#layering error left some white spots

[doughguts-art]

Comic of Bandit and a friend's fellow elsen with an X. Friend is Arc, who doesn't have a tumblr.

Their elsen boi's name is Michael. He dualweilds meat cleavers and is a bit of a bastard with em too. We joked it was karma Bandit took a hand, since in Michael's story, he lops off someone's jaw with the knives.

[andromeda-nova-writing]

Your Help is so Sugary Sweet

Thoma x Fem!Reader

Summary:   Y/N has never been the best at baking now or ever. But when your very adorable baby cousin asks you to bake cookies, welp time to go to the kitchen. Even though the first round was a struggle it can’t be too bad, especially with some newly acquired help.

Words: 2,135

AN: Thank you @milkstore for the confidence boost while I was writing this fic. Also for confirming that this was as funny as I thought it was and for catching an error I had. You are the best!

“Thank you so much for showing up so last minute.” Y/N rushed Thoma inside her home. “My baby cousin signed me up to bring sugar cookies for his class’s bake sale. I told him it was okay. I mean it's just sugar cookies, right? It can't be that hard. Ugh, I’m such a fool.”

“Calm down. I’m sure what you made isn't that bad.” He placed down a few grocery bags on a dining table nearby. 

“If you don’t think it's that bad why do you have all of that?” Y/N motioned towards the bags he had brought. “Even then it just smells like burnt flour in here. How am I ever gonna get that smell out of my home?"

Thoma pulled a candle out of one of the bags he brought. "Well, Ayaka and I tried candle-making last week. You could try lighting this if the smell bothers you so much." He handed the candle over. It was in a Mason jar with a wick pre-cut down ready to be lit. The wax was placed in uneven layers of reds and blues swirling together to create a few shades of purple. 

Y/N took the candle. The label was homemade as well. Sticker paper with a marker telling the scent was vanilla blueberry. There were drawn-out silver sparkles with a pen that had been slightly rubbed off from being touched too early. "I love it. How could I ever light this?"

"We're supposed to try again next week with Ayato. There will be more so just light it before I do it for you. I remember where you put your lighter still."

"There's no way you do." She looked back up at his face trying to read if there was any sign that he was bluffing.

"In the second drawer on the left near your fridge pushed all the way to the back because you'd rather use wax melts than a candle most days." 

Frustrated yet impressed, Y/N threw a kitchen towel that was lying on the table before going to light the candle to hopefully shut up Thoma's laughter at knowing her all too well.

Thoma followed behind heading into the kitchen only to be met with the sight of burned sugar cookies and ingredients used up on the counter. It was his own personal nightmare. Dishes were stacked high in the sink. Flour and sugar covered the floor except for the gaps where someone had walked. On the counter where the cookies were rolled out, there were spots where dough stuck to the counter from not enough flour being placed down. There was a bowl that contained the yolks from eggs for some ungodly reason. 

"I was wrong to have faith in you," was all he could say as he processed what he was witnessing.

Y/N turned around, lighter in hand. “Thoma!” She whined.

“You have a bowl of egg yolk on the counter. How else am I supposed to react? It's like a tornado came through here.”

“I thought the cookies would look less yellow. If there’s white cake and yellow cake, doesn't that mean there should be white and yellow sugar cookies?” It was a genuine question with a train of thought that ran off the rails off a cliff into the ocean in the middle of a hurricane.

“The yolk is an important ingredient for the cookies.” He rubbed his forehead with flashes of some of the horrible things that Ayato had come up with maybe the same train of logic. “What else did you do?”

“I may have used half the recommended amount of sugar. You know so the kids that eat them don’t get a sugar high. It's more healthy for them anyway. That way they can snack on the cookies and they would still be tasty since there would still be sugar anyway. Why is it when I say this aloud I just know I’m in trouble?”

“Cause you’re evil. A villain!”

"A villain?"

"Yes, a villain. Don't you know when baking, that the recipe is the law." 

"Aren't baking and cooking the same thing? If you can throw spices around as you please when cooking, why can't you when baking?" Y/N lit the candle and placed it on top of the counter before placing the lighter down next to it. Poor candle trying its best to cover the burnt flour smell.

"Baking is more of an exact science. And even then you shouldn't throw spices around while cooking. You'll put something in that shouldn't be there. You are doing it out of not knowing better, Ayato does it out of curiosity, and Ayato’s ideas rubbed off on Ayaka. It's a miracle how the three of you made it this far."

"I'm genuinely trying to get better though.” She explained. “Doesn't that count for something? The only reason my baby cousin signed me up to help him out was cause that one time you helped me babysit him we all baked brownies together. The memory really stuck for him. I just didn't want to let him down."

Thoma sighed. "Go start washing the dishes. I'll start cleaning up in here and then we can start baking."

Y/N perked up. "So you aren't upset with me?"

"I knew what I was signing myself up for. Even then I'm just glad you didn't burn your kitchen down yet."

"I wouldn't go that far. I know how to put out a kitchen fire. I've done it before." Y/N spoke with way too much pride for someone who just admitted to actually almost burning down a kitchen.

"Please start the dishes before I get a headache." He couldn’t be that mad anyway but was still very worried about the lack of general baking knowledge.

Y/N laughed before following her savior's wishes.

-

“Even though the recipe says two and three-fourths of flour we are putting a little less in so when we roll out the dough the cookies won't have too much flour on them and fall apart on us,” Thoma explained as he measured out the dry ingredients before setting them aside in a bowl. “And we are doubling the batch so that means there should be five and a half cups of flour.”

“So you can adjust the recipe!” Y/N stood nearby watching tasked with the vital job of not touching anything and paying attention to hopefully learn what were her many mistakes. 

“Yes, I can adjust the recipe. You have to know what you are doing before you do whatever you want. If the batter is too wet, we add more flour. If the batter is too dry then you can add milk or eggs. But you add very little until you reach the correct consistency.”

“And when we add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, mix it in slowly.”

“I remembered that part. It’s so easy.”

“You want to do it?”

“Yes. It’s the least I can do.” Y/N took over happily, finally having a real task again, ready for redemption.

“While you work on that, I’ll prep the cookie sheets and the counter for when the dough is ready.” 

"Then we can cut them out to bake?"

"Yes. It's the easiest part. You should be able to do it by yourself while I make the frosting."

"You should wait to make the frosting. When I rolled out the dough before I couldn't get it thin enough without it falling apart and then it was uneven too."

"I'll give you a pass on that one. Learning the best way to roll out the dough can be tricky."

“So I’m not a lost cause.” Y/N teased

“I never said that.”

"But you were thinking about it."

"If I was, I wouldn't have given you the dough to mix. Are you finished with it yet?"

"Yes. Show me how it's done please." She brought the bowl over to where Thoma had cleared off the counter.

Thoma grabbed a clean measuring cup, dipped it into the bag, and took out the flour before sprinkling it over the counter. He rolled up his sleeves before hands with flour reaching in the bowl to grab the cookie dough and splitting it up in twos and then in twos again. 

He took one part of the dough placing it on the center of where he had flour on the counter. "There's some rolling pins that have bands you can place on them. You just place the height you want on them and don't even have to think."

"My rolling pin is just wood and didn't come with those. How does that help me?" 

"If your cousin wants you to make cookies again and I'm not around to help."

Y/N stuck her tongue out at him. "Just teach me already you meanie."

He continued trying to make his point. "If you don't get that rolling pin you should get a heavier one, this one is too light."

"Wouldn’t that just smash that dough down and be harder to move?"

"We want the dough to get smashed evenly but a heavier rolling pin isn't that hard to move around. The weight makes it easier to do the pulls and pushes more evenly since you aren't personally putting so much pressure on the dough."

"Ohhhh so I was pressing too hard into the dough."

He nodded his head. "You also need to turn the dough as you work so that when you are rolling it the pressure is placed around evenly."

"Yeah, I definitely wasn’t doing that."

"Then if you want to check to make sure it's the right size you should kneel down so you're at eye level with the counter. If you work it slowly and check every so often you should have no problem. Other than that, I think that’s all the advice I can give you.”

“So demonstration time then I get to try again?”

“That was the plan but like I said, your rolling pin is really light. It’s going to be hard to learn on this so I’ll do it for you this time if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I think I'd rather watch to see if I even understand first anyway."

Thoma took some more flour covering the rolling pin before getting to work, easily demonstrating his own advice. Roll the dough out, turn the dough, and repeat. It was so mundane yet surprisingly hypnotic. Odd. 

It wasn’t normally a task that Y/N found herself distracted by. It had to be the sight of the dough becoming wider and thinner that she must have been enchanted. That couldn't be it though as her eyes kept drifting towards Thoma's arms. Even more odd.

Yes, Thoma was an attractive guy but it’s Thoma. That was her friend. He’s a sweetheart and a goof. His arms looked amazing as he worked on the cookies but this was the same guy who had made countless sweaters for Taromaru. Then again that might be a plus. Maybe Y/N was just overthinking things. Instead of thinking of how nice it would be to be held by those arms, it would be better to think back on when Thoma had tried the Kamisatos’ latest hotpot creations and how he remained on the floor for 30 minutes after consuming it.

Actually no. She had been late to that dinner and should have been there earlier to stop him. For someone so helpful and important in their lives, they could at least help him out every now and then and not put him through things like that. Even though he laughs through it and says it’s fine, isn’t better to see him smiling like he was doing now.

His smile was so warm and comforting, filled with so much love for those around him. With everything he was doing right now, it wasn’t hard to admire him. Which led her back to staring at his arms. It’s just from a sense of admiration, so it must be alright to do.

Thoma’s hand began to snap in front of her face. “You there? Left space yet?”

She blinked stumbling back a bit. “I’m here. I’m here!”

“I asked if you could get the cookie cutters three times now. What were you even thinking about?” He question. The rolling pin had been placed on the side of the counter.

“Uh, It was nothing. I just zoned out. That’s all.” She moved quickly out of the way heading to the drying rack to to grab what he had asked for. 

Thoma frowned. He didn’t like being lied to but he didn’t want to push for an answer. Especially for something that over all wasn’t too important. “I’ll let you cut these out while I start the frosting. I’ll roll out the next batch once you’re done.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

[oloreandil]

@aluminumneedles thank you for giving me the chance to ramble about it !! the most difficult parts are tension and hiding the knots in the seams, but the rest is quite simple. it's basically all whip stitches, as close as you can without the thread bunching up. if there's a gap, i usually go back and fill it with a blanket stitch (so the threads don't overlap too much)

additional note: get a needle as thin as you can, especially with thick fabric, without the eye being so small that it damages the embroidery floss when you thread the needle or go through the fabric. wayyyy easier to control and get past the thickest areas, like around the button flap

for the side seams, i was careful to keep my stitches quite shallow along the fabric (first pic). i was pinching the two edges of the fabric on the inside between my fingers, and running my needle parallel to that (sill making sure to encase all the fraying, which is partially why the stitches are uneven. the rest is because i messed up my tension / accidentally poked out too far)

i have two types of embroidery floss: pearl cotton on the left (two twisted strands that you can't split), and standard embroidery floss on the right (6 individual strands). the pearl cotton is pre-cut, and for the standard floss i usually cut the length of one arm. not longer, or it becomes a tangled mess...

the pearl cotton is quite thick so i simple thread, and just cut off when i feel like i've done enough of the colour in one spot. for the standard embroidery thread, i usually double thread (with three strands only) until it's too short to do that and then i simple thread. it helps with knotting it off at the end, imo

i want to avoid my patches being too thick, since the fabric is so flimsy that it warps under the tension of the added material alone (see in the first part - last picture: the white capping at the back of my jeans). i try to avoid using the pearl cotton in those areas now, and mostly use the 3 strands of standard floss to fill them in. if i have the full 6 strands, i try to flatten them before i pull my needle taut

if the fabric is so flimsy in one place that sewing to reinforce an area would damage the neighbouring fabric, i place a piece of jean fabric (as high of a cotton percentage as you can get) and sew through all layers in a much wider whip stitch, to give it some more structure. you can look at visible mending and sachiko for more info

this is all trial and error, different fabrics might require different problem-solving etc. my conclusion is: the first rule of sewing club is to have fun and be yourself !!!

me: wow where have all my evenings gone lately 🤔

also me: it has been 382 days since i started working on the Yarneater3000, and it is so far from over

i am slowly encasing every seam and disintegrating edge of those jeans (so. most of it eventually) using every possible colour of embroidery floss, and it's been really fun !

[aashiqeddiediaz]

Hi may I ask on how do you color your gifs too? they all look so lovely, especially with the skin color, how do you get it right? I am finding it really hard and always struggle with it btw thanks for you tutorial.

Hi! Yeah I can try!

We'll be doing this scene, and I'm going to stick to the more basic way to color:

(This tutorial assumes basic knowledge of gif-making and adjustment layers.)

Super-long tutorial under the cut:

Few tips before you start:

Adjust everything little by little to prevent extreme changes/washed out gifs.

Don't worry if one adjustment layer makes the other ones look bad. You can always go back and keep adjusting.

Trust the process! The gifs will look different at every stage, as you'll see here, but as we go, they'll turn into properly-colored ones.

A lot of coloring - especially with skin color - is trial and error. Some scenes are inevitably going to be better than others.

Sometimes, it helps to have a few references of the actor/character in good lighting (preferably images of actors, because they won't have the horrible TV filters) so you can refer to that.

Keep in mind that the lighting of the scene (aka, if they're outside, or if they're in a dark room) will affect how they look in your final gif.

First, start with your gif cropped and sharpened (if you need a tutorial, here is my sharpening one!). Fair warning, I'm new to this, and I don't know the super-technical terms so hopefully this makes sense xD.

I'm working in timeline here, and this is what my starting page looks like. Those adjustment icons below the color wheel is what we'll be using:

Here's a small guide if you don't know which icon is which. You can also get these names by hovering over each icon:

My first adjustment layer is always an Exposure layer. This is a pretty bright scene, so we won't need to do too much exposure, but we do need something:

Alternatively, you can use the three droppers over there. I sometimes use the white one (first one on the right) to click on certain white spots to brighten the image automatically, but it doesn't work for all scenes. I prefer manual!

Next, we'll add a Levels layer. I use that middle slider to lighten up the scene, since sharpening and resizing tend to darken the scene.

Then the black slider to put some shadows back into the image. (be careful with this, because it's very easy to make it too dark.

NOTE: some people use Curves to do the work of the exposure and levels layers, but I don't like curves too much. I can make a tutorial on how to use it if you need it, but for now, this is what we'll be going on.

Next, we'll add a Photo Filter layer to get rid of that yellow. Here is where you have to start experimenting with what works best for you.

Photo Filter will have all these options to use:

I usually use any of the three cooling layers to get rid of most - if not all - of the yellow of a scene. The one I use most is Cooling Filter (80). The default is 25%, but depending on your scene, you'll want to adjust things accordingly:

A good rule of thumb is to focus on a part of an image that you already know the color of. For example, this wall is clearly white, not yellow. If the wall looks too blue, then I've done too much of the filter, and need to tone it down. With photo filter, 10-15% works for most scenes, but this scene was super yellow for some reason.

Just for a comparison, here's where we're at right now, with only the photo filter removed (see how he looks more minion on the left side of his face? Photo Filter is a gift xD):

Now, we'll use a Selective Color layer for two things: to remove some of the reddish undertone from his skin, and to add shadows back in.

First, hit the dropdown for Colors and select Red. To remove the reddish undertones, we'll add some cyan to the reds. Here, you really have to play around with things until it looks good. That means adjusting the sliders in a lot of different ways.

(Don't worry about how ashy and "blue" he looks, we'll fix that later)

Next, to add shadows back into it, hit the colors dropdown, and select Black. Here, I move the black slider to add back a few of the shadows. Usually, +3 or +5 are good enough. I've added +13 just because it's what I personally want out of this gif.

(By the way, you can do this on two separate selective-color adjustment layers. I just prefer to do it all on one.)

Next, (this is usually my last adjustment layer) we'll add a Vibrance layer. I do this layer just because I like to add a little bit of warmth back into the gif. The same thing can be achieved with another Photo Filter layer, I just like the pop of color I get with the vibrance layer.

And that's all! Here's what the final gif looks like:

Skin-color tips and other last tips:

For this gif, I didn't really need to go back to adjust the previous layers (for example, to remove more red or something), but sometimes, you have to keep playing around with it.

Some scenes have them very red, and sometimes, removing yellow by adding blue to a layer will make a gif look more red - in cases like these, using a color balance layer helps on top of the photo filter. Adjust midtones and highlights to have more cyan to remove the redness.

For darker skin-tones, I find that removing all the red will take all the warmth out of the skin? You have to be more careful then, to not completely change the undertones. Just remove the excess reds that come from the filters/film/lighting. (I can try to make a tutorial with a dark-skinned character if you'd like.)

An unavoidable part of adding adjustment layers is that it will decrease your quality just a lil bit - not enough to be noticeable, but just so you're aware in case that's a thing for you.

Sometimes, if you're going to gif a scene multiple times, it helps to just make note of the settings you're using somewhere so you don't necessarily have to start from scratch.

It also helps to step away from the gif for a bit and then come back to view it with new eyes. This is because you can get desensitized to all the changes, and I often find myself picking up errors in my coloring when I do this.

Gifs look different on different devices! Just a thing to keep in mind.

I hope this helps, and it wasn't too confusing! A lot of this tends to be practice, so just keep on trying. I usually try giffing multiple types of media for practice (i.e. multiple shows/movies - that's why there are so many Bollywood gifs on my blog!).

Happy giffing!

[ferg0s]

“trump card” - Kagami Taiga x Reader SMUT-ish

18 + Mature content

MINORS DONT INTERACT

Lol I don’t edit my stuff so sorry about the spelling errors :0

Playing against Kirisaki Daichi High meant that it wasn’t going to be a fair game. With Hanamiya leading the team, and the team obeying everything he said, it was hard to predict what he would do next.

By the third quarter everything that Hanamiya could possibly do has been done - kicking, stomping, pushing, tripping - yet Seirin refused to go down. It was midly irritating to see such high spirits in a time that was supposed to be dedicated to misery. The ref was also catching into the antics of the team which meant they had to tone down their taunting - on court.

It was Hanamiya. That fucker always had something up his sleeve - and in times like this he knew exactly what to use to distract the red haired giant that has been plowing through ans getting points. No one saw it coming, especially Kagami.

Everyone had noticed the quiet girl sitting on Daichi Highs bench since they came in. She would occasionally get up and give water to the team during time outs but other than that she was quiet. It was eerie almost - she worked like a robot. They felt almost sorry for her, being forced to be with such a team must be awful - but if only they knew.

Daichi high has called a time out - their last in the game - it was oddly short and just consisted of Hanamiya going up to the teams manager and her giving him a water bottle. 10 seconds max. Ur came as a shock to everyone but they assumed it was Hamamiya way of breaking the flow of Seirin. So as soon as the red blew his whistle eveyeone went back to playing as they would - expect they started to put a lot of emphasis on Kagami. He found himself cornered in awkward pockets around the court, often a hand full of players blocking him or circling him. With their backs to him he could only see certain spots in the court causing him to hectically scan the court for an escape - and that’s when he saw it.

There was a big exit for him to take in his left, wide open - but he was too fixated on what was in the middle of the scene. The quiet manager of Daichi High, bent over while fumbling around water bottles in a bag on the bench, skirt hiked up and panties exposed. Time stood still as Kagami stared at her. She wore plain white panties. Every crevice of her cunt on display from the tightness of her panties - the outline of her lips was visible even from such a distance - it was like an art display. The sudden feeling of a ball hitting the side of his head brought him bask to reality.

And that’s when he realized what was happening. He tried to ignore it but they would have him cornered every time and in full view of her. Everytime he would try his best to look away - but some animalistic urge in him would turn to face her out of pure lust. Each time was different than the rest - bend down, sitting on the bench with legs side open - his mind began to fog up as his blood began to rush to his growing dick. He prayed no one noticed his growing boner as he played the game. As expected his efficiency decreased - the more dunks he messed up and passes he missed - the Seirin team was baffled at the sudden shift. But there was no way Kagami could tell them that a boner was holding him back from playing.

Pulling himself together he began to override his senses and focus on the game - he was a hormonal teenage boy but he was a hormonal teenage boy who cared more about basketball than he did pussy - and with that he managed to steal back the points that he had let slip and more. Things were going great until…

His curiosity got the better of him. It was supposed to be a quick glance. He tried to justify it in multiple ways in his head - but in the end he couldn’t deny that he in fact that willingly looked over. His eyes widened at sight, jaw dropping as he lost his composed stature. She had pulled the thin layer of fabric away, the god forsaken thin fabric that was burned into his brain, and now he saw it all. This had been his first time seeing an actual cunt - porn doesn’t count - and he was stunned.

Legs open, panties pulled to the side as you put your cunt on display for him to see. The lips were spread apart due to your legs being apart, the little bun of your clit was poking out as your labia glistened under the lights of the arena - ‘is she wet right now?’ Kagami thought - like a deer caught in head lights he was frozen. Any pint or blood that has been up in his brain had rushed down to his dick. The only thing holding ur back from sprinting up was the athletic boxers he wore underneath and the loose jersey.

The effects were Immediate. Everyone watched in horror as Kagami stumbled on the court, sluggishly running on the court in attempt to get the ball, constantly falling short on deliveries - it has become clear the once star of Seirin was not its biggest downfall. No one was surprised when Riko called in for a substitution. Kagami didn’t answer the questions that were being bombarded to him by his team mates, instead he ignored them and began to make his way to the exit door. No one interfered, thinking that he was dealing with some inner turmoil that needed to be resolved - not knowing he was going to go quickly jack it in the bathroom to clear his system.

He wasn’t alone though. Despite his knowledge he has a shadow following him. To caught up in his thoughts he didn’t notice her walk into the bathroom with him - only realizing she was there when he saw her reflection in the mirror. She stood there, quiet and calm, as Kagami caught his breath from the sudden scare. A small part of Kagami wanted to yell at her for what she pulled back at the game, but the majority of his blood was pumped into his dick - now throbbing - and all he could think about was her. He knew why she was here, he has caught into what the plan was from the beginning - but he was too horny to care.

He didn’t hesitate to push his dick into her as his nails dug into her hips. His jersey pants and boxers down to his ankles as his dick plunged deep into her gut - the panties she uses to taunt him stuffed in her mouth to quiet her moans. It was wrong, but god did she look good bent over the sink counter worn her skirt hiked up. Her ass in full view, the perfect view to accompany the view of him pushing his dick deeper and deeper into her. The sick part was the more rough he got the more she enjoyed it - the more her pussy gushed around his dick, tightening up and sucking him deeper in - the muffled moans were also self explanatory. By the time he has her sitting on the counter, legs wrapped around his waist as he bucked his hips up into hers he had forgotten about the game going on. The more she came on his dick the more he lost himself in her. Literally.

Hanamiya smiled as he looked at the score board. They were up by 10, and only 30 seconds remained in the last quarter. Seirin was in shambles as they tried to locate their star player. He made a mental note to thank (Y/N) after he finished basking in the misery of his former teammate.

[toosicktoocare]

emergency contact

pt 1 of 2 and also found on ao3!

(i promise i’m not ignoring my prompts- this idea just kinda popped into my head)

“Hi, may I speak with Mr. Evan Buckley?”

Frowning, Buck pulls the phone away from his ear. He doesn’t know the number; however, the area code is local, so he can probably rule out a scam call. At least, he thinks, the woman on the other line sounds very much real and not a robotic recording about to lead in with a cruise ship he didn’t sign up for.

“Uh, yeah. This is Buck—I mean Evan. This is Evan Buckley.” He clears his throat. He can hear a lot of background noise—a lot of muffled speaking, intercoms crackling. He’s heard it before, but he’s struggling to equate the noise to a particular memory, only having a small rock of dread burrowing low in his stomach to go by.

“Hi, Mr. Buckley. I’m Nurse Johns at LA General. I have you listed as the second emergency contact for Christopher Diaz.”

Buck’s stomach bottoms out, leaving him nauseous, weightless, and far too cold despite the LA sun beating in through his window and warming his bed. He shivers and forces himself upright in bed, muscles rigid, jaw a tense, jutted line.

“His father,” Buck starts into the phone, shaky, “Eddie—Edmundo Diaz—”

“—didn’t answer. You’re next on the list. Sir, if this is incorrect, I’ll need to move on to the next person—”

“—no!” Buck jerks to his feet, nudging abandoned clothes around with his foot until he finds a pair of gym shorts. “I’m… His father’s on a shift with the LAFD. Is Chris okay? What’s going on?” Composure, he thinks, is out the window. Then again, he’s never been capable of the whole ‘cool, calm, and collected’ thing when it comes to Chris. He snags the same shirt he tossed to the floor when he climbed into bed this morning after his 24-hour, a short-sleeved, blue shirt, and slips it over of his head, careful of his phone.

“Sir, I can’t disclose that over the phone.”

“Right,” Buck mutters, nodding more to himself. “I’m on my way now. Tell Chris—tell him Bucky’s on the way, okay?” He ends the call, taking the steps down from his loft two at a time. He’s only faintly aware that he’s shaking, and the rock of dread’s grown triple in size and sits heavily against his gut. He fumbles with his keys, pockets his wallet, and just remembers to slip on a pair of sandals. If he weren’t moving against a rush of fear, he’d take the time to give a mental ‘look who’s laughing now’ to everyone who’s made fun of the sandals in the last two months since he purchased them, but, the fear is a cold hand that’s pulling on him, disrupting his thoughts, chiseling against his composure.

He doesn’t dwell. He races out of his apartment, and in seconds, he’s in his jeep and whipping out of his parking spot. He knows LA well, knows the traffic patterns, and he’s unfortunately hitting lunch rush, which, he thinks, is probably similar to some twisted second layer of hell. He wishes, more than anything in this second, that he had an engine, that he could dominate the road with the power of a siren, but his jeep will have to suffice. Still, his grip on his steering wheel is tight, his knuckles fading white, when he hits the first of many red lights.

He uses hands-free to call Eddie, not surprised to get his voicemail after only two rings.

“Eddie! Chris is in the hospital—They didn’t give me any details, and I’m on my way now. They called you first. I’m next on the list?” Buck pauses briefly on that, gets lost in that fact, but then he shakes his head. “Look, he’s at LA General���just get there when you can, okay?”

He ends the calls, somehow feeling even worse, and then he tries Bobby. Logically, he knows that if Eddie’s not answering, Bobby probably won’t either. Still, when he’s teetering on the edge of panic, Bobby can talk him down, can ease him safely back to the present.  

“Buck?”

Buck’s foot slips a little too hard on the gas, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Bobby? Bobby! Where’s Eddie?”

“Currently? He’s probably making his way back to a second story window, hopefully with one of the victims of an expansive house fire.” A pause. “What’s going on, Buck?”

Buck peers around, swallows back a groan at the cars on every side of him. “Look, can you get Eddie to LA General ASAP?”

“You’re at LA General? Are you hurt?”

“No! I mean, I will be, but it’s not me—it’s Christopher. Bobby, I don’t…” Buck sighs, drags a free hand down his face. He can feel his lungs constricting. The pressure of panic’s a bitch.

“They didn’t say anything over the phone. They tried Eddie first, and then they called me. I’m—”

“—Buck, take a breath. I’ll get Eddie there as soon as possible. You be careful driving there, okay? Keep us updated.”

Buck comes back down to earth with a low breath that’s been trapped in his lungs. “Thanks, Bobby,” he says, and he means it, pushing his gratitude hard into the two words. The call ends, and Buck forces his focus onto the road, onto making it to the hospital in one piece because Christopher needs him.

***

Concussion.

It’s the only word Buck keeps coming back to. He’s being led down hallways that are too bright, too loud, and annoyingly familiar, and the nurse is explaining that Christopher took a tumble at school and is currently being monitored for a possible concussion. Buck nods when appropriate, offers a few non-verbal affirmatives, and then he’s stopping before two large, glass windows, and behind them, Chris is sitting in bed chatting with another nurse. His hand finds the glass, fingers spread out, anxiety spread even to his palms.

“You’re welcome to go in. We’ve told him you’re coming.”

Buck nods absently. He’s going to go in—of course, he’s going to go in. He just needs to take a single second to fully capture the image of Christopher alive and breathing in his mind, an image that can break through the muddle, clear his head, bring breath back to his lungs.

“Mr. Buckley?”

“Sorry,” Buck mutters, nodding. He turns when the nurse opens the door for him, and he wills away any and all fear etched deep in his face the second he crosses over into the room.

“Bucky!”

“Chris!” Buck’s no stranger to concussions, so though animated, he keeps his voice soft, and he walks toward the end of the bed, glancing at the clipboard. “How’re you feeling, bud?” He asks, satisfied to see that the doctor’s notes are promising.

“My head hurts.”

“I bet it does,” Buck mutters, sympathetic, and he drops onto the edge of the bed, one hand resting atop Christopher’s covered knee. “What happened?”

“Me and Caleb were playing firefighter, and I fell down a step.”

Buck sucks in a sharp breath, holds it in his lungs to brace for the familiar wave of guilt that’s soon to tangle in his breath, jab past his rib cage to his lungs. “Is that so?” He settles for, breathless, and Christopher’s face falls, his eyes dropping to his lap.

“Don’t tell dad. He’ll get mad.”

“Chris—”

“—Mr. Buckley, I presume?”

Buck’s never been more thankful for a doctor to walk in for he wasn’t sure how to unpackage Christopher’s quiet plea in a way that wouldn’t be considered as overstepping Eddie’s parental authority but also in a way that wouldn’t have Christopher demanding he leave.

“Uh, yeah—It’s Buck.”

“Okay, Buck. Want the good news?”

“Will it be followed by bad news?” Buck asks, one brow arched, stomach twisting. “Because his father—”

“—no bad news today,” the doctor interrupts, and Buck huffs out a quiet sigh of relief and gives Christopher’s knee a squeeze. He gives a nod, and the doctor plucks the clipboard up.

“Christopher’s been cleared of a concussion. He’s got a few scrapes and bruises, and his head will probably hurt for a few more hours, but otherwise, he’s fine. I’ll leave a note at the front desk to begin the discharge papers. He should be out within the hour.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Buck mutters, and he nods when the doctor and nurses exit, giving him space to breathe; though, he’s not sure how much he can actually breath encompassed in four, blinding walls that bring back a pressing dark cloud of memories.

“Buck?”

Buck blinks slowly, peels his gaze from the door to see Christopher smiling softly at him, poking at his side.

“Can you lay with me?”

Buck eyes the small bed, mentally works round the best way to squeeze in, to maximize Christopher’s comfort, and he slips his sandals off and climbs onto the bed, impossibly gentle when he adjusts Chris. When he’s got Christopher against his chest, he sighs, and Christopher sighs with him, content, safe.

***

“That’s the last of them, Cap,” Eddie coughs lightly, tugs his helmet off. His lungs burn faintly from smoke inhalation. It’s not bad by any means, but he’s dabbling with the idea of having Hen look him over anyway.  

“Should I help with fire…” Eddie’s words trail off when the 122 pulls up onto the scene, their members already hopping out of the engine and working the hose. “Was backup necessary?” He glances back over his shoulder. Sure, the fire’s large, but he doesn’t think it’s classified as a level high enough to warrant local support.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie whips back around, squints at Bobby. “Yeah, why?”

“Let me clarify: are you okay to leave the scene right this second, or do you need to a look-over now?”

Eddie’s still struggling to read Bobby’s tone for it’s always frighteningly composed, even in the face of emergency. “I’m okay now.” He nods slowly, and then Bobby’s turning on his heel and wordlessly gesturing him toward the engine.

He slips into the back, pausing to see Bobby sitting in the back with him, stationed across from him.

“Cap, what—”

“—have a seat.”

Eddie sits slowly, slips his headphones on, and then the engine’s roaring to life beneath him and pulling away from the scene. He’s alone with Bobby because Hen and Chimney left earlier with a patient, and he can’t shake the feeling that he’s in trouble for something. He replays his actions at the house fire, yet he can’t find an error that would warrant a private conversation with Bobby.

“Buck called,” Bobby finally says, and Eddie drags his gaze from the cars moving onto the road shoulders, now finally tuning in to the fact that the sirens are wailing overhead still, the engine demanding the street with the shrill sounds and flashing lights. The sirens shouldn’t be on unless…

“Is he okay?”

“Buck’s fine. The hospital called him because Christopher was brought in. They tried you, and he was next on the emergency contact list.”

There’s dread, Eddie thinks. Dread when he rides up to a call and gathers the first, initial assessment of the situation. And then there’s bone-deep, crippling fear—fear that twists in his gut, pools into his lungs, walls around his heart. It drains the blood from his face, freezes his muscles, steals his breath, and buries his mind in a series of what if scenarios that range from grim to downright terrifying.

“Eddie, breathe.”

He does, but only because his mind is trained to respond on command to Bobby’s voice. The breath he sucks in his short and cold, and he finally reaches in his pocket for his phone. He’s got four missed calls, three voicemails, and a series of texts from Buck, all fairly close in time to the other.

He goes through the texts—he won’t be able to hear the voicemails right now, and he really doesn’t think he’ll be able to stomach Buck’s panicked, broken voice.

[From: Buck] Chris is okay. He fell at school and hit his head

[From: Buck] no concussion. Doc said he can be discharged within the hour

[From: Buck] I’ve checked him over. There’s a bruise on his side I want to keep an eye on but otherwise he’s okay

[From: Buck] we should talk about why he fell

[From: Buck] but not until later! Sorry that last text sounded weird…

[From: Buck] discharge in 20 minutes. I’ll bring him back to yours if you aren’t able to come yet. I still have the spare key you gave me

He’s blinks around the tears pooling in his eyes, swallows thickly. “Buck said he’s okay. He fell at school.” He’s aware his voice is shaking, and then Bobby claps him on the knee.

“That’s a good thing.”

It is, Eddie thinks, swiping the back of his hand over his eyes. He works on his breathing, controlling it, counting breaths, but when they pull up to the hospital, the fear comes back, muted now, but still there, always there.

He hops out of the engine, Bobby not far behind, and in just seconds, a nurse is guiding them back. When he reaches the door and looks beyond the glass to see Christopher curled up against Buck’s chest, he breathes, deeply and fully, for the first time since he pulled himself up into the engine. Relief, he thinks, is the singular image of the two most important people in his life safe and together.

***

“Christopher!”

Buck whips his gaze from his phone where he’s got a story pulled up to read to Christopher, and he slowly turns Chris over just as Eddie rounds the bed and pulls Chris to his chest tightly. He notes, to himself, that Eddie’s in full turnout gear, that he’s got soot smudges on his face, that his jaw is a set, unwavering line jutting against his skin.

“Daddy!”

“¿Estás bien, hijo?”

“Sí.”

Buck wordlessly slips from the bed, toes his feet into his sandals. He crosses his arms and backs away from the scene, feeling all too overwhelmed, suddenly suffocated despite the brush of relief before him, and then Eddie’s looking toward him, frowning, eyes unreadable, and Buck offers a small smile.

“The discharge papers,” he motions toward a stack of papers on the end of the hospital bed. “I’ll bring my jeep around.”

“Wait, Buck—”

Buck slips out of the room, eyes cast to the ground, and he bumps right into someone, his hand coming up to fist around the turnout jacket and his head dropping against a shoulder.

“You okay, Buck?”

There are so many ways Buck wants to say no, but the one that’s most alarming, one that’s been a nagging twinge in his lungs, is the one he opts for. “I don’t think I can breathe.” His voice is breathless, and then Bobby’s guiding him with a hand to his back toward the nearest exit. The second he bursts through the double doors, he sucks in a sharp gasp that breaks way to a few coughs, and he’s being gently eased onto the edge of the sidewalk.

“Easy, Buck. Breathe with me, okay?”

Buck meets Bobby’s eyes, nods, and drags his gaze down to Bobby’s chest, watching the steady rise and fall, mimicking it, until the fog clouding his brain breaks, leaving him far too tired. His shoulders slump, and Bobby claps a hand to his shoulder.

“What’s going on?”

“I didn’t know…” Buck sighs, dropping his face into his palms. He can hear his therapist’s voice reminding him that he’ll feel better if he’s more open with others. “I’m really overwhelmed right now.” He can feel Bobby’s hand tighten around his shoulder, a wordless sign to continue. “Just… Getting that call that Chris is in the hospital really freaked me out. I know he’s fine, but just… He’s the last person I ever want to see in a hospital bed.”

“Now you know how I feel every time I get a call that you’re in the hospital.”

“Bobby,” Buck groans, lifting his head to match Bobby’s smile.

“You look tired—I don’t imagine you got much sleep before the call?”

“A few hours,” Buck admits, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Not sure I’ll get back to sleep anytime soon. I’m exhausted, but it’s definitely going to take some time for the adrenaline to die down.”

“Do you need me to take Eddie and Chris back?”

“Nah,” Buck drags himself up to his feet, yawning. “I’m going to need to physically see Christopher safe in bed before I can even think about unwinding.” He can see one of the engines not far off in the parking lot, and he laughs quietly. “Though, I bet Chris would love to be back in the truck.” He frowns at Bobby’s turnover gear. “Did you leave right after a call?”

“I requested the 122 to come in for backup.”

Nodding absently, Buck looks back toward the doors they came from, and he crosses his arms, fingers digging into the skin. He knows that he’s taken all necessary steps when faced with an abrupt situation, yet he can’t shake the underlining burn in his stomach that he overstepped, that he didn’t get here fast enough, that he should have added a step, or even removed one, when getting here.

“You did good today, Buck.”

His shoulders slump, tension falling with them, and he huffs out a low sigh.

“Thanks, Bobby.”

***

“You keep looking at him like he’s going to disappear.”

Buck jumps; he didn’t hear the shower cut off, nor did he hear Eddie slip into Christopher’s room behind him.

“I keep thinking he might,” Buck whispers, and Eddie tugs at his arm, urging him up from the chair he’s got pulled up to Christopher’s bed. He lets Eddie guide him from the room, but when Eddie tries to ease him onto the couch, he digs his heels into the floor, and Eddie turns to him, brows furrowed.

“Buck—”

“—when were you planning on telling me I’m second on Christopher’s list of emergency contacts?”

Buck doesn’t miss the deep, calculated sigh Eddie breathes, and he opts to remain standing when Eddie sinks down onto the couch, only watching wordlessly as Eddie runs fingers through his damp hair.

“It was Chris’s idea.”

Buck blinks slowly. “What?”

“After the tsunami. When we were leaving the hospital, he mentioned how you saved him. He said he wanted you to be the person who comes to save him again.” Eddie pauses, rubs smally at the shirt fabric just above his chest. “I resisted at first—I told Christopher we couldn’t ask something that big of you, but I’ve seen countless times since then how far you’ll go for him, so I called and had you added second on the list.”

Eddie takes in a low breath, and Buck’s mutely envious because he can’t do the same.

“If I can’t get to him, it needs to be you.”

Buck’s struggling to pick something to focus on. His heart wants to chase the heat of Eddie’s words, yet the guilt, as it always is, is an overpowering force that leaves him shaking his head, backing up until the back of his leg hits the coffee table.

“It can’t be me.” He watches Eddie’s face fall, but Eddie still nods, understanding even now.

“I get it. I should have asked first. I know it’s a big responsibility—”

“—what?” Buck shakes his head again, crosses his arms. “It’s not the responsibility. You know I would do absolutely anything for that kid. It’s the fact that it’s my fault he ended up in the hospital today.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, lips in a firm line, and Buck knows this look well—it’s Eddie’s way of signaling for Buck to continue, knowing well that Buck will finish on his own, that he doesn’t need verbal prompts to guide him toward his point.

“He was playing firefighter with one of his friends at school, and he fell down a step.”

The silence that follows feels thick enough to clog Buck’s lungs. He wants to sit—his legs are shaking, but if he sits, he can’t flee as fast, and he just knows Eddie’s going to ask him to leave, to not come back. And, Buck thinks, Eddie should. Eddie should yell at him for filling Christopher’s mind with stories from work, for encouraging this imaginative behavior that dropped him onto a hospital bed.

“Is that it?” Eddie says instead, calm, and Buck frowns, jaw opening and closing, struggling for words.

“I mean, I’m waiting for the part where you tell me how this is your fault,” Eddie clarifies, and Buck sinks onto the coffee table at this, not trusting his legs to hold him upright.

“Eddie, I’m constantly telling him stories from work, glorifying the job, painting all of these verbal, detailed images that fill his mind and plant ideas.”

“And you think I don’t?”

“Eddie—”

“—Buck, we have the same job. If Chris asks me what I did at work, I tell him. I spare him the calls that don’t go in our favor, but otherwise, I tell him.”

Buck blinks slowly, mind operating around 30% capacity, and Eddie leans forward, cupping a hand to Buck’s knee.

“No one’s at fault. Kid’s got one hell of an imagination.”

“Wait, hold on. You’re not mad?” Buck expected yelling. He expected to get kicked out of Eddie’s house, and yet, Eddie’s calm before him, relaxed, a little tired around the edges, but he’s showing no signs that he’s seconds from blowing up.

“There’s nothing to be mad about.”

Buck can only blink at Eddie. He’s faintly aware that his eyes are watering, and then Eddie’s pulling him back up by the arm.

“Okay, we all know by now that you get sappy when you’re tired.”

Buck stops in the doorway when Eddie steps into the bedroom, watching as Eddie pulls back the covers and motions toward the bed. He shakes his head, one hand gripping tightly at the doorframe.

“Eddie, I’m not taking your bed. You should be with Chris. I’ll go—”

“—Chris will want you here when he wakes up. Plus, it doesn’t take but basic math to realize you’re working on only four hours of sleep after a 24, so you’d be doing everyone a favor by shutting up and getting in the damn bed.”

“Eddie.”

“Buck.”

Buck holds Eddie’s gaze, breaking it after a few, heavy moments with a weighted sigh. He shuffles toward the bed, kicking off his sandals and climbing in on the side farthest from the door, knowing that the side closest to the door is reserved for Eddie, to accommodate Eddie’s needs to be the first to act if something happens.

The bed is heaven against his sore body, and the second his head hits the pillow, he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. The adrenaline is fully fleeing now, leaving him exhausted to the core in more ways than one. He blinks slowly, watching as Eddie climbs into the other side of the bed, sighing loudly, and he rolls toward Eddie, studying the way Eddie gingerly rubs at his chest for the second time.

“You give your oxygen mask to someone during the house fire?” Buck asks around a yawn, and Eddie nods.

“It wasn’t for long.”

“You didn’t get checked over.” It’s not a question; Buck knows, based on the sight of Eddie arriving at the hospital looking rough for wear and donned in full gear, but Eddie still responds.

“No, but I’m fine.”

Buck forces himself up on one elbow, frown deep, brows furrowed. “You should get checked out now. I can call Hen—”

“—did you forget I was a field medic?” Eddie arches a brow, and Buck sinks back against the pillow.

“No, you always find a time to remind me. You can’t check yourself over, though.”

“And how many times have you ignored a fractured rib because you ‘checked yourself over?’” Eddie fires back, and Buck groans, draping an arm over his eyes.

They fall silent, and Buck’s body is urging him to give in to the fatigue draping over him. Still, he can’t fully settle. The adrenaline of the last hour and a half is a flame that’s almost completely burned out. Still, it flickers smally, and he rolls onto his side, watching Eddie.

“The bruise on Christopher’s side. We should—”

“—I looked, and we iced it until he fell asleep. Now, please shut up and sleep.”

[hes-writer]

Patreon Masterlist

These are exclusive fics that you can read on my Patreon!

* = complete, ^ = in-progress, + = will be posted on tumblr, (s) = smut (implied or mentioned) writing count: 78 pieces

**billing cycle currently paused** | new patrons will still be charged

This is a reupload of my masterlist with sneak peeks of each piece so you know what's up :D

Multi-Part Series | One Shots | Drabbles | Extras

* Unwavering (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) - 6.5k, the one where harry cheats (again)

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her on the back burner of his mind. "I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

^ + Roommate Series (3) (4) (5) (6) - 9.8k, the one where harry and y/n are roommates

He sighed, “I finished my coffee ages ago. I was just waiting for you to finish studying so we could leave together and go home,” Y/N dropped her fingers from his wrist, slouching the slightest bit as butterflies attacked her stomach. “Don’t look at me like that. I just wanted you to get home safe,” He nudged her forehead with the ball of his palm, his face contorting to annoyance.

^ + Notes on Camp (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) - 16.5k, the one where harry and y/n are camp counsellors

Y/N looked around to be met with puckered lips and clenched hands as the campers practically requested for her to kiss their favourite counsellor. Wide, hopeful stares were willing her to commit.

“Alright, alright,” She bent her upper body to reach his cheek, licking over her lips once before pressing it on his skin. It was only a quick peck and then she pulled back. He stayed unmoving.

Jacky and Emy poked their finger at him on opposite sides. His cheek dimpling with their small indents. “Maybe you should do it again?”

* Friends Don't (1) (2) (3)- 3k, the one where lines are crossed

“It’s Harry Styles fanfiction on Tumblr,” She suggested a conversation, shyly smiling in embarrassment. “I can see that,” He murmured, using his thumb to scroll through the rest of the story, “It’s . . . interesting. People write these about me?” His retort made the situation seem like an utter surprise.

* Digress, Progress, Regress Series - 5k, the one where harry falls out of love

Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

Tickle Fights (1)  - 1.2k, the one where bff!y/n teases harry about his boner

“What’s going on here, Harry?” The light tone of her voice indicated that she was teasing him, paired with the subtle movements of her lower half. Harry whined in response, feeling the blood rush downwards to make him even stiffer. “Does this feel good? Got hard over me straddling you, huh?” It was almost degrading, the way Y/N formed her question yet Harry couldn’t help a whimper from lingering in the air. He nodded, hands sliding down to grip at her moving hips.

Real Mature (1)  (2)  - part two is patron exclusive! - 603 words, the one where bff!harry and y/!n fight

“You shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for being bitter about you and Ruby,” She rested her forearms on his shoulders in a slant when he stood to his full height. “I know you’re happy with her,” Harry gave her a shy smile that confirmed his words. Ruby is someone special to Harry now and Y/N had to learn how to share his time, attention, and affection. “I reckon I’m just missing you a lot more now,” Y/N’s tone was sad and despondent, trailing her gaze to the floor where she almost chuckled at Harry’s fuzzy bunny slippers which she had gotten him.

^ Fine Line Series: Adore You - 1.1k the one where harry and y/n are friends with benefits

Still, with her back against the wall and Harry’s fingers still gripping her hips—she waited for his response. I told you I loved you. Say it back, Y/N thought. “I love her, Y/N,” He mumbled against her neck in a drunken stupor. So close.

Kinkmas Blurbs (1 - 7) - 4.6k, the one where it’s all smutty

Maybe it was the way that his jaw ticked harshly every time he threw his head back at a particularly good stroke. You wondered what he was imagining that had him bucking his hips to his fist before realizing that the movements would probably cause you to wake up. Still, his hooded lids didn’t peel open—not until a core shaking fondle of his heavy balls forced a choked whine out of his throat.

Harry’s neck snapped to your figure, catching the way you looked at him as if you were in distress that he wasn’t cumming anytime soon—not when you were there, willing and able to help.

“Fuck, love. ‘M sorry,” He mumbled, not stopping the flicks of his wrist. In fact, you swore that you could hear the squelching of his clear pre-cum squishing between his fingers.

The Secretary (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) 11k, the one where harry is the CEO and y/n is the assistant (cheating fic)

Two months ago, Y/N unburied a not-so-hidden secret that Harry tried to bury. Two months ago, Y/N walked in on her boyfriend and his secretary fucking on his office table. Two months ago, Y/N experienced everything from pain and discomfort, to disappointment and being scornful. She threaded the line of confronting him or waiting for the day he came forward and admitted it himself. There was a desire for Y/N to see Harry sweat beneath her beady eyes, watching him scratch the back of his pants in a nervous manner. She wanted to hear him stutter as he spat an excuse, she yearned to see him pleading with his gorgeous green eyes for her to stay.  Y/N craved for his throat to close up, whimpers choked from his trachea because he was losing his stability as she walked away from him.

(s) Tension (1) (2) - 5.3k, the one where harry and y/n hate each other

“S’that why you hate me so much?”

His fingertips tapped his thigh methodically, crumpling a faint thud against his jeans. With how close they were sitting, Y/N’s bare knee brushed against his clothing. A burn of desire and anticipation lit inside of her like a dose of gasoline another in a flaming hot fire.

Harry shook his head, “Don’t hate you."

Champagne Problems- 4.4k, the one where marriage is a sensitive topic, the 1 - coming soon!

The freshly popped bottle of champagne poured into the flute on the table beside her bubbled and simmered, the sizzling reaction of the golden liquid ignited a moment of realization within her. The reason why her body felt more weighted, why tears filled her glazed eyes, pricking her corneas and threatening to spill down her face. Y/N’s heart had cracked–she was certain that everybody around her could hear it.

One Shot

(s) Achy Back - 813 words, the one where harry draws y/n a bath

A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken shower hours prior.

A Letter to the Man I’ve Loved - 1.5k, the one where harry receives a letter from his ex

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

Renegade - 981 words, the one where harry and y/n do a tiktok dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath.

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker.

(s) Drop the Towel - 644 words, the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry!” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

All I Ask - 2.2k, the one where feelings aren’t mutual

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren’t. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

Little Prince - 583 words, the one where 7-year-old harry takes care of his best friend

“Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn’t mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?” Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

Stressed Out - 1.8k, the one where y/n has a huge term paper due

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Valentine’s Day - 1.5k, the one where harry runs into trouble and y/n is there to save him

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

Dream With Me - 1.3k, the one where y/n has trouble sleeping

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black.

Pet Name - 1.2k, the one where bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name again

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself–golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

Shave - 768 words, the one where harry helps y/n shave her coochie

She sniffles some more, “I’m trying to shave, H. It’s so itchy but I-I can’t reach down there,”

Y/N began to sob. The rattle of the razor clanking on the bathtub floor where she sat her bum on the edge. Her baby bump was causing her to teeter over the porcelain which urged Harry to swiftly plant his hands on her to keep her steady.

“I’m so huge! I’m the size of a house,” Y/N palmed the crest of her bump, rubbing it loosely as she admired the stretched skin yet slightly wishing that it would disappear and she was holding their baby in her arms instead.

(s) Don’t Worry, Darling - 1.5k, the one where y/n rides harry

He slipped down the headboard, resting his back flat on the mattress with Y/N sliding with him. She positioned her feet to rest near his knees, wrapping their limbs together so she could have some sort of sanity whilst Harry incepted on his shattering thrusts. Feet were planted on the mattress to give his lower half elevation to propel his hips against Y/N’s core. Harry’s fingers left white marks on her skin, gripping the plush flesh and essentially spreading Y/N open as he rapidly shoved his dick over and over inside of her with no signs of slowing down. He staggered for a few moments when her pulsing core emitted dazing throbs over his leaking cock but Y/N was quick to duplicate and resume the pace he had set with the movement of her hips.

To Be Loved - 2.3k, the one where y/n’s feelings are more than friendly

“I love you. Don’t you love me back?”

Harry’s eyes visibly widened, clearly taken aback by the question spewing from Y/N’s mouth. Her heat cheeks and a shy stance; knees knocking against his knobby ones while her dainty hands interlaced her fingers.

Revelation - 2.1k, the one where famous!y/n and harry are spotted together (pre-relationship)

Before there were Harry and Y/N--the power couple--there was Harry and Y/N.

Y/N, who was one of the most sought after female artists in the industry because of her angelic voice. The woman who had managed to catch the lingering stares of every household and the ears of many listeners with her truthful songs; narrative from the experiences she had gone through and shared through the art of songwriting.

Harry, who was quite the artist for the night. Harry’s limbs were being pulled metaphorically every which to ensure that the cameras captured him clapping respectfully in the audience. Others were asking him to stay for a bit more time backstage for content for an upcoming video. Right now, he was sat in his uncomfortable chair beside a handful of producers and well-known singers. A brief hug and whisper with Ariana Grande were enough for their fans to implode about a possible collaboration, granted that Harry had written a song for her album before. But Harry was certain that that feature wasn’t coming for a long while.

Apple Cheeks - 1.1k, the one where harry says something and y/n isn’t listening

Clearing his throat, he began, “I love you, Y/N. And I know that it might be too soon considering how short our relationship has been so far but I-I really do have strong feelings for you,”

Harry dropped his gaze as soon as he managed to peel off the first three words from his hoarse throat. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted to let you know that I really care for you and me. I definitely something for us in the future and I hope you feel the same,”

Dreadful seconds shivered up Harry’s spine. His stare was still fixed on her shuffling feet and the floor. It was painful to hear nothing but silence so Harry decided to courageously lift his head up.

Affliction - 1.5k, the one where Harry breaks down (TW: depressive thoughts)

It wasn’t even that Harry did not know how to say ‘no’ because he truly did. However, anyone would be worn-out by the amount of exhaustion carried on his back. That cold shudder of loneliness--even when he wasn’t alone-- because nobody shared the experience of defeat with him. The twitch of his ears straining to listen when nobody would do the same for him. A subtle jerk of the corners of his lips because he could not keep the smile plastered on his face like paint chipping off the drywalls. The flutter of tired lids waiting to be shut tightly as tears were wrung from his green eyes, lashes tickling his skin underneath the violent colour of his eye bags.

From the Dining Table - 748 words, the one where y/n’s new boyfriend looks a lot like harry

Y/N wondered if her former lover shared the same thoughts as she did. The girl that he woke next to—was she still there? Did they share the bed together—not just in the morning—but the nights as well? If so, did Harry love her like he did with Y/N? Or was he just pretending to be okay like she was?

Blanket for Two - 990 words, the one where y/n kicks harry out of bed

And now, Harry was in bed with the woman he loves. Her light snores echoing in the dim room and he was staring up at the ceiling, shivering in his bones. If she were awake, Y/N probably would have made a snide, joking comment about how he shouldn’t sleep naked, especially in the winter.  Not like she didn’t do that either--she was practically naked with the thin camisole over her body.  The difference was that Y/N had an extra layer of blanket keeping her warm, shielding her skin from the night air and Harry only had the friction of his palms rubbing against his arms.  He was sure that he was a hint away from his teeth chattering. Harry had half the mind to dip his freezing feet beneath the blanket and jolt her awake with the change in temperature.

That’ll show her, he thought.

Around 1:32 - 3.2k, the one where y/n has a wet dream

“What?” Harry spat, tugging his shirt over his head, waiting for you to form a coherent excuse. “‘Think that jus’ because you woke up horny from a dream that y’can touch yourself? What a slut.  Are you that desperate?”

Your cheeks flamed at his words of degradation, doubling your arousal and one that had you smushing your thighs together to relieve the ache. You rolled your eyes as he continued his rant instead of using the time to keep you satisfied.  That was his job, wasn’t it? To make you cum and make you feel nothing but pleasure, yet here he was shaming you for touching yourself. Granted, you did it without his permission and done so while he was asleep beside you, but still.

“Wouldn’t have touched myself if you treated me well.”

+ Stories in My Eyes - 1.2k, the one where dad!Harry gets woken up in the middle of the night

And while he liked to think that he had gotten the hang of—quite literally— his kid dangling on his leg like some sort of koala, pulling on his hair every time he gave Beau a piggy back ride, and the random visits late at night where the small child would stand at the doorway with his teddy bear so quietly only to say, “Can I sleep with you and mumma?” He was not at all prepared for tonight’s’ events.

+ Feather Boa - 1.5k, the one where harry comes home after the Grammys

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Oh, stop that!”

“Stop what?” Harry nudged the strap of his custom tote bag higher on his shoulder.

“You just won a Grammy, you goose!”

Harry’s gaze softened, endeared at how happy Y/N was for him. She was jumping on the tips of her toes, hands clasped in front of her as she stared at him with admiration and awe.

(s) Roughed Up - 2.8k, the one where harry’s domestic and y/n’s mind wanders

You whimper in return, almost collapsing straight on his body when Harry uses your body to move you up and down his cock. His curls flop on the soft pillow beneath his head, sweat matting the tiny hairs to his face. The way he looks at you with such intensity and a certain kind of awe as if he couldn’t believe that this was really happening is rewarding. Hooded eyes observing how your body twitches in his grip, gasping at how strong he felt underneath you like you were merely a ragdoll to be played wit

Pudding Cups - 1k, the one after harry steals food from the kitchen (Notes on Camp Extras)

“So is it common practice for counsellors to steal food from the kitchen?”

Harry lifts his head up at inquiry, shifting his attention from gently taking out the contents of the reusable bag towards Y/N.  She was laying on his mattress, flat on her back as she stared at the wooden ceiling.  If she looked closely, Y/N was sure that his light bulb was flickering the tiniest bit and usually, she would’ve been freaking out over the fact that she was in the middle of the woods, hovering over a potential power cut.  But the fear subsided once she reminded herself that Harry was around.

“Hopefully not,” He muses with a suggestive eyebrow.

Drabbles:

(s) Drabble #1: Fratboy!Harry - 469 words, the one where y/n meets fratboy!harry at a party

Y/N snapped her head towards the member. When she applied for the rush, she didn’t expect that she would have to sleep with someone in order to officially join the sorority.  “What? Why him?

Sadie chuckled, sensing the panic in her voice. “Don’t worry, Harry’s nice. Besides, everybody does it,” She swirled her drink around, mixing the liquids together. Her lashes draped over her cheeks, almost touching the apples. “Are you in?”

Drabble #2: Asshole!Harry - 848 words, the one where harry cheats

You were calm, silent, and patient to see where he would take the conversation. Guilt was not present when you stood face to face in a battle of tranquility that pierced through your heart. His eyes gleamed in concealed smugness while his tongue curled in endless apologies. You knew him too well that he didn’t even stand a chance to hide his true intentions. But to Harry, you were a naive little girl that failed to acknowledge the difference between his acting and the truth.

(s) Drabble #3: Tease - 1.4k, the one where harry teases y/n

Harry plunged two fingers in her hole carefully, biting his lip to suppress the sound he was bound to release from the feeling of her wet walls suffocating his digits. He delivered punctual thrust, making sure to graze her sensitive spot to heighten her arousal. “Harry,”

He stepped back abruptly, pulling his fingers out and creating distance between them. “We have dinner to get to,”

(s) Drabble #4: Dessert - 1.7k, the one where y/n makes dinner but harry wants dessert

His thoughts were always about her no matter how hard he tried not to. And the fact that she took the time out of her day to prepare him something that he will enjoy; well, Harry’s heart just about swelled up to three times the size in his thumping chest.

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

(s) Drabble #5: Mine - 579 words, the one where harry is obsessed with y/ns tits

But he couldn’t exactly do that when all Harry wanted to do was do her. The smooth skin was supported by a navy blue push-up bra; he could tell by the lace mesh that he could see peeking out. It gave Y/N every favour because Harry was trying so hard not to let saliva pool in his mouth and drip out in a line of drool, his eyes widening with each movement she made with her arms, jostling her boobs a little bit here and there.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” Y/N waved her arms to catch his attention. A frown creased her brows as he blinked sluggishly before finding enough coherence to recognize that she was trying to talk to him.

(s) Drabble #6: Early Mornings - 1k, the one where harry thinks y/n is prettiest in the morning

“Get to see ya’ when you’re most beautiful,” Harry tickled his nose on hers, smiling at the way the feature scrunched up as she giggled. He groaned at the contractions her walls gave while her tummy flipped in gentle laughter. “Oi! What’s so funny?” He smushed her face with kisses, pausing his thrust halfway through which had her whining.

Drabble #7: Getaway - 952 words, the one where harry is always cold in the mornings

"Y/N, have you taken my purple bathrobe?"

“No,” Y/N tugged the lavender coloured fabric by the sleeves first. Then, by the lapels draping over her chest, drawing them tighter to block the gust of wind currently caressing Harry’s floppy curls.

Twisting his body, a knowing look overtook Harry’s face as Y/N exited the cabin door. The sheepish smile on his lover’s face granting all the information he needed for this morning’s chilly inception.

There she was, clad in the said purple bathrobe.

Drabble #8: A Little Chilly - 451 words, the one where harry sleeps on the couch

“‘S my bed. Dunno why Lydia can’t jus’ stay on the couch,”

“It’s Y/N!” She wailed, walking closer to the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Dear, we didn’t know that you were coming home,” Anne tried reasoning with him, not seeing the gravity of the situation as Harry was making it out to be.

Text Messages:

Text Messages #1 - ‘would you love me if I was snail?’

Text Messages #2 - ‘did you know we had a quiz today?’

Text messages #3 - ‘did you steal my hoodie?’

Notes/Behind the Scenes

Notes: Tarnish

Notes: Stressed Out

[ddarker-dreams]

Pandora’s Box. Yan Chrollo x Reader

Warnings: Medicine mention, descriptions of anxiety, and implied minor character death. Word count: 2.7k.

A simple plan is the best kind to have. 

The less variables at play, the higher your rates of success are. You’ve anticipated some margin of error, a safety net of sorts, to be used if necessary. Everything within your realm of influence has been taken into account. Your friend in a car meeting you at a dead spot, a train ticket purchased with a prepaid visa card on a VPN, and a few precious pieces of jewelry to be pawned off at a later time. Scraping these assets together is a commendable feat, having to skulk around to make it this far.

Nothing feels out of the ordinary, you think. Your preparations are almost complete. All that’s left is to wait to ensure the beast in hiding cannot come for you.

Prayer doesn’t traditionally feel worth the effort -- any god that’d allow you to be subjugated to a hell such as this is no god worth pleading to -- but tonight is different. Tonight you pray to any deity that may spare you some pity, that this plan may succeed without a hitch. The time signals the beginning of the next phase, the most vital aspect. 

Tonight’s soup had an additional ingredient, a generous helping of sleep inducing pills. To avoid suspicion, you partook in the meal as usual, hoping to cancel out the effects later by ingesting a gratuitous amount of energy drinks. It served the original purpose of fending off fatigue, but not without presenting a unique set of problems of its own. The caffeine has served to heighten your anxiety, upping what was already a nerve-wracking experience to a new level. 

Your guts feeling like they’re rearranging themselves, your body not capable of forgoing fidgeting a single moment. No longer can you tell if it’s nausea, stomach pain, or hyperventilation. Maybe it’s everything at once. All you know is that you’ve never had your body working against you more than now. Every nerve is frayed, your senses on high alert to any shadow or noise.

Deep breaths no longer bring you reprieve. Each raggedy breath you manage to squeeze out is an accomplishment, overshadowed by the fear that he might hear you. How irrational a thought, that Chrollo would be capable of picking up on the differences in your breathing from afar. It doesn’t matter how illogical the worry may be. With Chrollo, you’ve learned that nothing is impossible. To expect the unexpected has been the mantra of your mind these past few months. 

Just a bit longer... I need to know he’s asleep for sure. Or else it’s over.

Your foot taps against the ground in a frantic rhythm, ears ringing like funeral tolls. The last time you dared peak into your shared room with Chrollo, he was supposedly fast asleep, out like a light. What should’ve been a cause for victory brought nothing but a fresh wave of dread. A guessing game ensues. Trying to decipher his body language from earlier for hints only serves to make you feel worse. You’ve been so cautious, walking on sheets of thin ice at every move. Chrollo hadn’t acted out of the ordinary to your knowledge. Not that he has a way of acting ‘ordinary’ anyways, your limited understanding of his person having to suffice. 

Should everything be going according to your design, your friend will be in position to pick you up. There’s no more stalling, the point of return ahead of you.

It’s time.

You do a final check over your mental checklist. Your backpack is stocked with the necessities: toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a filtered hydro flask, non perishable foods and your train ticket. To any onlooker it might look like you’re going hiking. Sporting worn sneakers, loose-fitting clothes, and having your hair pulled away from your face. This is really it. The culmination of sneaking around behind Chrollo’s back for months, unfolding before your very eyes. Everything is falling into place as it’s meant to.

You walk to the door. 

Each step you take is quiet as can be. Every shuffle of clothes, or the slightest of creaks from the floorboards, causes you to wince and pause. This penthouse has served as your personal circle of hell for months on end, the walls absorbing your cries and screams. You despise this place with every fiber of your being. The antique décor, the ancient texts that lay strewn about, the scent of sandalwood that you find nauseating. 

Ghosts of the past return to haunt you as you walk through different areas. Swirling around your head, they threaten to consume you, chipping away at your resolve. His hypnotic voice resonates in your mind like whispers of the serpent in the garden, tempting you. Weighing you down. Not even your own mind is a safe haven from his speech that disguises itself as flowery, when the reality is far more sinister. Chrollo’s words are constricting vines, lined with thorns, embedding themselves deeper into your flesh the harder you try to pry them out. 

“Don’t you remember how difficult your life was before me?” 

Another step.

“All those people who left you, who took advantage of you?” 

Your hands shake around your small, homemade EMP. It’s made from spare parts you managed to find around the penthouse, clumsily assembled through trial and error. The pulse it emits is next to nothing. Copper coils threaten to fall loose at any second when you raise it to the security system by the door. Holding your breath, you press down on the trigger. The device lets out rapid clicking sounds, the security monitor flickering before going blank. 

“I know you’ll come around.” 

Finally, come the excessive locks on the door. The compressed air you said you needed for cleaning is next up. The can is cool against your trembling fingers, white specs decorating the locks as you spray them over. With some persistence, they come undone, one after the other. Unshackling you from the depths. You open the door that’s mocked you relentlessly for months, withholding your prized freedom. 

“But even in the event that you don’t...” 

The surrounding world is a blur of colors. Your eyes don’t focus on any object for too long, scanning your surroundings for potential threats. It feels as if your stomach is in your throat when the elevator starts its descent. He had you up on the fiftieth floor? 

You fixate on the screen, numbers not flashing by fast enough for your liking.

40. 

20.

5. 

1.

“Well. There are always ways of overcoming inconveniences such as that.” 

It’s an extravagant lobby. Far more luxurious than you could ever have hoped to afford, this building being one of the most exclusive in Yorknew. The person at the front desk calls out and you ignore it. You must look mighty suspicious, not that you care. The priority now is escape. Running out the revolving door, crisp autumn air greets you. You’ve never felt more grateful for the bustling streets of the city. Even at night the city remains awake, making it easier to blend in. No one out here spares you a second glance as you weave in and out of fast paced crowds. 

23rd street. That’s where you’ll meet up with your friend, who will then transport you to the subway. Glancing up at the signposts, you realize you’ll be in for some walking. There’s no letting your guard down. Constantly looking over your shoulder, all you see are the faces of strangers. You’ve never felt so grateful to be a part of a crowd. 

Finally, after walking for what feels like an eternity, you spot your beacon of hope. A clothing store’s bright neon sign, which your friend sits parked in front of. Since these stores are closed this time of day, the crowd that once surrounded you have thinned out, yet you try not to fixate on the lack of cover. Jay walking across the street doesn’t prove to be an issue. The pollution from the city hides the stars behind a layer of smog, streetlamps your lone source of light.

Heart hammering in your chest, you tap on the window of her car with urgency. “Amelia, it’s me. [First].” 

You hear the doors unlock. 

Taking it as a sign she heard you, you waste no time swinging into the passenger seat of the car. Amelia immediately turns the keys, car humming to life. Your chest heaves with exhaustion from the draining events. This is it. The second to last step before you reclaim your freedom. It’s almost like a dream, the light at the end of a long tunnel. Amelia’s appearance is just as you recalled it. Hazel eyes, tan skin, long black hair, and an average build. Your heart leaps at the sight of her.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” your friend confesses in a hushed whisper. “[First], what... what happened? You completely fell off the face of the Earth for months. Then you contact me out of nowhere? What’s going on?” 

It isn’t easy meeting her eyes, so you don’t. “I... I don’t know if it’s safe to talk about it. The less you know, the better.”

She takes a moment to assess you before sighing. “Alright, I can tell this is serious. Just... I’m glad you’re alright.” 

Amelia begins driving without another word. Silence hangs in the air, offering a time to reflect. Your plan, Chrollo, what you’ll do next... it whirls around your head like a vortex. A gut feeling refuses to leave you alone whenever you picture his face. A dreadful thought that this entire escapade was too easy. Is it just your paranoia? It could very well be. Hugging your backpack closer to you for comfort, you’re startled by Amelia suddenly speaking up.

“The subway station, huh,” she reminiscences aloud, eyes flickering from the road to you. “So you’re leaving Yorknew?” 

There’s no way to continue dodging her questions. “... Yeah, I am.” 

“Where are you going?” 

It’s natural she’d have lots of questions. Had the situation been reversed, you’d have plenty of your own. For her wellbeing you don’t want to indulge more than necessary. Lying to someone who is helping you lives a sour taste in your mouth. It’s for her sake, you remind yourself. Having to involve Amelia in this at all was the last thing you wanted to do. 

“I’m going to Zaban City. I have some extended family there.” 

Amelia hums in confirmation to your story. “Your cousin, right?” 

“Right.” 

She stops pressing that particular subject, likely sensing your apprehension. You take advantage of the peaceful atmosphere and close your eyes. The sleeping pills from earlier are starting to grow more prominent. Losing consciousness is the last thing you need right now, but indulging in some much needed rest sounds too inviting. 

“There was something else I was wondering about.” Amelia starts, earning your attention. Looks like sleep will have to wait for later. You yawn, stretching your weary limbs, and wait for her to continue. She smiles, dark eyelashes fluttering shut in deep thought.

“Oh, sweet [First],” she whispers your name in the gentlest of tones, and looks over at you. “Why are you so selfish?” 

You blink, the words not settling in immediately. “What...?” 

She continues without missing a beat. “You used to be so envious of me. Always pretending to play nice, because you were too passive to say how you really felt. How you hated me.” 

“Amelia? What are you talking about? I... I never hated you, what--” 

“Even now you can’t bring yourself to admit the truth,” she sighs. “Not that I’m surprised. You’ve always cared way too much about what people think. Why would now be any different?” 

Her unexpected attack on your character has you shifting in your seat. Every word that leaves her lips is in her voice, yet feels so different than her normal character. Did something happen in the time Chrollo took you away? Anxiety rears its ugly head at the line of questioning. You take a sudden interest in your fingers, playing with them on your lap. 

“I don’t understand where any of this is coming from.” You admit, eyebrows furrowing together. The shift in atmosphere is tangible. What was once a warm reunion under stressful times has corrupted into a frosty confrontation. These insecurities of hers that laid dormant in your heart... why is she bringing this up now? In your most vulnerable hour? Nothing is making sense. These ugly feelings of yours were only ever confided in one person. 

“You knew it’d be a danger to my life to contact me. You knew that, and still you did it all the same. I wonder why that is. Could it be... that you wouldn’t care if I died? If I was tortured for aiding your escape?” 

Your heart drops. This knowledge... how can she know any of this? Amelia used the word escape, clear as day. Is that a coincidence? You look over at the car door, seeing it’s locked. Something’s not right here, you deduce. I don’t know what it is exactly, but something is very wrong...! 

She continues on. “I really do want to know what your justification for this is. Out of everyone you could’ve picked for help, you specifically chose me, knowing the danger it’d bring. Did you think I’d be spared in some sort of miracle?” 

The spare moonlight streaming in illuminates Amelia’s face, highlighting how pale her skin looks. Veins that would normally not have been so prominent have a blue tint, her lips a similar shade. Your eyes drop to the unnaturally large scarf that surrounds her neck. It’s not that cold out yet, why is she wearing something so cumbersome? Reaching out with unsteady hands, you pull the fabric back. Your gut feels like it’s been punched at the sight, eyes widening in horror. 

On the back of her neck is an antenna, with bat wings on the end. 

Shit! Shit, shit, shit-- 

In a frenzy, you stretch forward, searching for the button to unlock the car door. The second you find it, it’s pressed, and you unbuckle your seatbelt. You hear her speaking up again. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst from your chest as you jump out the car, grateful it isn’t going too fast. Skin meeting asphalt, you hiss at the pain, rolling onto your side. None of that matters now. How did he do it? He has to be nearby, maybe you can still make it to the station in time. Your head hurts from the impact, legs wobbling like jelly. 

It’s difficult to focus. You grit your teeth, utilizing the remnants of your strength to get to your knees. Why did the caffeine have to wear off so soon...? It was going so well. You finally had your chance, your time to take back your life. To go back to how things were. Struggling to get to your feet, you throw your backpack off, praying the lost weight will help you get up. 

“You never answered my questions,” calls a deeper voice. You gulp back acidic bile as a hand is extended in front of you. “I was hoping you would.” 

Your head hangs down. It’s over. For a transgression such as this, you imagine you’re in for quite the punishment. How funny a thing fate is. Similar to streams of rushing water, there are many twists and turns, leading you down paths you never wanted to go. Fingernails dig into the sensitive flesh of your palms, the pain anchoring your wandering mind to reality. All other parts of your body have lost feeling. Numbness is what you’ve come to know. 

The devil incarnate bends over, taking your tearstained face into his fingers, and lifting it to meet his eyes. An abyss of grey stares back at you, devoid of humanity. Taking pleasure in besting you yet again. Disappointment is mixed within an interest to see what you’ll do next. There’s no smile on his face as you’ve come to expect. You see an empty shell of a man glowering down at you, from a place just out of reach. 

“I can’t say I’m too pleased about this, [First]. We’ll need to have a long discussion, don’t you think?” 

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Imagine Anakin dating his Padawan

(Anakin Skywalker head cannon)

Warnings | smut

A/n | my first headcannon and my first Star Wars writing! I hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist

Okay but like, he’d be soooo sweet

Always worried when you’re coming up with dangerous (but very good and very anakin) ideas, or when you’re assigned on dangerous missions (especially without him there)

He’d always try and make sure he’s on missions with you, so he can protects you and make sure you get any medical attention if needed as and when you need it

He’d always reward you when you get home from long missions that went well too

Like he’d draw a hot bath, mix in some of those expensive oils that you love so much

He’d undress you slowly, peppering sweet little kisses over your neck and shoulders as he did so

And then he’d probably just stare in awe at you and how beautiful you are

“You’re body is perfect, little one.” He’d say and the nickname would just make that spot inside you tingle

He’d get in the bath with you

Like he’d sit behind you with your back to his chest and his legs either side of yours

He’d massage your now-tense shoulders, as well as washing your hair gently and thoroughly

He’d make sure to use that conditioner that makes your hair extra soft

And when you were done and he’d washed your whole body, the water turning cold, he’d help you out

Wrapping a towel around you both and drying your hair for you because he knows just how much you hate it

“All clean now, baby.” He’d murmur against your ear, a small kiss being left there before he’s walking into your rooms to get dressed while you get ready for bed

And you’d snuggle in so tight, his arm slung over your waist protectively and your body pressed to his

Those nights were your favourite

On the other hand...

If you were a brat, or blatantly ignored him on a mission, you can bet he’d be all over you once you get back to your shared apartment

But the punishment really started with the burning glared that would’ve been thrown at you the whole way home and throughout the meeting with the Jedi council

You’d get in and try to kiss him, but he’d push you away whilst shrugging off the top layer of his robes

“None of that. You know your cuteness won’t distract me.” He’d chide, spitting out the words like venom

“Get on you knees.”

You’d scramble to do so, keeping your head bowed just as he taught you

���So you think it’s okay to go against my orders?” He’d ask, but he knew exactly what answer he wanted.

“No master.” You’d say meekly, letting out a surprised Yelp when he used his metal fingers to grab your chin and angle your head upwards

“Then why did you do it?” Anakin would grit, anger written all over his features

“That’s right, you don’t have an answer, do you?” You’d shake your head in response.

Then the punishment would begin

You can bet he’d have you pinned to the bed using the force, edging you until your crying

He’d whisper the dirtiest things in your ear, degrading you for your mistakes

“You have to learn, little one, otherwise you’ll keep making the same errors”

“Such a little slut. I bet you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” But the question is rhetorical

And you’re begging, crying, but you know deep down you’ll get your release

You always do

Anakin can’t help it, and because I’d the build up it always hits you at a million miles a minute, causing white spots in your vision

So when he finally plunged his cock in you, you know it won’t be too long

And yet his hand never strays to your swollen, throbbing clit

And before long, he’s cumming with a grunt of your name

“Did you really think I’d let you cum, little one?” Anakin would chide, a smug smirk on his lips

“Only good girls get to cum. You know this.” He’d reason, as if he hadn’t just teased you for HOURS and then denied you any type of release

Maybe you would listen next time

[starryseung]

bang chan + smut

☾

requested; nope! word count; 1.5k warnings; fingering, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex

you know you’ve met hands with the devil himself when you signed those blood red papers with bright gold ink, the pen almost trembling between your fingers. demon!chan knew the thousand thoughts littered around your mind, but chose to keep quiet as he smirked through it all, hands clasped one above the other behind him.

you sigh and drop the pen next to the papers, looking up and around to see everything slowly morph into darkness; blood, fire, everywhere. your television and refrigerator are replaced by bright lava, spluttering everywhere. the smell of a rotten something lingers in the air —you can’t pinpoint if its eggs or a dead body— and looking up, you notice how your roof is replaced by the dark night sky filled with red and black dragons which was, just a mere minutes ago, spring blue sky with pigeons flying in peace.

“so, uh, i’ve signed the papers—”

“very well, y/n!” chan exclaims, holding the delicate pages carefully between his fingers as he moves close behind you. the atmosphere was already hot, but chan's breath dancing on your neck was hotter, the faint smell of chocolate and vanilla from him filling your lungs.

“so the deal is sealed. let me do the honours of walking you to you— my apologies, our room; may i?” he cocks an eyebrow, smirk never leaving his lips. he extends his hand forward for you to take, but you’re too full-of-ego to hold it, walking right past him.

that’s when chan knew he hadn’t gone wrong with his choice of picking you. he had hundreds of desperate females trying to get onto his good side, doing anything to please him. there were ladies trying to impress him, flaunting out of their homes to sign the ‘devil’s contract’ in a tight black dress, some even going as far as wearing red heels and devil horns. chan never liked those kinds of women; they were just a trial-and-error method to reach out to you — the real win. and now that you were finally wrapped around his little finger, he didn’t mind how you behaved around with him; he knew he had you all for himself.

he meandered close behind you, nudging you when you were going off the track to his room. as you went closer and closer to his room, the rotting smell started fading away, replaced by the intoxicating fragrance of just chan. the sweet vanilla and chocolate musk dominated your senses, almost as if you were under a spell. you didn’t realize when chan walked you into a dimly lit chamber, the interior looking all-too-familiar to your room. you take note of your neatly stacked clothes in one corner of the room; ‘wow, this is really serious business, huh?’ you think, licking your lips as you slowly feel yourself automatically comfortable in the room.

“yeah babygirl, it’s all serious business once you’re in the devil’s room,” chan chuckles, his expression morphing into a serious one, quirking his eyebrows as he leans closer to grab you by the waist, kissing you. 

you expect the kiss to be rough, full of lust, blood and greed; but surprisingly chan went at just the pace you wanted. not too fast, not too slow, just simply perfect. his tongue pushes into your mouth fluidly and right at that moment, chan tugs you to fall onto the bed, your back cushioned by the soft duvet underneath.

chan lies on top of you, soft lips abandoning yours as he moves lower to your jaw, bringing the skin between his slightly pointed teeth to softly nibble at it. you’re too sensitive at this point, almost down to tears when he grinds down on your clothed core with his bulge, pressure on your neck overwhelming you to the point your vision is clouded. the moan bubbling up your throat makes chan smirk against your skin, your grip in his hair tightening further.

“can i,” he kisses a light pink spot which’ll soon turn dark purple, “continue with this?” he asks ever-so-quietly, you wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for his sudden soft eyes staring down at yours.

you’ve signed the devil’s contract, goddamn it. why was he asking you that? wasn’t signing the contract already enough of a sign that you desperately wanted him to fuck the living daylights out of you?

your small trail of thoughts is interrupted by chan attacking your shoulders, swiftly unbuttoning your white shirt as he moved lower and lower to cup your breasts in his hands. he fondled with your clothed nubs, grazing the pads of his thumb over your nipples to drag another moan out of you.

“babygirl wants me to fuck the living daylights out of her?” he mocks, smiling against your shoulder. it hits you almost like a freight train when you realize he can listen to your mind, and you’re trying to scramble for your thoughts to come together, but it’s nearly impossible when chan can listen to anything you’re thinking about.

a soft giggle is heard, before he moves his plump lips lower and lower until he’s facing the waistband of your jeans. pulling them harshly so they’re off, he admires your squirming form under him, and he trails a finger up your thighs and right against your clothed heat, circling where your folds should be.

a choked moan leaves your lips and you arch your back just the slightest, chan's fingers rubbing slow circles on your covered cunt. he grins at how the fabric gets wetter and wetter, and he brings them aside to look at your glistening pussy, smirking before licking a thick strip from the base above; making you involuntarily shudder under him. 

he brings a hand around your waist to hold you down, soft lips rubbing on your clit. his tongue darts out and pushes against the bundle of nerves, and you can all but clutch the soft sheets beneath you tighter, sucking in the warm air of the room. he lazily laps his tongue and lips against your dripping heat, humming occasionally to run shivers up your spine. 

he pushes a finger between your folds, letting out a guttural groan against you as you clench around his appendage. your juices easily coat his digit as he thrusts them inside your hole, curling his finger to brush over your sweet spot deliciously. needless to say, you’re a moaning mess under him, a thin layer of sweat giving you a brighter sheen under the dim lights of the room. without wasting time, he inserts a second finger, thrusting it faster in you as you keep fidgeting under him, wanting more.

his fingers gain momentum, the tips pressing at your sweet spots every time he pushes them knuckles deep. a particular flick of his tongue against your clit paired with his fingers perfectly stretching you out made you arch your back, fingers almost tearing the sheets to shreds as you come around him, splotches of red and black clouding your vision. 

but chan doesn’t stop, pushing a third finger in as you clench around him tighter, yelping as the stretch increases, setting a burning pit in your core. he thrusts them slowly, and deep down you know you can’t take it any further, but just then chan pulls out his fingers with a pop, getting onto his knees. you aren’t given enough time to register the sudden halt of his movements, when chan's length prods at your slit, making the air knock out of your lungs.

you inhale sharply when his thick length pushes in, movements steady as his hands wrap tight around your waist. you’ve had sex before, but chan's cock filled you up to the brim, as if it was up to your stomach.

your pussy clenches around him, perfectly squeezing his length in a way he had never experienced before. he groans, losing the last threads keeping together his resolve as he snaps his hips into you. you’re trying your hardest to not scream, but all attempts are thrown out the door when the demon brings your legs a tad bit higher, the angle making him reach deeper into you.

you know you’re so close you can taste it, but voicing it out isn’t an option when all you can get out is babbles and moans. luckily chan's there to help you out, bringing his fingers down to rub circles on your clit, and just the slightest pressure has you coming around his length, clenching around him uncontrollably.

chan doesn’t take much longer either, thrusting into you twice, thrice, before spilling his seed in you, such that even after he’s pulled out, you’re left feeling full.

“babygirl’s okay?” he questions quietly, taking note of how exhausted you were as you tried catching your breath. you nodded slowly and he smiled, grazing his thumb over your temples and down your cheeks. you keen into his warm touch, the faint fragrance of chocolate and vanilla still lingering even under the smell of sweat and cum.

he plops down next you, bringing the covers up to your chin before snuggling next to you under them. you remember he had told you once how he was a softy under his demonic self but you always failed to believe him, until now.

you could now only hope; signing this contract wasn’t going to take a toll on you.

—

a/n; this, for some reason, took me 3 days to finish :’) i hope it was worth the wait im so sorry sjhdjshdjs

taglist; @joengni @cherryeol04 @lomlminho @bruh-changbin @yooniversalstudios @ann0325441904 @yourdaddychan (message me if you want to be added!)

[mageofseven]

are requests open? how would the brothers (or undateables) react to MC giving them a bouquet of flowers because they want to show their partner they care?

Ooo okay cute! I think I'd add another layer to this and use flower language so each bouquet has a cute meaning~

This will be for just the Brothers, but I will have another post out for the Undateables' version 😊

~

Lucifer:

Gives him a bouquet of red carnations (symbolising love, pride, and admiration) and Peonies (symbolising happy life, happy marriage, good health, and prosperity).

The oldest was in his study, sighing over the stack of paperwork he had been trying to dwindle down all morning.

Their boyfriend has been so busy and stressed lately; the human simply wanted to help ease things for him, but in a new and meaningful way.

At first, the demon didn't didn't even acknowledge when MC stepped in, but when they approached his desk and started rocking on their feet nervously, the man sighed once more and looked up at them.

"I'm sorry, Love. What is it?"

"Okay so...I did a thing..." They mumbled before revealing the bouquet from behind their back.

The Avatar of Pride raised an eyebrow before letting a soft smile spread across his face.

"They are very beautiful. However, I don't recall there being any occasion for them."

"There is though!" MC insisted. "These flowers represent a message for you!"

Lucifer took the human's wrist and guided them around the desk and onto his lap. Arms around them, the demon stared down at the bouquet.

"I see." He kissed their neck. "Well, I'm afraid I am not caught up on my flower language so I'll be relying on your interpretation."

The human blushed and could feel the man's low chuckle from behind them.

"If you truly have a message for me, Love, now is the time to say it."

"I..." MC hid their face in the flowers and mumbled a little. "The red carnations are for love and admiration...I love you so much and I admire how hard you work...but the peonies are for a happy life and good health. I...want you to take better care of yourself."

"I take it you're worried for me?"

"Luce...you didn't come to bed last night and you were in here all day yesterday. Of course, I'm worried--and don't say you can handle this because even so, stress and lack of sleep are not good for you."

The man let out a long sigh before adjusting the human in his arms and rising from his seat.

"L-Luce?"

"If what you need from me is some rest then so be it."

Wouldn't usually give in so easily, but his Love put so much thought into expressing their worry so it would be wrong to simply dismiss them.

Mammon:

Gives him a bouquet of Alstromeria (symbol of wealth, prosperity, and fortune, as well as a flower of friendship) and Sweet Peas (symbolic of departure after having a good time).

It was the night before MC was being sent back to the Human realm. They knocked on his bedroom door and the second brother let them in, eyeing the flowers with a red face.

"W-What are those for??"

"For you." MC smiled. "It's...ya know since I'm leaving tomorrow. It's a thank-you."

Mammon grinned, trying to act confident.

"Well of course you got these for me! You got a lot to thank me for looking out for ya, now dontcha?"

"I really do." MC handed them to the demon. "There's a meaning to my flower choices though. Alstromeria is to wish you luck in money matters and express how much your friendship has meant to me. The sweet peas...to say that I had a lot of fun with you this school year."

The second brother went silent. I mean, what was he supposed to say after hearing that they put so much thought into giving him freaking flowers.

"Just...thank you for everything, Mammon. Really." MC leaned in and kissed his cheek before turning to the door.

The man's brain was short circuiting from the kiss, but still managed to push through the flustered-ness to call out.

"Oil! Wait a second 'ere!"

MC looked over their shoulder, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah?"

The words died in his mouth. This was his last chance to tell them how he felt...but he wonder if there was any point in it anymore? I mean, they leave tomorrow...

Despite still having the urge to say something, the man lowered his head and waved off the human.

"Eh, forget. Go to bed or something. I have things to do."

And then they left, just as he told them.

Now he's left wondering if he should of spoken up or not he should have.

Leviathan:

Gives him a bouquet of Hydrangeas (symbolising heartfelt emotions and used to express gratitude of being understood) and Anemone (which has a positive meaning of anticipation).

It was a couple days before MC had to return to the Human realm.

The two were hanging out like it was any other day though. Levi was immersed in his game, so much so that he didn't notice when MC left the room and came back with the bouquet.

"Levi, pause the game."

"Dude, it's an online match--"

Their boyfriend dropped the controller when he saw the flowers. His face went red as he just ceased to function.

"Levi?"

"W-W-What the hell are those?!"

"Flowers?"

"W-Well duh" He stammered out. "But why are they in my room?"

Because surely, surely they were not for him. I mean, why would the human be giving flowers to a stinky otaku like himself?

"They're for you."

Error. Blue screen. Levi.exe has stopped working. Please reset your Levi and--

"I...look." MC continued. "The hydrangeas represent...well, just how I appreciate the fact that I can be open with you. I feel like you're the only person who truly gets me...not just here in the Devildom, but even compared to those in the Human realm. The anemone...well, it has different meanings, but I'm using it to show that...I can't wait to find my way back to you."

The human was now blushing though not as much as the demon in front of them.

"Basically...I wanna say that I'm glad I'm your Henry and I'll always look forward to finding my way back to you...Levi?"

The man was tearing up.

"Sh-Shut up, Normie...I'm not crying..."

MC laughed and leaned in to kiss their boyfriend.

Yeah...they're happy to be his Henry 💕

Satan:

Gives him a bouquet of Purple Irises (symbolising eloquence, wisdom, and compliments) and Tulips (signifies a declaration of love and symbolizes perfect love).

Met the fourth brother in the library for their weekly study session.

Satan has been helping MC with some of their harder classes and in turn, the two had been spending a lot more time together

Which made it only too easy for the human to fall for him.

"Satan?"

The blonde looked up from the textbook he was skimming through in search of the correct page and raised an eyebrow as he saw MC standing before him, fidgeting in place and head down while hiding something behind their back.

"Is there something you need help with?"

"N-No...I..." The Human bit their lip. "Um...do you know anything about flower language?"

"Floriography? I suppose I know a fair amount." The demon watched them closely. "Do you have any questions based on the language?"

"No, I mean--" MC quickly shoved the bouquet in his face, their own face glowing a bright red. "Please accept these..."

The blonde took the flowers in confusion, staring down at them. Once he identified the flowers in the bouquet, a blush swept across his face, but was quickly replaced by a grin.

"Well now, why don't you tell me what these flowers mean to you?"

"D-Don't you know what they mean already?"

"I'd rather hear it from your lips, Kitten."

The human covered their face when they heard the new nickname.

"Kitten, I cannot accept these if you won't tell me their meaning."

MC lowered their hands.

"I...they..." The human mumbled. "The purple irises are to...well, thank you for your help and show that I really...really admire how knowledgeable you are. And...a-and the tulips..."

"And what about the tulips?"

"Please stop teasing me..."

The blonde chuckled before setting the bouquet on the table next to them and pulling MC close.

"Alright then. My answer is that I feel the same way, Kitten."

"Really?!"

The demon goes to fetch a vase for the flowers to sit on the table with them as they study.

Asmodeus:

Gives him of a bouquet of White Lilies (symbolising modesty and virginity), Aster (symbolising patience), purple lilac (symbolising first love), and Anemone (which mainly has negative symbolism to it, but can also be used to to symbolize anticipation in a positive interpretation).

The Avatar of Lust went to his room to change out of his school uniform and found the human sitting on his bed with the bouquet.

"Aww, Doll!"

The man rush over and squeeze the human in an embrace, carefully of the flowers.

"Oh you're so sweet! Getting me flowers like this!"

MC hid their face in their boyfriend's shoulder.

"Azzy...I have something to say."

"Okay~ what is it?"

MC pulled back and stared down at the flowers.

"I...do you know anything about Floriography?"

"Flower language? Oh, Doll, who do you think you're talking to? Of course~."

"Well...I used that for this bouquet."

"Ooo okay." The man gently took the bouquet from them. "Let's see then~ I see Lilies and Asters. Oh! A couple lilacs-- I love you two, Dolly."

He leaned in and kissed them.

"Oh and--" The smile that had been on his face suddenly fell when he spotted the anemone. "Dolly...is something wrong?"

The human started tugging on their sleeves.

"I'm sorry..."

"Hey...come here."

The demon laid the bouquet on the bed and pulled MC back into his arms. Face buried back into his shoulder, the man stroked his human's hair.

"It's okay. You know you can talk to me, right?"

MC didn't speak at first, just let their boyfriend's gentle comfort calm them for a bit.

"I...I'm sorry." They mumbled again. "I've probably just been overthinking. I just...it wouldn't leave my mind so even though it's hard to say, I knew I needed to talk about it and I thought it'd be easier with the flowers..."

"It's okay, Dolly. Take your time; I'm right here."

The demon kissed the top of the human's head.

"I just...you've been really good about not pushing me into...ya know...that next step. And I really appreciate it and everything because I've never done anything like that before. You're the first person I've ever dated, the first person I've ever fallen in love with...you've been my first date, my first kiss...and I want you to have my next first, but I'm still anxious about it. I feel bad though; I feel like I'm disappointing you since you're the Avatar of Lust and I just--"

"Oh Honey no!" The man didn't mean to interrupt them; he simply couldn't hold his words in anymore. "It's not like that at all. I'm with you for you, not your body. I can wait as long as you need me to."

He pulled away so he could look them in the eyes.

"I'm not going to be disappointed because you're not ready. We can wait as long as you need, okay?"

"Are...are you sure?"

"Of course, Doll. I don't want you to feel pressured into it. When we take that next step, I want it to be just beautiful and memorable for you as it will be for me and not something you feel obligated to do, okay?"

The Avatar of Lust finds a vase for the flowers and sets them on his vanity before cuddling up with the human in bed, keeping them close and murmuring sweet compliments and praises in their ear.

Asmo can wait. As long as he can hold his Dolly close and love them with all of his heart, he could wait a million years for them if that's what they needed.

Beelzebub:

Gives him a bouquet of Sunflowers (symbolising adoration, dedication, and dedicated love) and Peonies (symbolic of bashfulness, but also a happy life, happy marriage, and prosperity).

MC was too excited to give it to him so they waited outside of House of Lamentation for him to come back from practice.

"Beel! Beely come look!"

The redhead smiled at their Muffin and quickened his steps until he was right next to them.

"Here~." MC proudly presented the bouquet to him.

"It's very pretty. Thank you." Beel took the bouquet before leaning down and kissing the human.

"It's more than a bouquet though! It has symbolic meaning."

The demon raised.

"What's it mean then?"

MC blushed a bit before diverting their gaze from their boyfriend--or rather their fiancé since his proposed recently, hence why they made this bouquet for him.

"It's just...another way of saying I hope we'll always be happy together."

The big guys smiled before picking up his Muffin and kissing their forehead.

"I know we will, Muffin. Always."

Belphegor:

Gives him a bouquet of Statices (symbolizes remembrance and sympathy) and Red Roses (symbolising a deep love).

Sleepy boy woke up so confused when he found the flower basically shoved in his face.

"...What the hell am I looking at?"

"Flowers."

"No duh, Butthead." He pushed the flowers away, looking up at his Human. "I mean, why do you have them?"

"They're for you."

The man sighed.

"Fine..." He took the bouquet and set it on the other side of the bed before pulling MC down to him so they could lay together.

"Belphie, there's a point to them; they have meaning."

The man's eyes were already closed, ready to go back to sleep.

"Yeah? What?"

Silence. Avatar of Sloth cracked open an eye and saw his Human's expression weighed down with sadness.

"What's wrong?" Both eyes opened, he tightened his hold on them.

"It's...it's my way asking you to let it go."

Now it was the demon's turn to go silent.

Since the Incident™️, Belphie's been extra protective of them, but simultaneously really distant and harsh? It's been a back and forth sort of thing and even when they started dating, the trend stayed.

MC knew that he was just afraid of hurting them again. Sometimes he felt that keeping them close was for the best and others, he felt like pushing them away was. This back and forth was all because of the guilt that he carried.

Nervous, the human continued.

"The roses represent how much I love you and the statices...to show that even though I have not forgotten, I understand why you did it and I'm not upset. I forgave you instantly because I knew the pain you were in. I just...now I need you to forgive yourself, Belphie."

The demon buried his face in their neck.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Oh...I'm sorry."

Belphie pulled back and gave the human a small kiss.

"Don't apologize for everything." He kissed them again. "You didn't do anything wrong."

It will take a lot more than a bouquet to make their boyfriend's guilt disappear, but the love and care behind it...the demon felt it, even if he didn't say it out loud.

[sunshineandcybertronians]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend - (Secret Solenoid) TFP Starscream x reader

Word count: 5,599

Warnings: none

A/n: This is my Secret Solenoid gift to @sheabeeprime. This ended up way longer than I meant it to be. The ideas for what I could do just kept piling up and I decided to do all of them. And in true Scarlet fashion, I named this after a Taylor Swift song.

~

The view was amazing from where you sat on the edge of a cliff. Staring at the amazing view ahead of you. The wind in your face and hair. Just you, your thoughts, and the giant robot on your left.

Yeah, you honestly had no idea why Starscream decided to sit with you. And no idea why he always came to your home to pick you up when he was hunting for energon. Maybe he just needed company? Whatever the reason, an opportunity like this was too cool to pass down. So you tagged along whenever you were free. Which sometimes meant having to tell him you were busy or why you weren’t home when he came last. Though it was amazing how he would avoid being seen.

You didn’t know much about him. All you knew was that he was grumpy, had a huge ego, and his ex co-workers sucked.

You bit your lip. Today was the only chance for you to ask this. You pushed a strand of hair that flew in your face.

His helm faced forward, but his optics were on you. “What is it, human?”

“Hmmm?” You looked up at him as innocently as you could manage.

“’I know you were going to ask me something. Just ask me and get it over with.”

“Well,” you began, “There’s this parade going on…”

“And?” he raised one of his large eyebrows.

“It’s celebrating all the different countries in the world.”

“So?”

“I was thinking we could go?” You shrugged and gave a strained smile.

“No.” He immediately shot down the idea.

“But you could learn all about different human cultures.”

“Why would I want to learn about other humans anyway?”

“Wouldn’t simply knowing those kinds of things get you ahead of, and make you more knowledgeable than, the Decepticons?” you asked nonchalantly.

“Hah! You think saying that will make me go?” A look of amused triumph was on his face, but you could see the metaphorical cogs turning in his helm. He soon let out an angry and reluctant hum. “But I suppose I could take some of my precious time to come to your… ‘celebration of opposing humans’.” He waved his servo.

You let out a laugh. “We aren’t enemies or any like that just because we’re from other countries. Yeah, there can be some wars, but we’re mostly allies.”

Starscream gave you a perplexed look with his head tilted. Eventually, he just huffed and turned away, mumbling, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

You examined him, then shrugged. “Okay. But whether or not it makes sense to you, I’m honored you’ll bestow your presence upon the parade.”

He considered your words and, once he processed that it was praise, he puffed out his chassis with his helm held high.

There was a bit of trial and error in figuring out how to get there. You didn’t have exact coordinates and Starscream didn’t know where it was. Finally, you both decided on a method. You would give him directions while looking at a map on your phone. Once you steer him in the general area, you should be able to see the parade from the air. Upon this decision, Starscream jumped off the cliff to perform a flawless, midair transformation. He soared back up to meet you, showing off a few spins, and opened the cockpit for you to get in.

You eagerly got in and he took off. He shot through the sky like a comet, reaching up through a puffy white cloud, which resulted in a huge smile on your face. There was something amazing about being that high above the ground. Clouds stretching out made it feel like a new, hidden world.

“Which way?”

“Oh, right!”

 It was strange how people appeared so small from up above. The whole event would probably have seemed grander from the ground, but you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to see it from the air. Especially with a giant robot.

“Wow. Look at it,” you commented. Suddenly, the rule of ‘if I can see you, you can see me’ came to mind. “Uh, are they going to find it suspicious that a jet is just floating here?”

“You tell me.”

You thought for only a second. “Definitely.”

Starscream maneuvered himself into a cloud, enclosing around him as though it were just a hologram. The nose poked out and there was a thin layer of cloud over the glass off the cockpit.

“You can still see, right?” he inquired.

“Yep. Thanks.”

You leaned back comfortably. The view was amazing. However the wonder slowly wore off and the silence began pricking at you. You almost wished for him to start complaining, or asking you questions, or for a radio. Though you doubted that he would enjoy human music. Or would he? Maybe you should try introducing some to him, but which genre?

“So what’s going on?” Starscream’s question brought you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, well people representing each country are walking in their group with a flag of that country. Like Italy, over there. They invented pizza!” You sat straight and pointed.

“What now?”

“Pizza, it’s a type of food that has cheese and tomato sauce an-“

“Nevermind. I don’t want to hear about the things you fleshies consume.” You thought you felt his alt mode shudder.

“Hey, if you were human, you would like it too,” you said. You fought the feeling of being offended that was taking over your thoughts.

“Then thank Primus I’m not.”

“Whatever.”  You crossed your arms and slouched back. “… But we do need to eat to survive you know.”

He hummed in reluctant consideration. “I suppose you’re right.”

Some time passed as you continued to sit there. Occasionally you would comment on a ‘country’ that was passing by. Sometimes he would ask about one. It was surprising how much your mind blanked out when you tried to talk about a country. You would have assumed that you wouldn’t have this problem considering you grew up on Earth.

A white flag with a circle and black lines on the corners caught your eye. You couldn't see the details from so far away, but you knew the circle was a blue and red yin yang. "Oh! That's the flag for South Korea."

"South? That sounds more like a location than a faction."

"Faction? What? Well, yes, it's a location. A location with its own government and own way of doing things. Like how you're a cybertronian. Because you're from Cybertron? Were you thinking about it like that? Factions?"

He hovered slightly higher then fell back into place. "How was I supposed to know? Cybertron had one government and leader. Much simpler."

"Hmmm." You considered the thought. "That's either really nice or there was a lot of corruption."

"Oh, you bet there was corruption. But does that mean there's a north, whatever it's called?"

"Korea. And yes, there's a North Korea. It split into north and south a while ago. North Korea has a dictator and isn't a place you want to go."

“What kinds of governments does each of these ‘countries’ have?” He asked.

“Well, the USA is a Democratic Republic. And there’s also socialism in some places, and at some point I think Russia was communist? Why can’t I remember anything?” You cursed yourself.

“Remind me why there isn’t one large government and leaders over the whole Earth?”

“That would be hard to do. A lot of people just wouldn’t agree to that. One of the reasons being that people want their own way of doing things. Since all of these countries formed on their own, having them all agree on giving up their own leadership to have a universal government is nearly impossible. There will always be someone who disagrees on how to run things.”

“It would be easier if someone just conquered the Earth.”

“You think people haven’t tried? There’ve been quite a bit of attempts, like Napoleon, but they all failed in the end. It’s a big place and people fight back.”

Another silence fell upon you both. You bit your lip as you scanned over the parade again.

"There's Japan. They have anime," you said.

Starscream finally lost his patience. “I’m not learning anything of use here! I’m just sitting here watching humans walk! The most informative bit was what you told me about North Kaon!"

"North Korea."

"Whatever it was! You expect me to remember all of these names?”

“Well, at least you can get an idea of what each country is like.”

“Admit it, you just told me to go because you wanted to come.”

“Maybe,” your voice rose an octave higher.

He scoffed.

“But,” you added, sitting up, “I did genuinely want to see it with you and show you a little more of Earth.”

“Why would I want to stay here even longer?!”

“I didn’t say that.” You looked at the gauges softly as if it were his face.

“Ah,” there was a nervous stutter present in his voice, “right.”

“Why did you come to Earth if you hate it so much?”

“It’s one of the last locations where we can find even scraps of energon. And you’ve come along to aid me enough times to know it’s important,” he said.

“It’s one of the only things you do.” You recollected everytime you were with him.

“Because ever since leaving the Decepticons ranks, I no longer have access to our storage or equipment to effectively find it. But I promise you, if it weren’t for Cybertron becoming a desert wasteland during the war, I would have never come to this mud ball.”

“Well. Even if you really wanna get back to cybertron, I’m glad I met you. And that I got to experience your awesome flying skills.” You tugged on a strand of your hair and ran your fingers through it.

There was  a brief silence.

“I mean, of course you would… How much longer did you want to see the parade?”

“Maybe a half an hour.”

“Hmmm. I’m going to be sore after hovering in the same spot for so long.”

“I could always rub your wings later if you want,” you offered.

“And let your grubby, little, fleshie hands on my magnificent wings? I think not.”

“Okay.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “It was just an idea.”

For a few more moments, neither of you said anything.

“Would you like to see a demonstration of my aerobatic skills later?”

“Actually, I would.”

A comfortable pause fell upon you.

“…Would you like to go down there?” he offered. He tipped his nose ever-so-slightly to the ground.

“Nah.” You leaned back in your seat with a smile. “I like it up here with you.”

 It had been two months and six days since you last saw him.

Yes, you were counting and had no idea why. Maybe he finally got tired of your fleshie self and left. Maybe you should have seen it coming with how much he disliked humans. Maybe you annoyed him so much that he decided to never see you again without a word.

Yet, when you truly thought about it, it didn’t make sense. He seemed to enjoy being with you, even if he never showed it outright. He was always the one who decided to bring you along when hunting for energon. Even when he was a giant robot, and clearly had some sort of prejudice against humans, it felt as though he still treated you as an equal to some degree.

But maybe he truly did get tired of you.

You stood by your window. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the last ghosts of light had faded away into darkness. You stood in your sweat pants and baggy t-shirt. Your hair was brushed and you were ready to relax. A warm cup of hot chocolate was in your hands, the warmth seeping into your skin. You stared into the cup, thinking of nothing in particular when you blinked at a sudden light.

Your eyes instinctively followed the light. Outside the window, hovering just above the ground, was a large, greenish blue, swirling vortex. You stepped back, but promptly leaned closer for a better look. It didn’t seem to be pulling anything into it. It seemed gentle, yet powerful. You would have found it beautiful if your mind weren’t preoccupied with confusion.

Something seemed to appear inside of it. It was tall, and metal and--!

You nearly dropped your glass mug. After placing it safely to the side, you grabbed a jacket and rushed out the door. You raced to where you saw the portal as fast as your feet would carry you. It was still there when you reached it. Starscream held a device in his hands and his red optics searched the area, as if looking for something.

“Starscream!” You ran up to him, nearly in tears. “Where were you? You’ve been gone forever!”

His optics avoided your eyes. “Well, I…” His mouth pushed into a thin frown. “I lost my T-cog.”

“You’re what now?”

“T-cog! It’s what allows cybertronians to transform.”

Your current expression dropped as it finally dawned on you. The reason he had suddenly disappeared. Then you remembered that there were other people nearby.

“Why don’t we go back through your portal thing and talk about it there?” You began to jog into the portal.

“Ground bridge.”

“Whatever it is.”

You ran while he walked in. The fact that the ground seemed to be made of swirling energy, though it felt completely solid, messed you up. You being smaller didn’t help either. You were running and still falling behind. After a half a minute, Starscream turned around to pick you up and carry you through.

A flash filled your vision and you had to blink several times to adjust to the dark, new area. The walls, ceiling, and floor were made entirely of metal. The only light source came from a dim glow from an foreign, alien screen. It was clear from the dust that no one had been there in a long time. The scale was so large that you felt confident that this was something cybertronians built.

The portal behind you shrunk until it vanished. Starscream lowered you down onto the ground. As soon as your feet hit the floor, you dashed to Starscream’s foot to give him the biggest hug you could.

“I missed you,” you mumbled. Of course, he might have not heard it if it weren’t for nearly every surface being made of metal, causing an echo.

His posture went rigid. He began to reach down to pat your head, then pulled his hand away. He stayed like that without moving a servo the whole time you hugged him.

“Ah… Me too.”

You let go. The cold of the living metal still lingered on you.

“Where have you been? How did…?” You stared up at him.

“I came across some other humans,” he began as he walked over for something to sit on. He helped you up onto it and you sat next to him. “I tried to asist them in building a cybertronian. I believed that they would allow me to keep energon I allowed them to find.” He stared at the floor the entire time.

Your eyes stayed locked on his glowing optics. “Build a cybertronian? Wait, if that was what happened, how did you lose your T thing?”

“I-They needed a t-cog in order to build a cybertronian. The one they already acquired was lost and they decided to take mine instead.” He almost seemed to curl up at the last words.

This settled on your mind like a ton of bricks. You didn’t say a word. Suddenly the room felt very heavy. The silence was like a suffocating blanket that you couldn’t seem to push off. You swallowed.

“They took… it? But, you could have fought them off easi-“

“They shot me with some sort of stun mechanism then proceeded to rip me open to take it!” His talons clenched into fists before him.

Once again, you couldn’t speak.

“Why is it that the first humans I meet, other than you, are no better than the Decepticons?”

“… Because some people can just be like that. Just like humans have potential for both good and harm, it seems like cybertronians are the same in that way.” You stared at the ground. “So… You can’t transform anymore?”

“No.”

“And that’s why you couldn’t fly back to me?”

“Not until I found the Harbinger and a portable ground bridge.”

You nodded. You pulled your legs to your chest and stared off into nothing. “That must stink. Not being able to fly.”

“It’s been terrible! How do humans survive like this?” He lifted his fists to his face.  His eyebrows, or whatever they were called, dug into his optics.

You shrugged. “We’re just used to it.”

The metaphorical blanket came back onto you, but somewhat more comfortably. Somewhat. You both continued to sit.

“… Are you upset about my not being able to transform?” Starscream cut through the silence. Almost so softly that you could hardly believe he was the one who said it.

“Huh? Well, yes,” you let go of your legs, “because you’re upset. I know how much you love flying!”

“But what about you?”

“Me?” You pointed to yourself.

“Yes!”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“How do you feel about me not being able to transform?!” He stood up and spun on his heels to face you. His wings stuck up on point.

“Well,” you thought for a second, “I did enjoy flying, but it honestly doesn’t matter too much to me if you can turn into a jet or not. I’m just happy you came back.”

“Oh.” The frustrated expression fell from his face and he looked away. In any direction except at you.

“What’s wrong?” You straightened your back as if it would help you see what was up.

“Nothing, I think. I had simply thought that you only liked me because of my flight capabilities.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because Megatron only kept me alive because I was useful? It was always like that on Cybertron, and with those other humans. Once I become useless, I’m tossed away.”

You felt your heart twisted and your blood boiling. “I hate people who are like that. Forget them. They aren’t worth your time. I’m glad their out of your life.” You stood up. “And to me, as long as we get to hang out, I’m good.”

Starscream tilted his head. “You truly don’t make any sense.”

You shrugged. “The best people in life are free.”

“Huh?”

“People who don’t expect anything in return,” you elaborated. “They care and love you unconditionally.”

“I don’t believe anyone like that exists.”

“They exist. And so do I.” You confidently stared up at him.

His gaze darted between you and away from you. He took a few steps back, as if you were a mysterious creature that could become hostile or blow up any second. Eventually, he gave in to a beautiful, natural smile. And the room suddenly seemed brighter.

 “So, Starscream, I was thinking…” You walked into the room.

“If it’s anything about making a giant s’more again, I’m not interested.”

“No.”

Starscream had been feeling down, pun not intended, about losing his t-cog. You had cleared out two days in your schedule to have a sleepover with him. He had surprised you when you jokingly offered for him to brush your hair and he accepted. He also tried to braid it when you taught him how. It was surprisingly well done, considering the size of his talons, but still sloppy. You had to remind him that he wasn’t a failure at braiding. While laying in your sleeping bag and bundle of blankets you brought for the occasion, an idea came to you.

“I was thinking,” you continued, “that since you’ve been down about not being able to,” Starscream gave you the stink eye, “you know. So I decided it would be fun to do something similar to that one day with the parade.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t fly you to another one.”

“No, not that. I mean that there’s this scout group doing a world presentation or whatever near where I live. They’re going to have cardboard stands set up for each country they researched about.”

“I really don’t think you’ve thought this through,” Starscream sighed, “I do not think these, or any, humans would react well to seeing a cybertronian.”

“I’ve already figured that out!” You bounced on your toes. “I’ll be carrying a camera that will stream video to you over here. That way you can see it without having to be there! And I have some earbuds so I can start a call with you and be able to hear and answer back if you have any questions.”

“Will the humans be suspicious about you speaking to no one?”

“Nope! They’ll just assume I’m on a call with someone, which technically isn’t wrong. So what do you say?”

 “Okay. So you can still see the video feed, right?” you asked while readjusting the camera on your hat.

“Yes, now stop shaking around!” Starscream’s voice came through your earbud. You swore that you would go deaf if this lasted too long.

“Okay,” you mumbled.

The sky was overcast. You walked into the building along with families that had come to see the scouts’ projects. There were tons of tables and three paneled boards lined up. People wandered around. They would stop to read, then turn and walk to the next one that caught their eye. It was clear which groups were family because they would greatly compliment the child’s work.

You figured you needed to start somewhere. It was a stange feeling to be there when you didn’t know anyone, even if the event was open to the public.

“Are we just going to stare?”

This snapped you out of your daze. You blinked for a second. Right, you weren’t alone. You had Starscream.

“Right,” you said and stepped forward.

You walked along the rows, glancing over them until one caught your eye. “France,” you said while pointing to the printed out flag, making sure your finger could be seen by the camera. “It’s in Europe. The capital is Paris. The population is 66 million.” You read off of it. You walked over to another. “Germany. It’s also in Europe. You know, maybe this whole row is European countries. Anyway, capital’s Berlin. Population is 83 million. Their currency is euros.”

“Ironic how these give more information than you did that other day.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes. Ironic.” You walked a few more steps and stopped. “Some place named Estonia. The flag looks cool.”

“It’s three lines of color, like the other ones.”

“I like the colors.”

“There’s a lot of writing and pictures on each report,” Starscream commented. “Did each of these children research, find the information, and organize it in a presentable way?”

“Yes?” your voice came out as more of a question.

“Impressive.”

You smiled. “Some kids don’t do scouts, but they end up doing things similar with science fairs in school. They’ll do experiments or research, and they they have to make a presentation about it, like a vinegar volcano.”

“A volcano?!”

“No, it can’t do anything dangerous.”

“Then what’s the point? I wouldn’t call that science.”

“It’s simple science that kids are able to do. You know, since they’re kids?”

You noticed one of the parents staring at you and you gave an apologetic look while moving your hair to point at your earbud. You continued walking and eyeing some of the posters to read to Starscream. You had gotten to the Asia section and did your best to pick out something to show him.

“And see? The rainbow bridge.” You pointed.

“Huh? Oh, yes. Very nice,” he said absent mindedly.

You quirked an eyebrow up, but eventually shrugged. He was probably getting bored with all of this. A part of you was beginning to wonder why you thought this was a good idea. This thought detracted you from the sounds surrounding you. You suddenly felt cold and like something was hitting you?

You looked around and suddenly noticed that the fire alarm had gone off. Loud beeps filled the room. Everyone was trying to get out. Kids looked in all directions in confusion. Adults tried to keep them calm and safely head out. Your clothes were beginning to dampen. Instead of trying to get out, your first instinct was to get out of the sprinkler. You crawled under a table and peeked out.

The last few people were almost through the door. That’s when you decided it was time for you to go, but something caught your eye. Something in one of the upper windows that lined the wall near the ceiling. Starscream? His red optics stared down at you and he signaled for you to stay there, along with whispering to you through your earbud. You were confused, but you hid under the table once more.

You waited until the water stopped pouring. Once it was over, you pulled yourself out and to your feet. You glanced around. That was rather sudden. And now there were puddles all over the floor.

A loud rattling echoed in the room.

You turned to see the large door, the kind you would see in a garage, at the back of the room open up. The temperature of the room changed to match outside. Starscream held the door up with a mischievous smirk. You took your earbud out.

“What did you do?”

“I may have gotten bored simply watching through a screen and decided to come. And I may have possibly started a fire, opened a window, and held it next to one of those fire alarms.” His grin grew with each word.

“Really?” You asked rhetorically with your hands on your hips. But you couldn’t help but crack a smile yourself.

“What? I was bored.” He shrugged and waved a hand.

You shook your head with a laugh. “Whatever.”

Starscream ducked in. He had to stay bent down to order to fit. You moved out of his way was he came in.

“So, you were actually interested in this?” you questioned.

“I thought it would be better to see it in person with you.”

“Yeah, but some fire trucks or someone else is going to eventually come back here and see you.”

“Hmm.” He looked back. “I see. But one look for a nanoklick couldn’t hurt. I just did all of this so I could see it anyway.”

“Okay.” You shrugged. “Just hurry.”

After his wing nicked the roof when he tried to straighten himself, he quickly realized that it was easier for him to be on his knees. As he got down on his knees, you helped direct him down in the small free space between the tables. The legs skidding against the floor echoed through the room and made you jump. You were surprised he was even trying to do this when he could barely fit between the rows.

He had to lean in close to get good look of the displays. He would occasionally ask you the meaning of a word he didn’t know. You had to admit, it was more fun to have him there in person. Unfortunately you couldn’t enjoy this for fear of being seen. You constantly looked over your shoulder.

Eventually your paranoia dropped by a few notches. Though, by then Starscream had gotten tired of being crammed in a small space and probably noticed your concern. It was awkward getting to the garage door, between him being unable to move much and him blocking you. But you made your way out.

He lifted the door and ducked under and out. You followed when you noticed him freeze. Confused, you followed his gaze. Your blood went cold and you felt as if your mind was being squeezed into a box.

Staring up at Starscream was what looked to be a five year old child. The little boy was alone, probably wandered off, and had an orange jacket and hat. His expression twisted into disbelief then fear. Your heart rate quickened when you saw his face wobbling.

“Scrap,” you let out as you both turn the other way in panic.

Starscream closed the door with a loud bang that sent a shiver up your spine. You didn’t noticed what Starstream was doing behind you, since you were already running on instinct. When he came into your field of vision again, he was twisting on one foot to regain balance and lifted up the remote ground bridge device. In his panic, he hesitated on which button to click, but quickly pressed it once he remembered.

“Is it a good idea to open it up in here?” you questioned as the piece of cybertronian technology swirled and grew before you.

“I would have preferred a larger space, but I don’t believe we have much of a choice.”

He scooped you up and pulled you through. Like always, you blinked when a flash filled your vision. The air suddenly changed and you were back on the Harbinger as the ground bridge closed behind you. When he held you to the ground and you finally collected yourself enough to jump off, you realized that three of the cardboard presentations had managed to come through along with you and Starscream.

You stood there. “Well, that was interesting.”

“One shouldn’t cause any problems, right?” He looked to you before his eyes darted back to where the ground bridge was.

“That was a kid. They won’t believe him. They might look around, but after seeing no giant robot, they’ll dismiss it.”

“That’s good to hear.” Starscream groaned and held his shoulder. “That made all of my joints stiff. And the tip of my wing caught on the top of that door.” He glanced at his wing with a slight pout on his face.

You stared up at him, taking a moment to consider your words before you were unable to take them back. “… Would you like it if I massaged your wings?”

His optics widened and darted around the area. “Fine,” you could barely hear in the midst of low grumbles.

You blinked twice before fully processing what that meant. As you were trying to figure out how to even reach his wings, he held out his hand. You stepped onto it and he carried you to a table or whatever it was. It was too large for you to tell exactly. You carefully got off of his hand and he sat with his wings facing you.

You sat with your legs hanging off the edge. Your hands reached out to his wings. He readjusted himself so you didn’t have to lean forward in order to touch them. Your fingers shook. You hesitated. Finally, your hand laid flat on it. It was cold. You didn’t know what you expected. It was basically like touching a regular piece of metal. You weren’t sure what you were expecting. But somehow it felt different. Maybe because he had trusted you to touch it. You began rubbing it soothingly. You prayed that you weren’t doing anything wrong.

He hummed as you rubbed patterns onto it. Although you were sure he could barely feel it, you saw him relaxing. There was silence for several minutes.

“Why are you so kind?” he said.

“Huh?” You did your best to peek around to look at his face.

“How can humans be like this? At least you and the ones you talk about. Those small humans, no matter how well they proformed with their research, were praised. And how can other humans get along well enough to be allies despite having separate territories and governments? How can anyone do anything for someone else without expected anything in return.” He turned his helm to you. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“No?” You tilted your head in confusion. “I just wanted to because it was the nice thing to do?”

“How? Why?” He turned his whole body, leaving your hands floating in the air. “Why are you always so nice to me? Has it ever occurred to you that you would get nothing in return? Especially from a grounded Decepticon defect?”

“I’m not looking for anything in return,” you started calmly. “I might get to learn about cybertronians, and do some cool things with you. And I get to spend time with you. I get that in exchange, but I’m not expecting anything more. Can you please accept that there are some people who are just nice? Who actually like you and want what’s best for you?”

His face twisted, as if about to argue. But paused, like he had never considered that before. He opened his mouth again, but closed it again, when no words would come out.

He eventually sighed. “I suppose I’ll simply have to trust you,” he said softly. He stared at you closely. “Your hair dried.”  

You suddenly remembered it had been wet from the sprinklers. He reached out and touched your hair, letting it fall on his talons.  Then he flinched back. “Uh… apologies.”

You reached out to pull his finger close to you and hug it. “It’s okay.” You smiled. “I like it.”

Starscream appeared shocked by this, but relaxed and smiled. A genuine smile.

[pumpkinpot]

Hoshi

A/N: this is part of the Citrus Dome Sci-Fi collab. this is also pure fluff. no smut, no real angst. just spooky summer vibes and poly love. I hope you enjoy. (I’m sorry for grammatical errors in advance.)

synopsis: since beginning your relationship with Katsuki Bakugou and Ochako Uraraka you’ve developed a love for exploring abandon places with them whenever you three have time to explore. This time, so happens to land on a derelict observatory. (additional head canons for this story on my tik tok under pumpkinpots)

“It says here it was abandoned in the mid-nineteenth century due to the spike in light pollution with the growth of the city,” you say, pointing to the dome at the peak of the building. “All of the mobile telescopes were transferred to the university's observatory, while this placed rotted away.

Uraraka half listens, levitating sheetrock from the doorway and discarding them in the nearby field.

“Why just abandon it?” Katsuki asks, fiddling with varying lenses in his camera bag. “Couldn’t this have been a museum or something?”

“Yeah,” you agree, shifting a glance to make sure Uraraka doesn’t need help. “It looks like it was bought by a merchant in the eighties who wanted to turn it into a house, but he was indicted for tax evasion before the renovations ever finished. It hasn’t been touched since.” 

He scoffs with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Rich idiots.”

Uraraka brushes specks of dust off her palms across her cut-off shorts before urging us alone. “Shall we?” 

It takes two and a half pushes to nudge the door wide enough to squeeze through. The observatory opens to us with a groan of whining metal and the scratch of loose dirt on concrete. 

Centered in the main foyer, a gaping mural of blue and white cobblestone depicts a dusty map of astrology stars. 

Katsuki has to be coaxed with a promise to be flashed to pose under the Taurus constellation for a picture, meanwhile, Uraraka floats just above Pisces with a cute puffy cheeked expression. 

Names, small sayings, and symbols decorate the wall in vibrant graffiti, the place a cocktail of color and wild Ivy.

"It's a lot more lit than I thought I'd be," Uraraka says, stuffing her flashlight into her bag. 

Katuski keeps the light attached to his camera lit as he weaves in and out of rooms, zooming in on old books and broken equipment. 

We follow him through a puzzle of what seemed to be living quarters and small classrooms, ending in a half oval auditorium. 

At the center of the stage a white globe balances on a pillar of cement. 

“What’s this?” Uraraka asks. 

You touch where someone had attempted to derail the sphere like a baseball before trailing your eyes above the layered seating. “It's a projector ball. Technicians would likely project light from there into the ball to make it seem like the planet or star they were studying. That's why it's,” you knock on the sphere's cool solid surface. “Crystal.”

Uraraka shines her phone’s light into it, the shattered pieces reflecting shapes in a dim glow.

Katsuki points the camera into the orb, the bluish tint reminds you of the similar one in the abandoned lighthouse you’d explored with them two years ago. Though that one would have lit from the inside. 

Quickly you explore the base and second levels, eager to get to the actual observatory. It's evident where the renovations to make this a home had been started and never finished. Small cracks in the floor, sealed with caulk, loose wooden planks pillaring knocked in walls. 

It could have been a beautiful home, you think to yourself. 

Up the second flight of stairs gradually more and more light fills the space until you are bathed in the orange glow of early dusk. A large open scare slits the dome, edging with rust and ivy. The circular room holds nothing of true value, nothing left behind but broken tables and a ladder to the viewing balcony tailing the opening of the dome. 

“The big telescope that would have been here-” Uraraka says, fiddling with the screw holes in the floor, “- would have been a refracting telescope. It uses small bits of glass to magnify what you’re looking at, then is bent back through the telescope hitting the eyepiece. The other kind is a reflector,” she continues, “It's got a primary mirror at the bottom of the lens into a second mirror than a third eyepiece mirror. This one is mostly used to see the different parts of a star to see what it's made out of.”

Katsuki and you exchange looks of pure astonishment. "how do you know all this?" you ask.

She fishes a gum wrapper from one of the holes, tossing it to the side. “Before I was accepted into UA I was really considering going into astronomy. I thought it fit so well with my quirk, but the courses were too expensive.” 

"More expensive than UA?" Katuski asks, refocusing his camera. 

She nods, seeming just as dumbfounded as us. 

“Do you think it could work on my explosions?”

“If you were in space maybe,” you hypothesize, “but in that case, we probably wouldn’t see it for a long while.” 

He seems semi disappointed as if his evening plans had been somehow derailed.

You run your hands across the walls of the dome, dusk sun baking its metal frame like a soup pot. 

For a moment you just watch them. It’d been so long since the opportunity arose for the three of you to go exploring. With you still temporarily stationed in the American hero commission and those two workings in Japan it was rare to find time to skype let alone go on adventures. You were lost in the bliss of having your partners so near without having to scream about a lost wifi connection when your hand hit something protruding from the wall.

“What are these?” you ask, inspecting circular gears attached to a crank.

“It looks like the wheel to turn the dome,” Uraraka says.

Katsuki zooms in on the puzzle of rigid plates. “This bitch turns?” 

“Yeah, that slit doesn't move so the dome has to, to accommodate where in the sky they were looking.” 

Katsuki fingers the gears a moment, mapping its track all across the sphere. He traces along the parts not layered in rust until he’s back at the start. “Do you think it still works?” 

“Not without some serious lube and strong arms.”

“We’re one for two,” you suggest. 

Katsuki hands over his camera to Uraraka, positioning himself opposite you to push the lever, while you pull left.

At first, the dial stays put, its stance unforgiving, but after a bit more pull than push a deafening whine reverberating through the entire observatory. 

No visible move happens until the second crank roundabout when the shift of light against concrete becomes clear.

Katsuki’s eyes light with sheer amazement as the entire dome rotates around you. We are halfway through a full rotation before Uraraka shouts for you to stop. 

You push on the lever stilling its movements as quickly as you can.

She holds a finger head tilted to the side. “Do you hear that?” 

Your breath balloons in your chest as you lean in closer. The tiniest of whimpers echo around the dome from the viewing balcony. 

One after another you file up the ladder, hopping on the edge of the dome. Balancing on the concrete crease between the moving track and the rest of the building you search for the sound. 

“Here!” Uraraka yells from the other side.

 You sprint as much as you dare, teetering along the two-story edge. 

She squats over the body of a squirming animal, a tuft of fur caught in the track of the dome's rotation. She coddles its little frame, before reaching a hand out to you. “Y/n, your knife-”

Hesitantly you hand it over. She snips away the stuck pieces muttering thanks that none of the actual tail got caught. She folds the blade back into itself, pinching leaves and sticks from the animal's fur and tossing them over the side. 

She holds it up, floppy ears and a black nose making it a nearly recognizable creature. A puppy. 

He looks to be light brown, but that could be the soot. 

Katsuki checks around the dome for any signs of a litter or mamma, before joining us with a shake of his head. 

The pup squirms and with an open mouth, letting all sorts of noises tumble from his dirt-covered tongue. 

Uraraka floats the puppy to the floor of the dome, as we file down the ladder. You empty the contents of your water bottle into a cup for drinking and the rest onto its back for cooling.  

His fur peaks through white and brown spotted under layers of grime. 

“Well,” Uraraka says, “we’ve been talking about wanting to expand our family.” 

“I suppose there’s no better place to start,” you add, both of us looking to Katsuki for consensus.

He passes glances between the three of us. “Fine, but I get to name it.”

“Alright, but we get veto power.” 

“Explosion-”

“Veto,” you say in unison. 

He looks around puffy-lipped. “I didn't even get to finish.” 

“Explosion nothing,” Uraraka clarifies. 

He’s silent for a long moment looking around the space. “Hoshi?.” 

“Star?” you confirm.

“This observatory was used to study the stars, wasn’t it?” He bats.

You and Uraraka exchange a satisfied, yet surprised look. You hadn’t expected something so- normal. This is after all the same man that made you name your golden pothos “boom boom boi” in his honor. 

“I like it,” you say.

“Approved,” adds Uraraka. 

We better take our picture before it gets too dark,” he says, turning away so you can’t see the blush on his cheeks. He switches out his filming camera for a smaller polaroid, propping it up on the edge of a broken table. 

He runs back as the timer ticks down. He slides to your right side, Uraraka on your left. Their arms link behind you as you hold Hoshi up to your mid-chest. Clicking down from five you all give your cheesiest grins. A rectangular card spits from the bottom of the camera. 

Ochaco shakes it a few times, swapping you a picture, for a puppy. 

You wait for the picture to pixelate before opening the ninety-cent notebook of film slips and position it in the next available spot.

Urarka’s cut-off shorts and Katsuki's tanned shoulders are a stark contrast to the puffy blue coat and chunky knit beanie from the last abandoned mansion expedition last time. Before that, the three of us accidentally matched our windbreakers to Midoryia during a tour of The Ghost Candy Shop in Kyoto. We look like a group of tourists. 

The small book seemed to be filling quickly despite the rareness of time to get away. Memories pile up from when it was just Uraraka and Katsuki to when you became a staple to their adventures. They’d given you responsibility for the book to garner your importance to them in their relationship until the reasoning for the gift became nothing more than routine. You were theirs, and they were yours. 

Now a new member had sprouted in your little family, and if you squinted, you could imagine the rest of the pages being filled with the pup in aged years to maybe more as time goes on.

 Right now, you were happy with the three and a half of you.

[refriedweeb]

LET ME SANCTIFY YOUR BODY (SHINSOU + PLUS SIZED READER 18+)

A/N: refriedweeb here my little chickadees. Here’s another plus size reader one for all my beautiful thick babes out there. I’ve started hardcore sipping over everyone’s fave emo boy (who I always thought would prefer a thicker girl bc it just screams at you he would be) not responsible for any emotional trauma caused. ALSO, I used the same quirk from the Hawks’ series I have going on don’t judge me it’s honestly my favorite quirk I’ve thought up (and totally not bc I'm self-inserting) also if anyone draws y/n/me/yourself in this hero costume y/n chooses I'd die bc I think it’s so incredible

Prompt: Your hero agency has been pressuring you into a more scant, sexually appealing hero costume. Though you’re a hero, you’re still coming to accept your body and feel that the new costume they’ve put you in is anything but. Your boyfriend has other thoughts.

Tags/Warnings: body worship, oral, sex, spanking, shinsou being an absolute god

Word Count: 6,009

You stared at yourself in the reflection of the mirror in your bedroom. It’d been a long, exhausting past couple of weeks between you and the hero agency you worked for. They were insistent on changing up your hero costume, eager to add some sex appeal and tighter material around the assets that made you such a ‘feast’ as they called it. You were fuller figured, plump in spots that other female heroes weren’t. Your curves had caught the eye of the media surrounding the hero discourse, and you’d become something of a source of body positivity for the public. It wasn’t about your health, rather, but that strength and power came at any size, and a hero didn’t need to look like the heroes of the past in order to do good and be worthy of everything you had in your life. At first you’d been a little skeptical, sure that the other shoe was going to drop and you were going to be shunned for the tummy you had, the thickness of thighs that made you look ‘more beautiful than Venus being born’ according to one of the magazines that had commented on your body. 

However, you hadn’t seen anything wrong with the hero costume you’d been rocking prior to the media’s public obsession with you. It hid the insecurities that you wished to conceal, like that very tummy so many people had started to praise. The dimples in your thighs that showed through in the latex and skin tight material that made up so much of hero costumes. Many designers of said hero costumes had been scrambling to get their designs to your hero agency, practically groveling for you to pick theirs. You’d left that day after your seemingly endless patrol (thankful that nothing out of the ordinary outside of small, petty crimes) had come to an end. But...that didn’t mean the work was over just yet. The agency you worked in had been persistent that you needed to pick a new costume by the end of the week, and it was already Thursday. 

Your eyes moved from the mirror to the laid out costumes on the bed. The hero alias you went by was that of Nightmare. Your quirk was an Emitter quirk, and worked in a way that many people had been careful to get within your reach of. Once you activated your quirk, you could raise your target’s worst nightmare into a warped physical reality around them, or at least they perceived it to be a physical reality. What it really was, was a field of false reality with layers so thick it was hard to look through in order to see that it wasn’t real at all. A hallucination of the worst kind. You, much like your boyfriend Shinsou, had been people that your fellow classmates had thought would be best as villains, rather than heroes. People didn’t trust you, didn’t want to get to close to you lest you reach out a hand to their forehead and bring forth their own personal hell. 

They wanted to make someone they had once demanded be too dangerous to be a trustworthy hero into a sex symbol. The fleeting thought caused you to snort, your eyes moving back over the costume layout once more. Shinsou hadn't popped around to yours yet, likely still finishing out his own patrol. His opinions might have helped, but you weren’t sure when he’d get to yours and you’d rather get the uncomfortable trial and error of why your body didn’t look right in any of the costumes that had been sent to you over with. That way you could curl up in bed under the sheets and wait for Shinsou’s warm embrace. It’d always managed to make you feel better when you were sure the world hated everything about you. That very reason had been one of the reasons you and Shinsou had bonded so quickly. The world was determined to make you a villain before you’d even had a chance to prove them otherwise. You were each other’s biggest support system, the team cheerleader while you raced to make the world a better place. 

What would Nightmare wear? What would the unstoppable, dangerous Nightmare wear? The first costume was definitely not your speed, a deep plum color that was beautiful on its own. Yet, it was cut deep in the back with a half-peplum tiered skirt at the back of your waist. To you, it made you feel like a joke of a circus ring leader, feeling more like an overripe raspberry than a hero worth going toe to toe with. You didn’t have a body like Midnight or Mt. Lady. You were fuller all around, a pooch of a stomach that stuck out more than theirs, thighs that were thicker in muscle and fat then theirs. An ass, that as Shinsou had once said when he was drunk on sake, wouldn’t quit. Once again, you didn’t see anything wrong with the hero costume you had now. It was baggier, yes, allowing you to obscure a body you hadn’t fully come to terms with despite the years of progress you’d made with self-acceptance. Sure, the trench jacket did nothing to show off much of the body you’d worked hard to maintain and love, but it hadn’t been about how good you looked. It’d been about being able to do good and save people from villains. If you’d wanted to be judged for your looks, you would have signed up to be a model. But hero politics were the same politics that existed in every aspect of reality, and you had gotten used to it. It was really only a matter of time that you’d be up next in the line of speculation. The first costume was a hard no, and you peeled yourself out of it already feeling the sinking feeling of defeat as it crawled up into your spine. 

The second costume was better in some aspects, worse in others. It was black in color which was much more your speed, with a black mask to match that shielded the top half of your face. Yet, over your bust and over the widest part of your hips ran horizontal white lines, giving the effect of making them appear wider than they were. It wasn’t as if they just ran the front of the costume, either. Traced around your back and your butt, you only felt that sinking feeling grow. You looked wrong, and felt worse. There was no way people actually thought this was going to look good on you, did they? An annoyed sigh passed through your nose, doing one last turn around in the mirror confirmed your thoughts. These people had no idea what would look good on you. The cynical part of you was sure that this was the other shoe dropping. This was some grand joke that you were the punch line of. If you picked any of these costumes you’d be ridiculed for your body just like you’d been when you were a kid. That mere thought sparked tears in your eyes, but you pushed them down. There was one costume left. Though you didn’t have much hope for it. 

You were so in your negative thoughts at the moment as you stripped down from the second costume, you hadn’t heard the front door of your place open and close. Nor the sound of shoes being kicked off. 

The third costume was by far the most aesthetically pleasing to your tastes. Like Goldilocks and the three bears, it’d been the one you thought would be best. It was a one piece jumpsuit as the rest had been, cut deep in the front and back, low plunges that exposed everything to your naval in the front, and the small curve of your lower back. Though where freshly exposed skin would have been free, black mesh was laid overtop to give the graft appearance. There were winding slits down the long sleeves of the costume, making the mesh look like ropes winding down the length of strong arms and deliciously thick thighs. The mesh at the lower back connected to the beginnings of the mesh at the back of your thighs, lining up with the mesh that curved down from your naval and over your hips to meet up with the front mesh of your thighs. The mesh of the costume was one continuous running line, and you had to admit you liked how it shaped your body. It was tight as the other costumes, and certainly left nothing to the imagination of anyone who’d see you. If you picked this costume, everyone would know what it was you were working with. And that was what they wanted, right? The final costume was by far your favorite, opening and closing the fingerless gloves that had come with it. But were you okay with the world seeing the rest of your body? You didn’t think you were ugly by any means, and hadn’t felt ugly since you were a teenager. But...that didn’t mean the world wouldn’t take that chance to pick you apart if they thought you’d gotten too confident. 

You leaned up on your toes, angling to this way and that so you could get a full view of how you’d be seen from all angles. Your hand rolled over the little pooch of your belly, over the curve of your backside into that meshed lower back of the costume. The way your thighs blossomed against the costume, looking strong as hell. In the platformed boots you wore to do hero work, it’d look good. You thought. But was it too risky? Would you look like a joke? Your shoulders sagged in defeat, not sure you had the confidence to pull this off like the world seemed to think you did.

“Well, well...” came that deep drawl of the man you cared so deeply for. You jumped, completely unaware that for the last five minutes you’d been examining yourself in the mirror, that Shinsou had been eyeing you up from his position. Leaned against the frame of the door, hands tucked into his pockets with a shameless look on his face. “These those new hero costumes you were talking about?”

Once you were sure you wouldn’t about faint from the racing of your heart, you nodded. “Yeah, they weren’t that great,” you said and jutted your chin to the ones you’d hung back up on their hangers to be sent back. “Those were the first two options, and they looked...gross on me.” you said, voice dropping as the negative term against yourself left your throat. Shinsou angled a brow upwards question, violet eyes moving over to look at them. He doubted that they looked bad on you, almost disappointed he hadn’t gotten to see your skin slip under that tight material, the way it ran so flush over that body of yours he’d worshipped for so long. For all Shinsou cared, you could be running around in a trash bag and he’d find a way to think you were the most beautiful person in the world. But, one thought he shared in common with you on the first two hero costumes, was that they didn’t speak Nightmare. Your quirk was exceptional, like his in a way. It needed something as equally daring, as enticing as you were.

“I doubt that...” Shinsou strolled over to look at them, running the fabric of the raspberry suit between thumb and forefinger. “But they’re not you. They’re too tame for you.” the comment was innocent enough, but your mouth dried up at it. Sunken eyes moved over to look at you once more in that black suit number, one that he found himself to be a growing fan of. “What about that one?” His expression was hungry as he dragged his gaze up and down your body, over the curves showed off so freely.

Shinsou had never had an issue with your body. Rather, he preferred a partner that was on the thicker side to begin with. He liked being able to feel you in his hands without worry about hurting you too much. Your skin was a comfort to him, the way you were soft and plush drove him up a fucking wall. He might not have been the biggest fan of public affection, but when it was just the two of you he couldn’t keep his greedy hands off you. And how could he? Even in that moment, his fingers twitched with the carnal need to have your flesh under the pads of his fingers. 

“It’s definitely the best of the bunch.” You shrugged, hand running down the shape of your belly once more, your mind still stuck on whether or not it was going to get you ridiculed. “I just don’t...I think it’s too much. I don’t think...” you trailed off. “I don’t know if I look good in it.”

The sound of a snort from behind you had you meeting Shinsou’s gaze through the mirror. He wore an incredulous expression as if you’d just claimed that there was no such thing as gravity. He shook his head and approached you slowly. “You’re kidding, right?” Shinsou stood behind you, his chin resting on the top of your head. His body was pressed flush against yours, and you could feel the half-hard length of him pressed against your backside. “You don’t think you look amazing in this, (Y/N)?”

A blush hit your cheeks as his hands rested on your shoulders. “It’s not that, Shi. I just don’t...I guess...I don’t think people will want to see me like this. So...exposed.” Being sexy wasn’t the problem here. It was how others would see you and if they’d take the same thought away that the agency had, that Shinsou had, that some of the media had about you. You could take being ridiculed for your ability to act as an hero, if you messed up on the job or anything like that. Those criticisms pertained to your ability to help and change the world, and nothing to do with your physical appearance. Changing your hero costume would open up that path to criticisms about your appearance that had never been there before. 

“Ah...so that’s it.” Without having to say much, Shinsou understood where your mindset was. He sighed, feeling somewhat guilty. Had he not shown you how beautiful you were each time he settled his mouth or his cock between your thighs? Had he not told you how you were the only person who was ever going to have his eye whether you were dolled up in a face full of makeup or drooling while you slept? The last thing he wanted for you to feel about yourself was inadequate because of how much you weighed or what your body looked like. He knew it wasn’t for him to decide, that only you could determine your self-worth, but you were perfect for him. And if he was selfless enough to let the world see you how he saw you, he would in a heartbeat. But just because he wanted the world to see it, didn’t mean he was a fan of sharing. Timidly, you met his indigo gaze through the mirror’s reflection. “Here’s what I think, kitten.”

A chill ran down your spine as his fingers started to ghost over your shoulders. “I think...” He slowed his movements,  tracing the seam where mesh met spandex, Shinsou’s eyes narrowed as they followed where his fingers met. They ended at the inner point of the V that formed the front of a potentially new costume. Goosebumps erupted over your skin wherever his fingers trailed, and all you could do was watch in the mirror as his head came to rest on your shoulder, doing the same. “This looks downright sinful...” his fingers moved back up the V of the spandex material, only to pause as his fingers cupped the fullness of your breasts, thumbs whispering over piqued nipples. He hovered there for a moment, tracing circles around them as you shivered against the well defined muscle of his chest. “Not a thing left to the imagination...” Shinsou murmured, taking as his hands swept over the top of your chest to your shoulders, slowly down your arms. The winding tightness between your thighs had started, and he’d only been gentle with you so far. His thumbs moved along your inner forearm, traced circles along the sensitive part of your inner wrist before they flowed back up the length of your arms, returning to your breasts where he pulled and teased once more. “You’re telling me I might have to share this with the public...”

Shinsou’s eyes, a beautiful shade of setting sun, were narrowed as his hands traveled down the mesh material of your stomach once more. His fingers spread as he traced your belly, fingers bent just slightly so you felt the drag of his fingertips through the material of the suit. It was just a prototype, after all. The real work effectiveness of the suit would be put in place if you agreed to have it. At the sensation of his nails scratching along your stomach, your thighs turned inwards, backside pressing in against a growing erection. It only caused Shinsou to smile that smarmy smirk that had caught your attention all those years ago at UA. “You’re telling me everyone’s going to get to see this goddess body I get to claim night after night...” Shinsou continued, pulling the soft pudge of your skin in his hands as he raked them to the side to grip your hips. Those fucking hips. His fingers dug in sharper there, knowing your skin could handle it. So full, so fucking lush. “Hell, kitty, you might just raise the crime rate because everyone wants to see you in this costume...” He released his iron grip on your hips, hands sweeping towards your backside to grab at the bountiful ass you had. How it drove him up a fucking wall to see how it bounced against his hips when he took you from behind. “You have no idea...” Shinsou paused to pull up the legs of his pants before he squatted down to his knees, his hands still on your ass.

“How fucking good you look in this...” You were speechless as he continued to knead at your ass, giving that plump backside of yours a soft slap that sounded through the room. He worshipped your body day in and day out, and had simply no problem letting you know how much he loved every square inch of it. Shinsou let out a low hum. His hands continued their march, coming to cup the lower part of your ass in his hands. He was greedy when it came to this, the best fucking handful and then some any god could have given him. “Your ass looks so fucking good...” he whispered, side of his face nuzzled up against the curve of your thigh. One hand slipped from the grip it has on your backside, slipping between your thighs. An idle thumb swept through your lips, so thick and full that when he ate you out he simply rested his head there. A sharp gasp escaped you, rolling into the touch that ended before it’d even begin. This didn’t go unnoticed by Shinsou, that devilish smile there once more. “And these fucking thighs...” he whispered, his second hand repeated that sinful sweeping motion between your legs, his hands gripping your inner thighs, slowing pulling them apart. All the while, you watched through the mirror, his eyes zeroed in on the puffy mound of your pussy that seemed particularly swollen in that jumpsuit. “These fucking thighs that I love to have wrapped around my head...” Shinsou turned in so his nose was pressed against your left thigh, his teeth soon enough caught the material of the jumpsuit between them and pulled it back from your supple skin. A moment later, a sharp snap hit the air as it slapped back against your skin, causing you to squirm. “You’re telling me the world is gonna know how fucking delicious these thighs are...”

He wasn’t the jealous sort, Shinsou. He knew that you wouldn’t be with him if you didn’t want to be. That you came home to every night because you wanted to. In that sense he was secure in his relationship with you. But he wanted to make it astoundingly clear to you just how beautiful your body was, and how everyone else in the world who had their head screwed on tight enough was going to see it too. He was hungry to devour you in that suit right there, to fuck you and mark you so greedily so that the world would know his mark on you, but this wasn’t about him or his selfish wants. This was about making you feel like the strongest, sexiest, most powerful woman on the entire earth. And based off the heat he was feeling so close to his hands that gripped your thighs, his mission was working. He hummed, digging his fingers into your skin. “I could spend hours on your skin, kitten.” he murmured, his nose inching up the length of your thigh to where it curved, the crease of hip into thigh his goal. “Kissing it all over, tasting all of you...” you squirmed as Shinsou shifted on the ground slightly, so that he knelt in front of you. The sight of him looking up at you, sunken eyes dark with lust, made your waver on your knees. It was next to holy imagery, his legs spread wide, hands gripping your thighs for purchase as if he didn’t, he’d disappear entirely. “You gonna let me taste you, kitten?”

Shinsou didn’t wait for your answer, moving on his own agenda. He leaned forward into that sweet, tantalizing mound of yours. His nose burrowed in, hands moving up to grip your hips as he pulled you in against him. The flat of his tongue slipped over the clothed length of your cunt, warmth radiating against the sweetness of your pussy as he pulled your thighs apart for him. You moaned out his name, the action he took so simple but enough to threaten you over the cliff. Shinsou had only touched you, slow and measured at that, and this was the first he’d put a hand or tongue where you needed him most. The fabric that had been between your legs was in his mouth, Shinsou sucking on the fabric there to get as much of you in his mouth that had already escaped you while he’d been busy touching you. The fabric fell from his mouth when he was done, slapping against your heat and causing you to jolt forward. Your fingers found themselves wound through the thick tendrils of indigo hair, balancing as he smiled up at you with his head tipped to the side. The look was downright bastardly, and you tugged on his hair. “Don’t tease me,” you said, breathless.

“No teasing here, baby...” Shinsou breathed, pausing to blow hot air against your sex. “I want to make my girl feel good,” while he spoke, he stroked his middle and index finger up and down the slit of your cunt, pushing in slightly so the fabric dipped in your glaze. “I want to make you feel good about this fucking body I intend to destroy...” He sounded so bored as he played with your pussy that it only drove you crazier. You knew from the bulge in his pants that he was far from bored, but how nonchalant he could be while he was winding that coil of an orgasm tighter and tighter inside of you could have pushed you over the edge. “I want to take my time getting you there...”

You mewled, rocking against his fingers as they slipped back and forth, agonizingly slow in their rhythm. Shinsou had never been a fan of when you doubted yourself or your abilities, your worth and your beauty. This wasn’t exactly what he would have called a punishment, rather a reminder that there wasn’t a single part of you that he would want to change about you, and that you should have felt the same. He worshipped you, every second of every day. Frankly, in his eyes, there wasn’t enough hours in the day to give thanks to whatever deities were out there that created the fucking perfect version of yourself that was stood over him currently. “Sit on my face, kitten.” he drawled, eyes raking upwards over those delicious curves of your body, the thickness of your skin so plump, until he was looking into your eyes. “Let me taste you.”

With the way he’s looking at you, you know you don’t stand a chance of saying no. “Yes,” you rasped out, Shinsou’s hands soothing you as they smoothed up and down your thighs. You took a step back from him, Shinsou staying where he was, frozen as he watched you pull down the suit.

 It was like a work of art, his cock hardening as you pulled the front of it down, exposing your mounds of flesh, nipples piqued and flushed from when he’d been teasing them earlier. As the black material folded over your arms, exposing soft skin he ached to get his hands on. Down over your midsection, exposing the little roll over your belly that had his mouth watering. “You look so fucking beautiful,” his voice had hollowed out, thick with need to have your thighs practically suffocating him. He watched the blush deepen on your cheeks, only serving to make him grow harder. His eyes snapped back as the skintight material rolled over your hips and his cock twitched. The way your skin pushed out, full and so fucking desirable from the spandex material sent him over the edge. And then there it was. That glistening pussy with the softest patch of hair extending up towards your naval, a landing strip you’d called it once. Shinsou couldn’t help himself as he reached up to his mouth and ran his index finger over the swell of his bottom lip. He could see how wet you were already from the teasing he’d put you through, how your glaze seeped onto the thighs you’d pushed together. He was motionless as you slowly rolled the jumpsuit the rest of the way, over the curve of thighs into calves, finally at those fucking ankles he rather enjoyed having up by his face when he drove into you like a man starved for your fluids. 

“You look so fucking tasty, kitten.” he whispered, settled onto his back. Not once had his eyes left yours. “Let me have you, please.” The please and desperation in his voice caused you to squeeze your thighs together again, and he moaned. But you indulged him once he’d taken his shirt off, your eyes directly tracing the spattering of indigo chest hair that lead a thin trail to his naval, the patch at his waist thickening as it disappeared below his pants. Slowly, you lowered yourself until you were sat on his chest. The slickness that spread on his chest from your cunt caused Shinsou to moan as his hands wrapped around your thighs once more, spreading you so he was face to face with that precious cunt he called his. “Gonna make you feel real good, baby.” he said and pulled you forward so that your thighs were pressed in against either side of his head. When he spoke next, the breath he exhaled was right against your heat. “The world’s prettiest cunt, all mine...” Shinsou’s chuckle had you fisting your hands. “One thing I won’t share...”

And then he dived in, having dessert before he’d even had dinner. He’d been aching to get his mouth on your cunt since he’d seen that swollen mound of the hero suit you’d tried on. Now that he had it, he was going to ravage you until you were begging him to stop. His nose pressed in against your mouth, hands spreading your legs further as he lapped noisily against your wet pussy. You were so wet for him already, his tongue lapping up those juices only spurred you to drip more. He was always sloppy when he ate you out, simply because Shinsou wanted to have as much of you on him as possible. You tasted like honey, like a lazy Sunday morning, like the feeling of victory. He slurped and suckled, his teeth grazing over your clit as you found the rhythm of his tongue and started rocking against him. Soon enough the sounds that filled your bedroom were the wet, sloppy noises of Shinsou eating you out, and you whispering his name like a prayer as he suckled on your clit with feral need. His face was slick with your silk glaze, running down his chin and onto his neck, the floor underneath him. But frankly, he didn’t give a fuck. Your thighs had done what he’d hoped they would, squeezing and flexing against his head as he played with and teased your clit. Shinsou could hardly breathe, but if this was how he was supposed to go, he certainly didn’t mind. 

He’d started to flick and circle, traced his tongue around your bundle of nerves faster, and you started to ride his face harder. It was a chase to your orgasm, and just before you reached that finish line, he stopped. A desperate whine escaped you, writhing in an attempt to get back on his tongue and finish out your eye. Except, Shinsou was hiking one leg over his shoulder so that you were off his chest entirely. You whined once more, your core throbbing at how wet his face was. “You taste like fucking heaven...” he groaned as he wiped his fingers over his face, coating his hand in all your silk. Then, he undid the button of his pants, the zipper. And as you adjusted yourself with legs spread, you saw the brilliant pink tip of his cock, dripping pre-cum as he sprung free. You whimpered, desperate to be full once more and to reach your orgasm. Shinsou eyed you up, taking the wetness of your slick from his face in his hand and pumping himself as he came to rest between your thighs once more. 

“I want to cum,” you groaned as you reached out, fingers ghosting through the curls of the violet hair around the base of his cock. Shinsou pried your fingers away, returning it to where it’d been beside your head.

“I’m gonna let you, kitten.” he said, as he continued to coat himself in your silken drip. First, he wanted to take a mental picture of how fucking good you looked on the floor. Hair fanned out around your head, your cheeks flushed, eyes blown wide with lust. The rapid rise and fall of your chest, your divine breasts moving with each movement. On your back, you were subject to his mercy. The only plan Shinsou had was to make you cum, to make you realize how fucking incredible you were. “You feel good for me?” he asked as he pulled you close to him by the legs, leaning over so that he could hike them up over his shoulders. 

You nodded, any of the previous doubts about your body and how you looked quieted as you watched Shinsou turn his head to the side and nip at your ankle. “You’re so fucking perfect. These fucking legs drive me wild every time, kitten.” You felt Shinsou pressed up against the entrance of your cunt, feeling him leak onto your slip. “I don’t ever want you to feel bad about yourself when you look so good.” He was slow as he pushed into you, feeling the stretch around his cock as you moaned out his name. “Your body is fucking perfect,” he said through gritted teeth as he propped himself up on his forearms, leaned in over you so that violet hair hung over your face. Once he started thrusting, he was slow, hitting deep against your walls. 

“This tummy is so fucking beautiful,” he groaned as your walls clamped around him once he picked up pace. “Feels so fuckin-nngh,” he sputtered, your feet locked behind his neck. “So good to rest on.” His pace quickened again, purple shaded eyes dropping to your breasts as they bounced in time with his thrusts. “These fucking breasts,” he grunted. You whimpered as you felt that mounting wave of your high start to climb again. “So fucking hypnotizing to watch while I fuck you,” he hissed, your hands braced against his muscled biceps as his pace started to turn sloppy. Your nails dug in, and Shinsou tossed his head back as he hit the final turn.

When he looked back down at you, there was carnal need in his eyes. “These fucking lips,” he moaned, leaning down to capture your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss that left behind traces of your cunt. “I can’t get enough, kitten...” His tongue ravaged the rows of your teeth, lapped against your tongue as he fought to taste every part of you could. You were at the climax of that wave mounted in your heat, and you moaned his name, the only indicator he needed of to hurry the fuck up. He started to fuck harder into you to the point where bruises were likely to blossom against where his skin slapped against yours. “That’s it, kitten, that’s it.” he cooed, listening to the mewls falling past your lips as you started to spill over, the wet sound of sex filling the room louder than it had been. 

Shinsou leaned back just slightly and returned his hand to your clit, the final push you needed as he paid it loving attention. You came undone around his cock and thumb, the shuddering orgasm ripping through you as you cried out his name. Your legs spasmed, squeezing against once more as he followed after you moments later, spilling hot ribbons of cum inside you. He continued to thrust after he’d come, emptying whatever remains he had until he was empty and spent. Breathless, Shinsou flopped against your chest. His head rested against your breast, moving in time with your rapid breaths that mirrored his own. His thumbs traced loving circles over your hips, his cock soft inside you but Shinsou not wanting to leave you aching and empty of him just yet. “That’s my good girl,” he rasped, swallowing heavily. 

Your hands raked through the thick wave of indigo hair, gentle as you combed through it. Words and thoughts were out of your functionality for a passage of time, but when you finally remembered how to do both, you asked a simple question. One that you really already knew the answer to, no longer abashed about how it hugged the curves of your body, just another indicator that you were human. After how much attention Shinsou had dedicated to your body, you almost felt silly for having felt insecure to begin with. “The black suit?”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the breast opposite the one he was slumped on.  Shinsou turned his head slightly so that he could look at you, admire all that you were. And what you were to him was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life making feel that good about herself, about her place in the world. However he had to do that, he would. It was only right because you had supported him through so much and had never asked for anything in return. You were the only person who had ever looked at him like he was normal, like he wasn’t some type of freak. And he’d done the same for you when you’d both attended UA. As far as he was concerned, the only forever he needed was right there, pressed up against his naked body. Shinsou’s grin was lopsided and he nodded. “The black one.” 

[gerrystamour]

kiss away young thrills and kills

For: @daily-thots-ofhistory​

@daily-thots-ofhistory​ said: for the fic request, Nureyev's first birthday with Juno (whether that's really his birthday or Juno just giving him a birthday or something else! Whatever you'd like!)

So I took a few liberties, with it being super introspective and whatnot, and not super focused on jupeter. Hopefully, the requester likes it! ;p

-

Peter woke up in Juno’s bed, yet the former detective was nowhere to be found. However, the sheets next to him were still warm when he slid his cool fingers across the soft linen. Juno had probably gotten up to get a head-start on his morning, maybe even secure a shower first before the other ladies aboard the Carte Blanche beat him to it.

With a tired yawn and a languid stretch, Peter rolled over to grab his comms off of the bedside table to check the time. When he did, he also caught the date and froze.

Thirty-eight.

Peter Nureyev had turned thirty-eight, and he had slept through it. Well, he hadn’t quite slept through it, given the ache in his thighs and hips and the pleasant memories of the night before. But midnight had come and gone, and he had forgotten to mark it with every bit of melodrama he could muster. 

It had been the closest thing to a “tradition” he had for his birthday, watching the seconds tick down until the clock read four zeroes and the date moved forward. Then he would turn his gaze to a mirror and study his face, his hair, the skin of his throat and chest, looking for the evidence of his body failing him, as if the difference between 23:59 and 00:00 would change him as much as a full decade would have.

Peter would stare for what felt like hours, pulling his sagging face tight, poking at the dark bags under his eyes, sliding his tongue along his yellowing teeth. Objectively, he knew all along most of this worry had been in his head, that his face was still mostly smooth, his teeth perfect and white, and the bags under his eyes easily concealed. Objectively, he knew that even if all of those ideas had been true, they hardly actually mattered, least of all to his beloved detective.

Thirty-eight.

Peter was all of a sudden too old to round down to thirty-five, but still too young to round up to forty—not that he wanted to round up. He was officially, completely, in his late thirties, and he wasn’t sure where that left him emotionally.

At present, he was lying in his lover’s bed, rubbing the still-warm spot where Juno had been laying, and pondering linear time. He wondered whether it made sense to rail against it so hard, and if he should feel bad for being the way he was about his age and appearance.

But when he’d been travelling alone, all he had were his looks. 

Sure, Peter had wit and charm, too, but it was mostly looks that got him in the door. Nothing disarmed a rich idiot like a pretty face. 

But as he aged, Peter had quickly learned the unspoken rule the hard way. Rich idiots didn’t just want a pretty face to own and call theirs, they wanted pretty and young faces.

The first time a mark had scoffed at him for attempting a seduction when there were softer, younger, more inexperienced young men to choose from, Peter wasn’t sure who he was more disgusted with; the near ancient art dealer chasing after people only a quarter of his age, or himself for thinking he could compete. Later he had known it was the former, if the liberal use of his knife had been anything to go by, but there was still a fair bit of shame due to the latter. 

It had been after that job when he began his entire routine of painstakingly covering up every single flaw he found.

Thirty-eight. 

The same age Juno had been when they met. Things had… shifted after meeting Juno Steel. 

Seeing the way the lady held himself in his oversized trench coat and thick turtleneck sweater, the way he had worn every single minute of his own thirty-eight years on his face and his shoulders had moved something into focus. The time they spent in Miasma’s tomb, the days he went without his make-up, without the touch-up dye for his roots, even without a toothbrush. Yet without fail, every time he caught Juno looking at him, Juno had seemed… stunned, blown away. His desire for Peter had been unmistakable.

Even during that terrible time, Juno had wanted him.

Of course, that hadn’t cured him of his anxiety regarding his continued usefulness and success with his waning appearance. 

For a time—a period of forty-eight hours cumulatively—he had considered letting his silver hair grow out, as Juno’s had been allowed to. If his beautiful, dear detective could look his age, why not Peter? Together, he didn’t have to depend on his appearance, his desirability on its own.

Then Juno had left, and Peter was back to his old ways. There was no avoiding it, he told himself, and so he returned to dying his hair, doing up his face in oppressive layers of concealer and other make-up, to working his body through long hours or stretches, work-out routines, and yoga.

Things had changed again when he joined the crew aboard the Carte Blanche. With Juno’s return. He had found himself the youngest on the crew, the “baby” as Rita would exclaim when it was brought up, and suddenly every fear and anxiety he had seemed… petty, and even mean to say aloud, even jokingly. 

How could he think himself ruined by a grey hair when their captain had half of her face rotting from radiation? How could he complain about the self-inflicted ache in his neck and shoulders when the rest of the crew had their own plentiful aches with far less room to criticize themselves for it yet never make a sound about them?

It had been a startling revelation during one of his nightly conversations with Juno that his fixation with his appearance had begun when he was with Mag. There had been different heists where they had depended on Peter’s baby-face, and when he began growing out of said baby-face, those jobs were jeopardized. He could remember the day his appearance had sharpened enough that Mag decided it was better to age him up with his presentation and adjusted their jobs accordingly. It was something Mag had claimed required sacrifice, and discomfort even.

Peter hadn’t realized just how far he had carried that man’s teachings in that regard. It had been so tightly packed away in the farthest reaches of his mind, something he kept hidden away since he was seventeen.

Ultimately, it had been a comment from Vespa of all people that had made him truly think about his nonsense. 

They were preparing for a heist, something small for some money, just fleecing some rich idiot for as much as they could. It was just after his leg had healed and they got off that planet, and he and Juno were going in as a married couple. Peter had questioned Buddy’s insistence on that cover every time, but she had blown off the question, instead informing him that they were executing their plan the following day.

Peter had, largely without pausing to consider his words, idly mention needing dye, that all of his existing stores had been destroyed when the ship crashed into the ocean.

“The hell do you need hair-dye for, Ransom?” Vespa had bit out around her mouthful of dinner. 

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, my roots have grown in quite a bit and—” Peter had started, pointedly ignoring Juno’s grumbling.

“You’re s’posed to look like a married couple,” Vespa interrupted with an eye-roll. “You can’t go in there looking twenty-five when Steel looks forty.”

“But I—why—I don’t look twenty-five,” Peter argued, furrowing his brow.

“It doesn’t matter how old you look, Ransom! We get it, you’re used to working alone, whatever,” Vespa snapped before she took a breath. “When you’re working with someone else, it’s better to match. So if you dye your hair, Juno has to dye his.”

“But—”

“For this job, you can’t look like a trophy husband, Pete,” Buddy said, seemingly annoyed by the interruption to the family meeting. “You would stand out. I will gladly pick you up some dye after the job to sooth your ego, but not before. Now, can we get back on track?”

They were right, of course. That didn’t mean he particularly liked it. But he couldn’t continue to get away with making himself look younger and younger while he ran with a band of thieves who were all clearly older than him. 

Peter wasn’t exactly graceful in his allowance for aging, of course, but he was working on it. He started by allowing the silver in his hair to grow in, and wearing less concealing make-up around the Carte Blanche. He hadn’t thought he had made much progress in the “being okay with aging” angle of his growth and unpacking of his emotional baggage.

Yet there he was, lying in bed on his thirty-eighth birthday, stunned he had missed it. He hadn’t just missed it, he realized, but he had forgotten it was coming up at all.

Peter was startled from his thoughts as an arm slid around his waist, skin warm and damp from a shower. “Sorry, babe,” Juno whispered against his shoulder blade. “Didn’t realize you were that far away.”

That was one of Juno’s probing statements; when Juno had a question and wanted the answer, but would have dropped if Peter didn’t respond. That simple statement was equal parts apology for the startle, and inquiring after what had him so distracted. It would have been so easy to say he had just been daydreaming, to roll over and distract Juno with kisses and gentle touches, but…

“It’s my birthday,” Peter whispered, and if it hadn’t been for the way Juno stiffened against his back, he would have thought the former detective hadn’t heard him.

“It is?” Juno’s voice was strained as he asked it, and Peter realized belatedly his error.

“Don’t you worry your pretty head, my love,” Peter reassured him gently, covering the hand splayed over his lower abdomen with his own and tangling their fingers together. “I hadn’t said anything about it. I usually don’t—this is the first birthday in a very long time I haven’t been alone for.”

“Oh,” Juno whispered, and Peter shivered at the kiss pressed to the centre of his back. “Is there anything you wanted to do?”

“Mm,” Peter hummed, rolling over in Juno’s arm to kiss him chastely, warmth bursting in his chest at the hesitance in Juno’s voice. “Perhaps we can… stay in bed? Together?”

Juno smiled against his lips and laughed. “Yeah, Nureyev, I think we can,” he replied and then asked, “Anything else I can do for you?”

“You’ve already done more than enough, love,” Peter replied softly, tucking his head under Juno’s chin. “Just being here is perfect.”

“Sap,” Juno grumbled, and Peter laughed.

“And you love me for it,” he replied, smirking as he felt the heat of Juno’s flush crawl down his neck.

“So what if I do?” Juno grumbled petulantly, and Peter laughed at that.

“Say it,” Peter said, but it was more of a question, really. A request for reassurance. At the last moment, he softened it with a quiet, “Please?”

“Fine,” Juno grumbled jokingly, pulling back so his mismatched eyes met Peter’s own. The prosthetic for his implant was always a few shades different than his natural eye, which Peter was fairly convinced was an intentional choice of Juno’s. 

With a grin, Juno added, “Peter Nureyev, I love you, and I love that you’re a sap, and no I will literally never stop complaining about it.”

Peter smiled at that and accepted the kiss Juno had for him, sighing as it deepened and allowing himself to be rolled onto his back, Juno slotting in between his legs with a soft sound of his own.

“Hey,” Juno said, pulling back and biting his lip nervously. “How about I make that one dish I made a few weeks ago? The one with the flatbread thing you like so much?”

“Why would you make something so time-consuming?” Peter asked, truly puzzled. “Plus, we had decided it uses too much of our supplies, but doesn’t make enough for the crew.”

“I wasn’t going to make it for the crew, Nureyev. I want to make it for you,” Juno replied with a laugh. 

Peter blinked at him a bit dumbly, before asking, “For… me? But why?”

“It’s your birthday, babe. I want it to be a nice one,” Juno said, seeming a bit puzzled. “I mean, I get not liking your birthday, but that doesn't mean I can’t do something nice, right?”

“Oh, you’ve already done enough for me, love,” Peter sighed, pulling Juno into a solid kiss to distract him from the tears that had filled his eyes.

Yes, he still hated that time moved ever forward, and yes, he had another year at least of unpacking to possibly be “okay” with it. There was a chance he would always have the nagging voice of Mag in his head pointing out each new wrinkle, every new patch of silver hair growing in.

But he had his beautiful detective in his arms, and a family out in the halls of the Carte Blanche if he would reach out and accept them… he couldn’t reasonably ask for much more on his thirty-eighth birthday.

[hes-writer]

Exclusive Content

this is a master list of all one shots, blurbs, series parts, and unfinished content that i have posted on patreon (so far)! click the title to read the sneak peek (if i’ve posted one)

———

*+VALENTINE’S DAY

the one where harry has an eventful day

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

* ACHY BACK

the one where y/n’s back hurts and harry draws a bath

“Took too long,” Y/N mumbled as they met in the middle, knuckling tiredly at her eyes. A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken a shower hours prior. Her back had been aching since then, the pain barely bearable for her stature, causing a crease in between his brows.

+ A LETTER TO THE MAN I’VE LOVED

the one where harry receives a letter from y/n

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

+ UNWAVERING (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

the one where harry cheats (another version of ‘a cheat’)

"I-I'm in a bit of a rush, baby.” He took a step back, increasing the distance between them. "I have a meeting today. Lots of work to be done," Harry responded his tone suggesting that he didn’t want to talk anymore. Y/N nodded to please him.

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her at the back burner of his mind.  

"I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

+ ALL I ASK

the one where feelings aren’t mutual and hearts are broken

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren't. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

* LITTLE PRINCE

the one where harry and y/n are 7-year olds

Harry gasped in horror, crouching to his knees and getting his knee dirty beside the girl.

"Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn't mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?" Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

RENEGADE

the one where y/n teaches harry the ‘renegade’ dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker. 

DROP THE TOWEL (m)

the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

“Hey, babe,” He greeted, walking closer to you in a towel that made him feel liberated. You hummed in a silent greeting, giving him a smile before doing a double-take at his appearance. He dropped the towel on the floor, his length hanging proudly between his legs. 

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry,” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

DREAM WITH ME (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

the one where y/n has trouble falling asleep

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black. 

DIGRESS (1) PROGRESS (2) REGRESS (3) 

the one where love fails

What happens when love fades away? How do you cope with the feelings disappearing slowly like a blot of dark blue paint diluting with every stroke of a ruffled paintbrush? Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

ROUTINE (1) (the first part will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus. following parts will be patron-exclusive content)

the one where harry is a camboy

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s toned body was showcased on the screen, allowing him to view what his viewers had the pleasure of seeing. The ‘LIVE’ sign blinked repeatedly.

“Hello,” Harry drawled out purposefully using a deeper tone to set the mood. “How are you today?” His fingers stayed hung over the armchair, griping it slightly when comments started rolling in.

NOTES ON CAMP (1) (2) (3) (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

Y/N plastered a smile on her face as she shook Belle’s hand. “Sorry but I need to steal Harry away,” Belle tugged on his tattooed arm, fingers clasping around his wrists as he started walking along with her. “See you, Y/N!” Harry greeted, turning around with his arm draped over Belle’s shoulder.

“See you,” She whispered under her breath, looking at his retreating figure towards the cafeteria. Y/N couldn’t help the disappointment she felt, her shoulders slouching at the realization that it was too good to be true. Of course, he had a girlfriend.  A gentleman with chiselled features and a caring personality complimenting her? No way. Still, she wasn’t too sad about it. It wasn’t like they’ve known each other for long. Plus, they were co-workers! It would feel wrong to start a relationship anyway.

STRESSED OUT

the one where y/n is stressed and harry wants her to take a break

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Harry physically pulled his chest back. He felt like he had been shot. He knew she didn’t mean it though, but it still hurt to hear, “O-oh. I didn't know y-you felt that way,”

She continued, “You don’t know what it’s like having to spend hours researching so you don’t get anything wrong. Sleepless nights to perfect one paragraph that my professor nitpicks to the bone,” Y/N penned a few words on her notebook, not noticing the pout plastered on Harry’s face.

DESSERT

the one where harry wants something else

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

PET NAME

the one bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name

“Am I, Harry? Seems like you’re putting me at the back burner nowadays,”

He was speechless; had he? Harry didn’t mean to make her feel this way but he wasn’t aware that he was actively blowing her off for Ruby. And why won’t she call him ‘honey’? That was his nickname, wasn’t it? H stood for Harry but it was also the pet name Y/N had given him.

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself--golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

ROOMMATES SERIES (3) (4) (5) (6)

the one where harry and y/n are roommates

updates every 2 weeks!

will not be posted on Tumblr until the series is finished

Y/N gasped at Harry’s proximity, lids snapping open with her hand reaching over to pat along until she found her phone which was blaring with an alarm that she had set. Harry gulped, eyes wide as his mind ran through what the hell just happened.

“What are you doing here? Get out!” She yelled, tugging the sheets higher on her body. 

“I-I was just waking you up so you can make us dinner,” Harry stuttered out, his excuse sounding lame but he patted himself on the shoulder for making it up on the spot. Well, that was his intention in the first place until he got distracted.

FRIENDS DON’T MINI-SERIES (1) (2) (3)

“Is this okay?” Her doe irises searched his. Harry raised his head lazily to make eye contact, nodding his head with a bit lip. Y/N clenched her inner thighs together at his already blissed-out state, his pupils slowly becoming larger with arousal. “Friends don’t touch each other this way,” She purposefully drew out her statement, giving Harry an out of the situation if he needed to.

“More than okay,”

FIC EXTRAS #1 - TEASE

the one before ‘under the table’

“Fuckin’ dirty,” He spat, the pads of his thumb tracing circles on her hipbones, not feeling a trace of clothing resting on her hips. “Wearin’ a short dress with no panties,”

Y/N hummed, arms slanting behind her to support her upper body so that she could spread her legs further, making room for Harry’s hand. “Didn’t feel like it,”

“Y’just waiting for me to find out, hmm? You knew I couldn’t resist myself when you look so goddamn pretty,”

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #1

the one with fratboy!harry

“Y’alright?” Harry’s husky breath barely made its way to her ears, only then did Y/N feel the hand palming her lower back, another one gripped around her shoulders. Her front flushed against his own, feeling his hard chest on her heaving ones. She peeked one eye open, looking around at her angled stance, then to Harry who wore a concerned look scanning her face. Y/N nodded in response, blinking rapidly, her nipples hardening at a sudden cold breeze beneath the thin fabric of her dress, surely poking him through his shirt. She blushed at the thought and his brief glance over her where they touched, his eyes dilating the tiniest amount.

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #2

the one where harry’s a cheating asshole

Harry wormed his way through his delectable voice and his ever-present words that somehow scorched your shield to the ground. Again. He promised never to do it again and your love-sick heart trusted him. Again. 

But your trust wasn’t something that was particularly valuable to him. To Harry, it would always be there, lingering like the stars in the night sky; always present, always gleaming. Harry was very sorry for what he was doing to you. It was ironic, really; he hoped and prayed every day that you wouldn’t find out but his carelessness left everything out in the open.  

TEXT MESSAGES #1

the one where y/n has silly thoughts

TEXT MESSAGES #2

the one where harry and y/n share the same class