#ignore the whole mouth area idk how to draw

[gelarshiesprofruitboarder]

i dont. i dont like him

[formulawonu]

flutters / mick schumacher

(not my gif! creds to owner <3)

warning: kissing, getting a little touchy,, and just being flustered idk

summary: *requested by @gpiggy98​ <3* mick has just finished an intense race and you’re the only person he really wants to be around at the moment since you’re his best friend. you’ve secretly liked him for a while now and offer/give him a massage to cool down after the race and you can’t help but get flustered at the intimacy of the moment.

a/n:��honestly. what would i give to have mick as my best friend. what would i give to basically have mick in my life. FOR REAL. ugh mick schumacher supremacy. anw i didnt know how to end this one properly so idk if im 100% satisfied but it was fun writing hsjakdhasd but enjoy anyway x (i’m always open to requests btw!!!!)

It’s the end of the Hungarian Grand Prix and you feel like you can finally breathe properly after a couple of hours. You’d think you’d have gotten used to going through race weekends by now but you always seem to find your breath caught in your throat and worrying over the safety of your best friend. Mick had finished in p12 - his current best finish throughout the season - and you were extremely proud of him. Despite how well he did defending from other cars on the field in the car he has, you can tell from the way his brows furrow together after removing his helmet that he’s far from satisfied. Watching him go through the procedure after each race required by the FIA from the garage, you decide to make your way back to the hospitality in order to not get into anyone’s way. You figured that you would just talk to Mick when he was free and tell him proud you are of him. What you were not expecting was Mick to show up at the hospitality earlier than you had expected, his body language clearly still tense, and motioning you with just his head to follow him up to his assigned driver’s room. He doesn’t really stop to wait for you or anything because he knows you understand that he doesn’t want to be around a lot of people right now. It leaves you feeling pleased that you’re still the one he wants to talk to. Perks of being his best friend.

“Hey, you.” You say as you enter Mick’s room, shutting the door behind you. You stand there for a while, leaning against the door as you take in Mick sitting down on the couch, his eyes shut with his head thrown back. His hair is all messy from wearing his helmet but it looks good anyway. You knew this wasn’t the right time to be thinking it, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge how Mick made looking stressed extremely attractive. Sexy, even. Mick pops open one eye as he lazily looks at you. “I’m so frustrated.” He mumbles. He then pats the space beside him, telling you to come sit beside him. You make your way to the couch and plop down beside him, trying not to mind the way your heart beats faster as the distance between you both has marginally decreased. Immediately after and without warning, Mick drops his head on your lap. You want to blame the lack of AC for the sudden rise of temperature in the room you’re both in, but you know that the heat is really just rising in your cheeks as you imagine how close Mick is to your body. “I’m so tired.” He continues, shutting his eyes again. You can’t stop the way your heart is rapidly beating inside of your chest and you wouldn’t be surprised if Mick could actually hear it. The vibrations that come from Mick’s voice run through your whole body, leaving you to slightly shift your thighs closer together. You bring your hands to run through his hair, hoping to distract yourself from your own thoughts by giving him a small massage. Mick hums in response. You rub small circles into his temples, picturing him doing the same thing to you in another area of your body. You have to stop yourself there. You seriously cannot be thinking about this while you’re trying to distract yourself from the fact that Mick, your best friend, is all hot and sweaty. Well, there’s always points for trying. 

You don’t realize you’ve stopped the small massage you were giving him until you feel Mick’s hand grip your knee. “Why’d you stop? That felt so good.” The heat rushes to your cheeks and you can feel Mick’s eyes on your face. You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes because you’re flustered at how dirty your thoughts had gotten because of a few words Mick had muttered in passing. The fact that his hand was still on your knee also did not help your case. It was something you had come to terms with a while ago: you deeply liked your best friend - that was why you were acting like this around him. You had tried your best to ignore the fuzzy feelings that came up every time you thought of him or the way your stomach would drop whenever he was around. You tried to deny and cover it up by saying you just really appreciated him as a person, but you eventually gave in and realized it was pointless to fight your feelings. It didn’t matter anyway. Mick was still your best friend, regardless of whatever feelings you had for him. 

“Oh. Sorry.” You mutter, still refusing to look at him as you try to will the heat in your cheeks to disappear. You knew not to make eye contact with Mick because those damn eyes knew you almost better than you knew yourself so meeting them would just spell out disaster for you. He would figure out something was off immediately. You begin moving your hands again through Mick’s hair, kneading in a new pattern. Your eyes land on the hand still resting on your knee. You focus on it as you continue to massage Mick when suddenly it begins to draw circles of its own nearer your inner thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat and you accidentally tug at Mick’s hair because of your unguarded reaction to his hand. You quickly look at his face to see if he’s felt that (though surely he has) and you find yourself looking into a pair of amused eyes. There’s a hint of playfulness in them as he’s probably made the connection that you are... well... currently going through it. “You okay, there?” He whispers, raising an eyebrow at you. You try to play it off, as you usually do. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I-” His hand moves higher up and you involuntarily pause. “-be.” You swallow and desperately try to focus on anything else but the hand that is now closer to you than you had ever imagined it to be. How white the wall is, how cool Mick’s helmet is, how comfortable the couch is. Mick suddenly shifts his position and the hand on your thigh disappears. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. The place where Mick’s hand once was now feels incredibly bare. Mick is still moving around until he’s positioned himself to be facing you, still lying down, with his head propped up by his hand. The arm propping his head up is over your legs - suddenly, you feel like you’ve fallen into a dangerous trap. 

“Hey there.” He whispers, smiling at you with those damn eyes filled with amusement. Like he knows. “Hi?” His free hand moves to trace lines up and down your arm. Goosebumps immediately come and you shiver. He smiles even wider, noting the way your body has unintentionally reacted to his touch. “Are you cold?” He continues to run a finger up and down your arm, mindlessly drawing his own patterns. His eyes never leaving yours. You know you should be answering him now, replying with anything really, but his hand has made its way back down and is now drawing circles on the part of your thigh he’s resting on. “Am- Am I what?” You ask, not remembering what he’s just said a few seconds ago. Your eyes move to glance at Mick’s hand then back to his face. Mick then fully sits up, this time lifting your legs to rest over his lap. “Something’s bothering you.” He says, gently turning your chin to have you face him. Your eyes land on his lips before you meet his eyes. “Not at all. I am just peachy.” He chuckles as you inwardly cringe, knowing full well that you didn’t sound convincing at all. What were you supposed to do when his other hand was now drawing those same distracting circles this time on your side. You had never been this close with Mick. You weren’t supposed to be this close to Mick. His eyes drop to your lips. “Can I try something to get whatever it is off your mind?” He whispers. You nod before you can think about what he’s just offered, too taken by how Mick’s face seems to be inching ever so closely to yours by the second. Your eyes flutter shut when you feel the touch of another pair of lips on yours. It starts out slow, almost shy, as if he’s checking to make sure you’re okay with what’s happening. But then you pull him closer to you, slightly parting your lips to invite him in. Your hands make their way around his neck and tugging at the ends of his hair. The pace has suddenly shifted and Mick has lifted you on top of him, letting you straddle him as he now moves his hands up and down the sides of your body. 

There was no way this was actually happening. All you wanted to do a couple of moments ago was tell Mick how proud you were of him. You push your body closer to his, trying to eliminate the almost nonexistent space between the two of you. Mick moans in your mouth, his hands gripping your waist tighter. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long.” He says in between kisses. He’s trailing kisses down your jaw then your neck. “Me too. You have no idea.” You breathe into his ear. You’re about to kiss him again when suddenly you hear a knock at the door. You both pause, looking at each other wide-eyed. 

“Mick, it’s Guenther. We need to debrief quickly. Won’t take long, I swear.” You slowly move off of Mick, trying not to make noise. You were sure no one thought you guys were doing anything weird anyway but you didn’t want to be caught looking like it. Mick is still sitting next to you, both of you trying not to laugh. It’s almost like he doesn’t want Guenther to think he’s in the room. “Mick,” You hear knocks coming from the other side of the door. “The earlier we start, the quicker you can get back. Hi to Y/N, who is in there too.” You both burst out laughing, the jig obviously up. Mick finally gets up, chuckling and accepting he has to go and start debriefing. 

“I���ll see you when I get back. Still need to get that thing off of your mind.” He says, winking at you as he steps out of the room. 

[thestarryeyedsapphic]

wolf has a beard doesnt he

something i always thought abt way too much when talking abt TLC is the fact that Wolf probably had facial hair, if not a lot of facial hair, and people ignore that????? No fr, i dont hear people talking abt it, not only because its not important at all ok, but because they keep making fanart of a clean shaved dude that has his whole life put together. First of all, this is all my theory, because just like this one theres a LOT of things in TLC that are not explained in the books, or that happen offscreen, and this can be one of those, so idk.

so, we know Wolf is genetically shifted into a werewolf, basically. Not only his body, but his mind, his thoughts, and his genes too. So the way his body works is different. He has more hair than normal people, not only physical hair that you can look at, but the hair keeps growing there; it isn't just an aesthetic addition to his body. This was already part of the first surgeries he got, but it got worse with the second one, of course. So when he wakes from the second surgeries we get how he doesn't need a mirror because he just looks at his body and freezes when he sees the amount of hair, in parts hair wasn't really supposed to be, yk 👯‍♀️

but even before the second surgeries, we never get if Wolf shaves or what, because he definitely grows more hair than most of the people in the Crew, or in TLC in general. And he has a looong trip with the Crew until he finally gets the second surgeries, when he definitely gets facial hair (permanently). And, for example, we do see how Thorne grows a beard, and we are shown that he doesn't have the energy to shave, or the things to shave either (because well... he's lost in a desert yk!) but anyway.

I always imagined Wolf with facial hair, since the beggining of Scarlet. Because, first of all, how the hell would he shave? with what? he lived in the middle of nowhere for weeks until he met Scarlet, and his body has more testosterone than the usual amount of people. Second, why would he? I don't really think Wolf could care less about shaving his face to look clean or something. Third of all... idk

I remember when i didn't have Tumblr, and i was a TLC fan from Pinterest, and i used to fight people in the comments of pins because they would draw Wolf without a beard, or white, basically both of those things. And more of one time i got people telling me that he's described as a clean shaved dude, but WHEN. I swear i try to find descriptions of how Wolf looks like, but the only times he's really described is at the beggining of Scarlet when she meets him for the first time, after the second surgeries, when some character meets him for the first time (which happens like twice), or it's a description about how awfully sad he looks.

what are your thoughts on this super important topic?

OMG THANK YOU FOR TALKING ABOUT THIS BC I AGREE SO MUCH AND I LITERALLY HAVE ALWAYS PICTURED HIM AS HAVING AT LEAST SOME FACIAL HAIR AND IDK I AM GAY BUT I THINK FACIAL HAIR LOOKS HOT

and i stg i thought it mentioned in scarlet when he returned to the base that he shaved for the first time in forever but i just went and looked and i couldn’t find it but idc this is a hairy man‼️

also i feel like especially post-second surgery he would rock a beard not only bc he is growing more hair but he would also use it to try and hide his mouth/jaw area and give off big burly sexy lumberjack vibes ya feel

[hopelesshawks]

History of Us Part 3- Introductions

Summary: Once upon a time Todoroki and (y/n) were best friends. Now they haven’t spoken in years. When (y/n) is forced to transfer to UA, will she and Shoto reconnect or will their troubled past keep them apart? A childhood friends to enemies to lovers hybrid fic.

If you don’t want to see History of Us content blacklist #hopelesshou

Masterlist Kofi

You trudge downstairs already dreading meeting new people. Aizawa had assured you your last name would be kept under wraps but it still feels like it’s only a matter of time before everyone figures out who you really are. There’s a reason you dye your hair, your natural coloring is too recognizable and it’s a bitter reminder of a man you actively wish to forget. For years you hated looking in the mirror until you finally convinced your mom to let you dye it. Kirishima had been kind even after finding out but Kirishima is kind to everyone. You seriously doubt everyone is as much of a cinnamon roll as he is, especially if he-who-shall-not-be-named recognizes you and blabs to everyone like the little bitch he is.

As you walk into the lounge area it’s just your luck that you spot him first. It’s like a hit to the chest, physically stopping you in your tracks. Suddenly you’re that sobbing, confused eight year old all over again, just wanting to understand how her best friend in the whole wide world could turn his back on her when she needed him most. Kirishima calling your name snaps you out of it as you roll your eyes and make your way over. If Shoto doesn’t recognize you then fine, you’re not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing it’s upsetting you. You drop onto the couch unceremoniously in the small space between Kirishima and Bakugo, causing the blonde to shoot you a glare and huff as he and Kiri are forced to adjust themselves to make space for you. You give him a satisfied grin once you’re comfortable, which only causes his scowl to deepen more, before suddenly multiple unfamiliar faces are hovering right in your field of vision.

“Have none of you fucking heard of personal space?” you snap instinctively, feeling closed in. They seem unperturbed by your temper, instead a boy with long black hair and a wide toothy grin comments “You really are like Bakugo!” “Don’t compare me to that angry Pomeranian,” you scoff. “Hah!? The fuck you just call me half and half?” Bakugo immediately retorts, crimson eyes glaring you down as his palms spark in warning. “I called you an angry Pomeranian. You deaf or something? That why you fucking yell all the time?” you fire back as black shadows start to curl off your right hand like smoke. “You little-“ Bakugo starts to threaten, looking like he’s seconds away from launching into you and starting a proper fight, but both of you are distracted by the delighted laughter of the others. “I love you already! Name’s Mina Ashido,” the pink girl, Mina apparently, introduces herself. “Glad we’ve finally got someone who can keep Bakugo in check. I’m Kyoka Jiro,” another girl introduces. Your mind whirs as you process more and more new names. Denki Kaminari is the other blonde. The boy with the long black hair is apparently Hanta Sero. All of them introduce themselves with both their first and last names. You will not be following suit. “I’m (y/n),” you reply simply. “No surname?” the eager blonde, Denki you remind yourself, asks with a tilt of his head. The gesture reminds you of an overexcited puppy. “Nope,” is your simple reply. “Why not?” he presses. “Because I said so,” you shoot back, raising one eyebrow. To your surprise he immediately drops the subject and moves on. “So why’d you transfer?” he asks. “Moved too far from my old school,” is your quick reply. “How d’you know Kiri?” “Fatgum’s agency.” “What’s your quirk?” “Jesus Denki it’s not an interrogation. Let the girl breathe,” Sero cuts him off with a laugh, shoving Denki to the side a bit so that Sero becomes front and center in your line of vision. He openly gives you an appraising look from head to toe before saying “Don’t mind him he’s a little nosy. The better question is: are you single?” You can’t help but bark out a startled laugh at the boldness of the question. “Your laugh, while beautiful, is not an answer,” he grins. “God you guys are the worst,” Jiro groans with a roll of her eyes, “you don’t have to answer that.” “Thanks,” you laugh before turning back to Sero to say “but for the record I am single,” with a wink. Your laugh turns into a full on cackle at the way his face goes bright red. “Don’t tell me you can dish it and not take it,” you tease him. “Oh he definitely can’t take it,” Mina giggles before launching into a story to prove her point, much to Sero’s chagrin. A small part of you starts to hope that maybe this year won’t be so bad.

The sound of your laughter draws Shoto’s eyes to you. It’s such a stark contrast between how you’d looked when he last saw you. Guilt crawls up his throat like bile, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth. You’re different from when the two of you were little. Harsher. More acerbic. He’s not entirely surprised but it still saddens him. He wonders if things would’ve been different had he ignored his father’s warnings about you. He wants to ignore his father’s warning now. He wants to march right up to you and apologize for everything, lay himself out bare to prove to you he never wanted to abandon you, but something holds him back. He thinks it might be cowardice. God, how would he even begin to apologize? You were having such a bad time you moved to an entirely different prefecture and he did nothing. Of course you hate him.

Shoto is brought out of his musings by Midoriya nudging him, a questioning look in his green eyes. Midoriya would know how to right the wrongs of the past. Or at the very least would probably be able to give him some ideas. But to fully explain what had happened he’d also have to explain your father and reveal your identity. Judging by the fact your last name wasn’t even given on the list of students Aizawa gave Iida, you must be trying very hard to keep that information confidential. It’s really not his place to share and he’s hurt you quite enough already. Maybe he can talk around it a little bit though. “Midoriya, hypothetically, if you had hurt someone greatly many years ago and now had no idea how to start apologizing. What would you do?” Shoto finally asks after thinking carefully over how to phrase his question. “Hypothetically?” Midoriya asks skeptically. “Yes. Hypothetically,” Todoroki confirms. “Well I guess it depends how bad what I did was,” Midoriya hedges. “It was bad,” Shoto replies immediately, face darkening at the admission. “In this completely hypothetical scenario,” Midoriya replies with a knowing smile. “Yes exactly,” Todoroki says as he clears his throat. “Well I guess I’d start by just doing little things to show I’m sorry until we were both ready to talk and I could apologize properly,” Midoriya offers. Shoto nods thoughtfully as he mulls over Izuku’s words. Small things. He could do small things. “Hey, Todoroki-kun?” Midoriya prompts causing Shoto to return his attention to his friend. “Whatever you did to (y/n), I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think. She’ll forgive you eventually,” Midoriya assures him.

A loud boom causes both of them to jump in their seats, eyes seeking out the source only to land on you and Bakugo almost literally at each other’s throats as the two of you tumble over each other, the crowd around you still laughing at whatever had incited the tussle in the first place. Both of you look damn near feral, causing Midoriya to gulp. “Probably,” he amends, “she’ll probably forgive you eventually.” Todoroki nods almost solemnly. You may just kill him before he gets a chance to apologize. That doesn’t mean he can’t at least try though.

A/N: Am I back to daily updates on a fic again?? Maybe??? We’ll see lmao. It was fun to write more of the class and their dynamics but omg there’s so goddamn many students in class 1A idk how Horikoshi keeps up with them all 😩 also M*neta got kicked out for sexual harassment in this version of events, I refuse to write that little nightmare lol

Taglist: @sorrythatspussynal @miss-bakugo-writes @pixelwisp @larkspyrr @sokkaandzukosimp @akkaso

[alice-dont-break]

hello this is shameless smut pls enjoy!! kinda fluffy and oops sorry idk how to write smut for them without giving ant a little bit of top energy

cw: post-pregnancy body insecurity at first and then just filth

Every Inch | Janthony Smut

When Anthony got home from work, he first found his 6-week old baby sound asleep in the bassinet in the living room. He smiled, but tiptoed upstairs immediately because despite wanting to stare at her cute little face, waking her would be disturbing the rare peace and quiet his wife was surely savoring. When he got upstairs and entered the bedroom, he found a pile of Jasmine’s clothes on the floor and a light on in the bathroom. Intrigued, he peeked his head past the door and laid eyes on the most stunning silhouette he’d ever seen.

Jasmine was standing in front of the mirror, fully undressed, looking over her shoulder at her reflection.

“Wow,” he breathed, getting her attention.

“Oh, hey sorry,” she said. She hugged herself and reached past him for the robe hanging off the door, but he gently caught her wrist. He stepped her away from the door, and took in the delicious sight in front of him.

“Damn, baby, why would you ever say sorry for giving me a look at this work of art. You admiring yourself... can I join?”

“You can stay but I’m not admiring,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes. She tried to twist away, but Anthony grasped her other hand.

“Hm?” He didn’t want to push her, but he couldn’t ignore the sadness in her eyes.

“I’m just... I don’t feel sexy anymore. Ever. This is so stupid but I literally made my mom watch bubba for an hour today so I could go to Victoria’s Secret and even with brand new sexy lingerie I felt disgusting. Do I even turn you on anymore? We haven’t done anything since...” Her voice was weak and shaky, and her lips were tightly pursed.

“Baby... baby girl you turn me on like crazy. God, look at you... you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen,” he crooned. “I just didn’t wanna rush or hurt you, but I hate that you aren’t seeing what I see. Can I show you babe?”

Jasmine furrowed her brow, but reluctantly nodded. Anthony then led her by the hand back to the mirror, where he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. He nuzzled up to her shoulder as they both looked at her reflection. As Anthony looked her up and down, his eyes smouldered with lust.

“God, where do I even begin,” he groaned. “I mean, the easiest is your face. Your eyes just stun me, whether they’re soft and you’re laughin’ or looking at our baby, or piercing like your mad or tryna rile me up.”

Jasmine’s cheeks had flushed red and she tried to look away, only to be brought back to center by Anthony’s thumb on her chin.

“Your skin,” he continued while caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, “just flawless.”

She leaned into his touch and let a weak smile escape.

“Mmm and your lips, baby,” he smiled. He cupped her chin with his fingers and brushed over her supple lips with his thumb. He was dying to kiss her, but knew once he started he’d never stop, and there was too much more he wanted to say.

“Your hair, your curls... gorgeous through every state of being.” He smiled into the side of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, then nipped at her ear and trailed kisses down her jaw and neck.

“And your neck,” he whispered, sending chills down her spine, “because it lets me get the sexiest moans from you.” Proving his point, he sunk his teeth into the tender flesh, hard enough to melt her without really hurting, and she threw her head back against his shoulder as a soft gasp escaped her parted lips.

He chuckled into her collarbone, and continued exploring her skin with his mouth and hands, covering every inch of her upper back, shoulders, and chest with attention. Jasmine was fully flushed with a little bit of self consciousness, but also awareness of the heat growing between her legs. His hand wandered back down from her shoulders to her waist to pull her back flush against his chest, before roaming back up to cup her breasts.

“God, and these... Jas you know I’ve always been an ass guy, and trust me we’ll get to that, but I’ve never seen anything sexier than these tits ever since you were pregnant. They’re so big... huge... and I love how just a little attention like this,” he mumbled as he circled his fingers around her nipples with a slight pinch, “gets such a reaction... god Jasmine I could spend all day just working your tits.”

As he talked, he was kneading the tender flesh with the palms of his hands and kissing her shoulders, and Jasmine could have sworn she was going to start dripping down her inner thigh. Her buds were pebbled and she writhed under his touch as he brushed over them.

“And baby, I know you’ve been self conscious about this area,” he said more softly, letting his hands slide down her waist and hips to land just where her baby bump had been only a month ago. He peppered kisses to the seam of her neck and shoulder as he rubbed his thumbs over her hip bones. “These curves are a work of art. Your shape is stunning, Jas, it’s so sexy whether you’re a million months pregnant, one week post-baby, or whatever else. I like having something to grab, too, but don’t think I haven’t noticed your abs comin’ back.” he winked with another soft bite to her earlobe and a squeeze around her hips.

Jasmine was leaning against him now with her head thrown back on his shoulder, as his mouth, his raspy voice, his touch all left her trembling. He took his chance to turn her sideways to face him and reached down to grab her ass with both hands.

“God, this ass, baby... ugh it’s just so fucking sexy. The way it’s so perfectly tight and round, especially when you wear them jeans I like, but then bounces when I’m fuckin’ up into you... or when I’m taking you from behind with my fiery handprints all over...”

Anthony was testing his own patience now, and cut himself off with another bite to her shoulder. He gestured for her to jump up and hoisted her so her legs were wrapped around his waist and his hands were gripping her thighs.

“Your legs baby, they’re so strong and toned, and even though you’re short enough to tuck right into my side, they look long and sexy and I just want to mark em all up your inner thighs... show anyone who dares to look at you in a tight lil skirt that you’re mine.”

While he spoke, he carried her slowly out of the bathroom and over to the bed. The whole way, she could feel his hardened bulge pressing against her, and was sure there would be a wet patch where her core met his waist.

When he reached the bed, he dropped her down and hovered overtop so he could whisper in her ear. “Now can I show you the next part of you I think is sexy?” He rasped. Jasmine was breathless, and could only nod eagerly. After a chaste peck to her lips, Anthony sank down to rest between her thighs, which he spread open with his hands splayed across her caramel skin.

“Mmm, this pussy,” he growled against the meeting of her leg and her mound, letting the vibration of his words send shockwaves through her already electrified body. “Always so wet and needy for me. God look at you baby, you’re fucking soaked already, hm? All for me?”

Jasmine nodded and moaned a “yes”, as Anthony chuckled.

Slowly, he prodded his tongue to part her folds, and licked a slow stripe all the way up. The sound she made was slow, husky and pained. She was already aching for more. “Your taste, babe, your juices are the sweetest damn taste in the world.”

He continued to take his time, drawing long strokes and tasting every inch of her core, until his tongue started circling her entrance. As soon as it poked inside, her hips bucked, begging for more, though a whimper was all she could muster. He used one finger to gather her juices, then slowly pressed inside.

“So fucking tight, soft walls squeeze me so tight, even when you’re nearly screamin’ and you’re asking if it’s too much, you take me so, so good baby.”

“Another,” she moaned loudly, “please.” Anthony smirked and happily obeyed, adding a second finger to her wetness.

He thrust slowly in and out, before pausing to scissor his digits and feel the stretch of her velvet insides. Her breath hitched with every movement and he wondered how much longer she could last.

“Baby hold it together, I haven’t even gotten to the best part. The sexiest part of this perfect pussy is this adorable little bud,” he grinned, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her clit.

“Ant,” she breathed desperately.

“So sweet, so sexy the sounds I can get out of you with just the slightest touch,” he said. Anthony pointed his tongue and started flicking the sensitive area, as his fingers continued to probe deep inside. “Seriously the cutest little thing I’ve ever played with.”

“Anthony,” she moaned again, her voice growing more ragged and hungry with his every move.

“Mhmm baby... and the sexiest thing of all, my love, is how you look when you come undone.”

He heard the faintest gasp escape her lips, so with a final smirk he wrapped his lips around her swollen bud and suckled lightly as he curled his fingers deep inside her. With his free hand, he reached up and rolled her hard nipple between his fingers, as her moans became more like screams. Within seconds he felt her soft walls tighten around his fingers, and her thighs lift up off the bed.

“Ant I’m gonna... I’m gonna...”

“I’ve got you,” he purred, “come for me, princess. I’ve got you.”

Jasmine fell apart. Every sliver of tension that had been building for the past two months came undone as a wave of fire ravaged her senses. Her back arched and her head flopped back with a loud and luscious sigh, as her pussy fluttered around Anthony’s fingers. He continued gentle kitten licks to her most sensitive area as his fingers lazily moved to ride her through her high. Suddenly, Jasmine felt a massive release and Anthony felt a flood wash over his fingers and chin. He was entranced by the effect he had on her body, continuing to press with his fingers, and let his tongue roam downward to taste her juices, until Jasmine was fully limp beneath him.

When he was certain there were no more aftershocks to rock her, he pressed a final kiss to her warmth and climbed back up to hover over her face. With both hands cupping her cheeks, he leaned down to kiss her forehead tenderly.

“Did I...” she asked timidly between heavy pants. Her cheeks were flushed red, and Anthony added to their warmth with soft, wet kisses.

“Squirt? Yep,” he smirked, obviously proud of the new level of pleasure he’d unlocked for her. “That was new... and maybe the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Ant that... that was... oh my god.... i need to...” As she struggled to form sentences, she seemed to be making a move to repay the favor, but Anthony just put a firm hand on her shoulder.

“You aren’t going anywhere, babe,” he teased. “You look so utterly fucked out that I’m genuinely worried you may have trouble walking all week despite not actually having had a cock inside you.”

Jasmine’s eyes were still slightly rolling to the back of her head, so Anthony just chuckled at her grumbles and gave her a chaste kiss. “Stay here, love, gonna get you a cloth. You’re literally soaked in your own cum.”

“Later... show you lingerie... s’new,” she murmured.

“Whenever you’re ready love, but not before a nap. Besides, as excited as I am to see it, I don’t know how you could possibly get any sexier.”

Instead of protesting as she did earlier, she looked up at Anthony with a faint, adorable little smile that warmed his heart.

When he got back from the bathroom only twenty seconds later, Jasmine’s eyes were closed with her mouth hanging open just slightly. He couldn’t help but chuckle at how absolutely worn out she was, so he just let her sleep. As the mother of a six-week old baby, she needed it with or without a mind-blowing orgasm. After using the warm cloth to wipe down her thighs and through her folds, he grabbed a blanket to drape over them as he laid on his side and pulled her close. With a quick glance at the baby monitor to ensure the little one was continuing to cooperate with his unplanned mission, he leaned his forehead against her temple and peppered little kisses to her cheeks as her heavy breath lulled him into a trance. He rubbed the soft skin at her waist as he kept pulling her tighter into his side, and focused on giving her all his warmth, comfort and attention, with the hope that she’d be at least slightly coherent again when she woke up.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Hello there! Idk if you’re still taking requests, so if you aren’t, ignore this! But I was wondering if you could write Diego x reader, where she meets his siblings for the first time, and at first it’s kinda awkward, but then they get more comfortable and maybe just like fluff after when they get back home? It might be totally stupid but idk. I love your writing!💕💕

A/N: Babe, it’s totally not stupid at all. Meeting the family shenanigans is basically the perfect trope for this show.  Sort of accidentally ended up a sequel to this fic, so I ran with it.  Word Count: 1678 Content Warnings: Season 2 spoilers

“Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?” Diego asked, gripping your hand tightly as the two of you walked toward the restaurant. “It’s not too late for us to just leave.”

“Diego Hargreeves, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you didn’t want me to meet your family,” you teased, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s one dinner, it’ll be okay.”

“You say that now,” he muttered and you rolled your eyes affectionately in response before pulling open the door and walking inside.

When you gave your names to the hostess, she smiled brightly and told you that the rest of your party was already waiting for you, before leading you to a large table in a private room off the main dining area. Four pairs of eyes turned to you appraisingly. You swallowed nervously and put on a smile of you own.

“Hi everyone, sorry we’re late,” you said, taking one of the two empty seats, somewhat awkwardly as Diego still refused to let go of your hand. “Someone didn’t believe me that traffic was going to be a nightmare on a Friday night.”

One of the women at the table, who you vaguely recognized from a cheesy romance playing on late-night cable and therefore deduced was Allison smiled in a way that felt indulgent and false; it didn’t quite reach her eyes; it was rehearsed.

“Oh he never listens to anybody, don’t take it personally, Y/N,” the smaller of the two men said, stretching across the table and offering you a broad grin and a hand with the word hello tattooed on it. “I’m Klaus, and you’re the gorgeous creature my brother’s decided to shack up with, huh?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his greeting, shaking his hand politely while Diego glared. “Nice to meet you Klaus,” you said with a smile.

“You know, I already like you better than his last two girlfriends. You haven’t tried to arrest or kill me!”

“Sorry what? Is that a joke?” you frowned in confusion as you let go of his hand and leaned back, glancing over at Diego to see his tight jaw and stony face, clear indications that he was upset.

You hand sought his under the table and you gave it a gentle squeeze, drawing his gaze to you and smiling at him.

‘It’s all good, relax,’ you mouthed.

“No I’m deadly serious,” Klaus continued. “For a while he was with this lady cop on-again/off-again style and she’d arrest me for drugs when she caught me around. Until she was tragically murdered by time-travelling assassins who kidnapped me looking for Five. Then while we were in the 60s, he fell for this girl from the nuthouse who turned out to be a plant and totally tried to kill us!” He gave a pained little chuckle, as if to say, ‘can you believe that?’

You stared at him, open-mouthed and aghast.

“Ignore Klaus, he’s never known when to shut up a day in his life,” the woman you had first noticed said. “I’m Allison.”

Klaus shot her a look that somehow combined a pout and a glare, but fell silent. You felt some of the tension sink out of Diego beside you, though he still didn’t seem comfortable. You smiled at her.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” you said, still trying to shake off the information Klaus had given (which seemed to line up with what the small, angry brother who was oddly not at dinner had said, and was far too much to actually process at the moment).

You turned to the two who hadn’t yet spoken. “So you must be Luther and Vanya?”

The man nodded, shifting in his seat and giving you an awkward little wave. The other woman glowered at you and said nothing. You frowned, wondering what you had done to earn her ire already.

Allison cleared her throat. “We ordered some bruschetta and sangria for the table before you arrived.”

The rest of dinner passed in much the same way as those first moments: Luther was mostly silent and clearly uncomfortable (whether with your presence or very fact of being out in public seemed unclear) but he started to relax and warm up as the evening went on, even once or twice sharing a stiff joke; Vanya was cold, barely responsive to your attempts to engage with her; Allison tried to play the hostess and keep topics light and small-talk-esque, breaking long silences with new conversations, obviously trying her best but ultimately resulting in a stilted performance; Klaus blurted out evidently whatever thoughts passed through his mind, usually bizarre and outlandish, sometimes profound and deeply sad. It was like none of them knew how to be normal people or have dinner with their sibling’s significant other, or an average conversation and you couldn’t help but feel oddly warmed by that, but the fact that they were so…human.

You did your best to keep up with all of them, appreciating Allison’s best efforts, laughing at some of Klaus’s jokes or countering his philosophical points, trying not to call too much attention to Luther or make him feel put on the spot. Diego felt his heart swell with pride at how well you did, and how you took everything in stride, even as the minutes seemed to drag on and he started to fear that dinner would never end.

The only thing that kept rankling at you was Vanya’s attitude, so when she got up to go to the bathroom, you excused yourself as well, cornering her in the hall of the restaurant.

“Hey, no offense, but what the hell is your problem with me?” you asked, tilting your head to one side, more curiosity than animosity in your tone.

She rolled her eyes, trying to push past you, but you resolutely blocked her path.

“I know I’m dating Diego and there’s like a whole weird history there or whatever, but don’t I at least deserve a chance before you decide to treat me like the devil?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”                                        

“You seem nice, and you’re…normal. Our family doesn’t do well with that,” she explained, folding her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to do the whole friendly, welcome to the family or whatever bullshit. Cus you’re either going to turn out not actually normal and screw us over, or you’re going to turn out actually normal and get hurt or bail before you do.”

You stared at her for a long, silent moment.

“I’m not going anywhere. I love Diego, and I think for all that they’re weird, I like your family a lot.”

“You say that for now, but we’ll see.”

“If there’s really no way for me to change your mind, fine, but maybe the reason people leave is just because you shove them away.”

You turned and returned to the table with that, not giving her a chance to respond. You still weren’t thrilled, but at least you felt like you understood her better now, and she seemed to soften toward you at least a little for the rest of the evening.

By the time the check came (a check you noticed that Allison picked up without even glancing at the numbers) you felt like you had really gotten to know Diego’s siblings, and seen a different side of him as he slowly loosened up around them.

As you all got up to leave, it became a chain of “it was nice to meet you”s and “we should do this again”s. Allison moved in for a hug and you returned it happily enough. Luther patted you on the shoulder awkwardly, his big hand enveloping it as if you were a child, surprising you with his size more close up than the other end of the table. Klaus moved as if to follow you home, and then pouted much like a stray puppy when Diego gave him a stern look that communicated without words that he was not allowed to do so. Then he turned to you and hugged you. But where Allison’s was polite and somewhat formal, Klaus’s was anything but, his long limbs folding around you and his chin resting on your shoulder.

“It was sooo good to meet you,” he purred in your ear. “And I’m glad Diego found you.” He pulled back to look you in the eye, his hands still resting on your upper arms. “I mean it. You’re good for him. Take care of him.”

“I will,” you said with a smile. “And you take care of yourself.”

Vanya offered you a polite nod, and you took what you could get.

~

“Y/N, I’m so sorry about tonight,” Diego sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he sank down onto the couch.

“What are you talking about D? It was fine.” You hung your coat on one of the pegs near the door and then, with a roll of your eyes, picked up his from where he’d tossed it on the floor and hung it as well.

“It was torture. In fact I think I’d rather be tortured.”

“I mean sure it was awkward, and your family’s a little weird, but I knew going in not to expect anything else.”

“It didn’t make you regret the day you ever met me?”

You dropped onto the couch next to him, leaning into his side and tilting your head to kiss him, smiling against his mouth.

“I could never regret that babe.”

His arm circled your shoulders, drawing you closer as he returned your kiss fervently. He groaned as you pressed against him and ran your tongue over his lower lip, opening up to invite you in. It wasn’t often that he let you take the lead, so you took full advantage while you could, pressing him back against the cushions and straddling his lap, running your hands through his hair.

“Besides,” you said, pulling back to smile teasingly. “Now I won’t feel so bad when you meet my family.”

[mingishoe]

Brat | J.WY

Summary: You finally get to dom apparently you’re really good at teasing… too bad Wooyoung can’t take it

Pairing: Wooyoung x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Smut Warning: Switch!Reader Switch!Wooyoung

Kinda exhibitionism, palming, lots of teasing, edging, orgasm denial, grinding, reversed roles? (Is that what it’s called?? Idk) rough sex, choking, Umm kinda cum play?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Wooyoung has been messing with you all day and you’re starting to lose your patience.

It started with him just poking you to get your attention. Then he started to get really hyper and scream in your face thinking it was funny. Then that led to Wooyoung somehow thinking it was a good idea to stick his tongue out and randomly lick your face. To be frank, he was acting like a child.

You usually didn’t mind but today it was really pushing all your buttons. You’re like two years older than Wooyoung and you were most definitely more mature than Wooyoung… but that didn’t mean you could dom him.

You remember a few days ago that Wooyoung told you he would let you dom him. You’ve been waiting for a good opportunity and this is probably the best you’re going to get.

You obviously couldn’t do anything now since the two of you were with a few other members, but you were definitely going to do something when yall got home.

You don’t really know if he was acting because he was with the other members or if he was just really energetic today.

You leaned back onto the sofa and tried your best to ignore Wooyoung as he continued to be loud. You closed your eyes and put your hands over your face, “Woo, could you please be a little quieter? I have a headache…” Wooyoung turned toward you and kissed your nose softly before he went and bit it gently.

As soon as you dropped your hands from your face and gave Wooyoung a scolding glare, he could tell you weren’t having it. “Can we go?” Wooyoung knew if he said no he was going to get in trouble so he agreed.

You both told the members bye and you walked behind Wooyoung as he exited the apartment. As soon as you were in the hall you pushed him against the wall. You took his face in your hand and you glared at him, “You’re such a fucking brat aren’t you? You really don’t know when to stop do you?”

Wooyoung looked like he wanted to switch the positions but he let you do what you wanted. Wooyoung was a lot stronger than you and could easily push you off of him so you were surprised when he let you stay in control.

Wooyoung looked down at you with dark eyes, “Answer me.” Wooyoung bit his lip before he responded to you, “N-no…” you let your hand run down Wooyoung’s jaw down to his chest then to his crotch area.

Wooyoung let himself follow your touch with his hips before you brought your hand back, “come on.”

You walked to the elevators so you could leave the building with Wooyoung trailing closely behind you.

Wooyoung was practically on top of you as the two of you were waiting in the elevator, “You’re so impatient,” you gripped his clothed cock in your hand softly just to give him some friction.

His hips rutted in your palm so you stopped your hand, “Don’t move or else you won’t get anything.”

You took your hand off of Wooyoung as the elevator doors opened. You heard Wooyoung's heavy breathing as he followed behind you.

The two of you got into your car, you in the driver's seat and him in the passenger seat. You saw out of the corner of your eye that Wooyoung kept glancing at you, “What’s wrong Angel?” You smirked as he just groaned loudly, “What? Don’t wanna say it? Kinda makes you think about all the stuff you make me say huh?”

Wooyoung froze at your comment, “I- can- touch me…” you hummed in consideration as you let your hand rest on his thigh. “What do you say angel?” You saw his jaw clench in frustration, “P-Please?”

You dragged you hand up his thigh and let your palm press on his bulge with minimal pressure to tease him. You kept your eyes on the road and your hand on Wooyoung as you drove back to your place.

The closer you get to your apartment the more pressure you put onto Wooyoung. You avoided actually unbuttoning his pants and giving him what he wanted just so you could let him feel what it felt like to be teased uncontrollably.

Wooyoung was letting out his pretty moans as you finally arrived at your apartment. You almost felt bad to stop your movements since he was so close. Wooyoung gripped your wrist to keep it from parting from his length.

Your movements had stopped causing Wooyoung to use his hips against your hand. You watched for a while before you were able to catch him off guard and take your hand away. You’ve never heard such a desperate whine come from Wooyoung’s mouth which caused a wave of arousal wash through your body.

You were almost ready to risk it all and let Wooyoung take over but you wanted to prove to Wooyoung that you could actually Dom.

As you walked into your apartment Wooyoung stayed beside you the best he could so he could hide the massive bulge that he had.

Once again when you two got in the elevator Wooyoung brought you in front of him so you would touch him. You refused to touch him until you got to your room so you could touch him properly.

You pretend to ignore every time Wooyoung rutted against you or when he would be trying to touch you. You were going to get him back later like he’s done to you.

Wooyoung practically runs to your apartment and unlocks your front door waiting for you to come in. You grip Wooyoung’s face in your hands once again, “Go to the room and strip for me.” Wooyoung looks frustrated.

He totally remembers telling you that you could Dom but at this point he’s really regretting it. Wooyoung thinks you’re being unfair by using the things he’s done to you in the past, but he can’t not say that you aren’t a good Dom. He knows you have a lot of self control and patience so he’s scared for himself because of that sole reason.

Once Wooyoung goes into your room you let out a whine of frustration. You want Wooyoung to touch you so bad but you’re gonna have to wait. You take a few deep breaths in to calm yourself down as you can feel the wetness of your core drench the cloth of your panties.

You slowly walk to your door and turn the handle even slower. When you walk in you see Wooyoung sitting on the bed completely naked. His cock couldn’t be any harder against his stomach.

You brought your hand up and let a single finger go from the base of Wooyoung’s cock to the tip where you brought your finger to swirl around gently.

As you were barely touching him you could see Wooyoung was trying his best not to let his hips take over. His lip was in between his teeth and it looked like he could draw blood with how hard he was biting down.

You sunk down to your knees in front of Wooyoung causing a moan to leave him. You were careful not to touch Wooyoung the whole time, making him want something. Wooyoung looked physically pained as he tried his best not to move his hips to get any sort of friction.

“Want me to touch you?” Wooyoung nodded vigorously as your hand got closer to his cock. “Beg for me.” You honestly had to contain your amusement as Wooyoung threw his head back at your request.

He knew you were being serious and there wasn’t any way he could get out of doing what you asked, “P-Please…” you tisked at Wooyoung’s poor response, “oh come on angel… I know you can do better than that.”

You bit your lip to contain a moan as Wooyoung looked into your eyes, “Fuck… please- I need you to touch me, I can’t take it anymore.” You let your mouth go to his cock slowly. Before you took him in my mouth you gripped his thigh, “Don’t touch me okay? If you touch me I’m going to stop.” Wooyoung nodded just to get you to move faster.

As soon as you gripped him in your hand and let the head go into your mouth, Wooyoung immediately gripped the bed sheet beside him. Your tongue slowly swirled around Wooyoung as you moved your hand along the base.

You took Wooyoung further into your mouth letting yourself relax around his cock. You knew Wooyoung was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself, his grip on the sheets making his knuckles white.

His grunts and moans were the only thing that was keeping you from your original plan and stopping in the middle. You brought him all the way in your mouth until you gagged slightly before bringing a hand down to play with his balls.

His thighs and stomach were tensed signalling he was close, his moans got louder and you were pretty sure your neighbours were aware what was happening at this point.

“Y/n… fuck-” you knew that was him telling you he was about to cum so you pulled away. The whines of desperation Wooyoung let out as he tried to chase his orgasm with no friction made you want to just drop your panties and fuck him right there.

You could tell Wooyoung was beyond frustrated with you at this point and he honestly had all reason to be, you had declined him from cuming twice and you’ve teased him way too much for his liking.

“Lay down, angel” Wooyoung obliges and scoots back to lay down in the middle of the bed. You scoot next to him and you slowly take off your shirt in front of Wooyoung to tease him more. You throw your shirt somewhere on the floor and move to take both your shorts and panties off in one go. Wooyoung inhales sharply as he can see the juices dripping down your pussy. You leave your bra on for now so Wooyoung won’t have the urge to grab them, not like he doesn’t right now.

You throw your leg over Wooyoung so you’re in a straddling position. You let yourself sit on Wooyoung without letting him enter you. You take a deep breath in before you rest your hands on Wooyoung’s chest and grind yourself on him slowly.

You can feel Wooyoung’s throbbing cock against your folds making it even harder to control yourself. You yourself are starting to let out quiet whimpers as you rub yourself on Wooyoung’s cock.

“Fuck- y/n… please just fuck me already. Please- I can’t do it anymore.” Wooyoung was begging for you to do something more than grind against him. You watched as your slick covered the length of Wooyoung’s cock.

It took you awhile longer along with more of Wooyoung’s begging to get you to actually have Wooyoung enter you. As soon as you sunk down on his length Wooyoung’s hands immediately went to grip onto your hips. At this point you didn’t even care and you just wanted to cum.

You still tried your best to tease Wooyoung by slowly lifting yourself up and squeezing around his cock every so often.

Wooyoung was officially done with your teasing. He pulled you off him and flipped you over to lay on your back in one swift movement. You moan loudly as Wooyoung enters you in one harsh thrust.

He picks your legs up so your thighs are pressing against your stomach, and fucks into you without stopping. “You’re such a fucking brat- I really gave you the opportunity to Dom and what do you do? You fucking tease me.” Your mouth is open from the silent moans, Wooyoung lets a hand rub up your stomach to your throat as his hand wraps around it.

Your back immediately arches off the bed as Wooyoung applies pressure to your neck. Your head is spinning from the pleasure and the pressure on your neck.

Your blabbering makes absolutely no sense as you try to tell Wooyoung you’re about to cum.

He understands what you’re trying to say so he takes his hand off your throat making you take a deep breath in as he lets his hand go down to rub circles on your clit.

Your body starts shaking as the pleasure becomes too much, “Woo- I- can’t.” Wooyoung nods as he thrusts into you harder, “It’s o-okay, go ahead and cum sweetheart.” You grip onto Wooyoung as your back arches off the bed and you cum around Wooyoung.

Wooyoung grips your hips tightly as he cums right after you. The only sounds were yalls heavy breaths, “You okay sweetheart?” You nod as Wooyoung pulls out of you. Wooyoung sits back and watches the cum drip out of you.

You have your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath, as you feel Wooyoung’s fingers dip down to take some of the cum that was dripping out of you.

He brings his fingers to your mouth and you immediately open it so he can place his two fingers on your tongue.

When Wooyoung takes his fingers from your mouth he kisses you gently, “Sorry… I should’ve let you do it properly.” You shake your head with a smile, “it’s alright, I prefer it like this anyway.”

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 6

Alright, we’re swapping out the drama for some fluff this part. Alsooo idk if y’all are gonna hate or love me after the end of this one, BUT LET’S FIND OUT. 

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 6/26

Pairing: Adam Page x OFC and Kenny Omega x OFC

Warnings: Alcohol use, language

Word Count: 2.1k

Catch up on previous parts here.

Callie marched to the bar, her empty glass in hand. She needed another drink, stat.

She’d had it with Kenny’s bullshit. They’d never been the best of friends; even before everything with Alex had blown up, she’d always felt like he only tolerated her because she was with Adam. But now? Now it seemed like he wasn’t even trying to hide his disdain, and that didn’t sit well with her. Not with her match against Alex in less than a week.

A loud, obnoxious burst of laughter sounded from across the room, drawing Callie from her thoughts. She looked toward the lounge area; Alex and Kris were playing a game of pool against Cash and Dax, and Kris was laughing as Alex tried to distract Cash from making his shot by leaning suggestively over the table. Callie rolled her eyes. Next Wednesday couldn’t come fast enough.

“Hey, baby.”

Adam came up behind her and placed a hand on the small of her back. She smiled up at him, his touch instantly soothing her. At least they weren’t fighting tonight. “Hey, cowboy.”

“I saw you talking with Kenny,” he said. “Is everything alright?”

Her smile faded. Maybe she’d thought too soon. “Yeah, we were just talking about the match,” she said, trying to brush it off. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “What’s up with you?”

He pulled her closer and nodded toward the terrace. “Come outside with me. I think we could use some alone time.”

She smirked up at him. “Okay. Let me just get another drink.”

The bartender fixed Callie another cocktail and Adam took her hand and led her outside onto the terrace. They moved to a spot that gave them some privacy away from the party. Callie gave him a curious look as they sat down. “What brought this on?”

“I just thought we could talk,” he said. “We haven’t been doing much of that lately.”

Callie frowned when he said that. “Yeah; you’re right,” she regretfully admitted. “Is there something on your mind?”

Adam’s eyebrows arched. “A lot, actually,” he answered with a rueful grin. “But I just think we need to clear the air. Things have been tense between us lately, and I don’t like fighting with you, Cal. I want us to be good again.”

He paused and looked down into his nearly empty glass of whiskey. Callie reached over and took his hand again, interlacing their fingers together. Telling him without words that he could tell her anything. So he did.

“I know this whole situation with Alex has been getting to you, and I know you’re worried that Kenny and I won’t be entirely in your corner next week. And honestly, I can’t speak for Kenny. But I want you to know that I have your back one hundred percent. Okay?”

He looked back at her with those blue eyes of his, and there was no possible way that Callie couldn’t believe him. She felt terrible for ever doubting him in the first place. “I know you will,” she assured. “But if we’re being honest… I honestly don’t think I want Kenny at ringside next week.”

Adam cocked his head at her. “Why not?”

She let out a sigh. “Britt told me that he and Alex used to be… involved. And after everything that’s gone on, I just don’t think I trust him not to interfere.”

Suddenly, Adam tensed. He shifted in his seat. Callie sent him a questioning look. “What?”

He sighed. “Well. There’s something I need to tell you. It’s kind of the reason I wanted to talk.”

Her face fell. But he went on before she could ask.

“In the interest of being honest, a long time ago… Alex and I got drunk and made out.”

Callie’s grip on his hand loosened. “What?”

He couldn’t defend himself fast enough. “That’s all that happened, and it meant absolutely nothing, Callie, I promise. But I felt like I needed to get it out in the open in order for us to move forward.”

For a long, tense moment, Callie didn’t say anything. She was equal parts shocked, angry, and jealous. All this time he’d sworn up and down that he and Alex were absolutely nothing but friends, and the entire time he’d been harboring this secret? She looked back at him, ready to give him a piece of her mind; but when she saw the look on his face, she stopped short. She could tell from the remorse in his eyes that he’d meant every word. “Well, I wish you hadn’t waited to tell me until now… while drunk Alex is inside trying her hardest to sleep with Cash…” she muttered. “But I’m glad you told me. Really.”

“Of course,” he said. “But trust me—that’s not Alex trying her hardest.”

He was smirking. But Callie wasn’t amused. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about what she did with you? Because it doesn’t.”

He let out a laugh. “I’m sorry. That probably wasn’t the best thing to say.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no shit,” she muttered; but Adam squeezed her hand tighter.

“I don’t want there to be secrets between us, Callie,” he said. “I love you—only you.”

She looked back into his eyes, and once again, Callie felt all her anger and jealousy disappear. Without saying a word, she moved closer and tucked herself underneath his arm. And as hugged her against him, she felt more secure in their relationship than she had in a long time.

* * * * * * * * * *

As the night wore on the party dwindled down and people started to filter out. Trent, James, and Kris had already taken an Uber back to the hotel, but Alex and Chuck had stayed behind; Alex because Mariposa didn’t want the party to end, and Chuck because he was worried what Mariposa might make Alex do. Needless to say, he was relieved when she said goodbye to Cash with little more than a lingering hug.

“Alright, I think it’s time to get you to bed,” Chuck said. Alex grinned up at him.

“How forward of you, Chuckie.”

He rolled his eyes; but she didn’t miss the nervous way the corner of his mouth quirked up. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” she relented. “And you’re right. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“Alright,” he said. “Wait here; I gotta step outside to get the Uber. I don’t get any signal in here.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and jogged out to the terrace. Alex watched him go around the corner of the building before she turned and started toward the bar, intending to get some water; but she stopped short. Kenny was sitting alone in the corner, scrolling through his phone. She thought he’d left hours ago.

She fidgeted, wondering if she should say something. But before she could decide, he looked up and spotted her. “Alex. Hey.”

“Hey,” she echoed. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

He shrugged as he put down his phone. “I wanted to stay and make sure no one did anything stupid.”

An awkward laugh escaped her. “Probably a good idea,” she said.

There was a pregnant pause, neither of them sure what to say next. But then Kenny beckoned her over. “Come sit.”

Alex nervously bit her lip; but she quieted her uncertainty and walked over. She caught the scent of his cologne as she sat down next to him. It smelled just as good as she remembered.

“So,” he started. “I’m glad you and Callie didn’t try to kill each other tonight.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m done worrying about her bullshit,” she returned. “We have the match next week. That’s all I care about.”

Kenny’s knee brushed against hers as he sat back. Neither of them moved. “Speaking of the match, Callie seems to think I’m going to interfere on your behalf.”

Her brow furrowed as she shot him a look. “What? When did she tell you that?”

“Tonight. But I honestly don’t care. She can believe what she wants.”

Alex looked down at their touching knees. Had she been sober, she probably wouldn’t have asked her next question. But she wasn’t sober—and she wanted to know. “Would you do that?”

Kenny looked over at her. “If things get out of hand… yeah. I would.”

She bit her lip again. Part of her was flattered; but a bigger part of her was annoyed. “I appreciate the concern, Kenny. But I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I know you don’t.”

“Then why do you constantly insist on doing it?”

“Because I care about you, Alex.”

His eyes met hers, and Alex’s breath caught in her throat. She’d forgotten how blue they were—but she hadn’t forgotten the way it made her feel when he looked at her like that. She’d been burying that feeling for a year. But right now, it was impossible to ignore.

He leaned closer. “I care about what happens to you. I care about if you’re happy, or if you’re hurt, or if you’re frustrated. And yeah, I’d care if you were sleeping with someone else. I wanted to kill Cash tonight.”

Alex tilted her face toward his. Maybe her body was only reacting the way it was because of the alcohol, but she didn’t care. She wanted to feel him. “What else do you want to do?”

He glanced at her lips. “I really want to kiss you.”

She inched closer. “Then do it.”

The air was so charged that it felt like they’d get shocked if they touched. But just when Alex thought Kenny would close the space between them, he turned away. “Not like this.”

She pulled back. “Why not?”

“Because.” He reached up and pushed her hair out of her face; she leaned into his touch. “You’re drunk, baby. If you still feel this way tomorrow—and I sincerely hope you do—then we’ll talk.”

She pouted. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, it was probably for the best. “Fine.”

He smiled softly at her. “How about I give you a ride back to the hotel?”

Alex sobered up a bit then. Chuck—she’d forgotten all about him and the Uber. She looked around, but she didn’t see him anywhere. Maybe he was still outside.

“What’s wrong?” Kenny asked.

“Nothing,” she returned. “Let me just go tell Chuck and we can go.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “I’ll wait here.”

Alex stood and moved toward the terrace, nerves tightening her stomach. It was terrible; she already felt guilty for ditching Chuck for Kenny. But she wanted to go with him. She knew she’d regret it if she didn’t.

She pulled the door open and stepped outside just as Chuck rounded the corner of the building. He let out an apologetic huff when he saw her. “Sorry. Fucking James called just as I was trying to get the Uber to ask if we could get him McDonald’s on the way back, and then Trent got on the line wanting to know if you’d left with Cash and he gave me a bunch of shit and yeah. It’s not important. The car’s almost here so we should get our stuff.”

He started to head back inside, but Alex cut him off. She took a deep breath—and then she blurted it out. “Actually, I’m getting a ride with Kenny. Please don’t judge or hate me.”

 Chuck paused, surprised. But if he was upset, she couldn’t tell. His expression didn’t give anything away. “I would never judge or hate you, Alex,” he said. “But are you sure? Did you make this decision or did Mariposa?”

She rolled her eyes. “I did,” she returned. “And yes. I’m sure.”

He ran a hand through his hair as he looked back inside. “Okay,” he breathed. “Just use protection, alright?”

Alex’s cheeks unexpectedly flushed. “Oh my God, I’m not gonna sleep with him; he’s just giving me a ride,” she said. But Chuck didn’t say anything in return; he looked like he was somewhere else. Her brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

He snapped back to attention and shook his head. “No. Go ahead—I’ll see you back at the hotel.”

A frown pulled at Alex’s lips. But she nodded. “Okay,” she said. She offered a parting smile and turned to head back inside. And as Chuck watched her disappear through the door, he wished he would have asked her not to go.

[xhaotixaesthetica]

Cruel Ink

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator 

READ THE TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains mentions and descriptions of abusive relationships, ownership of significant others, threats, violence, and death. The behaviors and relationships depicted below are abusive and unhealthy. These are not examples of healthy relationships, it’s actually the opposite. This is meant to imagine the members of Ateez in a popular anime trope and it in no way represents their real-life personalities and characters. Real-life ATEEZ are actually known for being some of the kindest, most respectful idols in the industry. It’s fiction, it’s for fun, PLEASE DON’T READ IT IF YOU KNOW YOU WON’T LIKE IT OR THIS KIND OF STUFF DISTURBS YOU! 

Author’s Note: @zafira-profundis​ I’m really sorry about how long it took me to get to this. I hope you don’t mind that I made the reader a hybrid in this scenario, I just thought it would really fit for some reason. I don’t think it really hinders with anything else in your request. I have no clue why I keep putting yandere san and yandere hongjoong in these dystopian settings, but I think it really fits them for some reason. It was a very interesting request and I had a lot of fun writing it, just like your last one. Your prompts really make me go out of my comfort zone and spread my writing wings haha. With this one, I’m not quite sure I met the expectations I set for this imagine, but I still hope you like it. Best wishes to you, hope you enjoy the writing, and come back to request again!

Genre: angst??? Idk, this ended up having a very strange vibe to it to me, it’s not nearly as emotional as property of the pirate king

Word-Count: 1.8K+

You are in: The Amalgam Star System 

The first time you met Kim Hongjoong was when your owner, San, went to his tattoo shop for a consultation.

Most owners would leave their hybrids home for such affairs, but you had long since learned that San was far from most owners.

In another world, Hongjoong probably wouldn’t have made such an intimidating figure. After all, he wasn’t that tall nor that broad. Maybe if his hair was a natural color and he wore pastels and went to college and studied like all the other kids his age and he didn’t have that predatory look in his eye and authority in his voice, you would mistake him for being normal, for someone you could be friends with.

But this wasn’t the case. Because Hongjoong’s hair was a bright cold silver and the long silver rattail braids that hung from his head would have been out of place on anyone else but somehow he seemed to make it work. He had countless piercings in his ears, one in his eyebrow, and a flash of silver whenever he spoke told you that there was most likely one in his tongue as well. He wore custom clothes that he decorated with his own drawings, beautiful but haunting and somehow, at the ripe age of twenty-one, he was already a celebrated tattoo artist in the area.

San had let you see Hongjoong’s portfolio online when he was debating having him do his tattoo. You could see why he was so widely sought after. But there seemed to be something sinister that radiated from every line he drew, something that made you hiss, the fur on your tail standing up straight in alarm.

“And who’s this little kitten?” Hongjoong says, giving you a friendly smile, something dark and murky lurking in his black eyes that made you half-hide behind San.

San smiled proudly, petting your fluffy ears and saying, “This is Y/N. They’re a ragdoll-Persian mix. Say hi, Y/n.”

You looked at Hongjoong who rose an eyebrow.

“Hello,” you mumbled before immediately diverting your gaze downward.

Hongjoong chuckled. “They’re adorable.”

San was in a good mood today, hyper and friendly, easily distracted. He was completely oblivious to the way Hongjoong kept looking at you throughout the consultation.

The way he would lick his lips, eyes raking over your frame, your ears twitching toward every little sound you heard, your large fluffy tail curled around you protectively. He was like a starving man, and you a five-course meal, the only thing that could quench his hunger after so long being empty.

“How long have you had them?” Hongjoong asked lightly at the end of the consultation. His assistant was busy booking San into Hongjoong’s schedule next week and San was busy staring at you, holding you so tight to his side that you could barely breathe, petting your ears so roughly that you could barely tolerate it.

He was like a child, the lack of empathy in their small brains preventing them from seeing how rough they were treating the pretty pet they liked to play with.

But you didn’t dare say anything to him, you’d learned to stay silent a long time ago.

“Around 2,047 days, why?”

The assistant looked at San a bit startled, but Hongjoong said nothing, just smiled and chuckled. “You two seem very close,” he said.

You didn’t think that explained at all why he seemed to be so interested in you, but you said nothing as San nuzzled his face into your ears and hair. “Closer than glue,” he chirped.

As Hongjoong watched the two of you walk out of the shop, he knew he had to have you.

He’d never been interested in a hybrid before, never really been interested in any sort of companionship, no matter the species. But something about you he had to have. He had never seen anything more beautiful, more admirable, than his client’s little kitty.

Soon to be his kitty.

“His name is Choi San, the hybrid’s name is Y/N. This is his address and phone number. That should be enough to start them on the right path if they’re as good as you say they are. Tell them to find out whatever they can in a week. I want them with me within a week after his appointment at the latest.”

Seonghwa nodded, his face cold and expressionless as it always was as he took the slip of paper Hongjoong handed him.

The silver-haired man watched his friend’s limo pull off into the purple haze of the setting sun.

His chest swelled with excitement and a sense of cruel satisfaction as he glanced at the sketch that would be adorning San’s body in the next week.

He would make sure that he’d only have you after he did the tattoo.

He wanted San to have that reminder of you for the rest of his life. Wanted him to know that it was the man he trusted with his own skin that took his precious kitty.

When Hongjoong next saw San, the normally cheery boy had a frown on his face the entire time he was getting his tattoo.

You were nowhere in sight.

Despite craving to see you again after going so long without looking at what would soon be his prized possession, Hongjoong couldn’t help but smirk when he saw San walk into the tattoo parlor by himself.

He was just making this entirely too easy for Hongjoong.

San was too distraught to notice Hongjoong slip his phone out and send a quick text before they got started.

For someone with the reputation San had, Hongjoong found the man to be absurdly trusting.

He told Hongjoong all about his terrible week, how he’d been fired from his job, how there was an investigation pending against him for several work and personal related charges, how one of his rental properties had been destroyed in a fire, how his car had broken down.

Never before in his life had things gone so wrong in such a short span of time.

And, of course, San had the money to fix these things instantly, but it was more the fact that things were going wrong in the first place that was causing him such distress.

San didn’t like things going wrong.

“All done,” Hongjoong said with a smile.

It was beautiful, a depiction of San’s precious kitten on his left bicep that almost compared to the beauty of the real thing.

“It’s great, Hongjoong, wow, you really are talented,” San beamed.

Hongjoong said nothing, just stared at San as he skipped up to the cashier to pay.

For once in the week, something seemed to be going right.

“Do you have another card, sir?” the cashier asked, frowning. “This one’s being declined for insufficient funds.”

“What?” San yelped.

He had two other black cards and the cashier tried them each three times. Declined every single time.

Furious, San just took out a wad full of cash and threw it onto the counter, ignoring the cashier’s calls for him to wait for his receipt as he stomped out of the tattoo parlor, already on the phone yelling to the bank.

The final straw came that very same night.

“You’re looking like the cat that ate the canary,” Seonghwa drawled after a mouthful of steak.

Hongjoong smirked from across the table at his friend, raising his phone and flipping it around to show him.

It was a video, some sort of CCTV footage it seemed.

You were in a shelter, beaten, bruised, half-alive.

It was a gruesome, stomach-churning sight and Seonghwa just rose a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“A break-in,” Hongjoong said simply, taking the phone back and sliding it into his pocket as he continued to eat. “On the day when he came for his tattoo. When he got home, the culprits were still there. Mysterious enemies from a shady underground life full of law-breaking.”

Hongjoong took a sip of his scotch and smirked. “So sad that he was taken into custody, leaving poor little Y/N all alone.”

Seonghwa gave a mirthless chuckle, the whole situation seeming to be quite amusing to him.

“You’re evil,” he said.

“Not evil,” Hongjoong replied as he wiped his mouth and pulled out his wallet, tossing the cash for his meal onto the table and standing. “Just determined.”

Seonghwa was still laughing as Hongjoong left the restaurant, already knowing the location of your shelter by heart.

He was in no rush.

The staff knew very well that there was only one person permitted to adopt you and they would pay dearly if the tried to stand in the way of Hongjoong and his new trophy.

Your entire body ached as you lay on the oversized dog bed that was standard for all hybrids at an orphanage.

It was cramped but better than catching pneumonia from the freezing concrete floor.

The thin blanket did nothing to stop your shivers which was unfortunate because every movement was agony.

You should be used to it.

San would go into regular fits of rage and this was not the first beating you had received.

But the beating combined with the stress of being ripped away from your home and owner and tossed into a shelter, unsure of your fate once again, was starting to weigh heavily on you now that the initial days of shock were over with.

You weren’t particularly attached to San or your home with him, it was rare for hybrids to come across owners that it was worth getting attached to at all. But at least with San you knew what to expect.

At least there you had relative stability.

“This is the nearest veterinarian,” you heard a soft, feminine voice speak, floating in and out of your head as you began to lose consciousness for the pain. No one wasted money on pain-killers for a hybrid without an owner.

“We can have them come here, or to your residence to tend to them. You could, of course, drive to the vet and have them take care of Y/N there, but with all they’ve been through recently, I wouldn’t advise it.”

Your eyes widened when you heard your name.

Sound became hard to decipher and the conversation sounded like it was occurring underwater, but you could at least make out the sound of your enclosure opening.

And you immediately know the face of the man who was crouching in front of you, about to claim you for his own.

“Hello, kitten. Miss me?”

As you looked at his pretty face, shining silver hair, and deep sinister eyes, you knew there was no hope. 

The Amalgam Star System 

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator 

[mermaidxatxheart]

Some Rules are Never Meant to be Broken Part III

Part I | Part II

Pairing: Paramedic!Bucky X Reader

Warnings: Some language probably, nothing too crazy, the feeling of being watched. IDK. This is kind of a mild chapter.

Word Count: 7143

Summary:  The reader is a Muse living life as a tour guide at a museum. Bucky is struggling with returning home from war and adjusting to civilian life. He used to be a paramedic and now works security, but what he really misses from his pre-war life is his ability to draw. Cue the reader, determined to do her job and get him back to a point where he can do what he loves most. But, spending that much time with anyone always leads to romantic feelings, which is against her laws. Will she be able to resist Bucky long enough to help him and not get her in serious trouble?

A/N: I haven’t forgotten about this story at all. I’m just terrible and my brain simply can’t stop coming up with new ideas. Also, work has been sucking my soul dry. But I’ve finally reached a point, I feel like, where it’s a full chapter. It might not be the most exciting chapter, but I enjoy it, and I hope everyone else does, too. Mood board below was made by the ever amazing @captainsteveevans​ I can’t stop staring at this thing, it’s so gorgeous!! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. If you do, comment or send me a message. They’re some of my favorite things and I can’t stop smiling when I see them.

(Look at it^^^ I’m in love!)

Between school field trips and tourists in town for the holiday weekend, the museum had never been busier. You had given six tours and it was barely two. 

 You miss Bucky. It had been three days since you’ve seen him and you’ve hated every second, especially since he left you so flustered at not being kissed.

 What a tease.

 “Y/N, there is a man in the Greek wing that would like to speak to the expert. I told him you would be happy to talk to him. He’s very charming.”

 Bucky!

 “Alright. I’ll head over there right now.” you try to stop the ridiculous grin trying to pull at your lips. 

 You step into the hall and look around, expecting to see Bucky’s muscular frame. It wasn’t crowded in the exhibit at the moment, a few families milling about, but he was nowhere in sight and you feel a sinking feeling in your stomach. 

 He’s not here after all.

 Nothing feels worse than getting your hopes up and then feeling them fall to the floor.

 “Excuse me, you are the expert in this area?” a man asks, coming up to you. You quickly fix your face into a pleasant smile. He’s average height, shorter than Bucky, but a few inches taller than you. His whole appearance is immaculate, suit crisply pressed, dress shoes polished and buffed, his hair is styled professionally-not a thing out of place. His skin is flawless, not a freckle, blemish or mark of any kind. Perfect in every way, it’s almost unreal. 

 “Yes, you were looking for me?” you reply, holding out your hand. 

 He shakes it, his hand is soft in yours and after getting used to Bucky’s calloused one, it’s a strange sensation. 

 “Yes. My name is Doctor Feldman. I was hoping I could pick your brain about an exhibit I’m putting together.” He has an accent, it’s familiar but something you can’t place. It’s not anything that you’ve heard in the last fifty years. Maybe you’re just too out of touch with the rest of the world. 

 “Absolutely.” 

 He releases your hand finally and pulls out a portfolio from his briefcase. It matches his shoes, right down to the embellished stitching. An unfamiliar sensation fills your stomach. 

 “This is the space that I have to fill.” he hands you a photograph. The space is large and your mind starts racing about all the things you could fit in there, so many statues of yourself.

 “Quite impressive.” you say, taking the photo from him, trying to avoid skin contact. 

 “Thank you. I was wondering, how would someone like yourself go about filling such a space with history?”

 “Oh, there are many ways.”

 He hands you more pictures of the artifacts to go inside and you’re able to easily recognize them. 

 “You could easily just set it up the Greeks on one side, Romans on the other, but I find that style quite boring.” you flip through a few more pictures, an idea forming in your head. 

 “Or, you could do an interactive style, in which you start with the oldest artifacts, and as history progresses you move through to the point where Rome invaded and then you could split it into two directions.”

 “I rather like that idea.” he says, taking the pictures back. 

 “I’m glad I could be of help.” 

 “I may come back to pick your brain once or twice more.” he tells you, shaking your hand again. “You have such wonderful ideas.” 

 A chill creeps up your spine as he smiles at you. Something is very off about him, something you can’t quite place. You want to tell him to find another expert, that you can’t help him anymore. You open your mouth to speak, but he releases your hand. 

 “Have a good day.” he bids before walking away. 

 Your face flushes in annoyance that he cut you off like that. You make a face at his back, wishing that your powers extended to anything more than just inspiring people. That wasn’t exactly great for defending yourself. 

 You find, not for the first time, that you’re missing Bucky. 

 Rubbing the mark on the back of your neck, you walk back to your desk, counting the minutes until, hopefully, Bucky shows up at five. 

 As it turns out, five o’clock passed about twenty minutes ago and he never showed up. And you’re miserable for it. You wait to leave, thinking... hoping that he was just stuck in traffic or left the office late.

 But as five-thirty passes, you’re forced to admit he’s not coming. Again. You retrieve your things and head out into the night air. Autumn is falling fast upon the city and the air is getting colder. 

 You wrap your coat tighter around you as you make your way home. You first notice something off in the subway car. It feels like eyes on you. You’ve volunteered for art classes over the years, students studying your body, learning how to draw, countless eyes focused on you. You’re intimately familiar with the feeling of being watched, of being watched with intent. 

 Subtly, you look around the car, trying to take in all the faces of the strangers around you. There are so damn many of them, it’s nearly impossible to remember. You shift your bag higher onto your shoulder, trying to ignore the feeling crawling along your skin. It’s a city with 8 million people. They have to look somewhere, so why not at a beautiful woman on a train. 

 The doors creak open, rocking the car slightly and you exit, making your way home.  Once inside the door, you drop off your bag, pulling out your phone and finding Bucky’s number. Your finger hovers over the call button, an internal battle between wanting to hear his voice, and not wanting to look like an idiot. Your thumb twitches, pressing the call button on accident. 

 Shit.

 Bucky

 “Stark, how long does it take to update? You’ve had it for three days.” Bucky sighs, leaning against one of the many lab benches. 

 “It takes as long as it takes, Barnes. You can’t rush science.” he gives a small shrug. “Also, consider me holding it hostage as payback for you breaking my very nice door.” 

 He groans in annoyance. Tony had physically removed his entire arm, claiming he needed it for a software update. What Bucky hadn’t realized was that it would take four days to do it.

 The door to the lab opens and Steve walks in like a man on a mission. “Tony, have you seen-” his eyes land on his best friend and Bucky gives a half-hearted wave with his one good hand. “Never mind. I found him.” Steve leans against the bench next to the dark-haired man.

 He’s uncomfortably silent but Bucky refuses to break first. Steve came in here looking for him, he can speak first. Bucky can feel his blue eyes on him as he studies his nails, trimmed short as usual. There’s nothing fascinating about them, maybe a little grease from working on the arm but it’s utterly boring and Bucky is rapidly running out of things to examine. 

 “You know it’s almost seven.” Steve announces finally. 

 Internally, he winces. Externally, he’s a stone, unmoving and unflinching. “Uh-huh.” 

 “Are you going to see her? You’ve been here late every night this week, later than everyone else.” he nudges Bucky’s arm a little harder than is necessary. 

 “Her who?” Tony pipes up, glancing up from his laptop screen. 

 He glares at Steve. “Thanks for that. And no, I’m not going to see her.” he crosses his arm across his chest, the action falling flat without the second arm to complete it. As much as he hates the stupid thing, he feels lopsided without it. 

 “Bucky! Have you even been out of the building in the last three days?”

 “Would it even matter? I’m not seeing her.” he retorts. 

 “Still waiting over here. Who’s the ‘her’? And why won’t you go see her?” Tony interjects. 

 Bucky’s phone rings in his pocket and he’s forced to dig it out awkwardly. Tony grabs it from his hand, his reflexes not as quick as they should be. 

 “Who is... My Muse? Is that her? Should I answer for you? Hello, Bucky can’t come to the phone right now, he’s a little shorthanded.” he chuckles at his own terrible joke. 

 He rolls his eyes. “Don’t answer it, let it go to voice mail.”

 Tony’s thumb hovers over the screen and he glares at him. He sighs loudly. “Fine. But in return I get to hear all about her.” he declines the call and turns off Buck’s phone. “You can tell her I banned phones in the lab-it screws with the equipment.” he leans against the counter next to him. 

 “There’s not much to tell. I met her at a museum a couple weeks ago.” he shrugs unevenly. 

 “And has spent every day since with her.” Steve adds. 

 “Dude, who’s telling the story?”

 “You’re not doing it well. She’s crazy about him.”

 He sighs, annoyed. “You don’t know that. We barely know each other.” Bucky reasons, but deep down where he doesn’t have to admit it out loud, he likes the possibility of her liking him.

 “Man, no girl that hot is going to hang out with some guy every night for two weeks when she just likes him as a friend.”

 “Every night, huh? Sounds like love to me.” Tony interjects and he glares at Steve. “And you’re avoiding her now? Why?”

 “I’m not avoiding her.” he says hotly. “You said it yourself, it’s been every night for two weeks, we need a break.” even as he says the words, he hates how they taste. Lies and bullshit. He wants nothing more than to go see her right now, to bombard her with questions about her day and to feel her fingers on his.

 “I don’t buy it. Aside from the fact that you broke my door, this is the happiest I’ve ever seen you. And the most normal, at the very least.” 

 “Will you let the door thing go? Fury bought you an even better one. You came out on top with that.” he snaps. 

 He grins widely and looks at Steve. “Aww. He misses her.” he coos and Bucky wants nothing more at this moment than to smack him through his fancy new door. 

 Steven, the traitor, has the nerve to laugh. “I have to agree with Tony. I don’t buy it. There has to be another reason you’re hiding out here with Tony, of all people.”

 His arm beeps on the table and he perks up, looking at it. “Is it finally done?”

 “I don’t think so.” Tony gets up and goes to look. “Nope, that was just part one.” 

 He feels his eyes widen. “Part one?”

 “How many parts are there, Tony?” Steve asks, doing a better job of keeping his cool than Bucky is.

 “Just two, but they’re both big files. Your arm is completely outdated at this point as far as technology goes. I’d compare it to the first telephone. I need to figure out a way to update the entire software system. Otherwise, there’s nothing else I can do. I update this every month, and the updates are getting bigger and bigger. Soon, I’ll just be keeping your arm on this table just to update it.”

 He groans, pressing his fist to his eyes. “It’s going to take another three days to upload that file?”

 “Maybe, I won’t know until it’s done. It could be less, it could be more. Look, if you like this girl, just call her and tell her you’re sick. Don’t leave her hanging.” Tony says.

 He sighs, knowing he’s right. But Bucky also knows that she’ll want to come over and make sure he’s okay. 

 Tony walks towards the back of the lab and Steve turns to him. “Why won’t you call her?”

 “Just leave it alone.” he shifts uncomfortably and Steve’s eyes drop to Bucky’s arm on the table.

 “Please tell me this isn’t a pride thing.”

 “What? Don’t be ridiculous.” he rolls his eyes.

 “Oh my god, it is. Bucky-” Steve sighs, closing his mouth. “Are you going to call her?”

 “Not tonight.” he hedges, and Steve rolls his eyes.

 “Fine.” he claps him on the arm. “Good luck with the update.” Steve shakes his head but leaves the lab without another word.

 “Back in a tick.” Tony jogs after him. “Steve!”

 Steve

 Tony follows him into the hallway. “In all seriousness, if I can’t find a way to update his arm, he won’t have it for much longer.” 

 Steve sighs loudly and rubs his face. “Okay. I still have a few military contacts, I’ll put out some feelers. Maybe someone knows something that can help. Just... do what you can. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

 Tony steps back inside and Steve heads towards the building’s exit. He has a pretty good idea of where he needs to go, but Bucky is going to be pissed at him.

 Too damn bad, pal.

 The drive only takes about twenty minutes. But then it’s another fifteen to find the right building. He’s read so many little white name cards he’s starting to go cross-eyed. He presses the buzzer and sighs in relief when he hears her voice.

 “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”

 “How about a trip to SHIELD?” Steve replies. There’s a brief pause.

 “Steve?”

 “At your service.” He waits for what feels like five minutes but probably was only one.

 “Throw in a snack and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

 “Done.” He readily agrees. 

 A few minutes later the door opens and Y/N steps outside, shutting the door behind her. He expects a smile from her but when she turns around, her pretty face is anything but pleasant.

 “What’s the matter?” Steve asks worriedly.

 “Is he okay? What happened? I haven’t heard from him in days. He keeps ignoring my calls.” She rambles before suddenly freezing like a thought just occurred to her. Her face scrunches up. “He’s not... mad at me?” She asks it like it’s a completely foreign concept.

 Steve chuckles, holding up a hand to stop her. “He’s being an idiot, definitely, but it’s not over something you did.”

 “I don’t follow.” She starts, her tone uncertain.

 “You’ll see when we get there. Trust me, if he wasn’t so hard-headed, he would have come to see you.” He watches as she nods, but she still seems distracted by something. “Is there something else going on?”

 “I was hoping...” she shakes her head. “I’m just being stupid.”

 Steve opens the door to his truck for her before going around to his side. “If something’s wrong enough to bother you, it’s not stupid. You can tell me.”

 “This guy came into the museum today to ask for my help.” She starts, fiddling with her fingers. 

 “Was he rude? Offensive?”

 “No, perfectly polite. Professional. Shook my hand, thanked me for my help.” Her tone suggests that she knows how she sounds, but whatever it is about this guy, it’s not something obvious.

 “Y/N, I’m trying to understand, but I fail to see the problem. Unless you tell me what’s bothering you, there’s nothing I can really do.”

 “He was just... too nice? Too immaculate?”

 “Too perfect?” Steve adds, understanding, and she nods with a sigh.

 “It sounds so stupid but there was just something off about the whole thing.” She opens her mouth to say something else but shuts it again.

 Gut instincts are to be trusted for a reason. “What else?” He prompts. 

 “On the subway home, I felt uncomfortable, like someone was watching me.” She rubs her face in frustration. “I feel so stupid! I’m probably just overreacting.”

 “Look, you’re a smart woman. If you feel something is wrong, don’t brush it off. Be aware of everything around you. Trust your gut, we have these instincts for a reason. Give me the guy’s name. I’ll see what I can find on him. That way you can rest easy.” If it’s within his power, he’ll help keep her safe.

 “Thanks, Steve.” She smiles wide at him. “Can I ask another favor?”

 “Sure.”

 “Can we keep this between you and me? I don’t want to freak Bucky out if it’s nothing and I’m just being paranoid.”

 Steve considers the request for a moment. There’s no harm in getting all the facts together. If it turns out it really is nothing, then Bucky will worry and stress for no reason. He’s finally starting to heal and be better. “Sure, but the second we find out anything other than you’re just paranoid, I tell him. He’ll be the best one to keep you safe if anything happens.”

 “That’s fair.” She agrees and he’s content with the arrangement. Bucky will understand why they kept it from him at first, he may not be happy with it but he’ll understand. 

 Now, bringing her to SHIELD, on the other hand, dangerous. Bucky won’t be happy at all, he may even inflict some bodily harm on Steve. But it’s a risk he’s willing to take; she deserves to know what’s going on. And whether Bucky wants to admit it or not, having her there will be good for him. Steve already thinks of her fondly because of how much she means to Bucky, and how much she’s helped him already.

 He pulls into his parking space and they both climb out, heading for the front door.

 “So, what’s the protocol here? They’re not going to take blood samples are they?” She asks and Steve grins.

 “Not a fan of needles?”

 “Something like that.”

 “Nah, nothing too invasive. We just have to take a tissue sample, run a background check, run your fingerprints.” Steve shrugs casually, watching her reaction out of the corner of his eye.

 She doesn’t disappoint. Stopping, she turns fully to stare at him. “I’d hate to see your version of invasive.” She says and he laughs.

 “Just sign in and get your visitor badge.” He gestures to the marble-topped desk where a guest book is laying open. She picks up the pen and signs it quickly, her elegant script standing out among all the others. She clips the visitor’s badge to her shirt as Steve leads her over to the elevators.

 It’s silent for a minute as the car rides up. Then a thought occurs to Steve. “I should probably warn you; Bucky isn’t going to be happy.”

 She looks up at him. “Because you’re bringing me? I thought you said-”

 “He wants to see you, I can see it in his face, but he’s being a prideful bastard. Tony... well, Tony has his arm.”

 “Has his arm?” She repeats, her pretty face going blank. “The whole thing?”

 “No, just part of it.” He replies sarcastically. “Yes, the whole thing. And Bucky is being...” he glances at her. “Well, he’s being a man about it, letting his ego get in the way. Just, something to keep in mind when you see him.” 

 Y/N nods and falls silent. Steve can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking about, however, before he has time to ask-the doors open.

 “This way.” He leads her out and down the hall to the lab. He holds the door open for her and she steps inside and stops dead. Steve touches her arm gently. “He’s over here.” 

 ***

 You don’t know what you were expecting when you walked into the room, but the sheer number of high-tech machines surprises you into stopping in your tracks. You can feel Steve behind you as he nearly walks into you. 

 He lightly presses his fingers to your arm. “He’s over here.” He says quietly, leading you around a corner of sorts. 

 Bucky is leaning against a metal counter, head hanging as his flesh arm is braced against the counter behind him. Somehow, he seems less bulky with only one arm. The other one is laying on a table hooked up to cords. He definitely seems a little more vulnerable without it, you can easily see why he doesn’t want you around. 

 You had a scathing comment all ready to fire at him for being so stupid but seeing him now, you realize that wouldn’t help. You swallow it down and take a step forward.

 “So, this is where you’ve been hiding for three days.” You say and his head snaps up fast.

 “What the fuck are you doing here?” He snaps and you try not to feel offended.

 “Steve brought me.” You take another step forward, looking around at the machines, an idea forming, maybe part of an answer to his problem. “I have to say, if you’re going to avoid me, this is a good place to do it. I would hide out here, too.” You don’t miss the way his eyes slide over to his best friend behind you, hardening into ice.

 “Steve.”

 “You were being ridiculous. I had to do something. And she’s here now, so... you know... you’re welcome.”

 Bucky’s eyes get wide and you can’t help but chuckle a little.

 “Probably not the best lead, Steve.” You tell him, taking another step towards Bucky. His eyes move back to you and you still see the anger there, but there’s something else. It takes you a minute to place it because you’ve never seen it on him before, fear. 

 “Where’s Tony?” Steve asks, looking around.

 “I may have threatened to rip his arms off so he may be hiding.” Bucky admits. 

 You break into a grin. “That wasn’t very nice, was it?” You take the last few steps and lean against the table next to him before he can move. 

 “He deserves it. After you left, he kept harping on me and I got annoyed.”

 You lean your head against his shoulder, getting comfortable. “Will I get to meet him?”

 “I guess. If you want to.” Bucky sighs, his arm tightening around your shoulders. 

 “Barnes! Are you calm now? Or do I have to call your boyfriend?” A voice calls from the back of the lab. 

 “Why don’t you come find out, Stark?” He calls back, his voice vibrates through you. 

 “Will you at least text your girl? You can blame it on me and tell her I banned phones in the lab.”

 “You mentioned that already.” Bucky replies with a grin down at you.

 “That’s what you were gonna tell me?” You ask incredulously. Raising your voice, you continue, “you know no one actually believes that, right?”

 “Why do you think I didn’t actually say it? I’m not out to insult you.”

 “Who’s that? Is that her?” Footsteps hurry forward.

 “So, I might have an idea.” You whisper to Bucky. He looks down at you curiously as a man appears in the doorway.

 “Wow, Barnes, I’m impressed. Hello, I’m Tony.” He offers his hand, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

 “Nice to meet you, finally.”

 “Has he been bragging about me? He has a man-crush on me.”

 You snort. “Not exactly. I have a question. Do you make your own computer chips here?”

 Tony opens his mouth to reply, but then shuts it, tilting his head curiously. “Why?”

 “Well, I’m just wondering why you haven’t made newly updated chips for his arm.”

 “They wouldn’t be compatible.”

 “Why not? Because of the attachment heads? That’s an easy fix. With everything in this lab, you can make anything.”

 “Well...”

 “Bucky, can I see the inside of your arm? I didn’t get a super good look last time.” You ask and he nods, an unspoken question on his face. You can feel Steve’s eyes on you as Bucky steps forward and unlatches his panels.

 You pluck the flashlight out of Tony’s hand and aim it into the arm cavity. There you spot a row of microchips nestled into a bar of receivers. You pull one of the magnifiers in front of you to blow up the bar. You study it for a minute, getting a feel for the technology.

 “Is this Russian made?” You ask, nudging some wires around.

 “How on earth can you tell that?” Tony asks. 

 “It’s obvious, really.” You stand up and snap off the flashlight. “Where do you build your chips?” You look at Tony.

 He leads you to a workbench towards the back. “We don’t have any compatible.”

 “Tony, Tony, Tony. Have a little faith, will you? Also, do you have a computer with all of his information on it? I’ll need that, too.” You scoot out the stool and sit. 

 “What are you going to do?” Steve asks, stepping up next to you.

 “I’m going to help.” You answer obviously.

 Tony comes back and sets a laptop next to you before moving away again. He starts gathering up some supplies as you begin to pull the tools you would need towards you.

 “Bucky? Hand me those glasses right there.” You point up to the safety glasses on the wall above you.

 “You’re making me nervous.” He mumbles, grabbing them and placing them gently in your outstretched hand. 

 You catch his hand and pull it to your mouth. “No need to be nervous.” You smile and press a kiss to the back of his hand before letting it go. Tony brings back over the boxes of pieces you would need. 

 You start assembling the first chip, not pausing to really think about it, just letting the pieces fall into place. Once you’re satisfied that you have everything you need on there, you set the tools down to let it cool. 

 Stretching your back as you straighten up, it cracks loudly. You glance around and realize you’ve been lost in your own head for a long time, a lot longer than you realized. Tony has gone off to work on something else, and Steve and Bucky are talking back in the room with his arm. 

 You tilt your head from left to right, cracking it before pulling the laptop to you. Searching through the different programs that make his arm work as a whole, you find the one that controls basic function. 

 You scroll agonizingly slow through the millions of code lines, adding what you can to improve the quality. It takes you forever. The lines are tiny and your eyes are ready to fall out. You sit back for a minute, closing your eyes and pressing the heels of your hands into them. 

 “You doing okay?” Steve asks, his hands coming to rest on the back of your shoulders.

 “Yeah. It’s a lot of code. It won’t be perfect, I’m not as familiar with this kind and it should probably be rewritten better, but I’m not that good.”

 “Well, how much do you have left?”

 “About six hundred and fifty pages, give or take.” You answer off-handedly.

 “Oh, shit.” 

 “Yeah, where did Bucky go?” You ask, looking around. 

 “To make some coffee.”

 “Oh good, I’m gonna need it.”

 “So, bad news. We’re out of coffee.” Bucky says, coming back and draping his arm around your shoulders.

 You tip your head back and look up at him. “How can you be out of coffee?”

 “Either that or someone moved it. Which would just be dumb.”

 “Well, with the amount of code that I have to correct, there’s no way that I can keep going without any.” You sigh and rub your face. “I can’t even fix it all.”

 “Who can?” Steve asks.

 “Super geniuses?” You reply sarcastically, then you have a serious, actually helpful thought. “Well, I’ve heard of this girl, crazy inventor good. She might be able to help if we bribe her with something good. But, she lives...pretty far.”

 “How far?” Bucky asks. 

 “Africa, Western Africa.”

 “Well, I better make some calls.” Steve says matter-of-factly. 

 “If you can get her here, I think she and I can fix this.” You tell Steve and he nods.

 “Then it doesn’t look like you can do any more tonight. Bucky, why don’t you take her home? You can come work on this tomorrow, Y/N.”

 “You sure?” You ask.

 “Yeah. Go home, get some rest.” Steve nods.

 Bucky steps back and holds out his hand for you. 

 “Are you sure you’re okay to leave?” You ask Bucky. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

 “I think I’ll survive.” He smiles and you slide off the chair to follow him. 

 “Goodnight, Steve.” You say and he kisses your cheek. “Bye, Tony!” You call as Bucky pulls you towards the door. 

 He’s silent on the elevator ride down to the lobby, across the wide-open space and outside. He’s walking slowly so you can keep up with him, but still silent. 

 “Are you mad that I came tonight?” You ask quietly. 

 He looks down at you, surprised. “Why would you ask that?”

 “Because now you’re not speaking.”

 “I’m just thinking. Definitely not mad at you.” He pulls you tight against his side. “Are you kidding? You were the best part of the last three days.”

 “I can’t believe you thought I would care about your arm.” 

 “I don’t have a decent response to that, so I’m just gonna shut up.”

 “Probably a good call.”

 “So, how forward would it be if I showed up tomorrow to walk you to work?”

 “It would be worse for you if you didn’t. Trust me.” You grin, poking his side. 

 A cold shiver trickles down your spine and you stop dead, looking around. You’re definitely being watched. You glance up to the windows on the side of the building but no one is looking out of them.

 “What’s the matter?” Bucky asks. 

 You want to tell him but there’s just so many benign explanations that you still don’t want to worry him over nothing. 

 “So, does this mean we can have dinner at your place now?” You ask, tilting your head to look up at him as you continue walking. 

 “Yes. I will pick you up from work, and then we can finally have dinner.”

 “Excellent.” 

 You walk in silence for a while, his arm wrapped around you and you couldn’t be happier. The implications of your happiness aren’t lost on you, you know what will happen if you fall in love but as long as he’s your favored, you can claim it’s all an act, that this is what he needed to get going again.

 But you know the truth.

 And it scares the Tartarus out of you.

 He walks you up to your apartment, hesitating outside your door again. If he leaves you a second time without a kiss, you’re going to throttle him.

 “You’re coming tomorrow morning, right?” You ask, tilting your head to look up at him. 

 “I’ll be here.” He promises, taking your hand gently. You lift it to his face, cupping his cheek softly. He lowers his face to yours and you meet him the rest of the way, capturing his lips with yours. Your skin prickles, nerves coming alive as he kisses you, backing you into your door slightly. Your fingers slide into his hair, curling into the strands and scraping against his scalp. 

 He pulls away breathlessly, his eyes unfocused. “I should go.” He mumbles. 

 You nod, hating to watch him leave. “Tomorrow morning.” You remind him. He smiles at you and turns for the stairs. You wait until he’s out of sight before unlocking your door and heading for the window overlooking the street. You watch him emerge and he glances up at your window, a broad smile on his face. You can’t stop the weightlessness of your heart. 

 This is bad.

 Really bad.

 But you can’t bring yourself to mind too much. Not after he kisses you like that.

 With a sigh, you turn and get ready for bed. 

  Bucky

 Why is walking to her apartment so difficult? He’s walked home from there plenty of times. He groans in frustration and reaches for his door handle again.

 “Just fucking open it, you coward.” He mutters. And yet, his hand hesitates just out of reach. He groans and pulls back, pacing away from the door. 

 “What are you so afraid of? She’s already seen you without your arm, and she wants to continue seeing you. She wants you to walk her to work.” He says to himself, pacing around his living room. 

 “And then what? Leave her at the museum while you go back to work and deal with Tony being insufferable? You’re no good for security with just one arm, so Fury makes you stay in the lab. You’re alone all day.” He sighs loudly and smacks his face a few times, trying to get himself together.

 “You like being alone, moron. It’s better than having to deal with Sam or see Nat. Definitely don’t wanna see her.” He catches sight of himself in the mirror and points at his reflection. 

 “Listen here, you little shit. Twenty minutes with Y/N is better than three days without her. Get your ass over there and walk her to work.” He snaps. 

 He marches over to the door, flings it open, and steps outside. He barely remembers to lock it behind him before he’s off, walking to her apartment before he can chicken out. But with every step, his stomach tightens into a series of knots and he can’t catch his breath. 

 “Damn it, Y/N, what have you done to me?” He mutters. 

 Her building comes into sight and it’s like his skin ignites with electricity, nerves ramping higher and higher. He steps up to her door and raises his finger to push her doorbell. His hand is shaking so bad he nearly pushes the wrong one.

 “Come on, man, get it together.” He shakes his hand as if that can expel all his nerves and pushes the right buzzer.

 “Hello?” Her voice comes over the box and he can’t answer. “Bucky? That better be you.” She says and he smiles, despite his anxiety.

 “Yeah. It’s me.” He replies.

 “Come on up.” She says, buzzing him in. He pulls the door open and goes inside, her voice echoing in his ears.

 He reaches her door and knocks nervously. His hand starts to go to his hair, maybe to flatten it down or fix it, but honestly, what good would it do at this point?

 She opens the door in her robe, with a tank top and long pajama pants on underneath, a big cup of coffee in her hand. “Come on in.” She steps back, watching him.

 He steps inside, trying to look anywhere but at the gorgeous woman in her pajamas. “You’re not ready yet?” He asks, turning his gaze to her living room. He wanted to be here twenty minutes ago, but now, with her swirling all around him, he just needs to leave. To get this over with.

 “I called in sick.” She says, giving a pathetic fake cough. 

 The knot in his chest loosens and he can breathe a little easier now. “You did?”

 “Yeah. I thought we could have breakfast, and then go back to SHIELD and work some more on your arm.” She says with a shrug. 

 “You did?” He repeats, stunned. She continuously surprises him. 

 “Is that not okay? I thought that since we haven’t really spent a lot of time together over the last three days that we could now, and under the pretense of a good cause.”

 “No! I like that idea. I just wish I had thought of it first.” He says and she laughs, walking passed him into the kitchen, catching his hand in her soft one as she goes. 

 “Besides, you still owe me for that kiss you withheld. Don’t think I won’t be collecting on that.” She warns and he can’t stop the grin on his face. 

 “I genuinely can’t wait.” He says as she pushes him into a chair, her hand trailing around his neck. 

 “Can you use a fork right-handed?” She asks, leaning down close to his ear.

 Her perfume clouds around him, seeming to seep into his skin, fogging his brain and he can hardly focus on what she’s saying. All he can picture is pinning her against the wall and kissing her for all he’s worth. “Um, yeah. I got used to it before I got the arm.” He answers nervously. 

 “Good.” She straightens up and steps back, leaving him feeling empty like he’s missing something. 

 It’s quiet in her apartment as she moves about the kitchen. He feels pressure on his shoulders, something weighing him down. He gets up and goes to the bar to watch her.

 “I’m sorry.” He says after a long minute. 

 She looks up at him in some surprise as she cracks eggs into a frying pan. “Sorry for what?”

 “Avoiding you.”

 “I understand, Bucky. Probably better than you might realize. But I want you to know something, okay?” She puts down the spatula and walks around to stand in front of him, easing herself between his knees. She places her hands gently on either side of his face, her skin soft and warm on him. “There is absolutely nothing that you can do, or reveal about your past, or say to me that will make me leave. Do you understand? I don’t care if you have one arm, one eye, and one leg. I’m in this.” 

 He closes his eyes and nods. “I understand.”

 “Promise me, no more secrets.”

 “I promise.”

 “Good.” Her hands slide down his chest and she grips his shirt, pulling him against her, kissing him deeply. Her lips are soft, sweet on his, and yet so urgent. 

 He wraps his arm around her, pulling her against him. She pulls back, her beautiful eyes closed as she rests her forehead against his. “I should make breakfast.” She mumbles.

 “I’m not done kissing you yet.” He sighs and she chuckles.

 “We have time. We can pick up where we left off later.”

 “You miss the arm.” He says softly.

 “I like the way the hot and cold feels. And I don’t like that you’re uncomfortable.” She pulls back out of his grasp and goes back into the kitchen. 

 “I’m feeling better.” He shrugs lopsidedly. It mostly has to do with the fact that she’s so accepting of this whole situation.

 “Be that as it may,” she pauses and looks up at him with a soft smile. 

 He sighs and sits back. “Fine. We can finish kissing later.” 

 She laughs, grabbing a mug out of her cabinet. “Sounds like a plan.” She pouts him some coffee and sets it in front of him. He captures her hand, pulling it to his mouth, kisses her palm, inhaling the scent of her skin. Images of flowers, bright and full and oh so delicate, fill his mind. Peonies and roses and lots of others he didn’t know the names of. Soft pinks and deep purples and bright reds. So vibrant, so alive. He lets her hand slide out of his and his fingers itch to grab a pad of paper, but he doesn’t have his dominant hand. 

 Maybe she’s right, they need to finish his arm. 

 He lifts his mug and sips at the coffee, savoring the flavor of it. She hums softly as she cooks in the kitchen and a strange feeling washes over him. 

 The complete sense of domesticity about this scene. This gorgeous woman that he can’t get enough of, making breakfast for the both of them. The normalcy of it twists in his heart like a knife. 

 He knows he shouldn’t rush things, should take their time. It hasn’t really been that long in the grand scheme of things. It’s dangerous for her, he’s dangerous. 

 But he can’t make himself stay away from that look in her eyes when she sees him. Soft and affectionate, not disgusted, not terrified. She treats him just like he’s anyone else. And it’s been so long since anyone has done that. 

 Even Nat, when she came to see him. She had a hard time looking at him. She stayed across the room the whole time, afraid of him. It’s not her fault. She did what she needed to do for herself, to protect herself and he can’t blame her for that. 

 A plate sets in front of him and he blinks and looks up. 

 She’s smiling at him, teasing. “I think I lost you there for a minute.” She says.

 “Just thinking. This looks great.” Scrambled eggs with fresh tomatoes and spinach, sausage and toast. 

 “Just breakfast.” She shrugs, bringing her plate around to sit next to him. 

 “Well, unless Stevie and I go to a diner for breakfast, mine usually consists of protein bars.”

 “That’s boring.” She sighs, digging in. 

 They eat in comfortable silence. He can’t stop looking at her. The gentle way her hair falls like a curtain between us, the casual way she flips it out of her face. Her cheekbones are a work of art, her long eyelashes laying against her cheeks soft and delicate like a flower. He has a sudden urge to sketch her, to get her lines down perfectly. 

 “Mmm. That was good.” She hums, scooting her stool back. “I’m gonna jump in the shower really quick.” She carries her plate into the kitchen and sets it in the sink. “Make yourself comfortable.” She presses a kiss to his cheek and heads into her bedroom. 

 He slowly finishes eating before taking his plate into the kitchen. He draws some hot water and quickly scrubs the dishes, setting them to dry in the dish rack. He settles into her comfortable couch, looking around at all the pictures and artwork in her living room. 

 There’s a statue sitting on her entertainment center. It’s of a couple waltzing. The woman looks like she’s wearing a flowing dress but the only details visible are at the bottom, her sculpted back looks bare. She has her face tucked into his neck in an intimate moment, a private affair just for them. The rest of their world faded away while they’re in each other’s arms.

 Bucky stands up and crosses the room to the statue, picking it up and examining the couple. His finger traces across her back absently.

 “Do you like it?” She asks behind him. 

 He nearly drops it as he turns around. He sets it down carefully so he won’t break it. “Yeah.” He looks up at her in time to see her struggling not to smile.

 “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” She steps forward and picks up her shoes. 

 “It’s okay. Ready to go?” He asks, holding her hand as she balances on one foot.

 “Yeah. Can we call a cab? It would be quicker.”

 “Sure.” He opens her door for her and makes sure to lock it, handing her keys back to her. 

 Master List

Tag List (to anyone I miss, I’m sorry. If you’d like to be added, send an ask. Strikethrough means I couldn't tag you)

@everythingisoverrated​ @dsakita​ @shreddedparchment​ @bitsandbobsandstuff​ @after-avenging-hours​ @alexblrus​ @thinkingsofamadwoman​ @i-dont-want-to-be-called​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @fortheloveofallthatsholy​ @crazychaotic​ @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety​ @redstarstan​ @septic-boye​ @justreadingfics​ @themistsofmyavalon​ @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​ @wkemeup​ @thiccbinch​ @glide-thru​ @moli1497​ @ellaenchanted91​ @part-time-patronus​ @janeyboo​ @jensensjaredsandmishaslover​ @thirstybitchqueen​ @uncledaddykelbo

[lvlysnakes]

Why? [ Todoroki x reader ]

Warnings!: a lotta angst lol idk 

It was supposed to be your special day, the anniversary that would mark four years of your relationship with Shoto.

So why was he not here, at the restaurant you had texted him two hours prior to meet you at after he had finished patrolling the area? You had made sure that he had gotten the text, left him a small hear at the end so he would know it was important, and yet you got a simple:

Read 8:47

You sighed as you glanced one more time at your phone, situated in front of you as you stretched out in the luxurious chair that the restaurant had to offer. In the past two hours that had gone by, a waiter had come to ask if everything was alright.

You found it the only comfort you had at the moment, but you kept telling yourself that that Shoto was a busy pro hero, and that his father expected so much of him that sometimes his priorities outweighed you.

Countless times had you excused the behavior though, telling yourself the same thing every time. He was a pro hero, there was no way he could be neglecting you, he does everything perfectly and precisely! He knows that he loves you, he said so in the beginning of your relationship-

Wait.

The beginning? How long ago was that? It had been four years so... 

You gasped as your eyes opened wide in their sockets, tears slowly welled up as the familiar ringing in your ears made you come to your senses. Every anniversary that he had you waiting outside a random restaurant for, every birthday that he had forgotten, every movie night that he had excused with a late text, every text message that he had read and not responded to.

It was overwhelming, and it hit you hard as you came to realize that not only was Shoto taking advantage of you, your friends had warned you, too.

The evenings they spent with you alone without him, they told you that it was not normal for him to be excusing every one of your texts, or ignoring every request to spend time with him. You had laughed it off, calling them out for being too nosy or analytical.

They had been the ones right all along, you quickly texted Momo:

“Can you please pick me up at Joe’s”

You sniffled as you immediately saw the three dots familiarize themselves on the screen. something foreign when you’d text Shoto.

“Are you okay? He didn’t show up did he” She quickly replied with a sad face at the end.

“Yeah” You quickly texted back before shoving your phone in your pocket, you’d recognize her car once it pulled up, but you couldn’t deal with any “I told you so” messages right now.

You saw her car arrive after running out of the building, opening her door and slumping down in the passenger seat as she stared at you for a moment before gently pressing her foot on the gas.

“Do you want to-”

“Please, no.” You sighed as your tears began to slip down your cheeks.

Momo nodded and continued driving to your shared apartment with Shoto, she knew how to keep her distance, at least. You thought.

As you got out of her car, she looked up at you and into your eyes whilst handing you your bag, 

“Are you going to be okay, Y/N?” She pleaded with her eyes for some form of coherence before she left you alone to deal until you were ready.

You nodded and gave her a small smile as you took your bag from her hands. At least you could give her the solace you lacked during your time with Shoto, as you walked towards your complex where you knew he'd be on the couch on his laptop, you couldn't help reminiscing.

Thinking of the times when you first dated, he would gaze at you as if you were the most gorgeous thing he had ever laid eyes upon, Shoto would shower you with sweet nothings while whispering in your ear. Whether it be in bed or at the grocery store, he would give you lingering kisses across your cheek or lips, either one made your heart flutter exceptionally.

Months would pass, and you both would indulge in nighttimes of studying together as he rose to fame as a pro hero. He would go out to morning patrol with a lipstick stain on his cheek from the night previous with you, and he would often switch turns with you to do house chores so that you didn't feel as tired during the evenings he came back.

However, as the second year continued on, you would leave love notes on his desk as a form of endearment, and while he would leave them back to you with a small reactionary drawing he stopped doing so. You figured it was because he was busy, but then it became that he would bring up excuses to go out with others when you had plans already discussed.

He wouldn't participate in assisting you with the chores anymore, and so when you were finally finished with doing the laundry and cooking dinner, you smiled at him and asked to watch a movie. Every night you tried this routine, he would always refuse, but seeing him eat the food you made gave you some semblance of the nights you used to enjoy with him. Even if throughout the whole time his eyes were glued on the news plastered on his phone.

As you stopped your daydreaming, you realized you hadn't been intimate with Shoto since the second year of your relationship had passed. It had been too long, you would try and get into the mood, but he was never into it. 

So you stopped, you stopped attempting to seduce him and tried to ask him to spend time with you, but he refused it all the same, and now as you stood by your door and fiddled with your keys nervously, you wondered if he would care.

You wondered if he would even be there, as you previously told yourself, what if he just got up and left? You shuddered as you told yourself not to entertain that idea and rather accept whatever awaited you in the living room.

As you opened the door you uttered a small 

“Hello?”

No response, as always. You sighed as you looked at the small love note you left, with a special heart sticker you got from your workplaces adorning the middle, untouched.

“Shoto?” You let out a small whisper as you didn't want to wake him if he was asleep.

You heard a small grunt in response as your heart leaped, and you rushed to the couch seeing your boyfriend sitting in the same position you expected, typing away at the computer. Eyes locked onto the computer screen, as always.

“Shoto.” You tried to say again more firmly, however it came out more of an inquiry than you'd like.

He glared at you, obviously annoyed that you interrupted his work, and you gave another exasperated sigh at what you were about to utter.

Your tear stained cheeks wet once more with falling tears as you spoke your confession, but instead of it being one of love and your future with Shoto as you had wanted, you managed to utter out a small 

“I’m leaving, Shoto.”

He snapped his head up and looked at you with in incredulous look, obviously surprised, 

“Why?” He said as you saw his face morph into that of indifference, and that made your cheeks flush as your eyes welled up with more unshed tears. In an attempt to hide them from him, he saw you as weak when you cried, he had told you the third year of your relationship. 

And you had, of course, listened and stopped crying at everything he did to you. You wanted to punch yourself at the realization and how everything just now managed to become clear, how it had taken four years for you to hold him accountable.

“Shoto. Today was our anniversary for four years,” You chuckled as you wiped tears off with the back of your hand “a-and you didn't show up.”

You took a second to inhale and quickly spit out the rest that you had wanted to say after those years of neglect accumulating, 

“I can’t do this anymore, Shoto, I’m sorry. I’m so, very sorry.” You choked out a sob in front of him, it felt so good to cry once more, it felt so good to feel anything but shame when you had vulnerability in front of him without caring or knowing if he was judging or not.

It felt good to finally see the old you, the one that was loved by Shoto, the one that he didn't ignore, the one that he didn't neglect.

It felt good to be free, to be yourself again.

You quickly gripped your bag tighter and went to your room, beginning to pack. You'd call Momo tomorrow and tell her what happened, asking for some save place to stay until you got yourself a new apartment.

That night, as you went to sleep, all you could think of was until the end, Shotoi had stayed silent. He had stayed dormant, he hadn’t gotten sad or angry or anything in-between. He had been the same pro hero in real life that he was on the television, that mask of indifference and silence wasn't a facade, you whimpered out more cries.

Your eyes shut as you felt yourself slowly descend into a slumber induced by your tears.

That morning, you had woken up long before Shoto had morning patrol, and left to go to Momo.

Little did you know, while you and Momo were hugging and watching movies to subside the thoughts of him, Shoto was reading the love note you wrote for him the morning of your apparent anniversary.

His eyes widened at the small hearts surrounding the words written, and your final words in the love note being:

I’ll see you soon at Joe’s! Remember, where you took me a while ago to confess your love? Lol you probably don't, but I love your forgetful self enough to remember for the both of us! <3

He covered his mouth with his hand, has she been doing this since- since? How long has it been? He stammered out a small “Oh my god” before laying on the couch and pressing the note to his chest, closing his eyes, and allowing himself to smell and remember you, and everything you had done for him.

He stopped reading the notes, he stopped listening to your texts, he started making excuses. He thought it was fine, thought that he would get to you someday and you would have all the time in the world to hang out, but you- you thought different?

No, of course you did, of course you thought different. You weren't some toy to play with, you were his girlfriend of four years. Ex girlfriend? Whatever.

He had been terrible, and now there was no going back, as Shoto laid there with his eyes shut and his hands holding the note so tight he thought it was going to fold inwards.

[arcanaheadcanons]

Carmen Meets Muriel

over my vacation, when i wasn’t on the internet because the place i was at had very sketchy free internet that probably would have given my laptop an std, i wrote a li’l oneshot fic. it was one my ideas for a carmen comic but it would have taken too much effort to draw soooo it’s written now. idk what tumblr’s post limit is but i doubt i’ll go over it (seriously it’s less than 2k) so i’m gonna paste it under the cut and we’ll see what happens.

word count: 1899

description: muriel has to talk to carmen (character concept here) and he’s not very happy about it

The sun had disappeared under the horizon and darkness was washing the last orange stains from the sky when Muriel, cursing himself for even being there, approached the shop. He had one final errand left in the day, and it was crucial: he had run out of angelica. The herb, a thick stalk with umbels of little white flowers, was sometimes used for medicines and sometimes used in spells for protection. In Muriel’s case, it was a necessary component in the wards he had placed around the forest, which were in need of replacing. As angelica favored a colder climate than sunny Vesuvia, he had to rely on the magic shop’s supply. Asra was always more than happy to lend him a hand free of charge, but the magician was currently unconscious in a magic circle on Muriel’s floor while his spirit roamed the realm of the Arcana. Which meant that, if Muriel was going to an Asra-less shop, he would have to deal with…

…his apprentice.

Muriel winced as he heard a muffled, off-key sea shanty coming from the upper floor. To his knowledge, Carmen had never set foot on a boat. However, as she kept sneaking off to the south end of town ever since her incident, it made sense that she had picked up a thing or two from the local color; the “local color” being every seedy bar in the city. He knocked on the door and almost hoped she didn’t hear him. The singing stopped.

“Closed!” she half-shouted, her voice coming from the back of the shop this time. She must have moved closer to the stairs to allow the sound to carry.

It would have been so much easier for both of them if he could just leave – if he could go back home and let her think he was just another customer who hadn’t noticed the porch light was out. But he didn’t have the option. He imagined the wards he had placed breaking, Lucio’s ghost being allowed full strength, and Asra, unguarded, out cold in a hut in the middle of nowhere, and knocked on the door a second time.

“Ohhhhmygodddddddddddddddddd whyyyy.”

A string of irritated muttering started up and ended just as quickly as it was replaced by the sound of someone falling down a flight of stairs.

Muriel froze, concerned and unsure of what to do about that, but soon enough the door opened and Carmen, slightly frazzled, looked out into the space she typically expected a person’s face to be. That space was located squarely in the middle of his chest.

She slowly corrected her gaze to meet his, almost having to crane her neck to do so. “Well, damn,” she said. Muriel had seen her mouth those words during other chance meetings of theirs, but this was the first time she said them aloud. He didn’t like this. His face was getting hot. He had to explain himself, finish his errand, and leave as soon as possible.

“I’m–”

“Muriel, right?”

What.

Carmen opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Come on in. I’ll uh, make tea? Or something?”

What. Why. How. What was going on. Muriel entered the shop and watched as she sifted through the jars of herbs on the shelves in search of tea. He noticed as he looked away that the front of the shop was the only area that hadn’t gone to complete disarray. Everything from the base of the stairs to the back was covered in a mishmash of belongings. Trinkets and clothing were heaped into piles with no immediately apparent category, flanked by an unsettling amount of empty alcohol bottles.

“Sorry about the mess.” Carmen resurfaced from the shop’s stock with a short, squat jar full of the blooming tea that Asra made. “I was. Well. Y’know. Looking. Through stuff.” She began her quest to the stairs, carefully stepping around the stacks with amazing precision for someone who was having balance issues. “This is what happens when I’m left unsupervised. Be right back.”

As Carmen went to the upstairs kitchen and started a new batch of worrying clanking sounds that aren’t typically associated with the tea making process, Muriel wandered over to the jars and picked out the angelica. He counted out the necessary number of stalks, placed them in one of the pouches tied to his belts, and returned the jar to the shelf. He strongly considered leaving the shop then and there, but there was a question gnawing at his guts and it couldn’t be ignored, no matter how much he wanted to ignore it. While he waited for Carmen’s return, he busied himself with reorganizing the jars that she had disturbed.

Fifteen minutes later she came back down the stairs with a large soup mug filled with green tea and a larger bottle that, judging by the scent, contained brandy. As she gave to mug to Muriel, he noticed that she must have spent the extra time and effort looking for a cup that fit his hands. The emotional impact of her thoughtfulness was interrupted when she ripped the cork out of the brandy with her teeth, spat it into a corner, and took a deep swig.

Once she came up for air, he decided to confront what had been bothering him. “How do you know about me?”

She lowered the bottle and stared at him in mild confusion. “Was I… not supposed to?”

Muriel didn’t know what to say to that, but apparently the look on his face spoke for him.

“Oh. Oh, whoops. Sorry about that. I, uh…”

He continued to stay silent so that she could elaborate.

Carmen set the brandy on the shop counter and turned towards the piles. “The old me kept some notes on you,” she started. She reached out to one of the piles and a notebook shot into her hand. “Because of the whole Forget-Me thing. She made sure to jot something down every time you met before the spell kicked in.”

She offered the notebook to him, and he set down his yet-untouched tea to flip through it. It was a small, flimsy thing, and he had some difficulty picking the pages apart. Sure enough, there were several notes on his appearance and habits, the entries of which were no more than a few words long, and they were dated some years ago. Back when her hair was short, and her smile was wide, and wildflowers grew in her footsteps. When Carmen continued talking, he remembered the dull-eyed stranger she had become and snapped back to reality.

“So yeah, with hints like ‘about seven feet tall’ and ‘GREEN EYES’ written in capitals, it wasn’t too hard to recognize you,” she said. She studied him intently. “You know, I didn’t know what she meant by using capital letters, but I get it now. Your eyes are really green, like–” Stopping herself, Carmen winced and looked away, blinking hard as if she were trying to wake up from a dream. “Sorry. I’m losing my mental filter. What were you here for again? Asra’s out of town if you were looking for him.”

“I know,” Muriel said. He dug through his belongings until he found a pouch full of myrrh and tossed it to her.

“Oh! Um… thanks?” Carmen opened and closed the bag. “What is this for?”

“To ward off the spell.”

She looked even more confused than before. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to know about you?”

“You already do, and I don’t want to have this conversation again.” He turned to leave. At this point, he had far exceeded his limit on social activity. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Huh? But you didn’t even have any– aaaaand he’s gone.” Carmen’s words faded as he shut the door behind him.

 It was well into the night when Muriel returned home. The journey was long enough already, but the added detour he took to replace all the wards by the roadsides added a considerable amount of time. He would have to rest a little before replacing the rest of them. The hut was a welcome sight after the day’s adventure. Though cramped, it was a safe haven from the rest of the world; a place so deep in the woods that it was rarely stumbled upon by strangers. He examined his house’s ward – a bundle of sticks hanging from one of the great tree roots that engulfed the structure – and decided that it was strong enough to leave as it was. Then he opened the door.

Everything was exactly as he had left it. The runes in the magic circle on the floor were thankfully undisturbed, and Asra was still sleeping at its center under a thick blanket, which Muriel had given him when he had to extinguish the hearth on his way out. In the corner, Inanna stirred from her makeshift bed and trotted over to him.

“I’m home,” he said redundantly.

The wolf acknowledged this by placing her head firmly under his hand for scratches. Muriel gave her a standard head-pat and asked her to wait while he restarted the fire in the hearth. When he returned, he pulled up a chair and complied with her request. With his free hand, he began removing pouches from his belts and putting them on the table with the intention of reequipping the ones he’d need before he next left the hut. His task was stopped when he took a pouch he couldn’t recall the contents of and Inanna abruptly leaned out of his grasp to smell it.

Curious, Muriel opened the pouch and pulled out the little notebook that Carmen had handed him earlier that day. He must have absent-mindedly pocketed it. He had no idea when, how, or even if he’d be able to return it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to. It was bad to take someone else’s property, but now that Carmen had some myrrh, she wouldn’t need to read about him to know who he was. He idly opened it to a page somewhere in the middle.

“Doesn’t like to talk. – May 11”

“Shame, he has a nice voice. – May 27”

“Wears a big tattered cloak with a hood. – June 9”

“Likes snow. – July 30”

“WHY DID NONE OF YOU WARN ME HE’S SO HANDSOME – November 3”

Face burning, he closed the book. Inanna, sensing that he was done with it, moved closer and gently took the notebook in her teeth. He released his grip and she retreated to her bed with it.

“You miss her, huh?”

Inanna nibbled on the notebook a little before putting her head down and sighing gruffly.

Muriel looked at Asra and watched his chest rise and fall to confirm that he was still breathing normally. The magician and he had been closer than siblings ever since they were young, and Muriel could feel the emotional weight of the past three years on his shoulders. Even though Asra raised her from the dead, Carmen – their Carmen – would never come back. It had been a bittersweet victory, embittered even further when they realized how truly unhappy she was without her memory. Tonight was not the first time that Muriel had found her seeking refuge from the bottom of a bottle, and it wouldn’t be the last.

When Inanna turned her attention back to the notebook, so did Muriel.

“Yeah… we miss her too.”

[yellowsugarwords]

I just thought of an angsty af violet line “I’m nobody’s first choice” idk where I though of it from but can you please write something angsty for violet because as soon as that popped into my head I was desperate for violet angst aaaaaaa

I’m combining it with this one:

I’m not sure if you’ve seen the theories going around about Violet having amnesia but I would love to read something around it!

because aaaaangst

Violet sat isolated at the table.

But it was nothing knew.

Mitch and Omar were cracking jokes with Willy, keeping him entertained.

AJ and Tenn sat together, doodling between bites.

They sat by Clementine and Louis, flirting up a storm.

Treating the little two as if they were their own.

Aasim and Ruby sat cuddled up.

There Violet sat.

Alone at the end of the table.

Stomaching her sadness.

Saying nothing.

“Goodnight Violet,” Clem called.

Violet said nothing.

Ignoring Clementine calling her from down the hall.

Violet entered her room without a word.

And snapped the door shut.

Everyone always took chores in pairs.

Normally Violet worked alone.

Or tacked onto a pair of 2.

Normally, she wanted to be alone.

She felt less like a burden that way.

Everyone was paired up later that week for chores.

Clem and Louis were giggling getting ready for hunting.

The others couples were geared up for cooking and wood chopping and hauling.

Violet stood alone.

Watching.

Waiting to go fishing.

“I need a fishing partner,” Violet said.

She was met with silence.

Everyone chattering with each other.

Ignoring her.

She snapped her hand-made fishing rod in half.

And everyone stopped.

When eyes landed on her, Violet threw it to the ground.

“Forget it.” She hissed.

“Violet?” Clem asked.

“Fuck off,” Violet snapped.

Louis scoffed, appalled. “Violet, what—“

“I said fuck off!” She yelled, starting away.

Clementine detached herself from Louis, starting after her.

She settled a hand against the blonde’s shoulder. “Violet—“

Violet whipped around.

And ripped it off.

They made dead eye-contact.

And Clementine felt a chill surge through her.

“Violet—”

“Leave me alone, Clementine.” Violet snapped.

Her words were poisonous.

Clementine’s gaze rang with hurt. “But why?”

Violet didn’t care. “Because I’m really sick of always being the last choice around here.”

Everyone froze.

Clementine’s stance faltered.

Her eyes bulged.

Everyone behind them held their breath.

Violet took a glance over everyone.

And scoffed.

“Leave me alone. All of you.”

She ripped away.

From behind her, she heard Louis call her.

“Vi, please—”

“I don’t want your pity.” She snapped.

And slammed Ericson’s front doors behind her.

Violet stayed stowed away for days.

Only coming out for food.

To work.

But she worked alone.

And talked to no one.

It wasn’t different from before.

Only now, there was open hostility.

That was, until Delta swung by.

And threatened their presence.

And vanished.

Violet still kept to herself.

She was only more alert now.

But continued ignoring everyone’s advances.

She didn’t want to hear it.

Then, Delta attacked.

Came barging in.

Horses and torches blaring.

Violet had been fighting off a Delta soldier.

Yelling and screaming.

Trying to wriggle the baseball bat out of their palms.

Then, the Delta soldier kicked her in the stomach.

Her head flew forward.

Smashed against the wood.

And she crumpled to the ground.

Blacked out.

From afar, Clem thought she was dead.

So, she screamed.

And she didn’t know she was doing it.

The world was silent.

She couldn’t control herself.

Her grief took control of her.

And wrangled control from her brain.

Clementine body-tackled the Delta soldier.

Slamming her knife into his side.

She couldn’t hear his scream.

She could only see his mouth open.

After she had pinned him to the ground.

Louis pulled Violet away.

Carrying her body to Ericson’s front doors.

Pulling her to shelter.

Clementine kept stabbing.

And sobbing.

She couldn’t stop.

She could only watch the pain surge in his eyes.

It still wasn’t enough.

Lilly kicked her off.

And Clem grunted as she was slammed into the dirt.

And watched through blurred tears as the figure before he was tugged to his feet.

And started stumbling away.

Clementine could hardly see.

Or breathe.

Or feel.

She was too numbed.

Too horrified.

They were retreating.

Lilly saw the violence they carried.

The vile violence they were capable of.

And wanted no part of it.

They were out of there in a matter of minutes.

So quickly she almost left some men behind.

But they needed to get out.

They didn’t want to poke the bear that was Ericson.

They didn’t want to kill more of their men at the hands of children.

How mortifying.

Mitch, stabbed by Lilly but still functioning, close the front gates.

Clutching his wounded shoulder.

Willy helped to ease his pressure.

AJ helped Tenn to safety.

Ruby helped  Aasim walk on his wounded ankle.

She began guiding him to a place to sit.

Willy tugged Mitch to the same area.

Inside was where Clementine stumbled to.

Disorientated and sore from Lilly’s kick.

And there, the moment she opened the doors, she saw them.

She saw Louis on the ground.

Violet sprawled in his arms.

Still.

And silent.

Clem released another strangled sob.

Louis’ gaze didn’t flinch from the blonde.

“She’s breathing,” he said softly. “Just knocked out.”

Clementine crashed to her knees.

And wept.

“Oh thank God,” she bubbled through tears.

Louis tugged her closer.

Under his arm.

Tightly.

Snuggly.

Holding her broken pieces together.

They brought her into the music room.

And laid her down with pillows and blankets.

Everyone took shifts watching her.

But Louis and Clementine never left.

Clementine was beginning to fade.

She was exhausted.

Her head ached and throbbed.

Louis slipped up behind her and cupped her shoulders.

“Clem,” he started, “you should rest.”

Clementine parted his lips to protest.

Hesitating to let her brain catch up with her lips.

And then, they heard a groan.

They snapped to life.

And attention.

And Clementine threw herself to her feet.

It had been nearing 6 hours.

And they had been terrified to wait longer.

Her eyes slid open.

And seemed glasses over and vacant.

“Violet,” Clem sobbed, clutching her hand.

Louis smiled, tears bubbling. “We’re so glad to see you back, Vi.”

Violet blinked.

And glanced from side to side.

And furrowed her brows.

Clem blinked, confused. “Vi?”

Violet squinted more. “What?” She finally pushed out.

And Louis and Clem froze.

And hitched their breath.

“No,” Louis hushed. “There’s no way.”

Clementine could see her spirit leave her body.

She felt weightless.

Lost in disbelief.

Violet didn’t know who they were.

She didn’t know who any of them were.

The Violet they knew before, the one so angry with them, was gone.

They couldn’t apologize.

They couldn’t fix it.

They couldn’t make her feel better.

They lost her.

The Violet they once knew was gone.

Ruby brought her water and food.

Violet greedily took it.

And everyone watched.

Clementine and Louis guided Violet outside at sunrise.

And sat her down for breakfast.

They rattled through everyone’s names.

And Violet listener blankly.

Her innocence and confusion almost made their guilt worse.

They taught her how to hunt.

And how to to fish.

She laughed when she caught her first fish.

And groaned when Mitch showed her out to gut it.

Violet didn’t talk much these days.

She couldn’t. Just normally didn’t.

She didn’t see a need to.

AJ taught her how to play cards.

And she dominated against Louis.

Tenn taught her how to draw.

Horribly.

And Willy always made fun of her.

And Violet always became genuinely offended by his teasing.

Violet lived for hunting with Louis.

Even though she sucked at it.

Louis loved seeing the joy in her eyes.

The excitement.

The disgust.

It brought him joy.

Her newfound happy innocence.

At dinner that night, Clementine sat with Violet.

And watched as Violet smiled at her and sat down.

For the first time since Violet’s outburst, Clementine felt peace.

She never thought she would see that smile ever again.

One with such forgiveness.

Such gentleness.

Violet are happily.

Humming as the people around her spoke.

Laughing.

Beaming.

Being a whole new Violet.

Clementine watched.

As Louis did.

Amazed.

At peace.

Maybe this was a chance.

A chance to start over.

To be better to Violet.

To value her as she deserved to be.

Clementine wavered in her tears.

Watching Violet’s happiness.

Watching the way Violet’s gaze settled on her again.

Kindly.

Happily.

Then, seeing Violet’s eyes on her, watching her smile as she chewed, Clementine’s stomach flipped.

And she lunged out.

And hugged her.

And Violet blinked.

And looked at Louis.

And hesitantly hugged her back

It was the start of a new beginning.

For all of them.

But especially for Violet.

But maybe one day it wouldn’t need to be.

Maybe one day she could go back to the past.

And maybe, if that day arrives, the past can become happier.

Because now, they have a chance to change it.

[smollandtoll]

TITLE | IDK Spooky Stuff aka the Buzzfeed Unsolved AU WORDS | ~4960 WHY | ask @sidgenophotochallenge TAGS/WARNINGS | uh...fluff, spooky times, ghost elements, Geno’s bad American accent SUMMARY | Sid never thought he’d be stupid enough to make one of his biggest fears a cornerstone of his career, but here he was, going to dusty, dirty, old and abandoned places week after week trying to find proof of the supernatural. Adding Geno into the mix made things a little more complicated, but also good. Good and terrible.

IDK SPOOKY STUFF

Sid dropped another motion detector and set it with the help of his flashlight, held between his teeth. It was just starting to get dim enough that he couldn’t make out any of the text without a proper light. Fifteen feet away on the other side of the tracks Geno was doing the same thing, looking focused as he placed another device down and waved over it to check it was working. Sid pulled the light out of his mouth and shined it over at him.

“Have you ever thought about what it would be like if we weren’t constantly cold and dirty while doing this?” He called over and Geno smiled but didn’t look up.

“Your show Sid, you want.”

“Yeah. My show.” Sid snorted. It’d been at least a year and a half since it’d just been his show. The leaves rustled around him as he stood and took a few steps back to survey their trap.

If anything was going to move in this area they’d see it immediately.

“No ghost trains get by tonight.” Geno said, appearing at his elbow.

Sid jutted out his chin, pressing his lips together flat. “A full train apparition has never been seen, you know that. Let’s just get our footage and back to the house, we’re losing daylight.”

“Eager to go sleep in haunted house? You feel okay? You possess?” Geno mocked, making like he was going to check Sid’s temperature with the back of his hand. Sid ducked out of the way and fiddled with his handheld phone rig. He knew Phil was filming the wide shots of the tracks from a ways away, and their mics were recording. Geno had a dumb sense of humour, it was expected.

He ignored Geno’s genial chirping and started his own recording, speaking to the audience directly, he turned the camera to catch Geno, already watching him. He had an unreadable look on his face - Sid looked up from the camera for a moment to make real eye contact - Geno’s poker face in places like this was impeccable, he had no idea what the other man was thinking.

The case they were on was just outside of Pittsburgh, chilly but beautiful this time of year. There was an old colonial manor house and grounds that were said to be haunted by various spirits carried there by the train that had once run straight through the extensive property. Though the train hadn’t run in years the tracks were still there and visitors to the house said they regularly heard the train whistling as it passed by at night.

“Getting cold out, Sid, we done?” Geno tucked his hands deep into his jean jacket pockets. He cut a tall, sharp figure where he stood, broad-shouldered with his toque tucked low and his jeans rumpled casually over his hiking boots.

“Yeah, I think we’re good here for now. We’ll come back tomorrow and shoot some EVP questioning.” They turned and walked down the tracks, steps noisy in the leaves as they headed back to where Phil was waiting.

“No ghost box?” Geno extended an elbow and jostled him. Sid rolled his eyes.

“The ghost box provides results. The fans like it.”

“Is loud and stupid. Make no sense, not English.” He made a disgusted face at Sid that was as familiar and warm as an old sweater.

“How would you know, eh?” He grinned as G scowled harder, “C’mon Phil is getting that look on his face like he’s going to be late to Skype with his dog again if we don’t hurry up.”

Sid never thought he’d be stupid enough to make one of his biggest fears a cornerstone of his career, but here he was, going to dusty, dirty, old and abandoned places week after week trying to find proof of the supernatural.

As far as Sid was concerned, ghosts, spirits, and various other malicious beings were as good as proven. He’d always been a fairly superstitious kid, refusing to wash his jerseys when there was a big game coming up, doing all of his daily tasks in a certain order according to him or else melting down for a whole day feeling out of whack.

His mom used to just call him particular.

But he’d really had his mind made up when he was a preteen attending a boarding school that looked like a castle and was once used as a makeshift war hospital. Some of the shit that happened over his years attending Shattuck just could not be explained.

Students had items go missing when they’d turned their backs for a moment, shadowy figures vanished between the library stacks and Sid himself had had a distressing event with a tube of toothpaste that he preferred not to dwell on.

When injuries made a career in hockey impossible to follow through on, he turned to his second love - filmmaking. Watching stories about people helped him understand the world around him and let him explain himself in turn.  

Film school led to small projects which led to big projects and eventually a job making ridiculous Youtube videos for an internet company in California.

Pretty soon he found himself being coaxed to make videos about things he felt passionate about…and that lead to jumping at every bump in the night and giving his first co-host (an unamused and perpetually exasperated Tanger) a lot of chirping fodder for the rest of time. It was kind of like Youtube catnip apparently - humiliatingly, but seeing his own videos with millions of views made every minute of discomfort worth it.

Adding Geno into the mix made things a little more complicated, but also good. Good and terrible.

“You need me go first?”

Sid shot a glare over his shoulder at where Geno was standing just behind him, phone cradled in his hand, pointing the camera attachment right at him. He was probably capturing an incredibly unflattering angle that was all nose - because Geno was a dick. A few steps behind them Phil was holding their proper rig, looking as unimpressed as always.

“I hate you.” Sid muttered and took another deep calming breath. There was nothing to be afraid of, it was just a house, a big empty house where nothing could hurt him. He crossed himself quickly with his eyes closed and then threw open the grand front door of the Pittsburgh Manor House.

“Looks nice!” Geno was crowding him now, peering over his shoulder and shining his flashlight into the depths of the house, “kill for place like this in L.A. Worth fortune.”

“Don’t talk about killing,” Sid hissed, stepping gingerly into the manor - he didn’t like the vibes of this place at all, the hair on the back of his neck instantly stood on end. He could feel his pupils dilating to take in whatever scraps of light were lurking in the shadows. It smelled musty - mostly like a house that hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned or lived in for decades, which was exactly what it was.

Geno slipped around him easily, sailing into the drawing room across the creaking hardwood floors and taking stock of the place as casually as a new home buyer.

Phil flipped on the lights in the grand foyer and set his camera down on the nearest side table, sending a puff of dust off the intricate wood inlay.

“I’m going to start bringing our gear inside.” He disappeared out the open door and Sid suppressed a shudder. He refused to look into the yawning expanse of darkness that lay waiting at the top of the large staircase dead ahead of the doors - there would be plenty of time for that.

Unfortunately, there was no real safe place to look instead, the previous owners had clearly liked mirrors - they lined the walls of the space, every few feet another one, their elaborate, gilded frames dulled with more dust. Every shadow and bit of light seemed to bounce back and forth, making even his own movement startling in his peripheral. Sid was already starting to feel the history of this place sticking to his clothes, getting jumpy as shadows loomed in every corner.

“You okay?” Geno had lowered his camera, no longer recording, and was giving him a shrewd look. Sid shook himself, he really had to work on his game face - but then again they paid him to do this because of how piss-his-pants scared he got every time.

“I’m fine. The usual.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked around again. He counted the mirrors this time and acted like he had a handle on his shit. Geno was an old hand at seeing through all of his most patented bluffs though and clicked his tongue chidingly at him.

“Serious Sid. Is just old house. No one here but us.” Geno was close enough now that Sid could feel the heat from his body all along his right side. Sid refused to look at him, heart throbbing traitorously in his chest.

“You always say that.” He always tried to comfort Sid when it mattered, his normal bickering, stubborn persona giving way to the marshmallow soul underneath.

“Because that always truth!” Geno grabbed his shoulder to jostle him until he cracked a smile up at him. “Beside, nothing happen to you, if was ghost. Too pretty.”

Sid’s stomach turned over, one part helpless reaction to flattery and one part thick disappointment. Geno was a terrible flirt and he was definitely just joking, the fans always loved it when they teased each other.

Running a too-successful-for-what-it-is Youtube series with someone you’ve been in unrequited love with since the beginning of time was absolutely garbage, every time.

Sid and Geno had met one dreary Monday afternoon in a conference room full of a cobbled together group of producers, writers and editors. They were put into teams to experiment with whatever content creation ideas that came to them.

Geno was all legs in terrible jorts, a graphic tee proclaiming something about beer, and a backwards snapback. He had a sly look on his face like he was trying to figure out who best to play dumb foreigner with.

(It was always the interns, always.)

It was probably the very first day that they’d had their first argument about ghosts. Sid had staunchly defended his position (“Just because there isn’t evidence yet doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist - you can’t count out that many witnesses!”) and Geno stood by his (“No. Stupid. No ghost.”). They’d had their coworkers in stitches and tossing around the words “chemistry”.

When it was clear he and Tanger - while still great friends - just didn’t spark together on camera, Geno was the natural replacement. He had an unshakeable ability to believe nothing could possibly be scarier than real-life in-soviet-era Russia and a knack for funny, if weird and distinctly Russian flavoured, quips.

Ever since they’d been stuck spending an excruciating amount of time together in the darkest, creepiest places imaginable. Just thinking about the dolls and spiders on that island still gave Sid chills; not to mention their demon encounters.

They taped together, edited together, answered questions together, traveled together, planned together and explored together. As much as they played up animosity and competition in the show they actually got along really well. Sid had met Geno’s adorable little parents multiple times, and his sister, Taylor, could be regularly found sending Geno Russian cat memes to translate for her.

It had just been a crush originally, but the nature of the show had them working in such close quarters so consistently. The constant contact was like steroids for Sid’s treacherous heart. Somehow Geno became his best friend, and the first person he wanted to talk to in the morning and the last person he wanted to see at night.

The walkthrough of the manor dragged on.

There were so many rooms full of disturbing little totems left by fellow ghost hunters; weird dolls and pentagrams drawn in the dust on the floor. Geno of course, totally ignoring how creepy everything was, seemed to actually like the place, commenting cheerfully on how nice the house actually was with its high ceilings, how many rooms there were, how a big family could live there comfortably.

They set up their case introduction in the music room, with the derelict piano behind them, mirrors once again all around them. Sid read Geno the history of the house for his reactions, so that they could then intercut his voice over and through other relevant footage. It was routine, something they did so often it usually calmed Sid down, but this time he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. He found himself fighting the nagging urge to look over his shoulder while he was reading.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise then, that the following room tours left him startling regularly, spooked by Phil, and Geno, and his own shadow. Nothing in this house was sitting right with him.

“-Wait. Did you hear that?” Sid stopped short behind Geno on the staircase. Phil’s camera lens redirected its focus on him, Sid ignored it.

“What?” Geno was never tired of his ‘delusions’ or short with him in annoyance. He was always open, welcome to suggestions and ready to talk him off every supernatural ledge.

“I thought I heard- ” Sid looked up at him and managed a crooked smile, “you’re not going to believe me. I thought I heard a train.”

“GHOST TRAIN!” Geno exclaimed and then turned to continue up the stairs, unconcerned, “I hear nothing. Wind probably. If actual ghost train we get footage on motion capture.”

“Yeah,” Sid checked his phone, squinting at its brightness after the dim lighting of his GoPro. “It’s 11:35 right now, for the time stamps.”

Geno hummed in agreement and continued climbing, the old stairs creaking under his weight.

The grand chandelier that was supposed to hang in the stairwell was missing, supposedly used in a hanging many years ago that caused its structural failure that then lead to it falling and crushing another person decades later.

This house had seen some serious shit.

Geno reached a limit with the silence, clearly bored, and started doing a weird approximation of an American accent to talk to the ghosts. His nonchalance never failed to baffle Sid.

“Yo to the ghosts! Are you very well going to give a chat to us?” He always sounded hilariously like he’d been fed through Google translate too many times when he tried to do an American impression. The actual accent was decent - it was his choice of words that was so ridiculous, adding as many extra words as he could fit into any sentence.

“We are the very nice best boys!” Sid began to giggle at that, all of Geno’s words over-enunciated, “You can trust us with all your talk, ghosts.”

“Is there something so funny or wrong about our time here, there, Sidney?” He turned to Sid wearing an expression of absolute serious inquiry which caused both Sid and Phil to start losing their shit together.

“Ghosts are the most serious of businesses.” Geno planted his hands on his hips but before he could say anything else, a sharp floorboard creak rang through the space around them although none of them had moved. The levity of the situation broke immediately. They all looked around in silence but for their breathing for a minute, two. Part of Sid wanted to think it was just the house settling, but some part of him was sure it was something much worse.

“It’s getting late.” Phil murmured just as his camera beeped that its battery had 25% life left. Sid steeled himself for his least favourite part of their on-scene cases.

“Let’s finish up and find a place to camp for the night.”

The campouts had always been tough for Sid, but worse yet was when they actually had a bed instead of just a floor to sleep on. The first time Sid stared down at a sole double bed for both him and Geno to sleep on for the night, he didn’t know what to think. Everything mostly condensed down to two distinct kinds of dread:

The feeling of knowing you’d be spending a night in an inherently dangerous and unknown situation while likely feeling too tense or fearful to feel comfortable sleeping at all,

Being forced to be in such close and intimate proximity to the object of your affections who is fully oblivious to your feelings about them.

Geno, of course, took one look at the bed and dumped his things to the right side, claiming it for himself. He then immediately stretched out across the entire expanse of the mattress. His ankles hung off the end of the bed, exposing his ‘In Bigfoot I believe’ patterned socks. When he’d found them he’d proudly sent Sid a selfie with them like he was getting on the #Crosboo bandwagon or something.

Sid loved him from head to ridiculous toe and had been suddenly stricken with the conviction that he was definitely going to ruin everything in one way or another that night.

Luckily, nothing really out of the ordinary happened. Sid hadn’t liked it one bit and barely dozed all night - snapping awake every time Geno breathed a little too hard or the building creaked in the wind. He had survived though, and hadn’t even spent the long small hours of the morning thinking about how he even kind of liked the way Geno buzzed as he slept, somewhere between a snore and a purr. Okay, that was a lie, he’d definitely thought about that a lot, mind racing in a screeching loop between their imminent haunting and how soft Geno’s features were in sleep.

If he grew too agitated at any point in time in their spooky campouts, breathing hard with anxiety or turning over and over again to try and settle down, Geno would gruffly - but with genuine concern - always rouse himself enough to check on Sid. He’d make sure he actually still wanted to be there and then usually dropped his head back to his pillow and called him bad names in Russian, muttering about interrupting his beauty sleep.

Sometimes he just rolled over and threw one incredibly long leg or an arm over Sid to keep him still, his warm breath fanning over Sid’s shoulder, heat from his limbs seeping into Sid’s skin and settling his fears. It was always during the calm after those moments that Sid thought maybe, maybe he could love me back.

They settled on the master suite for their campout. It was perched at the top of the house with its own access staircase and beautiful architectural elements like the dark beams that ran across the ceiling and large paned windows that overlooked the vast property. It would have been lovely if he hadn’t been told it was haunted by several of the manor’s former owners.

Once all their tripods were set up they walked Phil back out to his car where he - the lucky son of a bitch - got to drive back to the motel and meet up with them the next morning with breakfast from in town.

They climbed all the stairs, back to their waiting nest of camera equipment and settled in for the night. Side by side in their sleeping bags on the ground, lights switched off, Sid felt the familiar dread of anticipation settle in as Geno began to snore.

Hours passed, or minutes. Tree branches waved strange moving shadows across the floor and the gentlest wind rattled the glass panes of the windows. Sid was almost lulled into a nervous doze when the footsteps started.

It was just one at first, easily explained by general creaks and shrieks of the house settling, but then another came, and another. A slow, purposeful climbing of the stairs that filled Sid’s belly with dread. His eyes snapped open but there was only darkness around him and he refused to look over at the opening to the stairs in case he actually did see someone who didn’t belong there.

The footsteps ceased when it sounded like they got to the top of the stairs and that was almost worse, thinking perhaps whatever was with them was just watching, or maybe now gliding soundlessly closer to them.

“Geno,” Sid hissed, squirming a little closer to where heavy human breathing had been regularly coming to his left. Geno murmured indistinctly, face mashed casually into his pillow.

The temperature felt like it was dropping around them, chillier by the moment and Sid’s heart, which had already jumped at the first footstep, began to race. He could barely hear anything over the sound of his pulse thundering in his ears.

“Geno! Do you feel that? D-did you hear the footsteps?” Was he imagining things or was his breath actually fogging in front of him a little.

“Just house, Sid.” Geno muttered and reached out to touch him, probably what was meant to be a friendly pat but Sid managed to catch his hand. He clutched Geno’s hand like a lifeline, warm and alive and real.

The heavy scent of inexplicable perfume tickled his nose, and Sid gulped for air, shutting his eyes tightly, not wanting to see his imminent death. He knew he was holding Geno’s hand far too tightly, folded into his chest.

“Heart beat strong.” Geno finally shifted more, sounding like he was turning onto his side and sliding closer to Sid, “you really scared?”

“Don’t you smell that?” He scarcely wanted to whisper.

“Smell house,” Geno replied, like he had every time they were in one of these situations, “come Sid, need sleep.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon - I really don’t think we’re alone up here.”

“We alone.” Geno said firmly, “don’t want to share. Any ghosts can fuck off.” He raised his voice almost like he was calling out a dare to anything listening. Sid swore he heard a distant door slam. His eyes snapped open but all he could really see was darkness and Geno’s eyes shining in front of him.

“Shut up, what was that?”

“Nothing. Come. Sleep.” Before Sid could react, he was being dragged closer by the hand he still had a death grip on. Geno’s body was warm even through both of their sleeping bags and some of the tension drained out of Sid’s spine at the feeling of being close. All he could hear was Geno breathing now, moving, tucking Sid’s sleeping bag close and wrapping his arm around his waist. All he could smell was the scent of slightly sweaty Geno - no perfume at all.

A large palm cupped the back of his head, encouraging him to tuck his face into Geno’s neck which he gladly did.

“Good. Sleep now. Let me protect. Nothing get you.” Sid took several deep breaths, “Don’t know why you always do this, work self up, stress not good. I’m worry you know.”

Sid huffed a hoarse laugh into Geno’s collar. Geno’s throat bobbed against his cheek as he swallowed.

“I do. Most worry, always. Not want to do if you’re not have fun.” his voice was incredibly soft and Sid blinked into the darkness created by their bodies.

“I do have fun. When we’re together it’s fine.”

“Not fine now, Sid.” He sighed heavily, “sometimes wish we can just prove ghosts real so we stop doing this.” He shifted his legs closer to Sid’s, nylon sleeping bag rustling, “but selfish also. Want never prove ghosts, do this with you forever. Keep close, love always.” he stroked his hand over the soft hair at the back of Sid’s neck.

“Geno-”

“Come Sid, need sleep.” he repeated quietly almost sadly, pulling him even closer. Sid let himself lie there for a little longer, tucked into the bubble of warmth that Geno created for him, thinking over his words. Finally he pushed away and sat up, grabbing his phone and flipping on the light immediately.

Geno squinted at him, hand coming up to block the brightness as best he could.

“Sid?”

“I don’t want to do this right now.” He swallowed, refusing to look outside of the pool of light that Geno was in, his bright spot in the darkness, “I don’t want to tell you that I’m in love with you and it doesn’t matter what we’re doing as long as we’re doing it together - here, in this haunted fucking house. So I’m going to turn off my light, and we’re going to go to sleep and tomorrow morning when the sun is up and we’re on our way home we can talk.”

Geno blinked at him owlishly before a smile started to curl the corners of his lips.  He then nodded. Sid turned the light on his phone off and immediately regretted it, the darkness rushing in. He put it aside and slid seamlessly back into the circle of Geno’s arms.

“So brave Sid.” G teased, voice rumbling in his chest. Sid didn’t need to see his face to know he was smirking.

“Shut up.”

Morning broke as it always did, not soon enough, but welcome relief after an uncomfortable night on a hard floor.

They lazily packed up their gear, shooting texts to Phil about what they wanted for breakfast. Geno looked puffy and tired behind his glasses, and pulled his toque and jacket and boots back on in his usual thick morning silence.

Sid was starting to doubt his own sanity, wondering if what had happened in the middle of the night was actually just a psychotic break brought on by fear. But then as he was struggling into his backpack Geno was there, in his personal space and straightening out the straps for him, carefully righting Sid’s jacket and then meeting his gaze meaningfully.

“Come on, let’s get the fuck out of this shitty place and get something to eat.” Sid said, maybe too loudly, but Geno just grinned in reply and motioned for him to lead the way out.

Somewhere in the middle of his second hash brown patty, scarfed down in their rental car, Geno started speaking English again and began complaining loudly about his work emails piling up while scrolling through his phone with greasy fingers.

Sid smothered a smile, looking out the window in the back seat while they drove the winding path down to where they’d left their motion detectors for the night by the tracks.

Everything was more or less exactly where they’d left it. Phil set about checking and packing up their low light cameras and Geno and Sid crunched down to the tracks to gather up all the detectors they’d laid out.

Geno shot Sid heavy looks as they packed each device carefully back into their padded camera bag compartments - he was clearly waiting for their conversation about as patiently as a lab waiting for dinner.

They were shoving all their gear bags back into the car’s trunk, struggling to Tetris in the tripods when Sid heard it - the train.

He snapped upright out of the trunk and turned towards the tracks below them - Geno and Phil had apparently heard it this time as well, as they paused what they were doing to turn and look too.

Before he could take more than a couple steps back towards the tracks, the leaves started kicking up in a great wind and a steam engine came barrelling through the wooded corridor. It looked and sounded and behaved as real as any other train Sid had ever seen, and in a flash it was gone as soon as it’d come.

“….Did you see that?” he turned to them with breathless wide eyes. Phil was swearing at his phone, he hadn’t been fast enough to catch it - Sid hadn’t even thought of recording it. Geno anticlimactically shrugged.

“Guess tracks not as abandoned as thought.” Sid turned to face Geno squarely, not believing what he was hearing.

“Seriously G? That’s what you’re going with? You just saw a ghost train with your own two eyes and-”

“Saw train, yes. Saw ghost train? No.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“How can you even say that? You know that these tracks haven’t been used in decades!” Sid could hear his voice climbing higher and higher but couldn’t stop it.

“Maybe someone pull prank.”

“A. Full. Sized. Train.”

“Maybe was illusion, make us think we see something that not there, like mag-” Sid grabbed either side of Geno’s face, careful but firm, pressing his cheeks until his lips pursed and he couldn’t continue.

“I love you. But if you don’t shut up I’m going to leave you here with the ghosts. Let me have this for at least ten minutes.” Geno pulled Sid’s hands away from his face by the wrists, already smirking down at him.

“Oooookay. I don’t even want to know what happened in that house last night.” Phil unlocked the car and climbed in without looking back at them.

“Love me?” he looked smug and sleepy behind his glasses. Lips chapped, and hair a mess, continually and frustratingly skeptical about things that mattered.

“You already know that.”

“Want to hear again. Am science man, like repeated result.” Sid rolled his eyes and pulled Geno’s snickering face into a kiss, his glasses getting wedged awkwardly against their cheeks before they separated.

“Are we going to argue about that train for the rest of the week?” Sid pulled back just enough to let Geno fix his glasses and look down at him, impossibly fond.

“Think we going to argue about train for rest of our lives.”

AO3

[rhysand-vs-fenrys]

Because I’m very bored, ALL DA SYMBOLS

LMAO!

You must be bored!

Putting it under a cut, since there are a lot of pictures

📱 Show your phone lock screen and/or home screen

I’m not someone who puts home/lock screens, I just change my phone’s theme when I get bored (and thank you for asking this because in wiping out personal info I realized my phone was still on silent XD)

💕 Your two top fave fictional characters

I’m sorry, I’m picking characters from my Original. It’s cheating, but they’re where my heart is right now–

Nereene

Colm/Vivienne (it’s a tie)

🕹 Video game you are currently playing

World of Warcraft- and before you make fun of me, you can play free up to level 20 so see if YOU don’t get hooked too. I am getting my 5th character to level 120, I have another 6-7 who are at least L90…

There are literally only 2 games I don’t suck at: World of Warcraft and The Sims 3. 

🌡 Fave season

Either fall or winter. I like being cold and watching snow or the leaves change…

🏫 Are you in school, what grade

I’m in 21st grade (haahahahahaha).

🎒 Are you in college, major area of study

I have a B.A. in Telecommunications (Video Design and Production track) and a minor in Classical Civilizations: Literature and Culture (Roman track)

🏢 Your job (You don’t have to be specific) or dream job if you don’t work

Job: I work as a freelance media specialist for the local PBS station. I’m a camerawoman, audio director, lighting director, grip, and script supervisor as needed (plus like 10 other things).

Dream Job: A writer in some way- movies, TV shows, or my own novels (but not movies or TV shows based on my novels because I’m not objective enough to cut stuff down to movie/tv formatting).

📷 Post the 12th photo from your phone’s gallery

Oh great, now you know what we’re having for Thanksgiving (if you can read my nightmare handwriting)…

📅 Your birthday

Winter sometime

🎂 How old are you

27

📏 How tall are you

5′6.5″ (169 cm)

🔑 Key to your heart

Being loved ^_^

📖 Fave book

A Court of Mist and Fury

📝 Fave quote

“It is easy to descend into Hell, all day and all night the dark doors of Hades stand open. But to retrace your path, to emerge once again in the sweet air of heaven- this is your task, and therein lies your burden.”— Virgil’s ‘The Aeneid’ (Poetic translation)

Basically the greatest quote for redemption or even just to get through life.

🌐 Languages you can speak and/or are learning. Which are you fluent in

I am not fluent in any language (or at least today it doesn’t feel like it), but I can sometimes speak English.

For real though, I’m pretty good at Korean (studied it in Uni and lived in Wonju for a year), and I can surprisingly not totally fuck myself over with Chinese (1 semester in college and a couple years watching Chinese dramas, so don’t expect much).

💻 Desktop/Laptop/iPad/other

Desktop yes, Chromebook (a tablet that thinks it’s a laptop really), and a Samsung tablet.

📔 Do you keep a traditional diary

Sort of? I mainly write in it when I can’t sleep because something is chewing at my mind, which means it’s full of really dark shit.

☠ Something that angers you

The political landscape of the US right now and how homophobic, misogynistic, racist, and elitist it is (also people who drive 5 miles under the speed limit in the passing lane).

🐷 Junk food you can never get enough of

Cooler ranch doritos

🌼 Fave flower

I love the look of a rose but the smell of carnation.

📺 Fave anime

“The Twelve Kingdoms” (Because I love the book and it’s surprisingly almost identical to the novel, which is surprising because when I say novel I mean novel- it isn’t a comic book).

🎥 Fave film

Either “My Cousin Vinny” or “The Secret of Roan Inish”

📻 Fave song currently

I was digging “Natural” by Imagine Dragons the whole drive home from work today.

🎙 Can you sing

I can make sounds come out of my mouth, but I’m sure people would disagree as to if it counted as singing…

🎁 Best gift you ever received and why

I’m calling it a “gift”– the settlement from a lawsuit against my pediatrician. He (more likely his wife/head nurse) was watering down vaccinations, so the settlement was $XXX for how many you had re-done. I ended up getting 3, my brother only had 1.

I say it is the best because the $1,500 I got (at 14) ended up buying me my very first laptop, and it wholly unleashed me as a writer. I had somewhere that was MINE to work on stuff without my family being able to access it (my family, btw, doesn’t know I write). I typed up first drafts of about 5 originals within 1 year. 

The most liberating thing in my entire life was that first laptop, and now I’m unstoppable.

👾 Do you believe in aliens

Of course.

Do I believe they stick probes up hillbilly assholes and draw in corn? No. I’d be stunned if there was any previous interaction, they’re probably as ignorant of us as we are of them.

To quote the movie Contact (or paraphrase because I’m not looking up the quote), if we were alone in the Universe, “It would be an awful big waste of space.”

👻 Do you believe in ghosts

Sometimes? IDK, I like a good ghost story, but I’ve never seen someone describe an encounter and been like “THAT SOUNDS SO LEGIT!”

⛪ What is your religion

I like the idea of religion, but I figure no one is actually going to get it right. Every religion in the history of existence has always sworn they’re the only real one and everyone else is going to hell. In 5,000+ years every religion now will be looked at like how we look at ancient Greek or Roman gods.

I just try to live well so I can face my own conscience and generally leave things better than I found them. I think that’s the core of every religion, and just “Do your best to not be a dick” is a good life policy. 

Again, I love religion, I think it serves a great (but sometimes terrible) place in humanity, and I’m not an atheist, I just don’t feel strongly about any specific religion. If my future lover is heavily invested in one, I’d go to services with them and support them all the same.

🌎 What country do you live in

United States, the country of horrible health care and truly atrocious sex-ed.

📸 Post a selfie

I’m having a bad face day, so here’s one from last December (AKA the last time I looked good)

[sambukasam]

S is for Scratches

Summary: Rough sex is the best sex, is it not?

Request: @taking-the-hobbits-to-gallifrey: Could you do a John x reader rough smut I feel like there isn’t enough of him xxxx

Pairing: John x Reader

Warnings: semi rough sex, kitchen table sex, kitchen counter sex, probably unprotected sex but i didnt specify, spanking, scratching, hair pulling, squirting, oral (f receiving), fingering, bitta nipple play if you quint

Word Count: 2576

A/N: I THINK IM FINALLY BACK FOR GOOD WOO!! ok so idk if this is what was expected and also ive gotta admit that there is minimal scratching so apologies

ABC’s of Sex Masterlist ↔︎ Normal Masterlist

"I'll hurt you," he tried, but you shook your head.

"John, that's kind of the whole point," you said softly with a smile.

He scoffed, glancing down at his clasped hands that were resting in his lap. "What if I went too far?"

That conversation had been months ago, and John went from treating you like you were made of glass to steel. He wasn't afraid to leave marks; be it bruises, scratches or even mascara tracks down your face. John was made to be in control, and it seemed all he needed was your words of encouragement to allow him to truly see that that stretched to the bedroom as well.

The front door slammed, interrupting your thoughts and making the thin windows rattle from the force.

"Honey, I'm home!" John called out, and you could hear the obvious sarcasm in his voice. His heavy boots thumped against the floor as he stomped to where you were in the kitchen, credit card applications scattered around you on the table.

He leaned against the door frame when he reached the room and ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly, but still found the energy to smile at you. You could see the anger simmering behind his eyes and knew he had a tough day.

"Strip."

And with one single word, his fake happy ended. You shoved the papers to one side on the table before standing up, getting out of your clothes as quick as you could. While you were leaning down to pull your socks off, John breezed by you to grab a glass and the closest bottle of alcohol to hand. He poured himself a small glass to help him relax, but not enough to mess with his control. The kitchen air was cool against your warm skin, but that didn't stop your nipples from perking up.

"Good girl," he praised when you straightened up. He swallowed his drink while you stood tall and proud, staying still as his eyes dragged slowly and appreciatively down your body. His tongue darted across his lips before he bit it between his teeth, a wide and this time sincere grin crossing his face. "No matter how shit the day gets, coming home to a pretty little thing like you makes it all worth it."

You blushed a little at how honest his voice was as he complimented you. You were already getting wet just from the way he was staring at you. You closed the small gap between the pair of you and reached up to teasingly brush your lips against his before moving them to his ear, whispering, "let me relax you."

You couldn't hide the smirk when you ducked back a step and saw his closed eyes while he sucked in a sharp breath to compose himself. His hands shot out to grab your waist, not letting you move back any more than you already had.

"You know what would really relax me?" He asked, and you could tell it was rhetorical by the smug little grin already blooming on his face. "You bent over that table."

He turned you around using his grip on you and gave you a gentle nudge forward. You tried to be as seductive as you could, swaying your hips and spreading your legs before slowly bending over, popping your ass up into the air. You shivered as the cold air met your soaked pussy, and your nipples hardened again at the cold temperature of the table.

His hand cracked down hard onto your ass, and you let out a small squeak of surprise. He chuckled when you backed into his hand, signalling your need for more. He humoured you, raining a few more slaps down on you; spreading the blows evenly between both of your cheeks to share the sharp sting.

"Well whaddya know, I'm feelin' better already!"

You smiled from where the side of your face was squished into the table, glad that you could be his little stress reliever after a tough day.

There was a soft thud behind you, and before you can turn around to investigate you can feel his warm breath fan against your sensitive inner thighs. You squirm while you pictured him face to face with your cunt, wanting to back onto his mouth but knowing that he wouldn't be too happy with you if you did.

He leaned in closer and began trailing kisses along the handprints he left on your ass, the softness of his mouth contrasting with the steady throb his hands had left behind.

"Gorgeous," he breathed out.

"Please touch me," was all you replied.

"Patience is a virtue, Y/N," he chuckles deeply. "And we both know that once I start, I won't be able to leave you alone. Not until you're crying out for me to stop but squirming back onto my dick for more at the same time."

You bit your lip at his descriptiveness, knowing he was telling the truth from past experience. John was a merciless giver, which turned out to be a dangerous attribute. He would never fuck you until you'd come at least once some other way, no matter what. Meaning that by the time he fills you up, you're already feeling the over sensitivity he always leaves behind.

Finally, his mouth connected to your pussy, his tongue licking a bold trail from your clit to your hole, circling it before he dipped it in teasingly.

"Thank you," you whispered almost inaudibly, and you wouldn't have known that he heard you unless you felt the smile spread across his face.

His tongue licked small but hard kitten licks to your clit before fucking into your hole a few times, before the cycle started once again. He brought up a long finger and pushed it into your pussy while he nibbled teasingly at your clit, sucking it harshly into his mouth before he pulled back, releasing it with a loud wet noise.

He set a quick pace, pounding it into your sweet spot while mouth held a relentless attack on your clit. He added a second finger, stopping the ministrations with his mouth to focus on their rhythm. He alternated between crooking his fingers inside of you and pumping them in fast.

His free hand had a grip on your ass, keeping the cheeks spread to keep his view clear. He let go and brought his hand down hard on the already bruising skin, pressing his palm into the mark and matching it perfectly.

"John!" You cried out.

The room was full of the lewd noises of his fingers inside of you, your growing moans and his hand occasionally slapping you.

"I'm close," you breathed out, your thighs shaking with the struggle of keeping you up under all of his actions. The table shook underneath you from the force of the now three fingers thrusting inside of you, and you leaned most of your weight on it now, not trusting yourself to be able to keep yourself standing for much longer.

"Kinda the whole point," his words brought back the memory you had been reliving earlier while filling in the applications, and you couldn't help the smile from spreading across your face. "You gonna come for me, sweetheart?"

Before you could answer he slowed down the pace of his fingers, focusing on rubbing your sweet spot without pause and sucking your clit back into his mouth. His tongue circled the sensitive bundle of nerves, and you nearly screamed as his teeth scraped lightly against the throbbing area.

Under the combined efforts of his mouth and fingers, you felt the bottom of your stomach tighten up with the familiar warm sensation.

"J-John!" Was all the warning that you could give before the feeling of pleasure took over. Your legs gave out completely under you, and you fell forward the rest of the way onto the table. John followed you as you moved forward the bit, him never stopping what he was doing to drag the orgasm out as long as he could.

When the feeling finally subsided, you lay like a sweaty mess on the table, your chest heaving while you tried to catch your breath.

John got up to his feet and stood to the side of the table where you could see him without having to crane your up. He smirked down at you before bringing his fingers to his mouth, sucking them in obscenely, making your stomach flip and your pussy throb just a little more than it already was.

"Love coming home to my favourite meal," he laughed, his eyes twinkling. You giggled breathlessly at the joke.

"Feeling good now?"

"Think I'll fuck you, just to be sure," he said in a playful tone.

"Ah, of course," you played along.

He didn't bother taking his trousers off fully, instead settling on opening them and pulling them down low enough to free his dick. He pulled his shirt over his head and flung it behind him, exposing the broad expanse of his lean chest.

You subconsciously sucked your bottom lip into your mouth at the sight of his cock rock hard, and your eyes followed a clear drop of precum as it beaded at the slit and slowly began winding down.

"Not in the mood to go easy on you," he grunted while tapping the head of his dick against your pussy teasingly. All signs of the playful John from seconds ago was gone, instead, he was back to looking the way he did when he first stepped into the room: dark, hungry and ready to take.

"Good. I wasn't in the mood to let you be."

You made eye contact with him one last time before he slammed in with one big thrust. A squeak left your throat from the force of the intrusion, and you clenched tightly, your walls attempting to adjust to the sudden stretch even after his fingers opened you up just seconds earlier.

"Fuck, John!"

He didn't reply, instead settling on inching out slowly, letting you feel every ridge and bump on his length. He pulled back until just the tip was in, ignoring the way your cunt was fluttering around him in attempts to draw him back in. "Work for it for a bit, Babygirl," he said, and you could hear the strain in his voice from the amount of self-control he was using to avoid just taking you.

Immediately, you rose up to your elbows, using them to hold you up comfortably while you bounced your ass back onto him at a quick and rough pace. You ignored the ache in your ass from the spanks and focused on the pleasure you were getting from him splitting you open. You could feel him bump into your cervix each time you backed up onto him, encouraging you to go a bit rougher.

He slapped a hand on your ass before sliding it to your hip while the other grabbed a fistful of your hair, and just like that; any semblance of control that you had was gone. He used his grip on your hair to pull you up and rested his elbow between your shoulder blades to arch your back while his hand on your side steadied you. You arched into his grip, torn between enjoying the stinging in your head and just wanting to focus on his cock.

He pounded into you hard and fast, each thrust stealing the breath from your lungs. You could feel the deep groans rumbling through his chest while his balls slapped heavily against your clit, aiding his efforts in bringing you closer to the edge. He wasn't just moving his hips up into you, he was pulling you down, using the angle to practically bounce you off of his dick.

"Shit, Y/N," he swore under his breath.

He pulled out of you and spun you around to be facing him. You felt incredibly empty and noticed a steady trail of slick trickle its way out of you. His hands grabbed your thighs and wrapped your legs around him before he lifted you up and took a few steps towards the counter. He sat you down and you kept your legs wrapped around him, your ankles crossed and the heels of your feet digging into his ass.

He slid back into you, bottoming out easily from how wet you were. You could feel a mixture of your juices and sweat mingling together in the crease of your thighs, a sticky sensation that you couldn't bring yourself to care about at that moment.

The sound of his hips slapping quickly into your pelvis filled the room, and you appreciated how such a simple sound hid so much pleasure. You brought your hands around his shoulders, pulling his body in flush against yours, and his arms abandoned your legs; choosing to wrap them around your middle. It made everything ten times hotter now that you were clinging to each other almost desperately.

He shifted and changed the angle slightly, and everything was suddenly heightened. Your nails dug into the tops of his shoulders and you cried out, feeling him nail your sweet spot every time he rammed in. You could barely feel the pain in your ass while so much pleasure was happening.

He loosened his grip on you and ducked his head down, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. His teeth bit down harshly on them while his tongue lapped over it at the same time to soothe the pain.

"John," you moaned, dragging your nails down his back as he landed a particularly harsh thrust. You could feel a content smirk form around the nipple he was paying attention to.  You were probably drawing blood with the force you were using, but you didn't care at that point. He was a hunter, whatever you could do to him, he already had been through something a hundred times worse.

The familiar warm feeling was building inside of your stomach, and your pussy began to clench around him. You tried to hold back as best as you could, not wanting to come until he did.

"You close?" He panted out, almost like he read your mind. When you nodded he grinned. "Good."

One of his hands fell between the two of you and began rubbing your clit harshly, and you jerked under his grip, trying to escape the sudden overload of pleasure.

"Oh my god, please can I come?" Your nails dug farther into his back, and you could already picture the crescent-shaped marks that you would be leaving behind. It was fitting, he marked you and you marked him. Only seemed fair.

His thrusts were losing the rhythm that they had originally had, and you could tell he was on the verge as well. "Go for it."

Those words were all you needed, and you pulled him flush to your body again using the grip your hands and feet had on him. The tight ball in your stomach exploded, and you felt a strange pressure. Before you knew what was happening John was pulling out of you, done with his orgasm.

You leaned back onto your elbows with your whole body out on display for him, confused by the onslaught of pleasure you had just experienced.

"Shit, Babygirl, you just squirted!" He chuckled. When he pointed it out you could feel the pool of liquid underneath you. You flushed a dark shade of pink, embarrassed that you had made such a mess and scared that he was disgusted. However, all traces of embarrassment left you when he went on to say, "let's get you up to the bedroom, I'm not going to sleep until I make you do that again."