanted to gain from it. At the time, I saw shifting as something out of this world and put it on a pedestal. I didn’t bother to actually do the research about shifting, I just heard “oh you can go to (x reality) and have the best time of your life!!!” without actually learning what it is.

I would watch so many videos about shifting, how to do it and spent hours trying to perfect my script that I didn’t have the patience to learn the basics of what shifting actually is. When I started doing research, I realized that shifting isn’t special or unique, but something we’ve all been doing with our thoughts and choices.

Something else I learned was that I didn’t need methods or subliminals to help me shift because all I needed was myself. I made myself shift, not a method or a subliminal. They’re simply tools to help you reach that end goal but they’re not the reason why you shift.

This was also the time where I learned about law of assumption and how it can be applied to shifting. Just to save time, I learned that LOA states that whatever you assume to be true must be true. For example if I assume that shifting is easy, then shifting is easy. Our thoughts create our reality, by telling myself that shifting is easy then it becomes true because I assume it is.

(There is a more detailed explanation about using LOA and shifting by @/heliosoll, I really recommend you reading their post!! super informative and helpful)

With all of those things in mind, it really helped change my perspective about shifting, and why I wanna shift. One of my main goals with shifting is meeting new people and gaining new experiences that I otherwise couldn’t here. I wanna be with my s/o and also develop long lasting relationships with other people.

Shifting is no longer a chore or something I need to do, but it’s something I enjoy doing and have faith in myself for. I know there’s still a few things I need to adjust, but I’m so thankful that I’ve reached this point where I no longer view my “failures” as something bad but a step closer to my dr.

I originally wanted to make this a small post, but I thought it would be more helpful to somewhat detail what I did and learned. I know I’m not the first nor last in doing this but I hope whoever reads this realize that you are never stuck or hopeless when it comes to shifting. Take a breather, and step back from shifting if you have too because it can really be beneficial and even helpful to your journey.

anyways thank you for reading, take care of yourselves and i’ll see you in the next time !!