#like cease these activities I’m trying to draw

[foundfamily-connoisseur]

Bald Bull and Little Mac post GO!!!! Put ‘em in a hammam

I just feel like Bald Bull likes Mac enough to just let him tag along in whatever he’s doing. Mac just keeps to himself usually so they’re chilling

Also close ups and other drawings yippeeee

[starlitiris]

“Lilacs” ~ Painter x Reader (Part 1)

Part 2

warnings: angst, character death, mildly descriptive graphic imagery, grief, panic attacks(?)

beginning notes: thank you to cavern-creature for giving me the idea to write this! i’m not too happy with the pacing, but oh well. more notes will be at the end of the story.

word count: ~2.1k

~ 🪻 ~

It’s a beautiful spring day. The sun is high and shining bright, nary a cloud in the sky. The weather was perfect! Or so Painter had been told. He couldn’t feel the temperature himself, of course. He couldn’t feel the soft, gentle breeze brushing over his monitor, either. Or smell the floral aroma coming from the field of flowers him and his friends were in. A beautiful shade of purple surrounded the three on each side. Painter, his creator, and you.

He watched you run out into the field, his creator electing to stay behind so he could set Painter up on the crate they always bring. You came to halt, turning to face the wind, and held out your arms to feel it. The breeze, the sun, the flowers grazing your calves. It was bliss.

You looked amazing. The sunlight shone on your face, highlighting all of your beautiful features. Your clothes, moving with every gust of wind that rushed by, framed you perfectly. Your smile was as bright as always. You looked perfect. You are perfect. Painter was sure of that.

“Hey, stand still!” The AI called out to you. “I wanna capture you just like that!”

You giggled. “Just like this? Are you sure?”

“Exactly like that,” he reinforced, the sweetest smile painted on his screen.

“Okay, but try not to take too long! My arms are gonna start hurting if I have to stand here for hours.”

“I won’t take THAT long! Just hold still, I’ll paint you first,” Painter responded, wiping his page clean to start sketching you.

“He has been getting faster at this lately,” his creator adds, resting his elbow atop the computer.

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes, even though you’re still smiling. “Let’s just hope he’s fast enough,” you tease.

“Hey, you can’t rush perfection!” He tells you.

You laugh. Banter with Painter is always light and fun. You’re impressed that he already has a really good outline of you done. You’ve seen him paint a hundred times over at this point, but watching his process never ceases to amaze you. It’s kind of mesmerizing. You love it.

You love him. And he loves you all the same.

One of the cameras Painter is connected to picks up on motion somewhere in the blacksite, pulling him out of his daydream. He groans and sets his unfinished drawing of you aside as a draft. Back to work.

Urbanshade just sent down a few more teams of expendables, it would seem. What a drag. At least Painter could try to have some fun while he stalls them.

He doesn’t bother with actually watching them – it serves him no real purpose to do so. He just goes off of motion sensors and does what he can do in any given room the suckers wander into. Luring Z-96 around with the PA system, activating turrets, pissing off Eyefestation when it’s near enough. Fun stuff.

He giggles to himself knowing one of the active teams was just fooled by a false door.

“Moronsss,” he says to nobody.

Things continue this way for a while, like they always do. As the night progresses, all the EXR-P teams are gradually killed off. All but one, that is. That’s all thanks to him, as well as the many other dangers this place has to offer. The motion sensors indicate that the remaining team is down to two expendables. They won’t last long. Painter is certain.

Only one expendable enters the next room.

See? He knew it.

And, would you look at that. This room has turrets in it! Might as well put this poor sap out of their misery. He activates the weapons.

It’s one of the long rooms that has a large window peering out into the ocean, equipt with three turrets to cover nearly every inch of the area. Well, they used to cover every inch. But that was before panicked Urbanshade employees set up tables and lockers for protection. Now they could only scan most of the room. Oh well. The tables and lockers didn’t save those workers, and it certainly won’t save this prisoner.

He takes note that the expendable made it to a safe spot in the center of the room. Barely, though. A laser on one of the turrets grazed their ankle before they made it to safety. The weapon was alerted for a brief moment, then went back to rotating around the room when the person was out of sight.

“Ugghhh,” Painter dramatically groaned in his cage. How annoying. At least this idiot still has the other half of the room to get through.

The expendable warily leaves the comfort of their safe spot to move forward. They only make it a quarter of the way to where they’re aiming to go, though, before being harshly informed by a loud beeping that they didn’t time this correctly. They take a few bullets to their right arm and leg while hurrying back to where they had just been hiding.

“Ngh, dammit! F-Fuck, fuck, fuck…” they curse.

Huh. That voice sounds… kind of familiar to Painter. Weird.

He decides not to waste much time on that thought. There’s no way he could possibly know this person, and he needs to focus.

He has a job to do.

Kill the expendables. Stall for time.

He waits while the bleeding criminal braces themself to make another run for it. They certainly don’t seem to be in a rush.

“Cooome ooon, stop wasting time! You’re just gonna die anyway!” Painter complains, once again to nobody but himself. He hasn’t been talking to these losers as much as he normally would today. He didn’t even feel like taunting them. He was in a sour mood. They interrupted his daydream.

“God, how am I going to do this…?” He hears the person ask themself.

They sound familiar. So familiar. It’s bothering him now. He can’t hear them all that well because of the audio quality and their quiet volume, but there’s something about that voice…

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Get rid of them.

The expendable is on their feet again. They steady themself against the locker they’ve been tucked behind, and take a deep, shaky breath.

They hold.

They wait.

And they run as fast as their aching, wounded body will let them.

They shout when a bullet pierces their shoulder, and drop dead in front of the unopened door as they’re shot down.

And that’s the last of the EXR-P teams until Urbanshade sends more down in a pathetic attempt to retrieve their precious crystal.

Suckers.

Finding himself with nothing to do again, Painter tries to go back to his daydreaming. That wonderfully beautiful face, amongst that beautiful purple field, underneath the beautiful beating sun. But he finds himself distracted by that voice again. He tries to brush it off and forget about it, but it’s bothering him. Like an itch that won’t go away. Now that he thinks about it, it sort of sounded like…

No. That’s impossible. You were on the surface somewhere, safe and sound. Blissfully unaware of the horrors taking place at the bottom of the ocean. Unaware of the horrible things Painter is doing for the sake of freedom.

You are safe.

Hell, you might even be in that field at this very moment. It may be cold out this time of year, but you three used to agree that it was gorgeous there year-round. That’s why you all would visit it all the time.

That’s probably where you are. Yeah. In the field. Waiting for purple to blanket the ground once again.

… But even knowing that, he can’t shake the anxiety building within him. Just the thought of you ending up here somehow, let alone being killed- by him.

But it’s not you. He knows that. And just to prove to himself that it isn’t you, he’ll go look at the corpse through a camera near the door so he can see that it’s clearly… not…

…

He has to stare for a while to fully grasp what he’s seeing. He shows up on the sign next to the door.

That wonderfully beautiful face.

You’re paler than he remembers. Likely due to the fact that all of the blood that should be swimming through your veins is now a massive puddle on the floor. Your eyes, once bright and warm, now look dull and lifeless. Your face holds no emotion. Blood has seeped out of your nose and the corner of your mouth, contributing to the pool of crimson surrounding you.

You’re surrounded in red.

You should be surrounded in purple, but all he sees is red.

“... No…”

Painter doesn’t want to believe what he’s seeing is real.

“No… no no no.”

All of his anxiety is replaced with panic.

“Y/N! Y/N, wake up!”

He can’t accept that you’re dead. He won’t.

“Y/N, please! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! Please!”

He can’t lose you too.

“Please!!”

His voice cracks as if he’s crying.

And he is.

That’s not something he wanted to know he could do.

He starts to desperately alert to Sebastian that something is wrong. Painter can’t do anything for you himself, but his friend can. He can help. He can fix you.

Painter keeps begging for you to wake up, telling you help is on the way. Minutes feel like hours while he waits for Sebastian to arrive at the scene.

When he does arrive, he bursts through the only door in the room not marked by the navi-path.

“What, what?! I’m here, what happened?!” The man shouts, looking around to try to see what the fuss was about.

“Sebastian! Help them, please! You have to help them!” Painter pleads.

“Help who??” Sebastian asked before noticing your corpse on the floor in front of his friend. “Uh…”

“Hurry!! What are you waiting for?!”

Sebastian slithers over to you, a look of uncertainty plastered on his face. He barely recognizes you as one of the expendables that was in his shop not that long ago.

“Uh… Paint? I don’t really know what you want me to do here,” he admits.

“Help them! You have medkits, don’t you?! Use them! Use anything!! Just save them, please!!” Painter cries.

“Why, though? It’s just an expendable, you’ve done this plenty of times-”

“They’re not just an expendable, they’re my friend! I knew them before I was brought here- just, please!! We don’t have time for this!!” He shouts, frustrated that Sebastian isn’t doing anything to help yet.

“You… knew them?” Sebastian asks, now with a look of concern.

“Yes, why aren’t you doing anything?!”

“... Paint…”

“Do something!!”

“Paint.”

“They’re dying!! I can’t-”

“Painter.”

“I can’t lose them, too! I can’t! I can’t- I can’t be the reason- please!”

Sebastian frowns. It hurts seeing his friend in such a state.

“Why are you looking at me like that?! Please…!”

“Painter.”

“Stop saying my name! Why- why aren’t you doing anything?!” Painter sobs.

“They’re gone. There’s nothing we can do for them.”

“No- you’re not even trying! How do you know that if you haven’t even tried?!”

“Look at them, Paint. They’ve lost way too much blood to be saved.”

“That’s not true!! It’s not true! It’s not…” he trails off.

Sebastian remains silent. He patiently waits for his friend to process that you won’t be waking up.

It takes him a while, but eventually Painter is able to speak up again.

“Oh god…” his voice shakes. “Oh god… I killed them.”

Sebastian sighs.

“I killed them. Sebastian, I killed them. I killed my best friend. Oh, god.”

Sebastian carefully makes his way around your body to gently pat Painter’s screen while he continues to weep. He repeats over and over to himself that he killed the first person he ever loved, as if saying it enough times would somehow make it hurt less.

He did this to you.

He couldn’t bear it.

Painter was an inconsolable mess. But even still, Sebastian would stay with him for as long as he needed. He doesn’t mind putting off whatever he was doing before this to be there for his only friend.

Expendable or not, he sincerely wishes he could bring you back for Painter.

He doesn’t believe he and his AI companion can afford to lose anymore than what they have.

Reality was cruel. It proved itself to be, every goddamn day.

What Painter wouldn’t give to see you in that field again. The sunlight shining on your face, highlighting all of your beautiful features. Your clothes, moving with every gust of wind that rushed by, framing you perfectly. Your smile, as bright as always.

Surrounded in purple.

Lilacs were always your favorite.

~ 🪻 ~

ending notes: according to multiple sources, lilacs often symbolize joy, youth, the impermanence of youth, and first love. though, one source also says that lilacs can symbolize old love, stating that victorian widows would often wear them as a sign of remembrance.

Since this didn’t follow the suggested prompt exactly, I’ll likely write a less-sad part 2 for this. Let me know if you would like to see it! (It’s actually out rn if you wanna go read it, it’s linked at the top of the post! <3)

Thank you for reading.

[ithinkabouttzu]

Hello! I love your BoB headcanon so much I cant NDDNFNDNDNDN

I would like to do a BoB romantic ship request if you’re still up for those ! Please take your time, I have a bunch of stuff down so it could be pretty hard to get through <33

My pronouns are she/her. I have straight, dark black hair that grows a little over my shoulder and dark brown eyes that only shines under really bright light.

I’m an INFP 9w1– initially when talking to new people I’ll usually express curiosity and be soft-spoken to the extreme level cuz I sorta have social anxiety, it’s been getting more manageable but I’ve been moving around a lot so…

I pretty much have a (chaotic) golden retriever energy and am really fond of joking around once I get to know someone. My sense of humour is beyond repair: a mix of dad jokes and bad puns.

The jokes aside, I’m pretty affectionate after getting to know someone and will actively let them rant to me whenever. I also geek about things I’m interested in every now and then.

If someone is able to put up with my weird I’m also really supportive + try my best to help them in any ways I can, since I enjoy helping people.

Sometimes I get closed off after getting to know someone mainly because I have a lot of self-doubt and scared of hurting them and myself in the process? It’s a weird thing. Mostly because I keep moving and have never really settled for a while.

My love language are words of affirmation and physical touch mainly, the lateral only reserved for people whom I’m really close to. It takes a while to get close to me but once I love you I am an absolute mess, completely smitten. I’m a lot more soft and jokes are less chaotic. Cuddles and hugs r a must !!

If someone comes up to me and asks me out I’d cease to function tbh. My autopilot response is “oh sure!” no matter who it is. If it’s someone I have a crush on (usually someone I’ve known for a bit) I’d probably be stunned for a really long time lmao… like “are you sure?? Like a romantic thing frfr. Like uhhhh-” Fumbling with words x100

My hobbies are drawing, watching films, and listening to relaxing music! I also do funky voices and accents for fun when I’m doing the dishes to make it less tedious.

My favourite season is probably autumn or spring. I’m bilingual and am learning French, German, and Japanese fundamentals.

Thank you for your patience! I sorry that this is so long I kinda popped off 😭

Thank you for your request lovely! <33

I ship you with…

Shifty Powers!

song recommendation: The Way You Look Tonight - Frank Sinatra

- okay let me start off by saying how cute you guys would be together like i’m shipping it so hard

- He would be so enamored by your beauty at first glance, like you make him so so nervous LOL, but he could literally stare at you for hours if he wanted too

- You guys would be that couple that balances each other out so well, like you have this fun, chaotic (in a good way) energy, and he’s more calm and relaxed

- but he still totally supports your chaotic-ness and will 100% laugh at all of your jokes

- At first, your guys’ relationship would be a bit slow, not because you guys don’t like each other or anything, but because both of you are lowkey crushing hard on the other and y’all’s social anxiety gets the best of y’all

- both of you are so nervous around each other at first and its so cute omg, like all of your, and his friends, would try to get one or the other to go talk with the other person and it’s adorable

- but once you guys warm up to each other, you guys could talk to each other for hours, it’s more like you’re the one talking and he’s the one listening but either way both of you enjoy talking to one another

- I think he’d be the one to ask you out, after severe convincing from the guys (not because he didn’t want to, but because he was NERVOUS) he would plan it for a while, maybe get some roses and your favorite chocolates before asking you out

- He would wait until the time is right before asking the question, it would be something like, “If you wanna, would you maybe want to go out for dinner sometime, only if you’d like, of course” He would be so sweet and gentle about the whole thing

- The relationship between y’all is unmatched, like you guys can talk to each other about just about anything, he’s more of the calmer version of you but he’s always down for some fun!

- If you started to get closed off with him, he’d worry and think that you lost feelings, or that he did something wrong, he would ask you after a couple days of ignoring him, and you would finally tell him how you feel and your worries in the relationship, he would be so reassuring to you that he would never hurt or break your heart, and that he would always be there for you

- ugh and both of y’all are so cute and affectionate with one another, like always cuddling and hugging, Shifty never fails to remind you how much he loves you, whether it’s actually saying it, or showing it to you in other ways, he really cares about you and your feelings

- Don’t even get me started on how sweet he is with you though, like this man is such a gentleman, every date with him, his hospitality never slims down, he’s always going to open a door for you, hold your hand, walk on the sidewalk closest to the road, use his manners, all of the best qualities a boyfriend can have

- And say when you’re having bad days, he’s so supportive, he will definitely listen to you and validate your feelings 100%, if you ever need someone to talk to he’s the perfect person to go to

- he thinks you’re so funny naturally, like you could say something random that you didn’t even think was funny and he would bust out laughing, he thinks you are the best person to be silly with for sure

- he loves watching films and movies with you, it’s one of the moments where he just gets to cuddle up with you and watch a good movie, both of you can just relax together and that’s what’s so nice about it

- and during autumn time Shifty will make SURE to take you to the Appalachians to see all of the pretty fall colors there

- honestly, he really enjoys watching you draw, like he thinks there’s something so therapeutic about it to just watch you express yourself onto a piece of paper, ik that sounds a bit deep but he just thinks of it that way

- if you are practicing any of your languages, please teach him some of it too! He would honestly be so curious towards it and might even be down to learn a few words!

- you guys are always helpful towards each other and will always be there if the other one needs it, communication is always a key in your guys relationship and telling each other what’s wrong or what they can do to help is always helpful!

- but overall, you guys would be so good for each other, you guys would be bestfriends, and lovers at the same time, the dynamic between you two would be absolutely golden and I think it would workout so well together.

Thank you again for your request! Hope you enjoy! :) 💛💖

[ratontheline]

Hey… Im back posting again…

Kinda goofy… I do remember what I said and I quote:

“There’s not going to be art for a while until I fix it..”

…it hasn’t even been 3 days, I had reasons.

As you may or not know I got scammed ummm I was not feeling so great after it 🤠 I really wasn’t going to post for a while, I was recouping my resolve and just trying to get my head back on again before I was hit with another whammy.

Amelia Watson ceases all social media related activities ie including streaming

Ummm it seems to be that my week just got EVEN WORSE HAHAHAHAH

I probably have not said it but I’m a big holo myth fan. Love everything about them… istg they are literally the perfect group construction ever made. They had art, music, games, yapping the whole shebang and they also had a perfect models. Anyway threw me for a loop this one HAHAHH.

Umm I poured my heart out on X/two imma just copy paste what I was feeling:

“...l'm going to be posting art again.

I'm not rily in the best head space but I can't let this feeling go. Not after this group literally gave me a reason to start drawing.

If holo myth didn't exist I wouldn't be drawing.

They genuinely inspired me to make art again.

To think that the group I owe my art too is losing a member - it hurts.

I draw for them... I improved so that I can make better art for them... every single one of them contributed to me stepping out and indulging in my love for art unapologetically.

To try again.

To be obsessive, to be critical, to be innovative with my art.

Like words can't even express the amount of love and respect I have for them.

...Cheers Ame🍻I wish you the best in whatever you decide to do, hope u know whatever you do will inspire someone out there. Just as you and the rest of the girls have done for me.”

Dawg first of trying to copy paste that was so fucking hard, anyway I was crying while typing that SORRY IF ITS KINDA DISJOINTED I WAS GOING THROUGH IT ACTUALLY😭

Anyway yea pretty much it, I do really mean it, like they are my shiny chariot (lwa) like if it weren’t for hololive I wouldn’t be drawing that how damn impactful they are for me.

Im putting them on a pedestal, I dont give a fuck if that’s bad.

Anyway yea that’s that but what does it have to do with me posting… well a lot.

I was sad cuz I lost my money, but I’m sadder cuz Ame is graduating… so I’m posting more.

It make sense don’t try to argue with me. I probably sound crazy whatever IM A MESS LEAVE ME ALONE, ig best way to think about this is to think of me like Akko she wants to become a witch cuz she watch chariot’s show and spread happiness. I watched them make stuff which Inspires me to make stuff to. Anyway I love them.

anyway cheers guys, sorry it this also all over the place, it’s been a rough ass week I basically took hits to my psyche like crazy anyway expect a lot of art from me for a while.

I am locked in.

After I cry some more CHEERS YALL😭🍻

[theseventrumpets]

♪ ♫ The Seven Trumpets Sound,   ♫ ♪

In a world similar to our own, but full of magic and strange differences, groups of cats gathered by the Four Deities of the Plain are surviving on their own, living in fear of the ones who made them who they are.

After the treacherous Age of Sin, led by the late Gooseheart of the Black, the Decks are unsure of how to handle their current situation. Bodies pile high as a cat was given the task of a God, and now the Decks must suffer from what it caused. With Valerianspade pronounced dead, The White suffering from rampant raccoon attacks, and The Red's Face being struck by visions and absent in action, the only thing the Decks have to look forward to is the next Messaging and Calling, to try and find answers...

►► Zero Trumpets Sing. ◄◄

At long last, The Seven Trumpets is finally open! A year has passed since I began planning this story, and I’m happy to say that I’m finally opening it to the public. I’m excited for this, and I hope you all are as well! The Seven Trumpets is an 18+ horror Warrior Cats Roleplay based around the concept of a biblical apocalypse, inspired by the album 'Until The Horror Goes' by the band John Congleton & The Nighty Nite. It uses a lot of horror themes, though mostly focuses on psychological horror and the idea of unreality and fear, and how those can drive characters to survive, or cease surviving entirely. This RP will focus on some darker topics, and gore will be featured from time to time. This RP may not be for the faint of heart, and I encourage you to make sure you can handle psychological horror before coming into this server! Although this RP is horror themed, it will not be purely angst and hardship. As the goal of the story is to stop an apocalypse, there will be themes of hope and light coming through the darkness, and characters finding the strength to keep pushing on even when everything is against them. Don't expect this server to be purely dark with no happiness, as that just wouldn't be fun for anyone to constantly deal with anxiety and pain and suffering all the time! If you’re interested, read below the cut to see more in-depth details about the server and story, or check out the links right below to get started on reading the lore, about the Decks, and so on. To join the RP, just go ahead and click the link to the Discord server! After you’re in, wait some time for our mods to check you over, and give you permission to join. There are no applications during Trumpet 0, unless the count of people joining gets too high to handle. Anyway, have fun, and I hope to see you there!

♪♫♪► WEBSITE ► RULES ► SEND AN ASK ► DISCORD LINK ♪♫♪► SERVER ADOPTS ► ALLEGIANCES ► LORE ON TUMBLR

"To indeed be a god, to indeed the pale white horse, With you we turn the mountains, went upside down, with you it's a force."

Here’s what you can expect from this RP:

► Oh god, there’s elemental magic built into the cats. ► It all takes place entirely in a world of my own, so there’s a shitton of worldbuilding! ► Paranormal and supernatural activities, including Gods and... Mothman? ► Non-feline animals are allowed in limited quantities! ► There’s no Starclan, just Ad Infinitum and it’s subsections! ► A completely overhauled and hand-crafted Warriors ranking system! ► A mostly liquid time based RP, both in events, roleplay, and aging! ► Morally dubious and evil characters allowed in certain quantities! ► Neurodivergent/mentally ill/physically disabled characters are allowed with no restrictions or paywalls! ► Currency system to add rare traits to your cats, AND MORE! ► Fun games, like a drawing game, trivia game, and an in-character question game, which give you points for currency!

Here's a brief rundown of how the server and story is going to be run: There will be multiple arcs in the story, each defined by a trumpet. Each trumpet will be a different arc. Within these arcs, there will be a generally planned plot to follow, but it won't be completely set in stone, and things can change based on how the players themselves interact with the story and choose to make it flow. That's right baby, this WILL be player driven! There will be a lot of player-mod interaction as the players work with each other to make the story flow, and the mods will be there to make sure their RPs and adventures and questions will be rewarding in the end! Everyone is supposed to feel important in some way, and we will make sure everyone gets their time to shine--as long as they want it, at least.

There will be major events that players can participate in, and there will be special happenings that players can go through--kind of like choose your own adventure type scenarios, just as a special addition to the general roleplaying experience. We don't want anything to get boring or tedious, so be sure to let us know how you're feeling about the RP and the plot itself, as player feedback is VERY necessary in a place like this!

The RP itself takes place in southern Illinois, by the Mississippi river, and not too far away from St. Louis. The Plain of Revelation contains four Decks: The Pale Spades, the Black Hearts, the Red Diamonds, and the White Clubs. The White Clubs are a prideful and dramatic Deck based around secrets and facades, the Red Diamonds are a skill and family-oriented Deck based around pairings and symbols, the Black Hearts are a unified and empathetic Deck based around goals and achievements, and the Pale Spades are an orderly and strange Deck based on promises and vows. They all have their own unique quirks that make them special, ranging from some worshipping the food they eat, to others painting stories in caves to remember history. All are open to join, and all are happy to accept new members!

[todoscript]

making out until your phone interrupts you two

characters: bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff, suggestive

word count: 2.8k+, 850-1000 words per character

warnings: characters are aged up, suggestive and mature content, implied sexual content, minors please beware

author’s note: how did these get as long as they did 

copyright 2021 todoscript, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

As your soft hands brush along the nape of his neck and pinch at strands of ash blond hair, you feel his larger, calloused hands run along your thighs. Your lips come back for each other, hot and needy. Bakugou bites down harshly on your bottom lip, eliciting a squeal that grants him an opening to pry his tongue into your mouth to melt with yours. You follow in the frantic rhythm he sets, barely keeping pace as your grip on the slim fabric of his black tank top wrinkles in your curled fingers. Smirking, his hand runs up the skin beneath your shirt. He finds your squirming all the more amusing the more he rubs and gropes.

“Aw c’mon, babe. No fun if you’re already turning into pudding this fuckin’ early. Show some resistance, why don’t ya?” He eggs you on, but doesn’t cease in his ministrations, and in fact, only makes it harder for you to show any kind of fight. You detach your lips from his, pouting profusely with a scrunched nose. He looks back at you, expression sly and slick, well aware of what he’s doing. Well, you’re going to be sure he doesn’t get the last laugh.

Shifting all your weight onto his upper body, you move him over to lay down on the couch. He peers at your form towering above him, curious as to how you go about turning the tables against him tonight. His palms are flat on your thighs, remaining there as you settle your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself. You move your head down so your lips can touch and Bakugou cranes his neck slightly to meet you in the middle. However, a clamor sounding from a phone on the coffee table sends a rift in the atmosphere you’ve established and the incessant chime captures both of your attention. Your eyes go wide before blinking in realization that it’s your phone that’s going off right now.

Much to Bakugou’s dismay, you begin moving off of him. You get up to reach for your ringing phone, but his hand grabbing your wrist is faster.

“Don’t you dare answer it,” Bakugou orders, failing to suppress the blunt annoyance in his tone.

“What if it’s an important call from work?”

Hearing your response, he begrudgingly lets go of your wrist, sitting back on the couch, and grumbling beneath his breath.

“Fuck, it better not take long then.”

You playfully roll your eyes at him. You take a glance at the screen before pressing the green icon and nestle your phone next to your ear.

As you converse with the person on the other line, the blond is glaring knives at the device, no doubt mentally sending curses to whichever asshole decided to interrupt the mood just when things were starting to get good. Now he’s contemplating as to why he was generous enough to let you answer the damn phone in the first place. Shoulda just chucked that thing into the next room, left to be forgotten as the two of you would’ve been occupied with much more important matters.

In retaliation with his thoughts, he abruptly pulls your body into his lap, legs on either side of his thighs, straddling him. Being so occupied with your phone call, you don’t have much opportunity to comment on his behavior. In fact, Bakugou actually doesn’t allow you any opportunity.

Without warning, he plants his mouth on your neck, proceeding to nibble and suckle with just the right amount of pressure that makes you jolt in his lap. A small squeak leaves you, the noise eluded by the other person on the line thanks to you shifting your phone away from your mouth in time. You glare at the blond, silently asking with pointed brows what the hell he thought he was doing. But Bakugou only finds amusement in your struggles.

“Go on, keep talking, princess,” he mumbles loud enough for only you to hear and you feel his lips curl against your skin. You notice his hands busying themselves, tugging at the hem of your shirt, but despite that, you can’t do anything but continue with your conversation, unless you want your caller to start suspecting you’re undergoing other… activities as you were speaking to them.

You are so gonna get it later, mister. You mentally note your promises of retribution before returning to the chat while trying to ignore Bakugou’s mischief to the best of your ability.

After powering through the next couple of minutes of exchanges—your replies hastening and voice hitching whenever Bakugou’s ministrations became impatiently persistent—you finally say your hurried goodbyes, hitting the end call button.

That acts as Bakugou’s cue to pounce on you. He swipes your phone right from your fingertips and tosses it half-hazardously on the couch, out of your reach.

“Katsuki, you—!”

The moment you open your mouth to say something in retort, your words are cut off. Bakugou’s lips slot with yours to resume your intimate lip-lock, even more intense than earlier by how he barely allows you to draw a single breath.

“Oh no you don’t. No fucker is going to interrupt us this time, I’m going to make sure of that,” is the last he says before hoisting you up from your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist, and leading you both to your bedroom.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

Entering your living room, Midoriya finds you lounging on the couch with the TV on, curled up with a blanket and watching the latest episode of a show you’ve been following. He stretches out his muscles as he approaches you, body aching at every extension of his limbs. With his groans sounding rather exasperated, you face in his direction.

“Tired?” you question as Midoriya takes a seat beside you.

“Yeah, just a bit. The villains keep getting tougher these days,” he answers, cracking his knuckles, craning his neck to relieve a particular spot that’s been bothering him. You open up the blanket to let him take refuge in your warm haven and he scoots closer to you.

As expected of being the Number One Hero, his duties to the populace only grow more challenging with each passing moment. But he knows better than to complain about the job he was so heavily entrusted to by All Might. Besides, nothing beats saving the day and putting a smile on every citizen’s face. Well, nothing… except maybe spending time with you at the end of the day.

“I’m proud of you though, Izuku. You’ve been working so hard lately,” you say sweetly as your hand goes to massage Midoriya’s neck, rubbing at just the right areas that make him relax beneath your touch. “So proud of you.”

“Y-Yeah?” Midoriya doesn’t mean to stutter, but he fights back a groan when your fingers slowly travel up to his scalp.

“Yeah…” Your voice is tenderly hushed between you two, leaning in closer, to the point where your faces are seconds from touching. With your fingers still twined in his curly green hair, you angle him ever so slightly to meet the smoldering look in your eyes. It doesn’t take much for him to mirror the expression, eyes growing equally lidded and just as desirable. Then, before you had even realized it, you both closed the distance.

Tongue and teeth immediately clash. Midoriya is quick to overpower you as you let out a giggle, being forced to lay back on the couch. With your show inevitably about to be forgotten, the green-haired male smoothly reaches for the remote on your side before pointing the off button at the TV and tossing it to the ground.

He cradles your head from behind to bring your lips impossibly closer. Your hands remain laced through unruly emerald strands, occasionally tugging at his scalp, evoking a hum that vibrates between your lips coming together again and again.

When you finally separate after a rather lengthy session of lip-locking, your breaths are ragged—faces hot. He stares down at you, transfixed by your swollen, plush lips that he wishes to dive down again for more kisses.

“God, what did I ever do to deserve you?” he asks—a rhetorical question, but you smile at it nonetheless.

“I should be asking you that, Number One Hero.” You cup his face in your hands, thumb delicately brushing against those endearing freckles of his as you’re about to pull him down again.

But, just as your eyes close, waiting for your mouths to meet, the world splits open at a blaring echo crashing upon you. You abruptly halt your movements, watching as Midoriya does the same, eyes blown wide. You both turn your heads in the direction of the sound coming from the phone next to the kitchen.

“The phone…” Midoriya murmurs, wondering who would be calling at this hour. But upon glancing over at the wall clock, you remember something. It was actually around that time you were expecting a phone call from a friend of yours anyway. It had entirely slipped your mind after being so caught up in your make-out session with him.

“Sorry, Izuku. It’s probably for me,” you inform, an apologetic smile on your face as he slowly gets off you, allowing you to cease the ringing in the distance.

Sitting up on the couch, he watches you traverse to the kitchen, his elbows resting on his thighs. He drops his head into his hands, noticing his leg hopping up and down restlessly. It’s hard to come down from his high after getting worked up like that, and with that phone call appearing out of nowhere, he’s not sure what to do with himself other than not to get too excited.

Despite that, Midoriya musters the most patience as he possibly can. I mean, the amount of times you’ve been interrupted by Midoriya’s own urgent calls coming from his agency warrants him to exercise some self-restraint, knowing how riled up you could get at times, yet still kindly letting him go about his work like the saint you are.

But after a long day of patrolling the city and defeating foes, all Midoriya desires at the moment is to drown in all the love you have to offer him and leave everything behind to think of only you and him together. He overhears your conversation due to the silence spread across your living space, making out bits and pieces but never taking the time to distinguish the topic of your discussion.

No good, he thinks. Midoriya resigns to the fact he simply can’t keep as still as he would like, already getting up from the couch to seek you out. When he finds you, you’re laughing into the phone, likely finding whatever your friend said humorous, but when he wraps his arms around you, you jerk in surprise, that same laughter replaced by a quiet squeal. You feel Midoriya’s head tuck itself in the space linking your neck and shoulder, planting a single delicate kiss on the exposed skin. He glances at you, emerald eyes gleaming in a silent plea.

You smile in reply, understanding what he wants as you hold up a finger to tell him to give you a moment. “Um, sorry, I’ll have to call you back later. There’s something I have to do right now,” you say into the phone and after exchanging farewells, dismiss the call.

Turning in his arms, you come face-to-face with the relieved look in his eye. “Baby couldn’t wait?”

He releases a sigh, smiling warily. “You know I can never wait when it comes to you.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

Fresh and clean out of the shower, you toss your towel around your slightly damp hair as you walk into the bedroom. Todoroki is already there waiting for you, sitting on the edge of your shared futon while checking something on his phone. Upon hearing your footsteps, he glances up, and smiles as soon as your eyes find each other. He clicks his phone off and sets it to the side before beckoning you over with spread arms.

You kneel in front of him and lean into his comforting embrace. His body is just the right temperature against you that soothes the heat abiding your skin from your steamy shower. Feeling you melt into his chest, he tilts his head, pressing his nose into your hair, and notes the fragrant scent of your shampoo that harmoniously washes over his senses.

“You smell… nice,” he comments, nuzzling his nose to your neck.

Honey… and vanilla…

You giggle at the tickling sensation. “I would hope so, considering I just took a shower.” Todoroki hums at your humor, lifting his head to find your eyes. He takes a moment to pay every detail its utmost attention, from your misty hair to the warmth flushed on your cheeks as his knuckles graze over your skin. You look away from his punctilious gaze, his gray and turquoise eyes making you feel small.

That won’t do, he thinks.

Before you can even process his actions, he leans forward to capture your lips. Taken by surprise, a faint sound floats above your mouth that is quickly swallowed by him.

Again… and again… and again.

As you let yourself surrender to the fervent kisses, Todoroki maneuvers you two onto your futon, where he hovers over you, lips never once parting throughout your movements. You hum in delight when his tongue immerses itself in your mouth. The gratuitous feeling doesn’t stick for long though.

A ringing sound resonates above the futon, and your attention is immediately diverted. Your motions falter beneath him, causing you to fall off beat now that your mind has one more thing to worry about. On the other hand, Todoroki is least bit concerned over the noise, unrelentingly nibbling at your lips to try and elicit more sweetness from them. Unfortunately, his fun is cut short as you lay your hand on his chest, lightly pushing him away so he removes his mouth from you.

“Shouto... My phone.”

Todoroki glances at the phone in question before returning to your form, disheveled under him. He gives you a look of indifference. “It can wait,” he states simply, about to dive down to resume what he started, but you don’t concede so easily.

“It could be important,” you reason.

Releasing a sigh, Todoroki allows you some space to turn over on your stomach and reach out for your phone, the chiming desisting as you answer it and greet whoever decided to call you at this time of night.

The conversation you’re having flies over Todoroki’s head. The only thing on his mind right now is you finishing the call and continuing where you two left off, praying it won’t take long.

However, eventually his impatience gets the best of him. His eyes wander the room simply to return to you—laying with your upper body propped on your pillow as you hover the phone next to your ear. He peeks at the small droplet of water trailing your hair just before it falls atop the skin of your neck. He seems almost mesmerized by it as it begins its trek down your collarbones, reveling in the enticing sight despite how ordinary it must be to the common eyes. For him, it just makes things all the more difficult to sit still.

Needy and with little to do, he shifts toward you.

“Right, and I– Ah!” your sentence slips on you mid-speech as you feel something cold touch the nape of your neck.

“Y/n? Everything alright?” your caller asks, static voice laced with concern that you almost overlook when the chilling sensation on your neck returns. You turn your head and discover Todoroki bending forward to place his lips repeatedly on your neck. You can’t tell if his lips are particularly colder than usual or if you’re still a little heated from your shower. Either way, the heightened sensitivity raises goosebumps on your skin.

“I-I’m fine! I just bumped into something, is all!” you reply, though your voice pitches, feeling Todoroki’s equally cool hands graze your back under your shirt.

“Oh, please be careful! The fatigue must be catching up with you after such a long day, and I did call you at a pretty late time, huh? Tell you what, we can talk about this again tomorrow morning so you can get your rest for the night, okay?”

You are beyond grateful for the convenience bestowed to you. Though, you honestly think resting is surely the last thing on a certain someone’s mind right now.

“Right! Thank you..! Have a good night!” With that, you promptly end the call. Repositioning onto your back, you cross eyes with Todoroki, making a point at hardening your expression and seeming offended. Though the man knows it’s more so a facade than anything and that you’re not actually angry at him.

“Oh, you..!” You emphasize your words with a bump of your fist against his shoulder, albeit with minimal strength.

He chuckles at your pouty lips, leaning down for a peck before moving some hair out of your face. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he admits, the curve of his lips bordering on a smirk and a genuine smile that you find hard to be mad at.

“Shall we resume where we left off then?”

[hollandsmushroom]

Okay well this is me requesting the bench press fix blurb whatever it is lol, I don’t mind if there’s no smut, up to you and how you feel while writing it, thanks!

Both Fucking Bench Press || T.H.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, 69, filthy, cum eating(obvi), oral both fem and masc receiving

Word Count: 1650

A/n: Third installment of my accidental series about Y/n and readers at home gym debauchery, I don't know how this came to be but you guys seemed to love it so I hope you like this one just as well. It isn't necessary to read these but this is part 1 and 2: Mouth Fucking Pushups Mother Fucking Squats

give feedback here and read more here

At this point you and Tom should have learned that you are incapable of working out together, it was always gonna end up with pants on the floor and cum smeared faces but you let that slip your mind as you both made your way down to the in home gym, preparing for your respective workout routines. You knew it wasn’t going to end with you both having completed your planned activities but you also knew that it was going to end with you having had some form of work out, a much more pleasurable one than you had mapped out.

You wished that you could have held out longer than you did, laying on the floor trying to focus more on the burn in your abs than the soft grunts of exertion that were leaving Tom’s perfect lips but your attempts were useless, back falling onto the padded floor one final time and bending your neck backwards, catching a glimpse of Tom over your shoulder, your eyes able to see directly up the leg of his loose fitting workout shorts. You could see all the way to the swell of his peachy bum and where the hair on his legs got thicker as it hit around the base of his dick. Your mind wandered as you noted this, why wasn’t he wearing boxers?

You pushed up from where you had lain, standing up and moving towards Tom, swinging one leg over his waist and bracketing Tom’s hips with your knees, your cunt hovering just above his apparently already hard cock. Tom’s eyes widened at your sudden presence but didn’t question it, racking up the bar and eyeing your finger as it scratched its way down his chest tantalizingly slow. His sore hand grabbed your wrist gently, bringing it to his lips and placing a soft kiss to the flesh just over where he could feel your heartbeat.

“What are you doing, love?” Tom muttered, eyes you through the shade of his interwoven lashes.

“Wondering” your response was short, prompting a raised eyebrow and a nip at your skin.

“What are you wondering?” you shook your hand free of Tom’s gentle grip, going to squeeze his flexed muscle as you leaned forward, lips dancing like a flame near his own as you uttered your inquiry.

“Could my superhero boyfriend bench press me?” your eyes were locked with his as you spoke but flickered downwards as finished, watching how his lip became entrapped between his teeth, a wicked grin over taking his face as his hands trailed down your sides, gripping into your hips and picking you up. Tom’s biceps flexed deliciously as he hoisted you up above him, pressing you up so your abdomen was above his face, shirt loosening and exposing the sweaty skin to his eager eyes. He had been watching you, you just didn’t realize, like before when he had placed himself between your legs and the moment devolved in your cunt smearing across his face.

“He most definitely can” Tom growled, unlocking the joint of his elbow and letting you lower towards his face, your legs straightened out so you didn’t fall off of his flattened palms as he pressed you back up again.

“Holy fuck” the words slipped past you lips on instinct, in pure awe of your partners strength, the exhibition of his power sending a heat to the plush between your legs, hieghtening the sensation of your heartbeat in you finger tips as you held them out, head ducked down to be able to witness the strain and tensing of Tom’s bicep, loving how if moved under his taught tan skin.

“Holy fuck is right” Tom uttered and you heard the swish of his unfitted workout shorts, drawing your eyes to the prominent bulge that laid beneath the breathable fabric, bringing your mind back to the glimpse of him that you saw earlier from your position of the floor.

“You’re hard” you didn’t realize the words were coming out of your mouth until you heard Tom chuckle, legs shifting with anticipation and need.

“Uh, yeah, I um, yeah” Tom choked on his words, the rare spark of anxiety burning in his chest as if you hadn’t rode his face and he hadn’t fucked your mouth in the last month.

“I’m soaking” you muttered in assurance, an appeal to help douse the flame of insecurity that your boyfriend seemed to be fueling and it seemed to snap him right out of it, his eyes widening immediately.

“Yeah?” the tone of his voice had completely changed, and shred of doubt dissipating entirely as he twisted your body above his, spinning you like a baton as if it was the easiest thing in the world ceasing as your bodies laid parallel, pointing in opposite directions. “Let me see” the sly syllables trailed past his lips as he brought you down, your knees instinctively bending and resting on the work out bench so that your knees bracketed Tom’s face.

Tom’s cock was in your face, trapped beneath the constraining fabric of his shorts, an alluring sight that had your mouth watering instantly. You pressed one hand into the cushioned bench, using your other hand to cup his cock, his length practically jumped at your touch. A shiver etched its way down your spine as Tom’s fingers curled into the hem of your pants, tugging down at the tight fabric, your panties coming with, as he exposed your core to himself, and your description was apt, you were soaking.

“Fuck, baby, you’re not just soaking your dripping” his hands massaged yoru ass cheeks as he pulled you down close to his facd, close enough that his tongue was able to swipe through your folds and gather your arousal in his tongue, the taste earning a hum from the depths of his chest. A strangled moan escaped your mouth and Tom joined in, the sensation forcing your hand to tighten around his hard on.

“Tommy, are we-” you stopped, choking on the fact that Tom’s lips were now wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking as he let kitten licks press through his pout. “Are we going to do this?” you were finally able to get out, your hand shaking as pleasure coursed through your veins, fingers slipping underneath the fabric and near Tom’s heated cock, pulling down the waistband till it was resting beneath Tom’s balls.

“I thought we already were,” he mumbled, his face still buried in your cunt as he traced your folds with the flexed tip of his tongue. You smiled widely as you listened to Tom’s words, leaning down and taking Tom’s leaking tip into your mouth, the salty taste of precum blooming across your taste buds as you began to suck intently. Your actions made Tom moan loudly into your cunt, jaw opening wide and sending the humming sensation through your cunt. His cock was heavy on your tongue, the weightiness of emboldened and libido flushed flesh. You were both devolving into moaning messes, spit and arousal dripping mouth and cunt alike, an exchange of the most animalistic kind, and it was burning its way through you. The fact that when you bent your head just right, licking at the side of his cock with intensity, you could watch Tom eat you from between your bodies was exciting and intensifying every freeling your body was experiencing.

Tom dragged his tongue from your clits, swirling the taught muscle downwards till it drew circles of your spasming entrance, teasing the hole as he dipped into it slowly. He rocked his head as he did so, pressing the crook of his nose to your clit but it wasn’t enough to satiate him, he needed more, yearning to drown between your thighs. His hands snaked their way around your thighs, pulling you down towards him as he pressed down on the rounds of your ass. The pressure on your clit eased the pain of desire and fed the flames of your orgasm that were dancing in your lower abdomen.

“Tommy!” you whimpered, pulling off of his cock just enough to be able to moan out his name, a warning that you were close and you knew that he was as well purely by the way he was humming into your cunt and how his cock was twitching in front of your face.

“Me too baby, let go” he assured, as you took his cock back into your mouth you felt the world shatter around you, the only real feeling was that of Tom’s tongue and his dick in your mouth, sliding in and out as you somehow managed to maintain the movement even through the mind bending pleasure. You both came hard, your juices being lapped up as Tom continued to relentlessly lick, your mouth filling with cum as hot white strings painted the inside of your mouth, the salty tang grounding you from slipping off into a pleasure induced haze.

Eventually you had both drained yourselves, no energy left in your euphoric bodies as you somehow ended up on the floor of the room. Your chin pressed into Tom’s pec as you looked up at him with largely dilated pupils and he looked back at you with the same.

“I don’t think we can work out together anymore, Tommy” you muttered, your fingers tracing indiscernible patterns across his heaving chest.

“What? Why?” Tom asked, his arms wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

“Well it never really ends up with us working out” you tried to remind him.

“But doesn’t it though? Cause I feel like I worked out and your legs are still shaking like you squatted 1000 pounds, so I actually think we should work out together more” Tom chuckled, pinching your side and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You are insatiable” you poked him back.

“And you like it”

♡Taglist♡ join the taglist

@iluvdeja @quaksonhehe @lovehollandy12 @thollandneedy @prancerrparkerr @parkerpeter24 @hollandsour @spidey-sophie @thehumanistsdiary @itscaminow @marvelsbitch8 @kasidy409 @parkerdarling @scarletspideyy @capital-koreasofia @marvelhasmyheart235 @hackerholland @tom-softie @hollandsjen @tomhollandsbitch8 @bi-lmg07 @reawritesthings @tomsholland2412 @lowkey-holland @cocoamoonmalfoy @tomhollandlol @roseobx @vintageobx @cloudyfeel @lcvelyhcllqnd96 @elishi03 @spooky-season-bitch @hollandsvogue @idkseraphine @writesforholland @mcushvft @rory-cakes @nithikaa26

[dragongirl642]

I really love your writing and noticed your asks are open (i think). And, I checked your masterlist and didn't see RE8 listed as a universe you write for, so you can ignore this if you want. But, could I request Heisenberg, Donna, and Lady Dimitrescu reacting to a male dragon-shifter reader who has decided to make the character's residence their hoard, and as such, going to extreme lengths to protect them and the residence?

OOOHHH 😮😳 How did you know dragons (and by extent dragon shifters) are my favourite things in the whole wide world!!!!!

As a treat, you get all four of the Lords' reactions. 😎

For extra drama, the dragon-shifter (you) basically crash land nearby (after a loooooonnnngggg flight) and decide to take up residence in the nearest abode while you rest, and end up getting comfortable and liking the area so decide to stay.

You have a full human form, fully dragon form, and an in-between form.

Also, you have like saintly levels of patience.

Heisenberg

It takes him a minute of staring to figure out that the giant dragon in the factory, is not a hallucination, induced by either the drinking he was doing the night prior, or a trick of Mother Miranda's trying to destabilize him mentally.

However this quickly turns into a lot of yelling "what the F are you doing in my factory!" and "What the F are you!" while chucking metal at you.

You melt the more dangerous pieces and yell at him to "Cease this nonsense! You can't hurt me like this."

Heisenberg.exe has stopped working.

He's partially re-evaluating his life like...did I just get sassed by a giant lizard.

You take the initiative to tell the small angry man telekinetically chucking metal around to chill. "Listen, I'm just going to rest here a few days then leave. You leave me alone, and I won't Incinerate you."

He quickly weighs up how much he doesn't want you here vs how much it will piss Mother Miranda off if he uses the giant dragon crash landing in his factory as an excuse to do absolutely nothing for her.

He's a bit annoyed about you taking up all the room by the forges so he can't make new soldats but...

Hate for Miranda wins!

He actually uses this as an excuse in his next report and Mother Miranda comes to 'get rid of the problem herself since Heisenberg cannot'...you almost incinerated her and she checked out. (He's putting that down as one of the best days of his life).

Since he now has nothing better to do he either leans on a nearby balcony or stands on a floating gear and starts trying to get your attention.

Will ask you everything from your name and where you came from to your favourite colour and if you have a specific favourite scale on your body.

You're distrustful and annoyed at first but soon warm up to this obviously lonely man.

You get so comfortable you decide you just might never leave.

The first time you feel comfortable enough to shift back to your human form Heisenberg is like (o_o) hot person! Two for one deal, annoying Mother Miranda plus Eye Candy!!!!

Makes a joke about having you turn into your dragon form again so he can keep making excuses to Mother Miranda. Which gets you curious and you ask about her, and he explains about the cadou, the experiments, and what she did to him.

He will make a bunk for you, so he can get back to work and you can stay near the heat of the forges, (absorbing the energy from the flames speeds up recovery and/or keeps you charged at 100% so you're always ready to burn a b1tch...specifically Miranda).

You both talk about whatever while he works. Lots of late night chats. One time he accidentally doused the forges and you just blew into the chamber and they re-lit immediately. (Mechanical Heart Eyes)

Since you start considering the entire factory to be your hoard, sometimes you claim a random object as your specific favourite piece for the day, maybe one of his tools or a specific piece of scrap. If he needs to use it, you won't let him and a small argument can be had. A solution is soon found though, you can't have a conflict of interest if your favourite item is him.

When you protect him, he's super flattered and hypes you up.

Cue him on the sides cheering you on.

If you two have started dating he will definitely yell "that's my boyfriend!" and gush about you to whoever happens to be standing next to him. (Bonus points if it's any of the other Lords. Especially Miranda, she is dying!)

Definitely makes a sign saying 'Beware of Dragon' to put on the fence.

Sometimes you jump to his defence even when he's in the middle of handling the threat. He gets huffy, saying he can take care of himself. You respond by telling him you won't let anything harm what's yours and once again, Heisenberg.exe is experiencing an error.

Alcina Dimitrescu

She is absolutely dismayed and angry at the giant lizard that barged its way through the doors and took up residency in her hall. It's tracking in mud and snow, burned the curtains, and took a good chunk of the wall, (letting in the cold).

Her daughters can't handle the cold, damn you!

Tries to fight you...fails. Turns out she's not immune to incineration and loses quite a few limbs (they grow back...eventually).

When she sees you shift to your human form, she's doubly-incensed...not only did you barge into her home but your also a D I S G U S T I N G M A N T H I N G !

You shift back whenever she tries to kill you so eventually she just gives up. (According to her she's waiting for the right opportunity NOT giving up.)

Wants to kill you, calls Mother Miranda for help and well, the same thing happens if you had crashed in the factory...she checks out!

Refuses to leave the castle for any reason, she's not leaving you along with her daughters.

Resigns herself to yelling insults at you from the balcony.

You respond in kind and it slowly devolves into a competition to come up with the most creative insults.

Your dragon form radiates heat...like...a lot. (Even counteracting the cold coming through the hole in the wall, which you attempted to fix.) This of course attracts the Dimitrescu daughters to the hall (against their mother's will).

If Alcina sees you lying their in dragon from, her three hive-mind children chattering away happily with you encouraging their curiosity, (Bela is half-asleep by your side, Daniela is complimenting your claws and asking about your bone structure, while Cassandra proudly proclaims her mother's are better than yours), she partly reconsiders her stance on you being a filthy, horrible, disgusting lizard man thing to just a filthy lizard man thing.

Seriously, your filthy, take a bath.

You quite enjoy all the little luxuries that can be found in the castle and decide to stay. Alcina almost shreds her hat in exasperation.

You get more comfortable and she starts to tolerate your presence, although she will take a swipe at you if she thinks she has a chance at killing you in your human form.

Jokes on her you can partially change and still fit through the hallways.

You never told her you've claimed the castle and the Dimitrescu family as your hoard but she does notice you being oddly friendly to her and she is "suspicious!"

You've met a few vampires and have a few suggestions for a more sustainable food source (buying blood donations from villagers instead of killing them). She's skeptical but considers it.

The first time you defend her is actually against Mother Miranda...over the phone. You have sharp hearing...and you don't like what you're hearing.

She's both flattered you would defend her so, and disgusted with herself for accepting a man thing's help.

When she realises she likes having you around, she starts to rationalise to herself that you're not just any man thing, you're her dragon man thing and therefore okay.

Gets more comfortable with leaving you with her daughters. You treat them well and keep them entertained?! That's a free babysitter if ever she's seen one.

When she sees the more extreme lengths you will go to protect the castle and her family, she is impressed and flattered and a little scared, and acts like it was her idea to have you stay.

"Oh, haven't you heard, that's the Dimitrescu Dragon."

Definitely rubs it in Heisenberg's face that she has a dragon and he doesn't.

Donna Beneviento

What are you!?!?!

To protect Donna, Angie is ready to fight you or die trying!

Just kind off avoids you and sends the pollen at you to make you leave.

The only one of the four Lords most likely to actually defeat you.

When you speak though, telling her to "release (your) mind, witch, or (you'll) incinerate everything", she's surprised and scared enough to actually do so.

Asks if you'll be her friend. Angie is cussing you out.

You see how scared and lonely she is and just *adoption mode activated*.

You only need to rest a few days, why not do so on friendly terms with your host. (keep telling yourself that).

It takes a day for you to shift to human form, partially because you don't want to have your measurements taken because Donna wants to make you a giant bonnet, (You reason it's a waste of resources, you'll only be here a short while).

Jokes on you, this is your home now.

You've never hoarded dolls before, but there's a first time for everything.

You will spend most of your time in human form since your dragon form kinda scares her.

Even though she's still scared of it, Donna does find your dragon form interesting and will ask to sketch you (from a distance...no fire please).

Make various over-exaggerated poses and joke about "draw me like one of your french girls" and she will laugh, (even though she doesn't get the joke).

She makes a plush doll of you. It turns inside out to shift between human and dragon.

The first time you protect her, she's scared. The flames take her straight back to her childhood, she's crying and she hides. You shift back to human form very quickly and find her, holding her close and apologising for scaring her over and over.

Will tear a man apart in human form to avoid this (or almost human form).

She slowly works up to being comfortable in your dragon form, the first time she falls asleep against your side is a good day.

You start insisting on accompanying her to meetings and escorting her whenever she has to meet another Lord. They start talking sh1t, they get hit (or burned...you let Donna choose).

Angie cheers you on.

Salvatore Moreau

He is terrified of you when you first show up.

You basically tear your way into the mines for shelter and he is frantically plugging the entrance to his home with the enzyme to hide.

Calls for "mother" to save him and that's how you find him.

You see this small deformed fish man crying in the mine and think, "i'm not gonna ask."

You settle in the slightly larger chamber and just lie down for a rest.

He soon realises your not going to attack him and ventures out to stare at you. He just keeps staring at you for like an uncomfortably long time, peeking around a doorway.

Eventual you snap and ask him to stop staring.

He slowly comes out of hiding and starts asking the basics.

"You can talk?" "Who are you?" "Why are you here?"

Seeing no reason not to, you tiredly answer all his questions.

Hearing about your long journey has him curiously asking about the places you've been to.

He quickly figures out you must have some sort of human form since you end up on the topics of favourite foods or movies and your favourites are all distinctly human. (He's the fastest at figuring this out and the least surprised when you shift).

Terrifying (hideous) creature going through an unnerving transformation into a humanoid form...he can relate. Although he's slightly jealous of how 'normal' you look when you shift to human form.

You two have a movie night where he proudly shows of his collection. It is in the middle of him analysing the context of THAT ONE SCENE that you decide, Yes...This one is mine.

The entire reservoir and mine is your territory and if anything comes anywhere near it they will be ash in 30 seconds.

When you protect him from danger, he's shocked that someone cares enough about him to f-ing incinerate a lycan for even looking at him weirdly.

You act like its natural and eventually he starts to get used to you.

Has self doubt and questions your motives...you tell him he's worth it or that he's your jewel.

C O N F I D E N C E B O O S T

Starts talking back to the other Lords when they insult him. It's easy with you hovering menacingly behind him, veins glowing with barely contained R A G E.

One source of friction however, is the fact that he doesn't like that you keep trying to kill Mother Miranda and he will latch onto you sobbing until you agree to spare her (for now...you'll get her when he's not around).

However, the longer you two know each other, the more self-confidence he gains and the more you talk through what Mother Miranda did to him and why he deserves better, (pointing out her manipulation, analyses whether she's ever 'cared' about him, etc...), the less bothered he gets. (Give it a few years, he'll cheer you on alongside Heisenberg).

Bonus:

The second you see Mother Miranda...it is on sight. (Especially if you know what she did to the Lords).

Cue you shifting to dragon form and preparing to unleash a volley of flame, "I smell the blood of children on you."

You may be comfortable(ish) with the actions of your housemate but you have STANDARDS.

Alright 😊 Hoped you like these headcanons, jaychirps. They were really fun to write and grew quite a bit. 😅

(I feel like Moreau's a bit ooc but I don't know enough about him to dispute that claim....)

Oh and p.s. ... asks are open.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 317: My Boy Was Just Like Me

Previously on BnHA: AFO randomly blew up Lady Nagant as a good reminder of why you should never make a deal with this fucking guy, smdh. Hawks was all “well if it isn’t my two best friends, Deku and Lady Nagant, both of whom I respect and love tremendously.” Everyone was all “??” and Horikoshi was all “shh... just pretend” because it was too embarrassing for him to admit that he forgot to write a couple of set-up flashbacks I guess. Anyway so Hawks got Lady to tell them where AFO was hiding out, and everyone said goodbye to her and Overhaul, who never did get to see his boss (sorry buddy, I’ll send you a vial of my tears in the mail), and headed out to a house in the woods. AFO was all “hello Deku :) :) it sure is fun making you suffer :) :) :) anyways this is a trap”, and blew up the house. Yeah, we all here are getting reaaaaaaaal tired of your shit, AFO.

Today on BnHA: The Hawksquad and Edgeplatoon meet in a warehouse and are all “what should we do about the fact that everything sucks?” Mt. Lady is all “here’s a thought, what if we tried battling AFO with more than six people.” Hawks and Endeavor are all “great initiative, but just a friendly reminder that our friends also suck and would probably betray Deku which would suck further still.” Shouto is all “ANSWER THE PHONE DAD” and Endeavor is all “[IRONICALLY DOESN’T ANSWER THE PHONE].” Meanwhile over in Sadtown, capital of Sadland Prefecture, Japan, Deku is all “All Might, as you can clearly see I am completely fine and good, never been better in fact, definitely not caught up in the throes of an epic mental breakdown which is shutting me down emotionally, anyway so on that note I would like to leave you now goodbye!!” All Might is all “[can’t actually form any words because he’s too distraught].” Fandom is all “o(╥﹏╥)o.” Horikoshi is all “(*＾-’) 乃 [pew pew finger guns and barrel rolls into the darkness].”

sweet jesus lord

this literally doesn’t even look like Deku anymore?? this looks like Dark!Deku who shows up to fight you in that one room in the Water Temple. he looks like he’s about to crawl out of my television set and murder me with his psychic powers good lord

holy shit lmao Horikoshi is really just shrugging his shoulders and resolving last week’s cliffhanger with a single line of dialogue

fire is no one’s weakness. idk what other options you’ve got, AFO, but you’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board. maybe try bees or something. I’m just saying. we’re all expecting fire at this point but nobody is expecting bees

anyway so now they’re all sitting in some warehouse somewhere chatting about it I guess. shoutout to Horikoshi for finally giving my man Edgeshot some more dialogue at long last

well, Edgeshot, to answer your question, she exploded. so naturally she’s fine

nah just kidding, Hawks says she won’t be able to help them out much because she’s recovering from being exploded. this is the part where we all ignore the fact that Hawks got set on fire for like a full ten minutes back during the War arc and was only in the hospital for a day. anyways enjoy your temporary plot hiatus Nagant

man there’s a lot of dialogue here and I’m trying to figure out where to insert commentary but it’s kinda difficult lol. basically, Edge and the others are saying that they should gather up the other remaining heroes and get them all caught up on the whole OFA situation. which, hmmmm

like on the one hand, these guys definitely aren’t going to cut it on their own, so it’s a reasonable suggestion on the face of it. but on the other hand, do we really want to entrust the OFA secret to a bunch of other people, most of whom shat the bed during the War arc to be quite frank? is it really worth the additional risk? especially given that any one of them might go spilling the beans to the public -- or worse, betray them to AFO??

also just a quick side note here, Mt. Lady’s character development never ceases to delight me. she’s become so committed to her responsibility as a hero these days, and it fucking suits her. I genuinely consider to be one of the elites now. I mean it doesn’t hurt that all the other elites are fucking dead lol but still

wait what? Death Arms retired??

Death Arms as in the guy who was too afraid of a little fire to try and save a terrified 14-year-old kid who was slowly suffocating right before his eyes?? that Death Arms???? color me surprised. shocked, I tell you

...okay but holy fuck

Death Arms. bro. my expectations for you were low but holy shit. like I’m sorry, but I don’t even have it in me to try and pretend like I feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him or Old Man Samurai or any of those other guys today. thanks for a whole lot of nothing my dude. good riddance

(ETA: so I’m rereading this the next day and realize this comes off as kind of harsh, so let me just try to clarify. it’s not the fact that he’s quitting that bothers me, to be honest. it’s the fact that he’s quitting specifically because he feels like the public is being mean to him. that’s it.

seriously. it would be one thing if he was quitting because he was scared, because now that is human. nobody wants to die, and I doubt any amount of training can ever fully prepare someone to go up against that fear. but the thing is, he never once mentions that, or talks about the danger aspect. instead, I got the distinct vibe from this speech that Death Arms is one of those people who only became a hero because of the limelight. and I just don’t have any patience for that. if all you care about are likes and subscribes then go become a fucking youtuber or some shit. nothing wrong with that! but you didn’t; you signed up to be a hero and protect these people. they gave you their respect and admiration because they trusted you to protect them. and now that they’re no longer in the mood to worship and applaud your every move on account of them being scared shitless because they’re living in the literal end times, you decide to dip. so like okay, fine then. don’t let the door hit you on the way out. anyways lol sorry for the rant.)

anyway so yeah. perfect example of why I don’t exactly have a ton of faith in most of the remaining heroes out there lol. also let me just once again give a shoutout to my best girl Mt. Lady whom I suddenly find myself appreciating all the more

“please calm down makeste. drink some water and enjoy this fresh new jeans pun” listen Horikoshi don’t tell me what to do dammit

fine. it is a nice pun, I guess

-- damn so now Endeavor’s saying that the media is already being fed info by the retired heroes. so for some of these guys it wasn’t enough for them to abandon all the people they swore to protect and to leave their fellow heroes out in the cold; they decided they might as well actively make things worse for them while they were at it, huh. like I get wanting to spill all the dirty secrets from your old job that you just quit, but this isn’t Jeff Bezos you’re screwing over, this is a sixteen-year-old kid

-- like, yes!! this, right here!!

exactly!! let’s not forget that there are already two prior instances of this happening. Endeavor arguably deserved it, but Katsuki not so much

huh. Endeavor seems to have a more optimistic outlook regarding this than I do lol

I mean, this is the same public that didn’t hesitant to blame a kidnapped child for his own kidnapping, and then later on for being the downfall of the Symbol of Peace. but okay then

anyway so blah blah blah, more talk about how they need to use Deku as bait, which basically puts them back at square one, and then they’re all just trailing off into silence and sitting around in the dark lmao this is getting very depressing

SKDJFLSDKJ:LFKJ

SHOUTO?????

NOOOOOOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME

OH HOW THE TURNTABLES OMG. THE GHOSTER HAS BECOME THE GHOSTEE. Endeavor you petty son of a bitch. and what a brutal cut to that flashback too. “let’s stop Touya together” nah Shouto I’ve got a better idea why don’t I abandon you in U.A. and sally off with Hawks and Jeanist to found the “let’s pretend like we’re doing something to help Deku” club, which basically consists of us sitting around making terrible decisions all day long

Shouto, honey. you deserve better my little Coca Cola can. .........but if you really do have something important you need to tell your dad you could just text it to him. all the love and support, hugs and kisses, you’re doing amazing sweetie. but if you need to pass on any vital information you can just write it down and hit send honey that’s all I’m saying love

now he’s getting another call?? -- or, no, Hawks is getting a call from All Might

ARE YOU FOR REAL HAWKS OMFG

so while you all were sitting around talking about how useless you are, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting was battling another hired gun. I see. please pardon me for one second, I have a phone call to make. the phone call is to RockLockRock and Manual. the reason for the call is to apologize for calling them the worst bodyguards ever back during the War arc. the reason for the apology is because it turns out I WAS SEVERELY MISTAKEN OMFG

JESUS CHRIST DEKU DID YOU JUST KILL THIS MAN LMAO

shoutout to Horikoshi for offscreening this fight. we get it, lol. Deku strong and scary, villains ineffectual and feeble, and AFO... [checks notes] yep, still a dick. the angst arc continues

-- the angst arc continues, SIR

jesus christ I may have to rethink all of my opinions about Deku being framed for murder in movie 3 lmao. never mind. he did it, your honor

holy fucking shit Deku. “he might blow up, so please be careful” fdlskjflk jlskdjflk lwkejflk anyway so I’ve decided the explosion running gag can stay, actually

DEKU WAIT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!

lol why do I get the feeling some serious shit is about to go down. ALL MIGHT NEVER MIND BACK OFF I THINK HE NEEDS HIS SPACE

OH MY FUCK I GASPED OUT LOUD

NO NO NO. I KNEW THIS WAS COMING GODDAMMIT BUT NO. NEVER MIND, I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT IT, I’M NOT READY TO CRY TODAY

shit. shit shit shit shit and OF COURSE all I can fucking think about is that stupid fucking prophecy and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deku please. please please please if you really are going to leave All Might here, please be so very careful in choosing your farewell words to him now because have this sudden horrible fear that this might be the last time you ever see him alive and oh god. oh god oh god

DEKU NO, YOU’RE REALLY NOT!?!?

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE LESS FINE IN MY LIFE, ACTUALLY????

holy shit. and the fucking callback to the prophecy now. just in case we forgot. WHICH FYI, WE DIDN’T. but that’s basically confirming that this is all still very much on the table and HORIKOSHI NEVER FORGETS oh my god someone please hold me

and the fact that Deku’s flashing back to it now too, though?? because he never forgot either, because of course he didn’t, and now all this stuff is happening, and AFO’s words are getting to him, and this is literally his worst fear come to life and so of course he’s distancing himself from everyone, and now it’s finally come to even this. even the person he admires most

-- OKAY NO, FUCKING COME ON ALREADY I CAN’T TAKE THIS

I GET IT OH MY GOD, I ALREADY UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF THIS MOMENT WITHOUT ALL OF THE DEVASTATING FLASHBACKS THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!! YOU ACTUALLY DO WANT ME TO CRY, HUH, IS THAT IT. THIS MAN THAT HE THINKS OF AS A FATHER, THIS MAN WHO HAS BEEN EVERYTHING TO HIM SINCE HE WAS A VERY YOUNG CHILD. EVERYTHING THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH, JUXTAPOSED AGAINST EVERYTHING DEKU IS UP AGAINST, EVERYTHING THAT’S AT RISK. LET’S JUST PUT IT ALL SIDE BY SIDE. LET’S JUST PILE ON ALL OF THE FEELS

(ETA: just a quick note that even though some of the posts I’ve read have described these as All Might’s flashbacks, I’m pretty sure they are Deku’s. most of these are scenes that only he was there for, so yeah. even though All Might is the one thinking the thoughts on the next page, the flashbacks are what’s running through Deku’s mind right now, and so we’re getting that emotion from both of them, which makes it extra devastating lol.)

wait, what???

WHAT??? do you really think that’s why he’s been so determined to protect you this entire time?? simply because you’re his successor?

-- oh no wait lol I think I got that mixed up, this is All Might saying that Deku feels the need to protect him. well that makes more sense lol

oh my god I cannot

his last words. his last words to him. and we can’t even see if he is smiling, like All Might always encouraged him to do. but what are the odds he can’t actually bring himself to do it. what are the odds he’s actually crying. oh god this scene is going to rip my heart out and STOMP on it in the anime isn’t it. Deku’s VA is going to full on murder me with emotion. not that there’ll be much of me left to murder after the thorough job that Horikoshi has already done here

YOU’RE CRYING. DEKU IS LEAVING ALL MIGHT AND IGNORING HIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND AND YOU’RE CRYING. AND BY “YOU” I MEAN “ME”, FUCK

nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope no words just feels just a big ol’ pile of feels. I do not have the strength. future me... [broadly gestures] good luck with all that

(ETA: LOL, WELL THEN.

what breaks my heart here is All Might. All Might, and everything he’s been through, and history repeating itself, and forcing him to live this moment from both sides because he wasn’t strong enough to fix things.

Toshinori had only just turned eighteen when Nana died. like, I feel like we don’t mention this enough. the All Might we know is a sixty-something-year-old man, and so everyone always talks about him like he’s basically been an adult forever. but he was a child when he met Nana. and he was still just a child when she died. barely a year older than Deku is now. younger than Mirio was when we first met him.

and we don’t talk about that. we don’t talk about how devastating that was for him. and we don’t talk about how the reason he grew up to become so reserved and withdrawn -- for all that he always tried so hard to outwardly project the image of a bold, confident, smiling hero -- was specifically because of what AFO did to him. because AFO targeted him in the exact way that he is now targeting Deku. because that’s what he does. he goes after every new user of OFA, and he finds out what’s most important to them, and then he destroys it. and for Toshinori, that was Nana. if you’ve read All Might Rising, you know that AFO basically killed her in front of him (and only killed her, while letting Toshinori and Gran get away). Toshinori (while crying) later says she was like a mother to him. and interestingly enough, during this same conversation, Gran tells Toshinori that he can see “that madness in [his] eyes” when Toshi talks about becoming strong enough to defeat AFO. madness in his eyes. sound familiar??

what’s happening to Deku now is the exact same thing that happened to Toshinori when he was a boy. AFO tried every bit as hard to break him as he’s trying with Deku now. “the path you’ve chosen is a thorny one. every battle grinds away at your soul with no end in sight.” we don’t talk about how Toshinori experienced this same thing for forty fucking years. and all the while isolating himself, exactly like Deku is doing now. pushing people away, exactly like Deku. because he never had anyone who was able to reach out and pull him back. and those words that he now finds himself frozen and unable to speak -- “don’t push yourself”; “you can rest” -- are the same words that no one ever said to him until decades later, when it was already far too late to make any difference.

everything that Deku is experiencing now is what Toshinori also went through. and it’s only now, as he watches it happen to his student, the boy he loves like a son, that he’s finally starting to realize the full extent of how wrong it was. you shouldn’t have to fight alone. you shouldn’t have to bear that kind of enormous burden alone. you shouldn’t have to push yourself, and you can rest. you can rest.

but it’s too late. just as he’s finally coming to understand it all, it’s all too fucking late. and he can’t say the words, he doesn’t know how to say the words, and then just like that, Deku is gone.

and he’s alone. again.)

I can’t. this can’t be their goodbye. I’m not ready. for this to be how they finally part, and then they never see each other again except in OFA. how is that fair. how is that fair. how is that fair

fuck me. lol. how many pages are left in this thing. let’s just wrap this up lol. so now of all the times for this fucking guy to finally show up

I can’t believe Stain has been here literally this entire time hiding behind this random wall and cutting onions. that was you who was cutting the onions, right. no need to answer that we’ll just say it was

HORIKOSHI JUST END THE CHAPTER PLEASE I’M OUT OF SPOONS. YOU HURT ME SO GOOD AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT BUT YOU NEED TO LET ME GO NOW SO I CAN BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO PUT MY LIFE BACK IN ORDER HERE. SO WHERE ARE WE CUTTING TO NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING

Stain did you also let AFO give you a new quirk. what’s with you guys. do you like blowing up

oh nvm lol because they were talking about THIS GUY ohhhhhh my fucking god

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S SAD, LINDA!! jesus

omfg. and so yes, good, the chapter is ending here now on page 15. for once I am FULLY on board with that lmao

anyway so tune in next week for more adventures of Werewolf Deku!! that is, assuming we don’t finally cut back to U.A. at long last, which is actually a strong possibility considering that this chapter will likely mark the end of volume 31. it sure wouldn’t kill Horikoshi to start giving us some hope after everything he’s just put us through lol. KACCHAN COME GET YA BOY

[peeterparkr]

jaundiced & surreptitious; Anthony Bridgerton

sham, pride and illicit affairs | fic masterlist

read part one here read part two here read part three here read part four here

summary: you once loved each other, your hand belongs to him but it’s promised to another. 

jaundiced: affected by bitterness, resentment, or envy. surreptitious:  kept secret, especially because it would not be approved of.

word count: 8.3k (sorry I like writing)

pairing: anthony bridgerton x reader

warnings: anthony is an idiot, this is really idiots who are lovers, like genuinely they’re so stupid. poor benedict has to deal with him. 

wanna be tagged?

read part one here  read part two here   read part three here

next part.

Okaaaay so thank you so much for your support! I can’t believe you guys liked it as much as I did! Especial thanks to @steve-harringtonnn​ and @erodasghosts for helping me out with this chapter!!! 

Anthony would often disregard the pain he’d felt before. He would never say it out loud but he had lost faith after his heart had been broken. The sun had never been as warm. Grieving was one of his favorite activities to live by, silently, to himself. The bloody-minded Anthony would die before ever admitting that his feelings had been impaired.

He was obstinate, he was well aware of that. And he was scared, and he wondered where he’d gathered the courage to walk through the crowds to her two nights before, as if it hadn’t pained him. Perchance his pride had led him there, or maybe his broken heart looking to be healed did. The wandering thoughts that would cease every so often. 

Anthony loved to mourn, or make sure people think he was mourning. He often tried to be the smartest person in the room, he always failed. But he tried, and he counted himself on it. 

He was flawed, he knew that. But he would try his best, so he’d pride himself on.  However he could not forgive himself for being flawed enough to be rejected by Y/N. 

Her eyes were carved in his mind, and he’d be reminded of her every morning when the sun dared to warm his skin, and with every flower petal that he saw her eyes would find their way back to his most wounded intellect, her eyes were her biggest sin, though he could be blamed for other blunders, he thought her sight was the biggest offense, for her eyes could see through any of his lies and hypnotize him enough to lose his reason, or the lack of it. How inconvenient he found that every beautiful morning belonged to her, and it would only hurt his heart. How inconvenient was it that her entire soul mesmerized him. 

It was hard not to see her as a villain, however, maybe that’s why he tried avoiding the music, dancing was but another warning, triggering him of the night he’d seen the dress flying as she vacated the ballroom. And every time he found himself in the middle of a ballroom, he felt agony and despair. Anthony had always feared death, but he realized that he had already died once, when she’d left the ballroom. Being away from her had killed Anthony, and to be dead while still having to survive could be one of the most dreadful and painful things to endure. Anthony was now sure he’d died on that night, and he was sure that whatever death might feel like it wouldn’t be as painful as to be away from her. He thought his pain would be forever, that eternal sorrow. 

His hand had felt cold since she’d left. Though, one could argue that his hand had been warm since the night before, as if he’d finally come back to life. The act, as most immoral as it was, had been the closest he’d been to a heavenly discovery of love and life. A very magnificent distraction. 

There was light again. 

He would deny it, but the darkness was the time he felt the loneliest, hence why he had searched for Sienna’s love, an escape from the life he would’ve loved with y/n. He was so desperate to be covered on something else, to erase y/n from his body that he’d try to find the closest thing to love on someone. 

Worst thing had been he did find it, in a very unconventional way. 

He would rather be a rake to the world than to ever admit that he had been broken-hearted. A man shall never seem weak to the world, though he was broken. Hushed to the night. 

Yet, now he wanted to scream to the world that he was loved by the woman he loved. An iridescent glow coming from his chest, as he rode back home. 

He had chosen the prettiest of the flowers, though they were very little to recommend and they’d look pathetic and sad beside the beautiful woman. 

Anthony never liked being seen as a fool, yet he should not mind looking like one with her. Why would he be ashamed to say he’d fallen for such a remarkable lady. 

Gardenias and peonies. He knew she’d love them. Not roses this time, he found the roses to be very contrasting to the delicate gardenias. 

He couldn’t hide his eagerness as he’d arrived at his former household. Though he had not slept, he couldn’t have more energy. He hopped to the drawing room, in expectation to see the possible suitors that would come for Eloise, though she was not eager for them, and was rather trying to avoid any significant encounter. 

Anthony couldn’t hide the beam, as he tried the sweets that his mama had displayed. 

Eloise was plopped on the couch beside Benedict, as Violet tried to beg her to sit with grace and poise. Eloise had the latest copy of Lady Whistledown as Benedict tried to peek and read. 

“Stop reading that nonsense,” Anthony said. “Such a lovely morning, is it not?” 

Benedict scrunched his nose at his brother, mostly confused. Anthony stole one of the desserts Benedict had on his plate earning a groan from him. 

Lady Violet watched her son, “I would like to address your behavior last night.” 

The younger siblings smirked, knowing well that though their brother was an adult, he would often yet be scolded by their mama. 

Benedict chuckled, “How come, mama, his behavior was rather impeccable.” 

Eloise giggled. Anthony glared at his siblings. 

“To suggest a fake proposal,” Lady Violet said with severity. “Most imposing irrationality. You shall not play with such calamities.” 

“Do not worry, mama, a real proposal shall come soon enough, I shall be more rational in the future, ” Anthony declared. “Just this morning I sent Lady y/n flowers to thank her for her… most stimulating company,”  Anthony coughed. “And as an apology for my behavior.”  

His younger siblings looked up with confusion. 

“Are you going to propose to Lady Y/N?” Asked Eloise. 

Anthony cleared his throat, “I did not… say that.” 

Eloise frowned. “Did you not find her disagreeable? Or why else were you bickering-?” 

“Please, Eloise, that is Anthony’s way of courting, and I’m sure Y/N found it just as stimulating and flattering,” Benedict hissed. 

Eloise cackled, “as if y/n would rejoice in any avow Anthony could make.” 

“How come, brother you seem to be captured again in some possible infatuation when only last night you merely only barked towards the Lady?” Benedict inquired. Anthony tried to avoid his brother’s remarks. 

Of course, he would not tell them how his night had been accomplished, and how the despair had transformed into a very pleasant evening. He shall keep the secret for it was, though most pleasant, very unsuitable and outrageous for the standards of the society. Though Anthony did bear some guilt for the scandal and the impropriety he thought it was most  formidable to try and deny the linkage had been but an ardent reminder of his noble sentiments for the woman. 

“As you mentioned, brother,” Anthony remarked snarkly, “Lady y/n and I share a very perplexing demeanor to show our affection towards each other.” 

“Perplexing? Stupid, you mean,” Benedict mocked. 

“Is there affection?” Lady Violet inquired. 

Anthony huffed, “I guess there is no reason for me to harbor and censure my sentiments anymore,” he admitted. “However I shall not give any other explanation to this subject.” 

Benedict glared, “Why the sudden change? I thought you did not regard y/n so dearly.” 

Anthony paced around the room nervously, he did not want to address his feelings. How stupid would it be to admit he felt alive, and that he was entranced by her. 

“She is a good friend,” Anthony alleged. “Why are you enquiring my sentiments? I would’ve believed you’d be wallowed with my announcement.” 

His mother grinned, “I am.” 

“I am not,” Benedict laughed. “Forgive me, but you can understand my confusion, are you suggesting you are friends now?” 

“We have been,” Anthony hissed. “In any case, I’ve always been fond of her.” 

“I must signal how your bickering has hindered us from believing there is some kind of attachment,” Eloise pointed out as she watched her eldest brother. 

Anthony rolled his eyes, it had been a point in their bickering, to hide to them and themselves really.  But really, challenging each other was but their way of admiring their wit.  Anthony was stunned, not only with her beauty but with the way she spoke her mind. He was always left wanting more when it came to her, she rarely gave him anything but a headache, and apparently that was something very compelling to earn his heart. Not sure why. 

Benedict laughed, “I think I understand now Eloise, we seem to have forgotten how big of a fool our brother is,  the elusiveness Anthony has shown towards Lady Y/N has been but a lame attempt to tempt Miss Y/N and delude her enough for her to give some attention to our brother. Has it not?” 

“Has it succeeded?” Inquired Eloise. 

The night before was only proof it had. And it had not been elusiveness, he was transfixed on the lady’s wit, he couldn’t keep up with her, that was the reason. He was dotted with her surliness, the way she’d wag his words. Anthony loved being a fool for her, such a capable woman she was. However, it shall be noted he loved being fooled by her intellect and the false peevishness, not by her exclusion.

“What has?” Questioned Colin, as he had walked into the drawing room. Lady Violet was rather annoyed the only men in the room were but her own children and not any possible suitor for Eloise. 

“Anthony’s bickering,” Eloise looked up, as she reached for a box of sweets to nibble by her own. “Apparently his arrogance and stupidity were but to woo Miss Y/N,” explained Eloise. 

Anthony winced,“May we change the subject? I believe it is a matter of more importance—“

Colin laughed, interrupting him. “I believe those attempts have succeeded, were you not here last night? Was Miss Y/N not looking forward to not running away this time? Even after Anthony suggested such a scandalous scheme?” 

Anthony rolled his eyes, “Are you not to go elsewhere?” 

Benedict grinned, “Why? Are you not to share with him your news?” 

“News?” Colin frowned with curiosity. 

“Apparently our brother might attempt to court Miss Y/N,” Benedict mocked. “I believe.” 

Colin faked surprise, “Really? Are we suggesting that Anthony could have any sort of sentiments that aren't self depreciation and remorse?”  

Benedict and Eloise laughed, hardly. Their mother only directed a glare towards them. 

“How amusing,” Anthony barked. “However, if you must know, there is affection towards her and I must try and delight her,” Anthony cleared his throat, Benedict snickered. “And I hope she gives me the honour of accepting my hand.” 

He knew that the bomb he had dropped would be enough to shut his siblings. And it was. 

Lady Violet smiled, ignoring her sons and daughter’s remarks. “Are you really planning on proposing?” 

Anthony tried to hide his excitement, and embarrassment, for the matter, he’d never been keen on showing any kind of excitement for any infatuation. Besides, he didn’t believe it himself, how he would dare to propose. “I am not sure where my compliments might take me, however I am not here to talk about my attention and regards to Lady Y/N, we are here to try and persuade any respectable man to bestow any attention to our lovely sister.” 

“However, you shall make sure your infatuation is reciprocated,” Benedict advised. “Be sure the lady will not leave amidst dancing.” 

“I believe it was Anthony  the person who gave me the advice that eventually my heartbreak from Miss Thompson would disappear, and that it would be as if I had never loved her at all.” 

Anthony glared. 

“Yet he is going after the person who broke his heart, did your own precepts fail you?” Colin asked. 

It  was something that did bother Anthony, and that he did fear, he knew y/n to be the most unexpected and inopportune to make her decisions. She often hesitated and reconsidered her thoughts Y/N was very volatile and her emotions would go from extreme affection to utter rage and while it was something he often appreciated, it was something he feared now. He feared the remainder of his heart would be scattered across the place. Anthony would never say out loud how much he feared ballrooms now. Almost as much as he feared bees, but he wouldn’t ever admit it. He knew he was but a fool to fall for y/n, eerie and untamable. He didn’t regret it, however. 

Anthony coughed, “I could’ve never erased my feelings for her.” 

Eloise glared at him and then finally turned to her copy of Lady Whistledown. Anthony rolled his eyes, it was no secret he didn’t like reading Lady Whistledown. He would try and not feed her with anything. He was definitely not a vivid reader. He found her rather vapid, if he were honest. He was never a fan of gossip and avoided it, most of the time. However, since Lady Y/N’s arrival, he could not help but read whatever Lady Whistledown could say of her, just to feed his dislike against her. She spoke of y/n in a way that was most repulsive. Derision seemed to be the only language the woman spoke. 

He did not like the way the pesky Lady Whistledown spoke of y/n, or her history with him, if he was to be honest. Anthony resented that she’d written about his own pride and his heartbreak when there was barely any information he understood himself about it. It was for them to know. 

However, he was rather relieved that Lady Whistledown did not know of the… affairs he’d held with Lady Y/N. Though now guilt was killing him, he did not regret it. He felt alive whenever he was with her, and he didn’t feel alive often.

After the heartbreak, he had decided to lock his heart and never use it again. Though Sienna had managed to almost get it back, his heart had not felt the warmest but until the night before. 

 And though he had promised to never use his heart again, there he was again, with a foolish smile. 

“She is talking about you again,” Eloise pointed out. “And Lady Y/N-” 

Anthony chuckled, “Expected,” he commented. “Now, dear sister, there is no soul here and I must say this is not my fault,” he cleared out. “I have not jostled any suitors from you, I know better.” 

Benedict scoffed, “She jostles them herself, no need for us to.” 

Violet took a deep breath. Anthony smirked as he picked up a cup of tea. 

Eloise turned cold as she finished reading. “She is to be married-” 

“Who is?” Violet grinned. “You? Most certainly-”

“No, mama,” Eloise commented, and then watched Anthony. “Y/N’s hand is promised to Lord Collins.” 

The cup of tea shattered on the floor, though the Bridgertons were not sure if the shattering porcelain had been what they’d heard breaking. Anthony’s face had gone stiff and pale. 

“I beg your pardon?” Was all he managed to ask. 

“It says it here,” Eloise explained. 

Violet snatched the paper from her daughter, “Is she toying with the lack of heart Anthony Bridgerton holds and is she trying to fool everyone just to appeal more to Lord Collins, who according to the ton has her hand promised already?” Read out loud. 

“Did you know about this, mama?” Questioned Collin. 

“I certainly did not,” Violet assured her son, and turned to the eldest who was going through a very familiar feeling. He did not say a thing, he only clenched his jaw and widened his eyes. 

There he was again, transported back to the night when the moon had not made an appearance, and when the poison had flourished from the floor to apprehend him down to his sorrow. He felt as he had been pushed off yet again down a precipice. 

Benedict and Colin only watched him, expecting the very worst. Instead, Anthony only took a deep breath. Anthony despised having his heart broken, and instead decided to be angry, for its a manlier sentiment. He stormed off the room anyway, quietly. 

“Am I supposed to follow after?” Questioned Benedict, and then proceeded to, seeing as his brother rushed down the stairs and off the household. “Anthony!” He broodingly called. 

Anthony pushed his way through, not noticing there were gentlemen going up to see his sister, he was rather too angry to even add more jealousy to his displeasure. 

“Anthony,” Benedict called again. 

Anthony ignored. 

Benedict ran this time to stop his brother, stopping the fuming man as he glared at him. “What?” 

“I believe I should stop you before you do anything stupid, which judging by your look, you’re on your way to do so,” Benedict barked not letting Anthony through. 

Anthony gave him a warning glare, “Let me through.” 

“You’re being an idiot,” Benedict said. 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to do,” Anthony said 

“And that is why I must stop you,” Benedict said. “If I don’t know you any better you’re on your way to kill Lord Collins.” 

Anthony scoffed, he had not thought of that idea but now he found it rather exhorting. “I am on my way to speak to the Lady,” he tried walking through but Benedict stopped him once again. 

“Shall I know what’s going on through your head? Last night you both were  opposed to even being on the same room and then this morning you come with the idea of proposing, I do not even know what is-” 

“I love her,” Anthony snapped. “That is what is going on through my head.” 

“How did you even change your mind-” Benedict paused and then watched his brother. “Did you go and see her?” He asked in a faint whisper. 

Anthony coughed and looked elsewhere, “I did not, I just realized my childish act was but an antic to evade my actual feelings for her.” 

Benedict did not buy it. “Do you really expect me to believe that?” 

“I don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t,” Anthony glowered. 

“You really don’t?” Benedict bristled. “What amuses me is that you try to justify your childish acts and stupidity with love when we are both aware those are but a matter of your personality.” 

“How amusing,” Anthony scowled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” 

Benedict grabbed him by his arm, “I shall think you know better than to go and throw a tantrum to Miss Y/N. I know you’re capable of fucking up, but this goes beyond your usual behavior.” 

Anthony opened his mouth to defend himself but knew he couldn’t actually contradict him. “I do not plan on throwing a tantrum, I will only recover the flowers I sent her this morning, I find it improper to try and court an engaged lady.” 

“So you will not fight for her, then?” Benedict queried, astonied. 

Anthony did not know if he could. “Shall you suggest I do?” 

Benedict coughed, “I would think it would be reasonable but… In a civil way, not in an Anthony way.” 

“An Anthony way?” He questioned. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Since her arrival your stupidity has escalated in immeasurable ways, I certainly am very impressed because I did not believe that to be possible and yet you are here,” Benedict cackled. 

Anthony glared. 

“Look,” Benedict sighed. “We could give this more thoughts, and see the best way we can proceed with this, however, today we shall get our lovely sister to the park, she needs to be seen,” he reminded him. “You can be stupid later.” 

He would, Anthony knew. He was the most illogical human being when it came to Lady Y/N, and he did not know how to proceed. He was lying, he actually had planned on throwing a tantrum to her, for he was not yet to be fooled again and let there standing like a complete idiot. 

And a complete idiot you were too, you were the one in need to throw a tantrum, for you did not want to meet Lord Collins and you certainly did not want to be betrothed to him. You were well aware that he was a fair gentleman, and you knew he was one of the most eligible bachelors the ravenous mamas were hunting for, but you did not want anything to do with him. 

You thought of it, the possibility to ruin your reputation, it could be a way to untangle yourself from said arrangement. What if you admitted that you were corrupted? How big of a scandal would it be? 

No, you would not dare to bring Anthony down. Not now that he was being so soft to you, and that was not Anthony in the slightest. Though it did surprise you he had not yet stormed into the room like the complete idiot he was. 

Had he… read it? 

You knew Anthony better, he probably did not follow the gossip, and if you were lucky he’d think that Lady Whistledown was but inventing things. She was not but if he used any kind of reasonable sense he would know better. But this was Anthony and he used anything but his mind to think, and he would not be reasonable. He never was before and you doubted he’d be now. 

“I cannot marry him,” you said to Lady Danbury, who had been watching you pace around the drawing room for a while now. The flowers Anthony had sent were displayed in the middle of the room. 

You were not sure but you could tell Lady Danbury suspected something, she’d always been observant but the woman’s stare was telling, she could easily see past your sweating hands. 

“I’m afraid I’m not the one to make that decision,” Lady Danbury commented. 

“Shall I write a letter to my father to beg him to not offer my hand?” You asked. “Don’t I have any saying on it? It’s my hand.” 

“I would think you’d need to have another proposal,” The woman explained to you. “However, I am not sure if there will be any more.” 

“There might be,” you mumbled, and continued to rush through the room, as if moving faster would get your thoughts fast, too.  “Can I reject his hand?” You questioned. 

“He will grant you security,” Lady Danbury watched you, “He is a respectable man.” 

“I am well aware he is.” 

But I do not… love him, you thought. 

Yes, the man was respectable, and a very handsome one, but rather cliched. Eager, but the man was rather thoughtless. You knew his conversation was boring, only compliments and questions about the weather, he was very boring. Always agreeing, and what fun was it in someone always agreeing with you. And he liked to talk about the moon and made it seem like the most horrendous and tedious thing to ever be seen, he liked to talk about anything, but not any kind of pleasant conversation. Very tiresome if you must admit, full of banalities. 

Probably you’d have a very insipid life if you were to marry such a bland and hacky man. One that most ladies would want, however. 

Anthony, on the other hand, the brooding and plucky man, always had you on the edge. He was an adventure for you. He was incredibly handsome. Or maybe he wasn’t and it was just your nonsensical sentiments for him blinding you. 

“Lord Collins can offer an idyllic calm life.” 

“I can recognize that,” You admitted, you made your way to the window, a window where you’d talked to Anthony the day before. You took a deep breath, you could see the back house in the garden, a place that you found most intimate now. That was idyllic for you, the taste of his lips, to feel like it’s a June afternoon when it’s a cold December morning only because his smile warned your heart just enough. 

You were sure Lord Collins wouldn’t be able to offer that, and that he would not like to avoid the balls because he loved them, though you despised them. You knew he would not listen to your piano forte, though the melodies you played were very tepid, and telling. 

You knew you’d have to walk through his household, bored every morning and share the most ordinary conversations, leading to a miserable life, only because your hand had been promised to a man who you did not love, but who was adequate. Only because your instability had not been able to accept the proposal of whom your heart held dear. 

You still stared at the cottage where you could see the shadows of your hands. What if you escaped? Forever. Would he escape with you if you dared to ask him? 

“I presume security is the outcome expected from a marriage,” you said. “Love is a bonus, is it not?” 

Lady Danbury yanked her head. “I suppose so.” 

“Is marriage really only but a security arrangement? Or is it merely to satisfy men's lust and appetite.” 

The woman coughed in surprisement, “I would rather not engage on such improper subjects of conversation.” 

“Is it not?” You frowned. “I believe marriage to be only that, to bare children, to relieve men from their sins. Build a legacy.” 

“I believe marriage is also to prospere,” Lady Danbury added. “When a marriage is founded on love then it shall be the most prosperous, not sinful.” 

“Yet here I am, with an offer to a disagreeable partnership,” you barked. “I thought those arrangements to be deemed contemptible.

“Lord Collins is not disagreeable,” Lady Danbury coaxed. 

You sighed, “I guess not, he is a fair man, and most kind,” you admitted. You didn’t want to give in to your fate just yet. Seemed old fashioned, very 18th century. You were assumed to tolerate him, and you knew your father would not choose a beast for a husband for you. However, you did not want to dread this, to be offered tolerance and not love was an atrocious destiny. “I presume he can offer me a calm life.” 

Lady Danbury watched you, “However, Lord Bridgerton might be able to offer such a life, too.” 

You smiled, “He most certainly would not.” 

She raised her eyebrows, “Oh?” 

“No, not calm, Anthony is anything but calm,” you chuckled. “Maybe that is why the life he could offer me would be most enticing.” 

You knew that it would be fun, exciting. And that he would not mind if you woke up early to see the dawn, and he would join you and not expect you to be the most respectable lady, but he’d respect you, if you wanted to be respected that is .  

Lady Danbury only caressed the flower petals and walked to you. You needed to perish the thoughts of love, though. 

 “You’re never one to watch with melancholy,” She pointed out. 

“Oh, I certainly am, gloomy as I can be, and am I expected not to?” You wondered. It was the worst chastise one could have possibly thought for you, to marry a boring man. To marry to tolerate. 

“I guess not,” she admitted. 

You sighed. 

“He is yet to propose,” Lady Dabury remarked with mischief. “I know Lord Collins is respectable enough to want to court you properly.” 

“He wants to court me?” You questioned. 

Lady Danbury smirked. “Yes, though he is aware your hand is promised to him, he is someone who will pursue your love.” 

“My heart belongs to another,” you stated. “He will find it rather impossible to pursue my love.” 

Lady Danbury chuckled, “How impossible?” 

“Only one man has been able to conquer my heart, and his way of doing so was rather eerie and unusual.” 

Lady Danbury smiled. 

“I must ask, do you believe that if I ensure another proposal I might be able to rid myself of such entanglement?” You questioned. “After all, he’s not yet asked for my hand.” 

“Do you think you could ensure it?” 

“Probably already have,” you said. 

“And who may that be?” Lady Danbury asked, not because she did not know but because she wanted you to say it out loud. 

Before you could, a servant announced, “Lord Collins is here.” 

Your heart stopped, your bethrote. And suddenly the perfect morning you had had just hours ago had disappeared. You knew you could not stop the rain from falling but this particular sorrow was not the best way to receive the man who had your hand promised. You would not be able to smile and you would not be able to have any kind of courtesy. 

He walked in, though, the man was clean and proper. Handsome, with flowers. Red roses, freshly cut you could see. You saw one petal fall down as he approached you. How convenient, you thought, for you could find the petal on the floor more interesting. 

It felt cold, and you were unaware why. You’d fancied yourself in love with another man who was not offered your hand. 

“Lady y/n, good morning,” he said. “How radiant you are this morning.” 

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes, you were never fond of compliments. You also had the urge to run away. You wouldn’t, though it was tempting. He was a respectable gentleman, and respected he should be, no matter the opinions you held of him.  You found him very dull. 

Lady Danbury nudged you lightly, seeing as you had only remained quiet with your eyes wide open and with a wide strained smile. 

“My apologies, I seem to be inattentive this morning,” you answered. “Good Morning, my Lord,” you said. “Thank you for your compliments, and flowers.” 

Lady Danbury watched you with dashing hopes. 

“I was hoping I could tempt you with a promenade on this fine day,” Lord Collins grinned. “I know how fond you are of walking.” 

“How lovely,” you said. 

How dreadful, you thought. You were, though, fond of walking. Gave peace to your mind, and it had helped you those months before, to try and suppress the memory of the eldest Bridgerton. It had most certainly failed you.  

Before you could even think of escaping, you found yourself promenading with Lord Collins, the sunlight was indeed lovely, and there was barely any sign of the storm from the night before. Lady Danbury was following shortly behind. 

Was there any sign of your compromised body? You wondered if they could tell, maybe it was noticeable.

You wondered if Lady Danbury noticed how jaded you were, as you faked to listen to the man talk, and talk, and talk. Whoever told men they were interesting to listen to was clearly deaf or another idiotic man, for who could ever find joy in listening to such banal and brainless individuals. However,  he did not cease his talking. He never listened to you, you’d barely said any words. 

It gave you time to go away to whatever world you could escape to, and you thought about how much Anthony did listen. He did converse with you, and he did listen, mostly, you knew, because he loved to pride himself on being brooding and pensive and quiet. You could say that it was because he was but a fool and not a single thought roamed his mind, but whatever his reasons were, you loved that he would listen, even if it was only to contend and fuss you. 

There was magic in Lord Collins, you had to accept that. The man was so interested in listening to his own thoughts that he did not realize you were not nearly even paying a gram of attention to him. You guessed that if you did end up wedded to this man, the positive outcome was you did not have to try and pretend to be interested, for he would not notice. 

Your mind was trying to find a way to reject him, knowing that Lord Collins was honorable enough to accept your rejection. But how would you reject him? 

Why had it been so easy to reject Anthony, the man you loved, but it came nowhere as easy to reject Lord Collins, a man who you had no sentiment for,  perchance just indifference. And would you even be able to? Your hand was promised, and though you believed Lord Collins to be a fine gentleman, you knew he could show his dark side, every man had one. 

Though you’d met him before, he had claimed to love you. Lord Collins had once said it to you. 

But you didn’t love him, you couldn’t possibly. How could you? After Anthony, no one would ever touch your soul and heart  like he had. Though he was a wrecked mess, he was the man who you decided to hold dear to your heart. 

Perhaps you could admit you were corrupted, and maybe Lord Collins would end the disgraceful engagement that was yet to come. 

Your glance diverted on the park, the trees and the flowers that had bloomed this season, lovely, or so bad Lord Collins pointed out. The other couples trying to court, and their respective chaperones. Vicious mamas in the haunt, some of them sending you the most unwelcoming glares. 

You were walking near the tents, you  saw the Featheringtons’, with their bright colored clothing, you wondered how they could be so deficient in their clothing taste. You did not know what had happened to them, a man was standing nearby and you knew barely anything about their story after Lord Featherington passed. Penelope was your favorite of the Featheringtons, you often believed her to not belong in such a pitiful family. You acquainted them from before, knowing that Prudcence and Philippa often showed their slight infatuation with Anthony. You never blamed them but thought of it rather foolishly.  Though at some point you did find it annoying, how dare them fancy the same man you did, though you were thankful that Anthony saw them as piteous as you did. You wondered if they had continued to try and impress them with their dubious talents, you had nothing against them, honestly, before you’d learned their infatuation you liked them just fine, however after learning they fancied him, you were not as courteous with your regards. 

It was no secret you were a jealous person, but Anthony was, too so it balanced. You always were thankful that Anthony despised dancing, as much as you did. You barely could deny any invitation to dance but at least he did not dance with anyone else. 

You kept your way, and then another tent was seen, the Bridgertons. Displaying the family in their splendour, as they were sitting , with Eloise quite unamused. You knew she’d rather be dead than to face any possible forms of courting. 

Your breath failed you, as the dress felt rather tense. You did not want to see the Bridgertons and you knew Eloise had most definitely already read Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers. She would know, and besides, the man was by your own side. 

Lord Collins, still absorbed in his own conversation, pranced beside you. You tried not to see the family, knowing that they’d end up feeling your stare and Anthony would see you. 

Did he know? 

But your glance could not be stopped, as you then glanced again, and it had been as if it was planned, for his sight was locked with yours. His eyes widened as he watched you. With terror. 

In all honesty, all you wanted to do was to drop and shove Lord Collins out of the way and run to the man who’d compromised you, body and soul, but who you loved nonetheless. 

But he was glaring at you. Or at Lord Collins, or at both. 

You saw him quickly rise to his feet, for he had been plopped on a stool. He didn’t do anything but to stare at you, as if with merely staring he’d be able to get the man away from you. His eyes tried to work as daggers, and they often did, his glance though most adoring to you, was now nothing but frightening. 

You knew Anthony well enough to know he was tormenting with jealousy, and if you knew him well enough, you could tell he was idiotic enough to believe that Lord Collin’s sentiments were reciprocated. 

Anthony was fuming, though you were not sure if it was jealousy, or if he believed to be fooled again. You wished it was only jealousy. 

He was about to walk your way, but you saw Benedict rise to stop him, he failed. 

Anthony was making his way to you even when his family had tried to call for him. He ignored them, he was good at doing that. 

Lord Collins wasn’t even aware of how you had lost your breath and how you had held some type of staring contest with the oldest Bridgerton, whose hands were in fists as he decided to go on a different route instead, Benedict on his heels. You watched him approach the Featheringtons, you saw eagerness in Lady Featherington as she ushered Philippa to join Anthony. 

You scowled, what in the world was the man doing? You believed him to be stupid, but stupid enough to make a Featherington join him in his promenade was rather a most idiotic decision. 

Your eyes were glued to him, unbeknownst to Lord Collins, as Philippa was rather ungraceful as she walked along Anthony. Benedict was also joined by the other sister, Prudence, who also seemed to be happy to be joined by a Bridgerton. You could listen to their absurd giggles from afar. 

Did Lord Bridgerton think the Featheringtons would bring you jealousy? If anything the animosity was for the thought alone that he would think it would bother you. 

But Anthony was walking fast, and poor Philippa could barely keep up with him, you chuckled to yourself, it was amusing to think the poor girl believed she was actually being courted and rather not used as a jealousy device. 

“Collins,” Anthony called as he was close enough, Philippa watched you. “Lady Y/N, how delightful to see you both here.” 

Benedict threw an apologetic stare at you, before yanking his brother’s arm. Prudence gushed after. 

“Lord Bridgerton,” Collins gave him an unfeigned smile, as he was finally restored from his conversation. “Such a fortunate coincidence, ladies, how beautiful you look this morning.” 

You wondered how big of a coincidence it was. 

“Anthony,” you quickly said but then cleared your throat, “My apologies, Lord Bridgerton, how delightful to encounter you,” you said. “Philippa, Prudence,” you smiled at them as they tried to not glare at you. “Lord Bridgerton,” you saw Benedict struggling to keep a calm facade. 

“Forgive me, I shall defer my raptures for another occasion,” Benedict said. “I’m afraid we are promenading with these ladies,,” he tried pulling Anthony back but the man did not move. 

“I am sure you can keep promenading just fine, Benedict,” Anthony warned. “It won’t hurt us to engage in some conversation.” 

“Who would’ve thought we would concur here?” Lady Danbury said from behind as she approached you. “Lords Bridgerton, ladies.” 

“Lady Danbury, may I say you look astonishing,” Anthony said and then directed his glance at you. 

Lady Danbury watched him with suspicion. “I’m flattered,” she said. “I’m pleased to see you gentlemen opportuning this lovely day to parade with these ladies.” 

Philippa grinned, as she kept watching Lord Bridgerton’s face, as if his face had some kind of magnet she had to be glued to. 

You thought of it pathetic, from Anthony of course, as you could see his obvious chagrin. You knew that he was not fond of them, because they were always trying to raise their… talents, if one must call it that way, to find a proper husband. They often failed. 

“It is a lovely day,” Anthony agreed. “Seems to be the proper weather after having to engage on such a turbulent night, the storm was unpleasant.” 

“Was it, my Lord?” You quickly enquired. “I would have believed you were very fond of the rain, and… turbulent storms.” 

Anthony glanced at you, he was disappointed but he knew you did not talk about the rain.  “You are mistaken,” he said severely. “I do not like to fret on the rain when I am not well aware if it will cease. I find uncertainty disturbing.” 

“I believe the rain to be rather bitter,” Philippa intruded. 

You did not even look at her, “I do not,” you said. “I believe we can find beauty in the rain for most dreary that it can be, especially when it offers such a sight.” 

Lord Collins grinned, “I agree with Miss Y/N, the rain is rather soothing.” 

Anthony scoffed, “Of course it is soothing, when you’re aware the sun will eventually dawn.” 

This was not about the rain. But neither the Featheringtons or Lord Collins was aware of that. 

“I believe the rain to be essential,” Lady Danbury interrupted. “We shall enjoy the beauty of it when it starts and when it dares to cease,” she spoke starkly. “However, Lord Bridgerton, I must praise you for the flowers you sent this morning, they were lovely, were they not, Miss Y/N?” 

Lord Collins blinked in surprise. “Flowers?” 

Philippa scowled at you. 

“Lovely, indeed, thank you, Lord Bridgerton for the most exquisite flowers,” you said. 

Anthony ignored your sight. 

“Flowers?” Lord Collins asked again. 

“Yes, I sent Miss Y/N some flowers to thank her for her company last night,” Anthony said with  arrogance, you blushed immediately knowing exactly for what company he was thanking you for. “She joined my family and I for a lovely dinner. Besides I find the lady to be deserving of the most magnificent flowers.” 

Benedict frowned watching between Anthony and you. 

Philippa cleared her throat, “I love flowers,” she commented. 

“How considerate,” Lord Collins said, you could tell he was not fond of Anthony. He was probably aware of Anthony’s proposal, or attempt to propose, and it was no secret that in your past season, Anthony would not leave your side. 

“Yes, her favorite,” Anthony continued, ignoring the lady beside him. 

“Roses?” Lord Collins questioned. 

“I like roses,” Philippa commented. 

“Gardenias,” Anthony snarked with a smirk. “She’s fond of gardenias, are you not, Miss?” 

“I find all flowers delightful, however I do have an attachment for gardenias,” you admitted. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton for remembering.” 

He wanted to scoff, he cleared his throat instead. “My pleasure,” he said. “ I must admit the true reason for me to approach you,” Anthony slurred his words with poison. “I recently became acquainted with the news, so I am here to congratulate the two of you, I heard about your engagement.” 

He knew, then. 

Benedict squeezed his eyes shut, he seemed tired of his brother. 

You blinked with fake surprise, “Engagement? Oh, we are but promenading, I was not aware walking led to a betrothal. Shall I assume you and lovely Philippa are to be married as well?” You asked with a smug smirk, knowing he’d be bothered. 

He was, Anthony glared at you. He knew you were faking ignorance. 

Lord Collins huffed, “You flatter me, Bridgerton, thinking I am already to be married to this beautiful lady, however, I know better than to assume the Lady will marry me without a proper proposal.” 

“I think I’d be aware if I was to be married,” you hissed. 

“Absolutely, you would be aware, how could you not?” Anthony raised his eyebrow.

Benedict watched, “Seems that this is the first time the lady hears of the news.” 

“It happens to be the first time,” you lied. 

“How convenient,” Anthony said with gritted teeth.  “Well, I am not to engage in gossip, however-” 

“Lady Whistledown announced it,” Philippa commented 

“Yes,” Anthony confirmed. “The ton happened to be loud enough for your engagement to be announced on Lady Whistledown’s society papers.” 

“Well, if we were to believe everything she writes then I’d be worried if I were you,” You claimed watching Anthony. “She seems to not be fond of you, my Lord. Are you suggesting we shall believe everything she writes?” 

Anthony clenched his jaw. 

“The Lady’s right,” Lord Collins said. 

Anthony cackled, “Excellent news then,” Anthony said. “I offer my apologies to you, both.” 

Lord Collins watched him with disdain.

“Is your hand not promised, then?” Asked Prudence, finally making an appearance behind Benedict. 

Everyone turned to her, but Anthony directed the most special glare at her. No one dared to say a thing. 

“Fair question,” Anthony intruded. 

“And one that is too bold to be enquired,” Lady Danbury stepped in. “I advice you young Lady not to meddle in Miss Y/N’s business, and rather take care of your own matters.” 

“The Lady shall decide if she concedes me the honor to take her hand,” Lord Collins answered. 

Anthony chuckled, “I shall wish you good fortunes.” 

You took a deep breath. 

Benedict cleared his throat, “I believe we shall continue our stroll.” 

Anthony did not move. 

“Excellent idea,” You conceded. “We shall not waste the lovely weather, a promenade is most invigorating.”  

“Shall I suggest walking and talking, then?” Offered Anthony. “I think the activities are not exclusive.” 

You closed your eyes, you did not want to continue engaging in the conversation. 

“How amusing you’re suggesting that, Lord Bridgerton,” You poisoned. “Here I would have assumed you’d rather have some solitary time with ravishing Miss Featherington here,” you derided. 

Philippa grinned. 

He raised his eyebrows, he was trying to tell if you were jealous. You were not, if anything you were amused of the entanglement he’d dragged himself into with his attempt of bothering you.  

“Are you not finding this conversation pleasing?” Anthony questioned you. “I would have believed you to be more fond of conversing.” 

You chuckled, “I rather be taciturn and quiet.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” he smirked. “Shall we?” He started to walk. You directed a glare at his younger brother who only sighed. 

Lord Collins raised his brow, “The Lady is quiet, I do not know why you’d find that hard to believe.” 

Anthony laughed somberly,  “You seem to be puzzled, Collins,” Anthony remarked. “Miss y/l/n is never quiet, unless she is engaged in other kinds of activities.” 

He was being an arse. 

“Other activities?” Philippa questioned. 

“Lord Bridgerton is speculating,” You cleared up. “I assume he is suggesting I’m quiet when I play the pianoforte, or embroider.” 

“Absolutely,” Anthony grinned. “However, I’ve been acquainted with you my whole life and I must remark you’re a woman who finds interest in chatter.” 

He was mocking you. 

“Not when I find it impertinent,” you sassed. 

Lord Collins smiled, “A talented and accomplished woman.” 

Anthony raised his brow, watching him. He was hurt, but he then proceeded to watch you as if asking you if you were serious with this. 

 You tried to look away, you could not believe how big of an arse he was and you could not believe his stupidity. Had he suggested you were aware of the engagement? And would he do anything about it or just keep being an arse? If he rushed his proposal he might be able to free you, however you knew Anthony to be an idiot. And you knew the man to be su full of his pride, that he would possibly try to be the biggest idiot he could before making any reasonable statements. You were in the need to have a word with him. 

Lord Collins started talking again, Philippa listened this time. Eagerly. Seemed like the pair was rather absorbed in their own conversation for your own fortune. Behind, Benedict was trying to not die of awkwardness as Prudence and him were not even trying to engage in small talk. Not even about the weather. 

Anthony was only peeping at you every now and then, brows furrowed. You slowed your pace, letting Lord Collins be wrapped in his words enough to not notice you’d fallen behind with Anthony. 

“I suppose it is unworthy to try and explain I was oblivious to it,” you whispered. 

Anthony shrugged, “You must understand why said statement is hard to believe,” he growled.

“It is honest,” you said. 

“I’ve always known how fond you are of keeping secrets,” he barked. “Forgive my hesitation, but my doubts are not unwarranted.” 

You glared. “Your behavior is.” 

He grinned, “Fine, then I shall withdraw, I do not wish to vex your pleasant morning,” he said. 

“Anthony,” you bellowed. 

“I must excuse myself,” Anthony announced loudly for Lord Collins to turn around, it seemed Lord Collins only listened when it was another man speaking. “I need to disengage from this pleasant promenade.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Lord Collins, always a pleasure, I hope we can meet again soon, perchance at the ball this weekend, however I shall not retire without giving you fair advice over Lady Y/N, be careful, for her hand and heart always seem to belong to someone else,” he hissed. “Excuse me,” he then said softly and smiled at Lady Danbury cynically before storming off, leaving everyone in shock. 

Benedict closed his eyes with strain as he was left with the two Featheringtons now at his care. 

“I despise my brother,” he declared. 

You only clenched your jaw, you agreed, you despised him, too. 

next part

ext part (coming soon) feedback is appreciated!

tagging: @writeroutoftime @nadjasdolly @erodasghosts @misswoodhouse @screechingdreamercollectorsblog    @traveller-lover-dreamer @pureawesomeness001 @grouchycritic7794 @judig92 @xstarbae @angel-ann-13 @thatgayl @taichoushadow @satoonosam @ichanelvxgue @thirstybunz @obiwanownsmyass @accio-boys @alainabooks143 @pparkeramorr @michael-loves-chickens @peterwandaparker  @randomfrenchgirl @brynthebulldozer @peterporkpie @keithseabrook27 @thirstybunz @xceafh @applenter @rchlhearts @hvproductions @witchyartemis @theworldis-ahead @hollandinq @cherrytop02 @cc13723things @fookingmuffins @laurieteddy @swiftspaperings @annathesillyfriend @0dreamseeker0 @oopsiedoopsie23 @insanitysparkles @wifisprincess @cheeryara-blog @mythical-goth @20th-centu-fairy-girl @i-guess-this-is-me @moonlightlavender @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @latekate1807 @kakakatey @nxstalgicnxbxdy @pixiedustsupplyco @untitledandrandomset @pignolithecookie @bands-messed-me-up @marinac15@italyhappiness @oopsiedoopsie23 @summer-and-sunflowers @none-of-your-bullshit  @girlmadeofavocados @f2101v @everything-is-books @peachyafshawn @louanndaay @haunteddeputymugpersona @mrscharlieweasley15 @stupididi0t @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @sarcasm-n-insomnia @marss-anonymous @keithseabrook27  @lettherebelovex @itisjustwhatitis @satoonosam @sesamepancakes @hazelgirl355 @londonalozzy @ashwarren32 @keithseabrook27 @apoeticwish  @dangerdolns @empireroyals  @summer-and-sunflowers @sarcasm-n-insomnia @xlostinobsessionsx @agentstarkid @fckyougeno @jemimah-b99 @beautypalette @sugarcoated-lame​

[swaps55]

2, 9, and 17 for the deep fic writer asks!! <3

Thank you!

From fic writer asks

2. what's a fic that took you to an emotional/dark/hard place?

Fugue. Specifically, The Courage of Stars. This entire story beats me up, but that chapter in particular gutted me in a way I needed a lot of time to recover from. It is not the only reason I took over a year off from that story, but it’s a big one.

As a whole, Fugue requires me to put myself in a pretty emotionally difficult headspace. Especially for the first half of the story, I couldn’t work on it unless I had a big block of time to throw at it, because I had to give myself time to ramp into that headspace, and then give myself time to ramp out of it.

9. what's your writing process like?

Writing every day does me more harm than good. The good news is I’m pretty disciplined at staying in the habit of writing, so when I’m reluctant to sit down and do it, I know myself well enough to figure out if it’s because I’m mentally tired and trying to draw blood from a stone, or if I’m avoiding something I just need to buckle down and crank through.

I cannot juggle more than one long fic at a time, so whatever’s active gets my entire focus and headspace. I also typically write pretty chronologically, but if I have a scene from down the road burning up my brain, I’ll spit it out so it quits keeping me up at night.

When I’m creating a draft, I tend to put the bones down first, then layer in the muscle. But I often work scene by scene, so I may flesh out an existing scene before pushing through to the next one. If I feel like something’s going off the rails, I go back and fix it before writing forward, because just ignoring it in favor of finishing a draft usually comes back to bite me.   

I’m also predominantly a pantser, with occasional plotter tendencies. Someone once commented that I must have plotted extensively to make “The Things We’ve Done” (the Sharjilla chapter of Cantata) work, and while I take that as an incredible compliment, I did not, haha. I pantsed the ever loving fuck out of that story. Hell, I marooned Sam and Kaidan on that planet without having any idea what marooned them, why they were pissed at each other about it, or how I was going to resolve it.

17. What’s the best engagement/interaction/feedback you’ve received from someone who’s read your work?

Oh gosh. I can’t even begin to choose one. I am constantly blown away by the incredible things people have said to me over these stories. @mrsd-writes made one of Kara’s cross-stitches (!!!!) and @theoriginalladya made me a wreath celebrating all the of the ‘Yang’s holiday traditions. @ahhrenata drew ART for one of my stories. I cannot believe any of that happened.

I’ve had people tell me they figured out they were ace because of Sam and Kaidan. I’ve had people tell me they wish the ‘Yang crew were part of the games and have adopted Cantata as their own canon. People have told me they ask themselves what Sam would do when they play. People have told me Opus encouraged them to start writing. All of that is AMAZING.

The love people have expressed for the ‘Yang OCs in particular floors me, because I never in a million years thought people would embrace new characters in a world that is already rife with such incredible, loveable characters.

I never ceased to be amazed that something I wrote has touched other people.

[duckymcdoorknob]

The Fall of Red Riot

Warning! This is a tickle fic!

Ships: KiriBaku

The breakdown: Lee!Kirishima, Ler!Bakugo and Ler!Kaminari

Warnings: tickling, swearing, fluff overload

Prompt: The 1-A boys are hanging in the classroom during lunch and they’re stumped. They could not get Kirishima to spill his biggest secret: his crush. Bakugo rolls his eyes and volunteers his methods...

“There’s gotta be some way!” Kaminari whined.

“No way! I’m never telling any of you!” Kirishima barked in response.

“Tch, we’ll get it out of you at some point, shitty hair.” Bakugo noted coolly.

“OYE DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Kirishima yelled.

The boys groaned as they all ate their lunches. It was just them and Aizawa, who naturally was asleep, all alone in the classroom.

Kirishima was in a really fuckin’ bad place; he was being pestered by his friends. They all wanted to know who his secret crush was. Luckily, due to his quirk, the boy could withstand anything.

“There isn’t anything?” Midoriya questioned, “not even one thing?”

“Punch me, kick me, swirly, wet willie, draw on me, whatever you want. I’m not talkin’.” Kirishima answered bravely.

Bakugo let out a scoff as he rolled his eyes. “You’re all idiots”

“Well I don’t see you offering any ideas, Kacchan!” Deku grew defensive.

“Literally you’re all fucking stupid.” Bakugo was getting agitated; are they all really this dense?

Deku and Bakugo glared daggers at each other before Bakugo squeezed Deku’s sides.

The smaller boy yelped and leaped at least a foot in the air.

The blonde scoffed, rolled his eyes, then finally spoke up, “there’s your method. Try it out, I’m sure it’ll work.”

Kirishima, who had not been paying attention, turned toward Bakugo, “What method? What do you mean Bakubro?”

“Well now that you’ve got him wondering, I think that you should do the honors.” Kaminari chimed.

Deku grinned menacingly while Bakugo tackled Kirishima and straddled him.

“W-woah there! What gives, Bakugo?” Kirishima grew anxious, what the hell was this guy’s deal?

“Last chance to talk, shitty hair.” The blonde was smiling evilly, a side Kirishima had never seen before.

Red Riot sucked in a breath.

“Do your worst!” Kirishima cried preparing for inevitable pain, “what man can’t take a little pain?”

“Wh-Pain?” Deku asked with furrowed brows, “no-no! You got it all wrong. Kacchan is just going to exploit your body’s sensitivity is all.”

“Ohh!” Kirishima beamed. Then the realization struck, “oh”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Way to go shitty Deku, now he knows the plan!”

Nonetheless, the Katuski clawed his hand and started to lower it down to an already giggling Kirishima’s tummy.

The red haired boy used his summer camp training: act quick in heavy pressure situations.

The hero in training hardened his skin, adding an extra layer to his abdomen, causing Bakugo to groan.

“Seriously? Your shitty quirk!” Bakugo rolled his eyes, “well I can wait here all day. And when the girls come back, you get to say which one you like in front of her.”

“HAVE YOU NO MERCY?” Kirishima roared.

The sudden loud noise awoke Aizawa. He was not a happy camper when he was woken up, especially from a good nap like this.

“You know what Bakubro! I’ll be fine holding out! I can keep my skin hard as long as I wish!” Kirishima yelled cockily.

Oh this will be good.

Aizawa stood up and stealthily stood next to Midoriya. He put a finger to his lip and winked at the greenette.

“How can you interrogate me with no method? You really didn’t think this through Bakubro.” Kirishima was getting cockier by the minute, “can’t tickle someone with no soft skin!”

Aizawa grinned.

Midoriya clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from spoiling another surprise.

As Aizawa’s hair stood up in an instant, Kirishima’s rock hard abdomen disappeared into a soft, pudgy, tummy.

“YES!” Bakugo cried

“M-MISTER AIZAWA!” Kirishima whined.

“You’re the one who woke me up. Just thought I’d keep my quirk alert Incase if any villains attack.” Aizawa responded in a monotone.

Bakugo didn’t hesitate. He immediately started scribbling his fingers along Kirishima’s sides.

The red haired boy kept his composure, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Oh? Nothing’s working huh.” Bakugo lifted his attack, “I guess we’ll just have to stop then.”

“Man you really suck at th- EEP!” Kirishima squeaked as Bakugo raised his arm above his head and poked the hollow of his arm.

It all happened so fast, Kirishima couldn’t even attempt to hold in his laughter.

“waihihihihit. Bahahahahakuhuhuhgohohoho!” Kirishima’s bubbly giggles melted Midoriya’s heart. Normally, Red Riot would be rolling all over laughing, but the uniform definitely helped minimize the feeling.

“You ready for talk yet?” Bakugo asked with a cocked grin.

“Nehehehehehever! Ihihihihihihihi cahahahan lahahahahast!” Kirishima manages through his uncontrollable giggling.

“Midoriya I might need some eye drops. This could take a while.” Aizawa muttered.

Deku chuckled and grabbed drops from Aizawa’s desk.

“You’re getting boring shitty hair. I’ll find your death spot and you’ll never stand a chance.”

“Jokes on you! You can’t even access it!” Kirishima spoke without thinking.

“Oh? Why is that? Is it blocked by me or clothes?” Bakugo cooed as he started to untuck Kirishima’s uniform shirt.

“Waihihihihit Bakubrohohohoho!” Kirishima giggled uncontrollably before any contact was made with his hyper-ticklish skin.

“What happened to being unbreakable? Where’s the great Red Riot now?” Bakugo teased as he prepares an assault, “I wonder if you share your worst spot with the shitty Deku.”

Deku yelped with wide eyes as attention turned to him. He could kill Kacchan.

“W-where’s his death spot?” Kirishima asked, followed by a gulp.

“Nowhere special. Just-“ Bakugo drilled his thumbs into Kirishima’s hips, “here.”

“BAHAHAHAHAHAKUHUHUHGOHOHOHOHO!” Kirishima cried out.

“Ohh maybe you do have the same death spot as Deku!” Bakugo teased confidently.

Kirishima’s bright belly laughter filled the room. All of the other boys gathered ‘round to see what was going down.

“Bakugo, you do know you just exposed Deku right?” Kaminari questioned with amusement.

“And I care because? I’m the only one who knows how to get him howling anyways.” Bakugo replied cockily.

A loud yelp was emitted from Deku’s side of the room after Aizawa took a squeeze at both of the boy’s hips.

“Well he’s not lying.” Aizawa said calmly.

“Come make yourself useful, Pikachu. Hold his arms up.” Bakugo commanded.

Kaminari obliged and soon Kirishima was under Bakugo’s mercy, meaning there would be none.

“Tell us Shitty Hair!” Bakugo spoke louder as he removed a hand from one of Red Riot’s hip, and added a scribbling hand to one of his underarms.

���NNGH- NEHEHEHEVEHEHEHEHER!” Kirishima cried.

The boys of class 1-A all shared the same look: fearful amusement. They now knew to never mess with Bakugo, especially after today.

Bakugo lifted his attack fully. “Alright Kirishima, you leave me no choice.”

Kirishima gulped nervously.

“Either you tell me your death spot, or I embarrass the hell out of you right now.” Bakugo said menacingly.

“Y-you. Fiend. You’ll get nothin’ outta me.” Kirishima barked in rebuttal.

“Suit yourself.” Bakugo said calmly, “Pikachu.”

Kaminari drew his attention to Bakugo. While this happened, Aizawa realized that Kirishima was too weak to use his quirk, so he retreated back to his sleeping bag.

“You might wanna sit on those arms, things are gonna get ugly.”

As Kaminari obliged, Bakugo began to pinch at the pudge right above Kirishima’s bikini line. This caused the hard-rock hero’s laughter to jump up an octave.

“Found it~” Bakugo purred in a low voice.

“BAHAHAHA! BAHAHAHAHAHAKUHUHUHUHUHUGOHOHOHOHOHO! MEHEHEHEHEHEHRCHYHEHEHEHE!” Kirishima tried to writhe from under the blonde’s evil clutches.

“Then tell us!” Bakugo demanded angrily.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO!” Kirishima whined in response.

“Then die.”

Bakugo’s evil smirk was all that Kirishima saw before his eyes squeezed shut and he was a screaming, blushing mess.

The blonde continued to squeeze the boy’s worst spot. But, he also demanded Kaminari to spider his fingers under Red Riot’s arms. And to top it all off, Bakugo started blowing fat raspberries on Kirishima’s abs.

Red Riot moved into quiet hysterics, unable to bear the tickly feeling.

“Maybe you should stop soon.” Tokoyami butted in, “He doesn’t look too good.”

“Shut up bird brain! He’s done when he confesses!” Bakugo barked back.

Kirishima was trying his best to get out of his friend’s clutches, he was even squeezing Kaminari’s butt with his free hands. But, It had no effect on the electric boy.

“BAHAHAHAKUGOHOHOHO, KAHAHAHAHAMINAHAHAHAHRIHIHIHI STAHAHAHAPPIT! Q-QUIHIHIHIHIHIT IHIHIHIHIT! I CAHAHAHAHANT TAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHT!” Kirishima squealed as tears leaked from his eyes.

“Last chance to tell us before we get you to exhaustion!” It was Kaminari’s turn to interrogate now.

“OKAY- OKAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAY IHIHIHIHILL TEHEHEHEHELL!” Kirishima cried.

The attack ceased, leaving Kirishima panting. After a few seconds of greedily gulping in air, Red Riot looked at his attackers, then his classmates. He had no dignity left, so why should he lie?

“It’s um... it’s...” shit. He needed to come up with a name quick, “it’s Mina.”

“You liar.” Kaminari said as he skittered his fingers once again.

“IHIHIHIM NOHOHOHOT LYIHIHIHIHING!” Kirishima cried.

“That’s enough Pikachu. He knows to tell us the truth.” Bakugo unstraddled Kirishima, Kaminari did the same. The blonde reached a hand out and helped Red Riot to his feet.

His classmates surrounded him in a circle, there was nowhere to run.

“Ah jeez. This is gonna be embarrassing.” Kirishima spoke softly.

“Just say it!” Kaminari commanded.

“It’s Ururaka!” Kirishima yelped.

“No! You’re still lying! I know when you lie because your quirk activates on only your hands!” Bakugo yelled.

“Mister Aizawa! The one time I needed you to erase my quirk!” Kirishima groaned bashfully.

“Just tell us dude we won’t judge you.” Kaminari said with a reassuring hand on Red Riot’s shoulder.

Kirishima looked at all of his classmates curious faces. What if they judged him? What if they didn’t want to be his friend anymore because of who he liked?

“W..well.. um...” Kirishima closed his eyes and sighed, “it’s.. its B-Bakugo.”

Bakugo’s eyes widened along with all the other boys.

“I.. I shouldn’t have said that...” Kirishima said before running out of the room.

“Kirishima! Stop!” Bakugo yelled.

The blonde went chasing after Red Riot, leaving the rest of the class dazed.

“What did I miss?” Aizawa asked with a yawn. He saw all of his confused students, “Jesus was it Mt. Lady or something?”

“N-no... Kacchan” Deku spoke quietly.

“Oh that was obvious.” Aizawa said with an amused breath of air. “Now I owe All-Might 200 Yen.”

[radiosandrecordings]

Crossposting my @summer-in-the-archives-event fic here too. [AO3] [Accompanying beautiful art]

He’d never get used to the rolling fields of quiet.

Miles behind and miles to go, not that he could see any of it through the thick blanket of fog that clung to his ankles, and his wrists, and his eyes. Miles to go before I sleep…

It was hard to describe the rain that fell, because even ‘fell’ felt like too active a descriptor. It didn’t pour, it didn’t ‘beat down’, it didn’t pelt, because those all required a sense of agency that the landscape just felt too apathetic to muster. It simply existed, and just happened to be moving downwards by coincidence.

Jon wasn’t sure if he knew or Knew that it seeped into his clothes, coating his skin, but he couldn’t even feel the droplets landing, even pinpricks of touch creating too much of a sensation for this place. He briefly wondered that, if he still had need for his glasses, would the rain even make the effort to trickle down and cloud the lenses.

The last Lonely domain he’d passed through, he’d never seen the avatar that lorded over it. He didn’t have any real interest in finding out, not like the personal vendettas that lead him to seeking out Jude, or Jared. Because with Peter dead he wasn’t left with any Lonely avatars left to chase, save the vague notions of the Lukas extended family. He was simply going to keep his head down and keep trudging, hopefully emerging through the thick banks of mist before he lost his mind to the monotony. If there was ever something to make you miss muffled cries from beneath the earth…

“Why are you here?”

The sound was accusatory, and may as well have been a shotgun in the silence. The damped chill was nothing in comparison to the ice that shot up his spine. The voice had no clear origin, no figures even silhouetted in shadow against the overgrown grass, but it came in close, delivered on the gentle, numbing breeze. Despite this, though, never in a thousand domains could he forget the sound of it. Of course it was his. Of course. Of course. “Martin?”

“No! ”

The voice sounded… Angry. But hurt, like it flinched away from the word. Like something that had been left to sit in the dark too long, that recoiled back from a stinging source of light.

“... I’m going to assume no one has called you that in a long time.” He tried to keep his voice light, as much as the stifling atmosphere would allow it.

“No one is anything here. It’s easier that way. If you’re somebody, you can be hurt. If you have too much personality, too many little facets and cracks, things start to snag and catch on it, and it drags you down to where things ache. But if you’re nothing, then they don’t have anything to cling onto. You can just slip away unharmed.” The voice sounded like it was moving, curling around him and moving from ear to ear, forward and back as it droned on in that echoing monotone that Jon had hoped he would never hear again, and at the same time, had longed to.

“And what about the good things?”

“There isn’t anything good, not anymore. You saw to that.”

Jon snorted. “Low blow, but fair.” He hesitated for a moment, trying to summon the words.

He’d had time, after he left the Lonely, to consider his actions. Regret pooled like acid in his stomach at the memory, and somehow it hurt more than ending the world. He wouldn’t say it was more important. He knew whatever he felt, and moreso, knew that one human life, was not paramount to the suffering of every creature great and small, but it felt more tangible. When he walked through the hellscapes, they were dreamlike, hazy, information in such clarity but to an extreme where it still felt nonsensical to perceive it as reality. He knew the fundamental truths that surrounded him but it still felt hard to accept them even as he lived them.

Yet despite having lived without it for eight months prior, the space beside him that failed to solidify into Martin still stung with his absence. And Jon regretted it every not-day he spent walking the hellscape, both in knowing he doomed a good man to suffering, or worse, revelry, in this new world, and in the far more personal, and far more selfish, part of him that missed him so goddamn much.

“But- But Martin, I think I made a mistake.”

“Obviously.”

“Not- Not that. I mean, when we were in the Lonely. The- The first time. With Peter Lukas.” The silence droned on, and Jon took that as his cue to continue. “Do you remember what I said? That maybe you were safer here? And that’s… That’s why I let you stay. I didn’t push you to, to leave with me because I thought you wanted to be here, that you’d be safer here than you’d be with me. But I don’t think that was entirely true.”

“I am safe here.”

“Maybe so. It doesn’t mean it’s better though, does it. Martin, I saw those people, in the last Lonely domain. I know it’s different, they were victims and you’re… You’re an avatar, here, you’re feeding off of all of this, but I promise you they were not happy. They were so alone and it didn’t protect them, it just made it worse. Think about it, the logic of this world. There are threats out there of unimaginable horror, and yet they were still assigned here, it’s their worst nightmare. And you were assigned here too. You’re all suffering, just in different ways, but all calculated to be your personal worst.”

“The Martin Blackwood you thought you knew doesn’t exist anymore. He had to be filed down, too many breaks and tears in him that grew and grew, any time someone raised a harsh word. The best way for him to be protected, is for him to go away entirely. You cannot hurt something that doesn’t exist.”

“Are you sure about that? Because you just said ‘I’.”

“What? ” That anger reemerged again, and as staunched as it was it was beautiful, a return to form amongst the dull monotone, reminiscent of the few times Jon had been privileged enough to witness a truly pissed off Martin Blackwood.

Jon found himself grinning. “You said ‘I am safe here’. Emphasis on the ‘I’. Ergo, you still have some form of identity left, and thus I would wager that the part of you left is Martin. Unless I’ve wandered across some other avatar of the Lonely who sounds like him, of course.”

“You’re always so fucking smug, you know that?”

The voice is coming from behind him. Actually, physically, presently behind him and Jon spins around so fast he’s almost dizzy.

And as much as it made his heart soar, and much as he was glad to finally, finally , see him again when he’d thought he never would, Martin looked… Bad.

His skin had darkened, mottled and blotchy with large swathes of a bruise-like blue or sickly green cropping up across his face and neck, or the parts of his forearms visible where his cable knit sleeves rolled back. It was like frostbite from the cold, or some disturbing onset of trench-foot from the damp, corpselike and unsettling. What was worse, though, were the parts that simply ceased. His hair didn’t even reach the tips, simply fading out into a grey static that merged with the mist, and it consumed his eyes whole, tear tracks streaking down his face in patterns of fuzzy, crackling grey that snapped and popped in the silence, far too reminiscent of a tape.

The sight made Jon’s heart clench like a fist, the combination of relief and horror, and in that moment he understood Jane Prentiss more completely than he ever had before. It would’ve felt like a rude comparison to consciously make, the person he cared for most equated to a pulped and writhing mass that churned out creatures that made your skin crawl before tearing into it. But he knew what she had seen in it, that call towards the thing that fascinated you, despite the turning it causes in your stomach.

Despite this, however, Jon steeled himself. This was rapidly becoming a battle, and he couldn’t afford the cost of emotions. He had to keep Martin, well… Martin. Draw out the emotion. In short, be a bit of a bastard. So instead, he cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you liked that about me?”

He could see Martin’s fists clench, the colour of his extremities dyed black from frostbite. The irritation was still clear as he started into “Fucking hell J-” but they both appeared taken aback as he dissolved into a choking, hacking cough.

It took everything in him for Jon to tamp down the need to surge forward, put a hand on his back and ask if he was okay. It was a strangely mundane thing; the man was made out of static and fog and despite seeming to have an on-and-off-again relationship with his corporeal form, this was the first recognisably human thing to adversely affect him. Why, though? What had Martin done to trigger- Oh. Oh .

“That- That priest from the statement… 0113005? Father Burroughs. He couldn’t say the name of god. Anything related to it, really. And you… You couldn’t say my…”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Martin spat. “You’re not a god or thee god, whatever your new eye magic might imply. It’s just…” He let out a breath that turned into a grumble. While his eyes had always been cloudy, he was now refusing to meet Jon’s gaze.

Regardless, it still drew a breathy laugh out of him. “No, I’m not that far gone into my own self importance yet. But… It’s about the connection, isn’t it?” Something in the conversation had changed, it’s tone or it’s flow, that felt contradicting. Tension coiling up to spring, or they’re barrelling towards a culmination, but at the same time, Jon felt like the wind had been kicked right out of him. He lowered himself to the ground, slowly, settling among the grass and trying to ignore the unpleasant dampness under him. Hey, he could feel the damp again. That was something.

“That’s more flattering, actually, I would say… The Lonely, it thinks if you acknowledge me directly, that would loosen it’s hold on you.” Jon huffed out a breath. “You know I listened to all the tapes. What was it that Daisy said to you, when I was on the run? ‘People say you two are close’? Well, the Lonely appears to agree.” He took a minute before adding, “I would, as well. And, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was too… Too in my own head, before, to admit it. Too much of a coward to do it before that, even. But you need to know I love you. And I know that you… Cared for me, at least? Even if I stuck my head in the sand to ignore it. But the Lonely seems to think you do, still. So will you please come back to me? I know it’s not- I know it won’t be much better, travelling through the domains, but it’s all I can offer and it has to be better than this. I can’t promise anything kind will be waiting for us in London, but you’d be yourself again, and I can’t… Martin, I can’t lose you again. To leave here, again, without you, I’d be losing you. Please.”

“No.”

There wasn’t even a delay to his response, stating it in monotone the second Jon had finished speaking. It felt like ice, lancing through his heart.

“Martin. Martin, please -”

“I said no. I thought you would’ve learned by now; I’m not exactly amenable when you come crawling to me with half baked plans of escape. Because you don’t love me, you love the idea of me. You are quite literally the only free man left in the world and you’re lonely . So you’re looking for a familiar face. Kind Martin, caring Martin, always there with tea and taking your side in every argument. Defending you to Tim when you’d just as soon slag him off behind his back, or on tape. Pretty appealing when everyone else is trying to kill you. At least he treated you like a god before this even started.”

Each sentence felt like another dagger to the chest, and it took him a moment to compose himself, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. Eventually, though, Jon spoke. “That’s not true, though. I- Martin I can’t apologise enough that that’s what it’s felt like, for you. But I need you to know, that isn’t true. A-At the start, maybe, I can’t deny I was stupid and spiteful, but you didn’t deserve any of it. And after that… I didn’t do a one-eighty and decide you were a doormat. I liked you because you were secretly enough of a prick as well. Any time you’d pull me out for lunch when I dragged my heels, or argued back when I said something shitty, that was… It felt like I was seeing the real you. The one you didn’t want to let people think of you as, but the one you were, because despite wanting to appear like the picture of innocence, you are a bitch, Martin Blackwood. And that’s my favourite thing about you. Maybe time is sweetening my memory, slightly, but I truly don’t believe there’s rose coloured glasses here. If we walk out of here, I’m not under any sort of illusion that it’ll be a honeymoon. We will doubtless find something to argue over, if not several, but I want that. I want you at my side to, to disagree and point out all my blind spots. We’re both stubborn bastards but I’m stupidly fallible, and I need you to keep me balanced. I don’t want a yes-man, I want you, Martin, and I’m asking for that knowing full well what it entails.”

When the words stopped flowing, he found himself gasping for breath, sobs building in his chest and threatening to spill over. But Martin was standing closer.

“That’s- I don’t- Fuck.” As Jon looked up, wiping at his own eyes, he could see fog starting to trickle from Martin’s mouth, coming in short bursts as his nostrils flared and chest rose and fell noticeably for the first time that Jon had seen since he stepped foot onto the moors. This caused a conflict of emotion in Jon, because while it seemed to be another step towards humanity, Martin letting the Lonely fall to the wayside in favour of reclaiming himself, it also looked far too close to a panic attack to be something worth celebrating.

“I don’t understand,” he finally settled on, voice cracking on the words. He slowly let himself sink to the ground opposite Jon, knees pulled up to his chest. “I left you. Time and again I left you. I left you to work with Lukas, and I left you when you tried to get me to run away, and I left you when I stayed on the beach.” His palms were pressed into his eyes, mist seeping from between his knuckles as he dragged them across his face, though Jon couldn’t be sure if he was attempting to wipe the fog away, or if he was stalling while he faltered, trying to summon the words. Both, maybe. Jon took the silence from him.

“You didn’t really choose that, though. You didn’t feel like you even had a choice. So Martin if… If you’re worried that I think badly of you for that, I don’t. Martin, I’ve done so many terrible things, so to- No, no, actually I don’t mean it like that. I don’t mean that you’re a good person, compared with me. I think you’re a good person full stop. And I just want you to be able to see that. I know the Lonely is quite literally clouding your judgement right now but… Please, just, just make me a deal?”

Martin’s palms were resting on his chin now, cupping his cheeks and curving around his neck. He nodded once, wearily, for Jon to continue.

Jon drew in a breath “I think I’m in some sort of… Bubble. Like a miniature domain, when I’m travelling. I think, if you agree to come with me, even for a little bit, that might dissolve some of the Lonely’s more adverse effects. Make it easier to think, to, to be yourself without its influence. If that is what happens, and you want to return… I’ll bring you back. But please, just… Try? For me?”

Martin sighed, hands dropping from his face. “...Fine.”

“You- Really?”

“Yes. I… Look, J-” Martin bit back another coughing fit. “Look. I am… There is a lot of me right now that wants to leave. The fog is… It’s in my head, figuratively, probably even literally, but… I remember something Basira said. When she got back, from, from The Unknowing . Melanie wanted to know how she got out, when the other three… When you, and Daisy, and Tim, didn’t. She said she reasoned her way out. So I’m going to listen to reason for a minute, as much as it’s paining me.”

Despite those final words, Jon felt his face crack into a smile. “That’s… Yes, you’re right. Well that’s… That’s a very reasonable connection to make.”

And for the first time in a long time, Martin smiled.

“Uhm, so how does this work then?” He eventually said, hand coming up again to scratch the back of his neck in an old nervous habit Jon could not be more happy to see.

“Well”, Jon said, taking a moment to brush sodden grass from his trousers as he got to his feet, “I would say, based on the dream logic that everything here seems to run on here, it should be rather simple.” He held out a hand to tug Martin up after him.

Martin took it.

It was almost cliché, how the Lonely fell away from him. It only took a few seconds, all in all, for the bruising to fade, receding their colourful splotches until his skin lay clear again. His frostbitten fingers healing themselves, sewing broken skin back together and returning to a healthy colour. His face, too, was returning to its original pallor, the change creeping up his neck and across his cheeks and leaving rich brown in its wake. Dark eyes stared down at Jon from behind long lashes, blinking away the last of the fog. He was beautiful.

“Hi,” Jon managed to choke out.

“Hi,” Martin said, and pulled him into his arms.

Jon just let himself be held in the pressure of the embrace for a moment, before bringing a hand up to card his fingers through Martin’s hair. While it had solidified into soft curls, the colour had stayed the same, bleaching it white under his fingertips. He wasn’t sure if Martin had noticed or not, but that was a conversation for another time. They were both a little preoccupied for the moment.

“How do you feel?” Jon eventually said, words pressed into the side of Martin’s neck.

“Uhm. Strange?” Martin eventually settled on. “It’s… I can remember what my thought process was, what the Lonely was pushing me to believe, but it’s like… It’s like the camera panned out, and now I can see it all clearly, and it looks… It looks stupid. Thank you, Jon. For coming to get me.”

“Of course,” Jon whispered, “Of course.”

Another moment passed before Martin spoke up again. “...Did you mean what you said, though? Or was that… Was that just to try and get me to leave? I- I won’t be angry, if it was, that- that’s very clever, I just want to know.”

Jon furrowed his brow. “Which part do you mean?”

Martin let out an agitated sigh. “You- You know which one I mean, Jon. The- The part where that you said that you…”

“That I love you?” Jon said, picking up where Martin trailed off.

Martin’s face flushed, and just the sight of colour spreading across it made Jon’s heart soar, let alone the implications of why . “Of course I did. I- I’m sorry that you would think I would lie about that, even for something like this. No, Martin, I love you. So very much. And I know you might not feel that way anymore, in which case I am very much embarrassing myself here, but I know that you did at one stage so I hope it won’t make things too awkward between us.” “I do, Jon.”

“What?”

“I do. Still feel that way. I love you too, of course I do. My hero.”

It was Jon’s turn to feel his face flush, pleasant warmth bubbling to the surface. “Oh,” was all he managed to stutter out.

“Can I- Jon do you mind if I…” Martin trailed off again, and Jon began to think this might be a recurring theme between them. He’d make it work. He was pretty good at reading Martin, and the eyeline pointed directly at his lips made intentions quite clear.

“Is- Would just the cheek be okay?” He replied. It didn’t really feel like the time for a full run down on where boundaries lay, but he figured it was a start.

“More than,” Martin said, leaning down to press his lips softly against Jon’s cheek. He lingered for a few seconds, skin largely healed but still chapped from the cold, and it was one of the most beautiful things Jon had ever felt. He slipped one hand into Martin’s, and he felt their fingers twine together.

Martin leaned back, clearly trying to calm his grin into something more close-lipped and calm. “Where to now then?”

“Uhm. Forward, really, is just how I’ve been going. There isn’t any real sense of geography to it, we’ll just…. Get there when we get there.”

“Right. Because nothing can be simple these days.”

Jon missed this. He missed him. But he didn’t have to miss him anymore, did he? He was right there.

He squeezed his hand once, and started leading the way.

[mrwinterr]

So Happy

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: After a night with your favorite artist, you’re left wondering where you both really stand. 

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual, but unprotected sex, oral [male & female receiving], vaginal penetration and fingering, size kink and dirty talk). Language. Light mentions of substance abuse. Lying asses. Internet toxicity (I hate it here sometimes). Angst, I guess...TIME SKIP...and absolute horrendous fluff (that’s not my brand, alright).

Disclaimer: You can read part 1 here! It would make some sense. 

A/N: This follow-up is still based on some true events. Can’t hate the players, hate the game. For the most part it’s made up because some of us deserve the ending we think we deserve. I’m dedicating this to @shawnie--jo​ for all the love, enthusiasm and the patience because this took me a while. It’s a doozy! & with that note, enjoy!

“You owe me,” is the first thing you hear your friend say the moment you stepped foot back into the hotel you had booked for the night before. It was in a much different tone than of the one she had in line for the concert.

Frozen in place, you turn your attention to her sitting figure on one of the single couches of the lobby. She wasn’t happy that much you could tell judging by the expression on her face and the way she sat impatiently, one leg over the other and her arms crossed against her chest.

The bag next to hers on the ground adjacent to her feet were your belongings. The way it was misshapen suggested she had hastily shoved your things back in it for you. She must’ve been in a rush to leave before checking out or…

“You owe me $50 for the late check out fee,” she clarifies, ceasing all thoughts of why she was currently pissed at you.

Now begins the walk of shame. It wasn’t something you were used to. Could you even call this that? You had no reason to feel ashamed because you were completely aware of last night’s events. You defended your decision as so! Then why did you feel this way?

Perhaps it had to do with you just now returning to the hotel you were supposed to have been checked out of hours ago, but instead you’re greeted to your more than displeased best friend staring daggers at you for a different reason.

Sheepishly bringing a hand to rub the back of your neck, when you’re close enough to her, you open your mouth to begin apologizing, but she wasn’t done as she got up on her feet to level with you.

“You said you would be back before check out,” she said voice slowly rising in volume, no matter the distance between you two was close or not, you could tell this was just the start of a catalyst, “and it’s...oh,” she stops to look down at her phone, which shined bright revealing her lock screen and more importantly the time, “...only three hours past check out!” Yup, not happy with you at all.  

“I know you’re upset,” you start with the obvious, “and you have the right to be. I said I would be back in time, but I wasn’t,” maybe admitting you were wrong would allow her to see you were indeed aware of your mistakes, soften the blow to come a little bit.

“Upset? I’m disappointed!” she says, her arms falling to her sides and with a look of disbelief but is quickly washed over with indisposition. “Some sell-out rockstar invites you over to see him and you lose your sense of mind?”

“Look, I’ll pay you back. It’s no big deal.” At least on your end, you’re trying to remain calm even when her tone and choice of words get under your skin. You didn’t need this weekend to end on a bad note.

“This isn’t about the money!” She proclaimed.

“Then why are you bitching at me? I’m a grown adult! I know what I did-” Yeah, at least you were trying to stay composed, right?

“Do you?” She challenges. It’s one of those rhetorical questions, in which she didn’t need an answer to, but you were still going to give her one.

“Yes, ok. I slept with Bucky and I don’t regret it.”

The defense you put up so quickly around you weren’t something your friend was used to witnessing...maybe to your parents, yeah, but not at her. Sure, you’ve both had the occasional quarrels, but your relationship and sexual life was different because she really cared for your wellbeing and would be damned if someone hurt you.

“I’m just worried,” she admits for her initial brute front, “what you did was totally unlike you and I…”

“What?” You interrupt her, growing more tired of this conversation by the second.

“I don’t trust Bucky.” She blurts out.

You scoff at that reasoning, “you don’t know him-”

“And you do?” This time she interrupts and catches you off guard on that one. “You’re right. I don’t know him, but you said it yourself. Bucky meets tons of people every day. He’s on the road a lot. It’s easy for him to get lonely.”

There it was again. The self-conscious thoughts questioning everything about last night’s events. In a pathetic display of defense, you start counter-questioning her with some of the statements Bucky said to you. Why would he tell you all those sweet things and pretty promises if he knew he could have you so easily? Why would he think you weren’t like the other women out there who exposed their escapades for their 15 minutes of fame? What made him think anything of you? There were other girls in the crowd.

“He’s going to tell you things he wants you to hear to get what he wants.” She really believed that. She knew what some men were capable of. She had more experience than you and you often turned to her for things like this.

Her last sentence was something to let sink in. The way last night played out and the last few hours you spent with Bucky; you were blinded by a rose tint world.

Earlier that morning...

“You know,” Bucky starts with his gaze first set on your face, slowly starting to drift down your body trying to catch a glimpse of uncovered skin that the blanket was doing a horrible job in concealing. You watch with bubbling desire the way he bit his bottom lip and eyes growing darker, ”...if you ever need anything. I’m here to help. I can get you out of that town and you can stay with me in Brooklyn. We’ll find you a place to work in that’ll appreciate you more.”

He was a dream. He was so sweet, but you weren’t going to deny it. As much as you adored what little you knew about the real Bucky, a part of you that was always so careful was also skeptical. That voice in the back of your mind, whether it was your parents, teachers in the past, PSA spokespersons or your best friend, was still trying to tell you Bucky wasn’t an exception.

Then on the other hand, you were finally getting what you wanted. You weren’t a little girl anymore. You could take care of your own heart. Why couldn’t you have some fun? Indulge a little. Life is too short to sit around and wait. If he was serious about any of the things he said, then great! If not, oh well, you’ll live. What’s life without experience, right?

You just never imagined any of the harmless mentions or replies through social media were going to get you in bed with him and so smitten.

When Bucky pulls his lips away from you, he repositions himself on the bed to lie on his back and bask in the comfortable silence. You’re still on your side, but your eyes suddenly widen as you curiously take a peek over his frame and notice the red numbers of the alarm clock on the bedside table. The curtains were drawn shut, so you had no trace of the actual time of day.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself, but was no use. It was just you and Bucky in the room and he’d definitely wonder why you’d grown frantic.

“Whoa. What’s the rush?” He says slowly sitting up, still exhausted, and watching you throw the hotel comforter over your body to get out of bed. You didn’t even care that you were naked in front of him. He’d have a souvenir to remember you by.

The sex tape was the least of your worries though. You fucking missed check out! You can only imagine the look on your friend’s face when you reunite.

“I missed check out,” you respond while momentarily being thrown off course in search of your underwear, but then instantly remembering how Bucky tore it off of you, and you did your best to push aside last night’s activities.

“What?” He asks, rubbing his face trying to rid himself of sleep. He had to get going too. The band was off to play in the next city in some hours. Unfortunately, you didn’t have enough time to take off from work to follow him.

“The hotel I’m staying at. I missed check out and my friend is going to be so pissed at me,” you explained beaten. You can’t for the life of you see where your clothes were in the dark room.

Drawing the curtains open or switching the light on without warning wouldn’t be ideal to the both of you and not only that, the effects of the substances your body was coursed through, the physicality of you and Bucky’s actions last night, the consequence of it all topped with the lone fact that you’re now standing naked in front of Bucky starts to seep in.

You try not to stand there awkwardly and do the only thing you can do. Inhibition creeping back in, you cover your face with your hands and breath in and out, hoping the floor would swallow you whole so you could escape this embarrassment and your friend’s pending wrath.

“Look,” Bucky says now in front of you, pulling your hands away from your face, he’s naked too, washing away some traces of vulnerability away, “you’re already late. You can’t change that. We can only keep moving forward,” he says, his arms slipping around your body to pull you close to his.

The sudden jolt from the skin-to-skin contact quickly subsides with the warmth of his body transferring onto yours. You hold onto his biceps and nod in acceptance. Any attempt to rush back to your hotel wasn’t going to do you any favors now.

“So then, what do you say we get cleaned up and try to enjoy our time together?” The way his head tilted to the side, a not-so-subtle hint in the direction of the shower in the bathroom, his smooth voice and his eyes half-lidded, ready to get lost in you one more time.

You said it yourself, life was short, so if you already knew your friend was going to chew you out, why deny yourself of its pleasures right now, especially if it’s coming from Bucky. 

“Can we just get going? We’ll catch traffic on the way back to the city if we just stand here and keep putting each other down,” you ask, slightly shaking your head of the early morning activities and straightening yourself up, bending forward to pick up your bag and sling it over your shoulder.

This little spat would eventually pass. None of the arguments you two had were ever threatening to your friendship with each other. You’ve both fought over things much more critical that it’d be a shame to let it be over someone like Bucky.

Before you could turn back around to exit, your friend grabs a hold of your arm and stops you. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. I could be wrong. Bucky could be the one, but I want you to be smart about doing whatever you end up doing with him. I just want you to ultimately be happy,” she says wholeheartedly.

You knew she was only coming from a good place. She only ever encouraged you to do your best and the right thing. She was the one you sought out advice from and she never led you astray. In the end, you knew you couldn’t ever truly be mad at her. You owed her more than $50 alone.

“Thanks. I’m sorry for snapping at you. I know your intentions are in the right place and I really appreciate you for everything. You even agreed to come to this show with me! But I’m only human and I’m going to make mistakes along the way,” you say and notice the fallen look on her face, but you don’t give her long enough to feel sorry for you with your follow up statement, “...if I get hurt, it’s going to suck, but I’ll get back up, learn from it and move on. Plus, I’ll have you there by my side to tell you I told you so...again, and we both know how much you enjoy that!” You end it on a joking note.  

A look of hope creeps back in on your friend and she’s pleased to see your resilient attitude again. You give her your best steadfast smile and it seemingly proved to be successful enough for her to accept your answer as she pulls you in for a warm hug.

You wonder, what Bucky’s motive was? He was Bucky Barnes. He could have anyone. Why did he trust you enough to be intimate with? What was his game? You just had to keep telling yourself for your sanity and wellbeing, with or without Bucky, in the end you’d still be happy.

The months to follow after that tour, you and Bucky had continued to stay in touch. You genuinely felt happy. He was giving you attention! From daily texts and long phone conversations or video calls, some rather suggestive than most, you were able to really learn a lot about each other. While you minded his glamorous lifestyle, each interaction erased all notions of it and he was just another normal human being.

If you were being truthful, a part of you was hoping whatever the two of you had was exclusive. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were in a way reserving yourself for Bucky because you felt there was something between you two and maybe he was just like you and too shy to be the one to bring it up first.

At times you’d find yourself being the one to initiate conversation...especially when the communication started becoming less frequent. They then reduced to just Holiday texts and suddenly they’d become unresponsive and you’d even be left on read. He never flew you to Brooklyn. He never followed you back on social media. You’d accepted he was most likely busy and the excuse of not wanting to attract unwanted attention to you, but the reality of it was he had seemed to move on.  

It’d been close to a year and things were really quiet. The Avengers hadn’t released anything new nor did they have an upcoming tour to rehearse for. You’re trying to not let Bucky’s silence bug you and do what you’ve always told yourself - keep living your life. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you were angry at first for letting him get to you like that and realize that boys will be boys. They would never grow a real pair and be straight with women. They always had to go and sugarcoat everything. You had to accept it. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. You were just a one-night stand and the worst part of it was that you consented to it, so you couldn’t hold anything against him.

Things picked back up in your life, work demanded more of your time and you were dating again, taking it very slow and casual. You knew nothing more would come out of it, but it was enough to distract you from Bucky. Life was slowly returning back to normal, even though it never truly could be, until you notice Bucky is posting regularly on his social media accounts again.

It’s not so much that but is one of the comments from another user that is a constant in each sporadic post. You recognize the user as an international model from another country. Curiosity gets the best of you and you decide to check out her profile, noting all the photos of them together and realizing that while you thought Bucky went M.I.A., he was spending his free time getting cozy with her in exotic places.

Her comments start out harmless in the beginning, but quickly become more and more persistent until one sets the record straight. It read, “that’s MY man” followed by a number of heart eye emojis.

You didn’t even know Bucky and the model knew of each other, but why wouldn’t they? He was exposed to extraordinary people, so finding someone in the business was a better bet than settling with you. They lived in a totally different world than yours.

There’s a plethora of thoughts that run through your mind. This is why he isn't responding to you. He had a girlfriend, who was in a much different league than of your own, and he didn’t really go public with it on his end. It made you sad, that much you could admit to yourself because you held back for him, but you weren’t going to admit this feeling to him or your friend or the world. You were going to prove to them you’d do the same thing - move on. 

It’s a rather slow day at work and you’ve resulted in mindlessly scrolling through your Facebook newsfeed, but growing tired of lame memes and life updates from people you haven’t spoken to since high school, you switch over to Twitter for a more different kind of news and also a bit of some entertainment.

You’re not expecting the particular topic to be trending - #BuckyBarnesIsCancelled. You’d manage to move on from whatever it was between you and Bucky and returned back to your daily routine. You tried to remain a fan of The Avengers, but it wasn’t the same. The fling, if you could call it, with Bucky wouldn’t let you. You’d always be grateful for how their music impacted your life, but you’d have to keep living your life despite what transpired.  

Sitting up from your slumped position in your office chair, you ponder for maybe two seconds before clicking on the hashtag. Things were still pretty quiet with The Avengers, with the exception of paparazzi photos here and there, but this seemingly came out of nowhere. What stupid thing did he get himself into?

“No way,” you mock at the headline. Claims of Bucky being mentally abusive, and an addict were being made left and right.

You scrolled through the timeline and threads of replies to find the source of it all and you were shocked that it came from none other than his own girlfriend...well now ex-girlfriend you assumed. The vindictive side of you only allowed a small part in finding some humor in this, but if Bucky was any bit of the Bucky you spent the night with and got to know for those few short months then this was sad for him.

There wasn’t much you could do though. What were you to do? Send him a message of condolences of some sort? He’d probably just leave you on read. Whatever you two had was long over.

Bucky’s agency did well to defend him and save his reputation. They released one statement to clear things up. There’d been images before of him partying and no doubt high on some substance, but that didn’t prove he was an addict. Then again, did you ever really know him? You’d been exposed to that stuff around and because of him. Some people just had more access to certain things than others did.

In some time, when things leveled out once more, he seemed to be back in the clear, but at a rate where people have already decided whose story they believed over the other, whose side they were on, the damage had been done. If there was a recurring theme here, Bucky had one thing to do after the scandal - move on with his life.

It felt a little strange being here again. If you take into consideration some of the things that had already happened, a lot has really changed since you were last in a line to see The Avengers live.

The band had taken a short hiatus to let the fire die out from Bucky’s scandal. It was probably a smart move - to let people cool their jets and forget. It was last reported Bucky had turned a new leaf...something about getting help. Steve took time off to focus on other projects...something about humanitarian work. Sam released some solo stuff...something with a different sound, but still as successful. The time off was probably the best for the guys.

There weren’t as many people it seemed, but enough for them to play in one of the city’s largest venues. You suppose that’s what a span of three years could do to an artist. When the tour was announced you weren’t sure if you should buy a ticket or not, but it’d been some time since you had a night where you could forget about the stresses of the world for a few hours. Never mind the short stint between you and Bucky, you were still a fan of their music and the joyous feeling you got from it was timeless.

This time you were alone. You didn’t even tell your friend they were touring again. Bucky was almost a nonexistent topic for a good while now. Plus, she had her own life to live and couldn’t always be there next to you. You were the bigger fan after all. On top of that, she would’ve most likely have advised against you attending.

Your attire was not to impress, electing on something casual and comfortable with a simple pair of jeans, a leather jacket over a nice top that did a better job at controlling your cleavage than the last one, and cute boots. Yeah, a lot had changed, but the scene didn’t as there were still a mix of fans, old and new, over and under dressed.

The guys still had it. They looked great! They definitely belonged on the stage for the world to see. They even played a 3-song encore. You could tell they loved doing what they did and anyone who was a fan could feel the passion and energy they poured out in the performance.

You’re currently sitting in the seat of your car, head resting against the headrest as you try to unwind a little from standing for a few hours and from the walk back to the parking garage when your phone vibrates and chimes loudly.  

You glance over at the device you placed next to the driving console and your eyebrows scrunch in confusion at the name that appeared. Bucky Barnes. You’d never deleted his number and his text message thread had remained at the very bottom of your messaging app all this time. A sense of apprehension flows through you as you wonder what he could possibly want. How do you just text someone after ghosting them for over a year? Not to mention to someone you did something so intimate with and made all those promises to in the past. How does one do that?

Not wanting to dwell on it any longer or slip into restless thoughts about Bucky again because it wasn’t a walk in the park to forget about him, you open the text. It asks if you were in attendance because he claimed to have seen you in the crowd. This time around you’re not overthinking about what to respond with, you simply say yes. He’d been quick with his next message asking if you were still in the area to meet up.

The wise thing would probably be to reject the invite, but you find yourself once again staring at a hotel door waiting for him to open it. Initially, you’d suggested he tell you what he wanted to say via text, but he said it was something that had to be told in person. So, having been through what you had as a result of meeting up with him in the past, you had some sense of mind this time, you’d just have to make another mental note to not jump into bed with him again. If you were being truthful to yourself, the sex tape left you feeling a little cheap. He didn’t even send it to you as some form of fucked up courtesy or assure you that it wasn’t ever going to get leaked and luckily it hasn’t. You hoped he’d deleted it.

It was almost like Deja vu. You might as well have been reliving the night the first time Bucky invited you over to his hotel room. In the beginning it was kind of awkward and quiet, and it was exactly that years later, just with added history of course.

You’d chosen to sit on the end of one of the beds while Bucky moved slowly around the room trying to gather his thoughts and where to start. He notices the change in you. You were more confident and as you should be. Bucky Barnes couldn’t intimidate you this time. He had more to be embarrassed about than you did now.

Even though you had nowhere to be in the morning, it was getting late and you really would just like to get this meeting over with and Bucky was stalling.

“Bucky, why did you invite me here?” You say, the one to break the ice. He finally stops fidgeting around and focuses on you.

“I...I wanted to apologize,” he starts off, and you’re unmoving silence allows him to continue, “I realize how much of a complete dick I was to you…”

“What do you mean?” You ask. It’s not like he spread any dirty rumors about you or anything. He didn’t need to apologize for anything that you’re aware of. Maybe for leading you on, but you came to terms some time ago that maybe he didn’t owe you an explanation or perhaps you’d never get one. Yet here you both are.

“I used you,” he explains, now you’re confused, and he can see you’re not getting it entirely, which pains him. You didn’t think anything he did with you was wrong because you consented to it. It took two to tango, right?

Except it wasn’t like that at all and he wanted you to know how he strung you along all just for a quick fuck in the beginning and to cover his tracks he acted like he cared in getting to know you afterwards not realizing something purely good could come out of it for him. The confession wasn’t meant to hurt you again, but for you to realize your worth. He messed up with someone so special.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I remembered you from years before when you tripped in front of me,” there’s a small trace of happiness in the fond memory, “...and when I saw you in the crowd that night, fuck you looked so good and you still do…” he ended up a flustered mess after that small admission.

“Where is this going?” You ask hoping he’d get back on track and reveal the rest, trying to keep the fact he admitted an attraction to you in the back of your mind.

“Right...I’ll admit my ego got the best of me. The band was doing so well, everyone noticed us! I was getting attention from all kinds of people! I got hooked to different things,” suppose those articles were true then about him getting clean, you thought to yourself, “...it does get lonely on the road and I was so desperate for anyone,” oh you hoped and prayed he wouldn’t say what he was going to say next, but he does, “...and I knew there wouldn’t be that much effort on my part to get you to sleep with me.”

Great. Your friend was right then, and he was just like any other house name artist.

“Um...okay, that’s not something I was wanting to hear about myself,” you said after letting that sink in. Did you still appear to look easy?

“No, I’m sure it’s not, but when we were alone together everything was just easy-”

“Yeah, I got that. I’m easy!” You interrupt, and now you’re angry. As he’s trying to explain his actions, you started thinking about how mad and hurt you were when he started ghosting you. You couldn’t be upset about him getting a girlfriend, but the fact that he didn’t think he could continue even being your friend and instead just chose to ignore you was the better option was hella annoying.

“That’s not what I meant!” He says trying to justify his choice of words.

“Then how did you mean it?” You demand, and Bucky is a bit stunned with your new attitude. He foresaw that he would have a difficult time in explaining himself, but he didn’t think it’d be this hard dealing with how much his actions affected you.

“Everything was easy with you because you made it easy to feel,”

“I don’t know if I understand,” you say and attempt to get up, “...maybe this was a bad idea.”

“No, please. Let me finish,” Bucky is quick to get in front of you as he pleads for you to stay. You give him a slight nod and sit back down.

“Things with you were easy in a sense that being around you I was able to just be myself. I’ve never said those things to girls before you! I didn’t have to impress you with anything flashy. I even forgot I was some rockstar! You’re an incredible person, really-”

“I’m sorry, Bucky, but I just can’t,” you say, hating to interrupt him again, but you’re not ready to hear any of this, “...none of this still doesn’t sound right. It was just one night and then how do you explain just ghosting me the moment you get a supermodel girlfriend?” that last part came out unintentionally feisty but might as well let him know how you’d felt, “You couldn’t even be my friend when you were with her! I guess it was easy to just forget me too…”

Bucky lowers his head ashamed of how he handled that and just nods in acknowledgement of his actions, “you’re right. It doesn’t make sense, but what I feel is even harder to explain...”

“None of this accounts for her,” you demand. A part of you just wanted to know where she came from. How did it happen? Who asked who out? It wasn’t important information to know about, but the urge of human curiosity was large.

“She wasn’t even my idea,” he muttered, not really wanting to talk about her.

“What?” You ask.

“Getting with her was the label’s idea,” he admits, hating he was coerced into the idea of an on-screen relationship.

You scoff at the stupidity of fake relationships in the Entertainment industry. Why did people get their rocks off over it? Were OTPs really that a big deal? Are people so bored with their own lives that they have to push corporate into bringing two people who don't have feelings for each other together? However, Bucky thinks you don’t believe him and given how little you developed in trusting him with things, he’s not entirely wrong.

“I know it was a dumb thing to agree to and it’s one of the horrors working in this business, but I know now I should’ve just been forward with you,” Bucky says, voice still riddled begging for forgiveness.

“Why couldn’t you then?” You interrogate and notice the creases of distress on his face soften. “If I made it so easy to feel, then why wasn’t it just that to tell me the truth?”

“I-I don’t know,” he replies.

“Yes, you do,” you retort, and pretend you’re going to leave, but by doing so you know it’ll only get him to spill the beans quicker.

“I was scared!” He admits, stepping in front of you and keeping you still in your place on the end of the bed.

“Scared? Of what? Me?” You ask incredulously looking up at him.

“Yes!” He says and kneels down in front of you. “You’re so perfect! You’re real! You don’t treat me like I’m some celebrity. You didn’t even participate when people started cancelling me or whatever! You could’ve and you had every right to expose me, but you didn’t!” Your act did the trick, because the words just kept coming out of Bucky.

“I’m so sorry for ignoring you, for not telling you I was with her, but the more I got to know you, a part of me got really scared that I couldn’t keep being the kind of man you deserved because of my problems,” by this point, Bucky has placed both his hands on either side of you, his arms trapping you, “...trust me, I had a lot of time to think about everything I did wrong and what harm my reckless lifestyle has on others…I just feared it was already too late, but the one thing that I always thought about that helped me get through it was the lone night I had with you. I was so happy! I wanted that again...I had to get back to that, so I invited you back to try,” you didn’t even realize how close his face was to yours. He looked so torn and you hated seeing him like that, but there was nothing you could say that could fix things right now.

Bucky now felt vulnerable and almost pathetic. Just because he wanted another shot of happiness, and with you of all people, what made it okay for him to think you wanted to try again? You weren’t so certain of what you wanted with him anymore.

“Wow,” is all you give. You’re not sure what more you could add. After all that, he actually liked you? Were you still sure you weren’t living in some fanfic world? You needed some time to think about that and much to Bucky’s expectations, you weren’t going to come to a conclusion before you left this room tonight.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” You offer him the floor, and he gets it. You’re not going to say anything particular to his confession, at least not now. He’s not upset at all. It was a lot to take in. He had time to think, and he had to respect the time you’d need now.

He nods and backs away, realizing the close proximity, “just one question,” you nod this time and let him ask, “do you regret it?”

You know what he’s referring to, sleeping with him, the sex tape, the countless conversations, meeting with him right now - everything.

“No,” you answer honestly.

He lets out a weak smile, looking down sheepishly and adds, “I’ve never done anything like this with anyone before, I promise.”

He could promise and swear up and down all he’d like, but how could you be really sure? The only response you could give him is a small, neutral hum in acknowledgement.

Bucky knew this conversation wasn’t going to go as he had hoped. He really didn’t have a plan, he just really wanted to see you again. He goes silent and you know at this point, everything was all laid out. Time would tell the rest if this was worth saving.

“I can forgive you. I know I can because in a way part of moving on allows one to do so but completing a session or doing time in rehab doesn’t really prove anything,” you said brutally honest with him, he looks up at you almost defeated and just waiting for the final blow.

“You said a lot of promising things back then and you said a lot more tonight,” you add on, and gently begin to remove his hands from the spots either side of you to let you free, and get up to head out, however not with one more thing he could reflect on, also giving him hope, “...you need to show you’ve really changed,” then the conversation was over.

In some ways, these events needed to happen. He had to hit rock bottom to learn from his mistakes and kick out the bad habit. He knew now that he had to work hard to give you a reason to trust him and maybe even in the long run be with him.

On the other hand, you had to go through this whole thing in order to not base your happiness on someone else. You could be happy on your own and open enough to be with someone that wasn’t Bucky. 

For the next few months, to your surprise, Bucky had actually made an effort to keep in touch with you. It wasn’t overbearing and he minded your space as well as he could from a distance, given that he was still busy with the band and other duties that came with his status.

While at times he could be flirty, you learned it was part of his charm. Your friend wasn’t entirely thrilled when you’d admitted to her that you visited Bucky that night. You might’ve not shown it, but she knew how much his past actions affected you. Granted it did its job in teaching you a lesson and in return allowed you to be more confident and to not take anyone’s bullshit, she’d be damned if Bucky tried to pull another act like that around you again.

By now, you were comfortable enough with him to even tell him about random dates you’d gone on; none proving to be long-term, but it was nice to confide in someone else other than your best friend and get an opinion from a male perspective.

You weren’t going to lie, there was a part of you that still liked Bucky more than a friend, but you weren’t sure when it was okay to willingly go all in again with him. Sure, you’d given him another chance, but just how low could people really go to get what they wanted? Some people could just be really manipulative, and you weren’t wanting to ruin what you’ve both rebuilt for yourselves. Either way, you’d be happy with him in your life even as a friend, which is how it could’ve gone if he’d been honest from the get-go.

The year was coming to a close and you’re at your job’s annual Christmas party. You’d managed to convince your friend to be your plus one, but she claimed she didn’t need bribery because your company always ordered outstanding catering and who in their right mind would turn down free food anyways?

Aside from pretending you were having a great time talking to your co-workers, most of which whom you barely spoke to at the office and as faux-friendly as they were tonight, you felt stupid for glancing at your phone every now and then hoping to get a message from Bucky. He’d been keeping you entertained the first half of the party until he just stopped responding.

Your friend had ditched you to take advantage of the open bar several minutes ago, so you were sitting at a table alone trying not to look pathetic. You started thinking of when an appropriate time would be to leave when the Market Manager of your job took the mic. Too late, you thought to yourself and decided to get comfortable in your seat and listened to what cheesy Holiday speech they had to give, but what you hadn’t expected was a surprise guest.  

“What the hell?” You said to yourself as you watched Bucky, Steve and Sam shake hands with one of your bosses before settling into what would appear as an acoustic performance.

How’d they manage to get in contact with your job? Who gave them the in? Bucky knew what you did for a living, but you never stayed on that subject long enough to think much about it. Then your friend slides into the empty seat next to you, a drink in one hand and a knowingly smirk on her lips, one that suggests she was definitely in on this act. You didn’t realize how long you’d been staring at her with a stupid look of disbelief all over your face until your name is echoed throughout the speakers.

It snaps you out of your trance and you focus your attention to Bucky on stage, a huge smile on his face. All formalities set aside, he highlights you and your friendship before jumping into their new single, which was widely popular right now. Normally, you weren’t one to take compliments easily, not used to so much attention, but the whole world disappeared with Bucky.

Once their little set was over, the majority of your colleagues enjoyed the performance and asked for photos, to which the guys were more than happy to appease to. Your friend had managed to escape your clutches once more, this time abandoning you for the dessert table. You’re not alone for long as Bucky occupies the seat left open next to you. You look around your surroundings, hoping there aren’t any more surprises in store, and practically attack him with a big hug.

Bucky’s chuckle is muffled, his face buried in your hair, as he wraps his arms around you to return the gesture. When you pull away, you’re almost left speechless, but you’re dying to know how he managed to get here. He was technically still on tour and this was not one of the passing by cities.

“How?” You ask.

“Hi to you too,” he said with a cheeky grin, to which you playfully slap his arm, and he responds with your friend’s name. He explained how he’d wanted to see you and how much he had to grovel for your friend to trust him. She’d helped him arrange a meeting with your boss, who turned out to be a huge fan of The Avengers, and even sneak them inside the building all under your nose. She wasn’t easy to persuade, but if she was convinced enough to work with Bucky on anything then you knew this meant something more.  

The initial notion of wanting to leave the party immediately vanished and you wanted nothing more than to just sit there in Bucky’s company all night. Steve and Sam greeted you and you never realized that this was actually the first time meeting them formally and not outside of a venue. They weren’t rockstars to you any more than you were just a fan to them. They were Bucky’s friends, of course he’d confined to them on his end as much as you did with yours.

At some point they had excused themselves to catch the last flight headed back to Brooklyn, but Bucky had decided to stay longer. When it was time to leave, you found out Bucky hadn’t planned long enough to where he would stay the night in your city. The original plan was to fly back home with the guys and pick up on the remainder of the tour. They had a few days off, but it was just a few days shy of ending, and he couldn’t wait that long to see you.

It’s funny how life works because this time you’re the one inviting him to your place. You weren’t going to blame it on the open bar or how late it was or the underlying tension that was surrounding you two, but one thing was certain, it was mutual, and you both weren’t going to deny the attraction any longer.

You’d missed the weight of Bucky’s body on yours more than you’d realized as your hands held his face, keeping his lips attached to yours. You could taste the remnants of the unfinished drink he’d abandoned at the coffee table on his tongue. Bucky’s hands hiked your leg over his waist to get you to lie flat on your couch.

You’re the first to attempt to remove clothing by popping open the buttons of his button-up shirt before completely ridding of the item leaving him in his thin undershirt. You feel his hands slide up from your hips along your back as they dig into the minimal space the arch of your back had created for him to slowly unzip the back of your dress. With your lips both still attached, you manage to sit up, your dress falling down and bunching at the waist in the process, exposing your breasts. He couldn’t have picked a more perfect time to see you in an outfit that would not work with a bra.

Bucky curses breathlessly when he pulls his lips away from yours for a quick breather, but in the process, he takes a peek at your half naked body. You can tell he’s just itching to touch you and you take the commanding lead and place his hands on you. The atmosphere grows thicker, him kneading your breasts, you smash your lips on his in a sloppy lock.

You push Bucky down on his end of the couch and manage to kick your loose dress all the way down your legs and off your body. Bucky’s hands travel down to the curve of your ass before he grabs a handful of flesh, causing you to moan into the kiss. Your hands rake through his styled hair, the product he used unstiffening and his hair falls limp in your grasps.

Bucky’s hands started to aid your hips in moving roughly against his clothed member, desperate to relieve some friction, and you internally blushed remembering how thick he was, how full it felt to have his cock stuffed inside of you. You didn’t remain celibate during the hiatus of your relationship, you both had urges, but Bucky had really ruined others that came after him.

Your lips drifted down Bucky’s body, kissing at the skin of his chest in the pattern following the swoop-line seam of the undershirt that he was still wearing. You skipped the expanse of his toned stomach, until you’re met with the small amount of skin that peeked between his bottoms and hem of his undershirt. You slightly lift the material up and place small pecks at his lower abdomen, which causes a low groan to rumble in Bucky’s throat.

Your fingers deftly unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, with the zipper pulled apart, you’re marveling at the imprint of his hard cock, already twitching and staining his boxers. You manage to break your gaze and look up at Bucky, who is desperately pleading with you to proceed. Your eyes never leave his as you lower your head closer to his member, tongue darting out to the dark spot of his boxers, tasting the precum.

The contact causes him to squirm and lips form in a tight line. You pull down his pants and agonizingly peel off his boxers slowly, dragging it down to his thighs, just enough to expose him enough for you to work with before you wrap a hand around his length. Bucky’s upper body is supported by his bent elbows so he could watch you.

You kiss the tip of his leaking cock, a small string of his precum sticking to your lips when you pull back, to which you run your tongue over. Bucky’s head falls back just in time when your lips enclose the head, tongue twirling around the ridge and teasingly at the slit and loving the sound of his breath getting caught in his throat. You inch your mouth down his length and your vacant hand gets quick to work on what you’re not able to intake while the other runs up his exposed abdomen, your fingers curling in and lightly scratching down as it runs down to massage one of his thighs. You can feel the muscle in his thigh flex at your touch the more your head bobs up and down on him.  

A plethora of curses spew from his mouth, but the rush of sucking his cock, the gurgling of your spit mixed with his precum and occasional choking noise when your throat contracts around him, is all you can hear from your perspective. When you part from his member, you’re breathing intensifies, desperate for more air to enter your system, eyes slightly watering, lips swollen, your hand lazily slathering the wetness all over him.

“You’re so good at that,” Bucky comments and he finally manages to pick his head back up to look at you. He reaches forward to swipe at the mess on the corner of your chin, but you’re hungry for more, and you move your head to the side to suck on his thumb, eyes closed as you hum at the taste of his skin and essence.

Your soft tongue running against the pad of his somewhat calloused thumb, it pops lightly when you release the digit, a small, devious smile on your lips as you scoot away to lie on the other end of the couch. He’s almost at aghast by this, but even back then you were just always full of surprises around him and he wasn’t going to deny the appeal of your sexual allure.

Bucky is quick to get to your side, completely riding himself off the rest of his clothes - the undershirt, pants and boxers - he had dressed to impress but right now nothing more than but overdressed. He gently parts your legs, kissing up your calves and thighs, until settles between them, you can feel his warm breath fanning against your scantily covered core.

Unlike last time, you’re not afraid to watch him and he sends you a knowingly wink, quickly ascending up to give you a sweet kiss, while his fingers slip inside your panties and between your lips. Your hips eagerly thrust upwards hoping his fingers slip in.

“Baby, we got all night,” he says cradling your face in his other hand. You let out a small whine, but regardless attempt to be patient. Bucky studies your face, mesmerized by every structure and unique feature, then what felt like an eternity, but in reality, was only a few seconds, he sinks a finger inside your wet pussy.

As soon as the gasp leaves your lips, his lips swoop in and tongue instantly dipping in search of yours. The heated kiss only heightens the sensation in the pit of your stomach, your hips losing control and every buck up into his hand, your clit rubs up against his palm, invigorating it. The curl of his finger, lightly probs at the right spot inside you, you uncontrollably squeal against his lips, with a hand against his chest you gently push his body away from yours.

“Oh my God! Fuck, Bucky…” you say with your head tilting back to the curve of the couch’s arm. You feel Bucky’s lips kiss and suck at your exposed neck as his fingers continue their handy work, the lewd noises causing your eyes to roll back.

His lips find their way next to your ear, gently nipping at it, and you could just drown at the sound of his husky breathing and filthy words. “Can I taste you?” He asks. You’re not sure why he was asking, you’d want nothing less. You nod almost instantaneously before allowing him to remove your panties.  

Bucky’s hungry eyes remain fixated on your glistening core, “oh, I missed this pussy,” he comments before his tongue fondles the lips. He has a hand lying flat against one of your legs, pressed on the couch to keep them spread apart, the other blocked by his body. His routine contrasts his old with how his tongue moves in slow and calculated laps. His mouth was very talented, given whatever style he chose to play.

You’re tethering on an orgasm and Bucky wanted nothing more than to watch you come undone for him. Bucky’s fingers and tongue work in tandem and fast to help you reach a climax.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Bucky manages to ask in between, eyes peering up at you. You don’t actually answer because you can’t concentrate from the pleasure he’s bestowing and the impending release. “Good. I want you to cum. I want all this pussy has to give,” his voice hitting a different low, even his fucking voice was so sexy. Your hands clutch on fistfuls of the couch cushions when you feel the first wave of pleasure wash over your body, your hips stilled in place as Bucky laps up at your arousal.

“The sweetest thing ever,” Bucky mutters mostly to himself, but hearing that comment only feeds your ego, which never is a bad thing in an intimate setting. Your chest heaves up and down from the impact. Just as Bucky is about to crawl back up to parallel, you stop him with a foot at his chest. He grabs your small foot in his hand and blinks at your resistance.

“Sit back,” you command. He drops your foot and watches as your body maneuvers around to climb over his. He didn’t even realize his body had complied to your demand, absolutely hypnotized by you.

You lean in for a deep kiss, one that leaves his brain a mush, yours too almost that you have to steady yourself with one hand on the couch armrest. You reach a hand down between your bodies and grab a hold of his hard cock. Your fingers tracing along the vein before you start rubbing his head through your sensitive, wet folds. Bucky’s hands lay lightly on your hips, trying with all his might to not force you to take him all the way in. A large part of him liked this dominant side of you. There was so much about you he was dying to unearth.

“Baby, please…” he begins pleading as you barely press the tip of his cock just at your entrance before you slowly lower your body down to engulf his entire length. You sit still once you’re sure you’ve bottomed out, not noticing Bucky’s fingers digging into your hips, sure enough to leave crescent marks and tiny bruises.

Bucky’s face is buried in your neck, your cheek pressed against the top of his head, lost in the mop of dark hair. You feel his cock twitch inside of you causing your hips to ground on his. He was in so deep, you weren’t sure how long you were going to last in this position, but you’d be damned if you denied it.

You start with slow swivels before sliding back and forth on his cock. Bucky’s hands released their death grip from your hips, one travelled to the front to grope at your breasts while the other supported your body settling itself on the small of your back. Your hands set themselves on the back of the couch on either side of his head, using it as leverage to ground down harder on him.

“Mm, I missed fucking this big cock,” you lean down to whisper right in his ear, “you’re so deep, Bucky.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he spits out curse after curse at your dirty words. “You gonna cum on this big cock, hmm?” He asks. The question comes as a challenge and you weren’t ready to give up the ropes to him.

“Yeah, is this big cock gonna cum inside this tight pussy?” You counter the question, speeding up your gyrations until you start to feel the burn in your thighs and stomach begin to twist. He lets out a low, long growl, his eyes lulling shut and head falling back against the couch, ready to succumb to euphoria.

“No,” you say, suddenly ceasing all movements to pull at his hair. The sharp pain in his scalp causes his eyes to snap open and look up at you. “Keep your eyes on me,” you command much like how he did with you the first time. You watch him swallow the knot in his throat and give him a wicked smile before picking back up where you left off.

Your hands are sprawled on his sweaty chest as you bounce up and down his length. Bucky’s senses are on overdrive, the way your pussy naturally hugs his cock, walls squeezing occasionally, your breasts swaying right in front of him, your skin shining from the layer of sweat coating your body, and the look of immense pleasure written all over your face because of him.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he says over and over as some form of warning, hoping you’re not far behind.

The way his face contorted in ecstasy, lips parted, sweat building up on his forehead, the tip of his cock stabbing at your sweet spot, you were about to cum too. His words become a muffled mess when you attempt to silence him with a bruising kiss just as you reach your high, pussy clenching tight around his cock milking him of everything he’s got. Each spurt of his hot cum that shoots inside you causes your hips to stutter in response. Bucky attempts to keep them at bay with a hand pressed against your back, keeping your body close to him and in the process also instilling his seed is rooted deep inside of you.

“God...damn,” Bucky says short of breath when your body lies limp against his. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, you haven’t attempted to move just yet as you both sat there with his cock still buried in. When you manage to sit up, you stare back at Bucky with tired eyes, but there’s a smile on both your faces. It only slightly falters at his next words.

“I love you,” he says earnestly. Thankfully your silence doesn’t bother him, “...you don’t have to say it back,” he adds, “I just wanted you to know. You’re so special,” he proclaims and your heart leaps at the very admission. You only nod for now but give him another reassuring smile because in time you knew you could allow yourself to love Bucky and be loved by him in return. It wasn’t a conventional meeting, but this was your life, not everyone else's.

When you finally manage to pull yourself off his cock, it slips out fluidly with a trail of his cum following in suit. You knew you’d curse yourself later on, but you’re both too tired to clean the mess right now. The pair of you settle into a lying position, facing one another, encased in each other’s arms. It’s a moment of bliss as you both just lie there, his eyes closed and a smile seemingly permanently etched on his face, only around you.  

“Hey Bucky,” you pipe up breaking the silence. He hums in response, “I want to know something...” you start out with.

“Anything,” he says, eyes still closed, his hand running up and down your arm, an indicator that he’s present and listening.

“What happened between you two?” Curiosity getting the best of you once more, you’re hoping this doesn’t ruin the moment, but you had to know. What went wrong? Besides, if this was going to work, he was going to have to be honest.

“Uh, she saw something on my phone…” he said cautiously, “...that involved you.” Your eyes widen at that. It couldn’t have been the sex tape you hoped.

“Bucky, no!” You gasp, sitting up and just hoping he doesn’t confirm it.

“Relax!” He says pulling you back down with him, “She was psycho. She went through my texts and saw some of the photos we used to send to each other. She must’ve thought they were recent.” He explains like it was no big deal.

Your heart stops racing slightly, you’re a bit relieved that she didn’t go as far as posting any of the photos on the Internet. You knew you were risking it by sexting with Bucky, but what was that saying? Hell hath no fury…and in a blind rage, she lashed out only on Bucky, but if she was a psycho, who knows what else she might’ve found on Bucky’s phone.

“Bucky?” you figure you might as well know now.

“Yeah…”

“What did you do with that sex tape?” You’d been dying to know if it was safely stored away or if maybe he even still watched it or just deleted it.

A big toothy grin spreads across his lips, his pearly whites on full display as he laughs at the question before he reaches over to the table next to the couch, where his cell phone rested on.

“Want to make a sequel?” He asks suggestively with a smirk on his lips and waving his phone at you, to which you playfully attempt to snatch from his grasp. He’s too quick, but nonetheless he replaces the phone in its original spot before focusing his attention on you alone.

“You don’t think this is all weird?” He questions almost hesitantly while tracing the outline of your jaw delicately. You’re not thinking that at all. You’d both been through a lot during the last few years that the only thing that was normal now was what you both had.

You shake your head in response, too tired for words, and drowning in the blissful moment. Bucky nods before declaring, “good because you make so happy,” then ending the night with sweet kisses. 

“Hey, it’s me. I know you’re busy at the studio today...” you start, cell phone pressed against your ear. You’re attempting to leave a voicemail to your boyfriend, who was expecting your arrival later that day, “...but I just wanted to assure you that this isn’t weird, and I can’t wait to see you...I love you, Bucky,” you finish up the message and stuff the device into your bag just in time to hear the voice of the airline staff making the pre-boarding announcements booming loudly from the speakers.  

Now boarding Group B for flight #107 to JFK Airport...final destination Brooklyn, New York.

A/N: We’ve been in quarantine for so long, I don’t remember how airport announcements are like anymore and I was only in Brooklyn last Spring…RIP to the good times.

A happy ending was weird to write in the end and I actually don’t like this particular Bucky so it could’ve gone really bad, but I said to myself, no, not this time, I can do what the title says and let them be just that - happy. I too can be happy if you give this a like, reblog or comment! Thanks for reading!  

[alyxia91]

In A Million Years

Soft Bakugou, because there’s something I love about the thought of this tough guy absolutely melting for someone. I’m sorry it’s kind of a long, slow-burn. I ramble. I’m working on it.

When you first met Bakugou, you were undeniably intimated. How could you not be? He was anger, pride and explosions personified. You wondered if standing too close was a hazard to your health, if not physically, mentally. But as time went on and you became more accustomed to his personality, you found that that red hot anger wasn’t scorching you, rather drawing you in and keeping you warm. Small, barely there conversations in passing grew enough to where you could confidently say he was a friend, and someone you relied on - you hoped he felt the same.  You didn’t notice the sideways glances he would send your way, or the faint blush that would flush across his face whenever you smiled at him. How he wished he would be the only one you smiled at, the only one to hold your attention. But you were too nice, while not overly popular by the typical standard, it was fair to say everyone liked you, including the explosive future hero. Those feelings only continued to grow as you progressed through your years at UA, both of you drawing closer and closer to each other subconsciously. He didn’t notice that he spoke to you differently, softer than anyone else; and you never realized that you were almost always touching him in some way - a hand on his arm, fingers brushing against each other.

Neither of you noticed that you’d fallen in love with each other.

It wasn’t until a fight against the League of Villains that those feelings were violently pushed to the forefront, when you got seriously injured.

The fight had been typical, if not chaotic. Everyone was doing their best to keep themselves alive while fighting. You were no different, your shadow fiends fighting at a distance while you kept up inn hand-to-hand combat. Thank God you practiced against Bakugou frequently - otherwise you doubted you’d be able to keep up. The years of training also prevented too much energy being wasted keeping your multiple shadow fiends active - it was a skill you wanted to grow further. You’d gone up from having one out for a few minutes to having multiples out for hours. Right now, you had 13 running around fighting and defending.

Explosions sounded to your left - you didn’t have to look to know it was Bakugou. Even in scenarios like this, somehow he was never too far from you, always keeping an eye on you. Unfortunately, that eye missed Tomura coming towards him, arm stretched out and hand reaching to grab at his face. You, however, noticed the movement in your peripheral, and with a swift kick to the stomach of whatever moronic douchebag you were fighting, launched yourself towards the pair. Your left arm stretching as far as you could make it, desperately trying to stop Tomura from making contact.

This resulted in your left hand grabbing his, your arm crossing over his body as an additional barrier. Pain erupted from your finger tips and you watched as your palm and fingers turned to dust. The pain shot up your arm, nerve endings for limbs you were quickly loosing  firing desperate warnings to get the hell out. Glitching your jaw, you willed a sword, a mace, ANYTHING strong to be formed with your right hand - by some grace an axe pulled itself from your fingertips, the purple smoke billowing off of it the only indication that you had created it. Without a second to think, you swung the axe across your arm, severing in and stopping the decay.

A different kind of pain shot through you, and before you truly knew what was happening, you stop up and pout your palm to Tomura’s chest. You met his eyes, and the maniacle grin he had on his face was enough to drive you to send all of your shadow fiends to him. With the strongest push you could muster, you distanced yourself from him just as they arrived to swarm him. You turned to look at Bakugou, to make sure he was okay, safe...alive, and you were met with easily the most wild eyes you had ever seen. You’d never found him particularly easy to read, but right now there were so many emotions flashing through his eyes you wondered if every emotion he’d ever felt was in there.

“Suki...” you whispered, suddenly too tired to speak properly. “You - you - what the hell did you - are you crazy?! You idiot! You could have-” Whatever he was saying was drowned out by a ringing in your ears, suddenly so loud and overwhelming you had to close your eyes. You dipped your head, an attempt to hide it to block out everything.  “Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop” you whimpered, desperate for the pain  to cease; and just as suddenly, it did.

You awoke hours later, the repetitive beeping of a heartrate monitor letting you know where you were. ‘Goddamnit. It’s been so long since I was here...thought I was doing better’ you thought, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. You signed, resigning yourself to your fate. You made the decisions, you would live with the consequences.  The door opening caused you to blink, pulling you out of the aimless thoughts. Bakugou walked in, silent and looking exhausted. He paused when he saw you try to sit up, falling slightly when you tried to lean on where your left hand used to be. Three large steps brought him to your side, helping you sit up properly.

You two sat in silence, neither really sure what to say. He had almost died, and you had lost a hard and most of your lower arm to save him, as well as almost dying yourself. What could either of you say? You opened your mouth, only to close it again. Unsure of what else to do, you reached across and places your left hand on top of his, slightly uncomfortable with the twisting of your body.  The contact broke him, and you saw his eyes shut tightly before a small cry erupted from his lips. Tears fell and he grabbed your hand, desperate to hold on to you, to remind himself that you hadn’t died. He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing them and resting them there, his warm breath tickling your fingers.

“You are so stupid....so so stupid” he said, desperately trying to control his breathing, “you can’t do shit like that...you can’t...I can’t...you...you..” panicked breathes interrupted each word, his grip tightening with each attempt at breathing.  “Katsuki, I need you to breath honey - I can barely understand you” you said softly, voice somehow not wavering despite the emotions welling in your throat “copy my breathing, yeah? Look at me” He shook his head, terrified that you’d disappear and this would all be a dream. "I’m not going anywhere. I promise I’m here” you said, tightening your grip slightly to help reassure him. A deep inhale through his nose followed before he finally lifted his head and looked at you.  Even here, after you’d lost so much blood, you were beautiful. He’d never get tired of looking at you - and he almost lost you. In the blink of an eye, his entire world was almost gone. “I’m so sorry” you said, keeping your eyes connected with his “I didn’t think, I just saw you were about the die and I reacted. I didn’t think how it might affect you. I’m so...so sorry Katsu” “Please...please don’t ever do anything like that again. I can’t....I can’t see that again. You were dying in front of me and I couldn’t do anything. The only thing I could do was cause more damage to -” he stopped, and looked down at your arm. You followed his gaze, realizing for the first time just how much of your arm you had lost. Just before your elbow, a diagonal line towards the outer part of your arm.  “Couldn’t do a clean line huh? Well done’ you chastised yourself. “You were bleeding so much...so much...Todoroki was too far away, but we had something to close the wound. I...I had to try...it wouldn’t stop..” ‘He cauterized it’ you realized. Your body tensed with the realization, guilt overwhelming you.

Bakugou felt you tense beneath his hands, his body immediately doing the same. Were you angry? Did you hate him? He didn’t want to do it...he didn’t want to hurt you. But you were dying there, bleeding out in front of him and - “You saved my life, Katsu. I’m sorry I put your in a position to have to do that” “I’m sorry” he said suddenly, feeling overwhelmed and undeserving of your apologies “If I had been paying more attention. This wouldn’t have happened. I was too busy making sure you were safe. If I’d been paying attention, you’d have your arm...your life wouldn’t have changed. I’m sorry. I’m sorry” tears welled up in his eyes again, guilt crushing his heart and pulling hi away from you.

“Hey, hey. Katsu...Katsu please stop. I’m not mad at you, I’d never blame you for this. We both made it, yeah? You saved me. I’m awake and here with you, because of you, okay? I’m still me. I don’t hate you, or think that you should have done something differently. If anything I should have done things differently. But, I will ALWAYS try to save you. That I won’t apologize for. You’re too important to feel any remorse for saving” Bakugou stayed silent, absorbing your words. He kissed your fingers again before standing up, and laying your hand down across the bed. No longer twisting, you sat up straighter, worried that he was going to leave. Instead, and to your utter surprised, he moved one arm behind your back, and another under your knees, lifting you up and maneuvering himself beneath you on your bed. He opened his legs, placing you between them before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

“You are so stupid” he mumbled into your neck “you’re too important to throw your life around like that. I won’t survive if something happens to you. I can’t. I need you here, with me. Got that?” Heat engrossed your face, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you processed his words. You nodded, placing your right arm over his and intertwining your fingers. “I’m sorry” you whispered again. He responded by pulling you closer to him, bodies impossibly together. You felt his left arm release, coming down to lift yours up to inspect. You relaxed, letting him examine the bandaged limb. He didn’t say anything, he just let his fingers gently run across the bandage, You signed before inhaling deeply, imagining what your hand used to look like. Suddenly, purple smoke wrapped itself around the wound, molding itself into the missing arm and hand. Bakugou pulled away, eyes widening as the smoke solidified, leaving a purple arm and hand. Experimentally, you wiggled the fingers, excitement coursing through you as you saw them move, felt them against the palm. Bakugou reached forward, expecting his hand to pass through it - but was shocked when you came into contact with solid warmth. It felt like your other hand...exactly the same. Another cry passed his lips and you curled your fingers around his hand, squeezing lightly. Tears hit your shoulder, and your body shook with his as he cried, not even attempting to hide it. His arms wrapped around you again, hugging you tightly.

“I love you. I love you so much” he said, hiccupping softly

“I love you too Katsu” 

He hugged you tighter still, willing your body to mold into his own

“I’m never letting you go. I’m never letting you get hurt again”

“Katsu, I’m going to get hurt”

“No. Not like this. Anything more than a papercut is too much” he grumbled against your neck, lips whispering over your skin “And if paper cuts you I’ll destroy it” You couldn’t help but smile. You knew it was an impossible promise to keep, but you also knew he’d move heaven and earth to keep it. “I promise to try to avoid those kinds of situations from now on, okay?” “You fuckin’ better...” he muttered, finally kissing your neck. You turned towards him, eyes sparkling and a smile on your face., his expression mirroring yours. You were both beyond exhausted, but damnit you were so happy. 

“I can’t -” he started, only to stop himself “Katsu?” He didn’t say anything, just leaned forward and kisses you, soft and careful. Scared to shatter you, scared of seeing your skin turning to dust again. You smiled into the kiss, tightening your grip on his arms around your midsection; a sign that you weren’t going anywhere, that you wouldn’t break. He understood, and deepened the kiss. Hold you against him. Holding you where you belonged; and he was never letting you go. Never in a million years.

[cheelduh]

hi!! can i request childe fluff with a reader who has a very strong fear of heights? like, they want to confront it and fail, and are down about it? sorry if i missed anything!

The Fall

Pairing: Childe x gn!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: A shitton of typos prolly. Pls ignore any mistakes 

Synopsis: You've been afraid of heights for as long as you can remember, avoiding dangerous mountainsides completely. However, you can't quite stifle the yearning for wind gliding, wishing to experience the enjoyment of it yourself.

Note: Thank you so much for the request. Sorry I took so long, I hope you enjoy it! :)

It starts as a mellow gnawing, the fear, sometime around your early teen-hood when your adventurous cousin lugs you around mountaintops, away from the safety of your village that you're accustomed to. Then it matures, slowly but surely condemning every crevice in your body to the same paralyzingly fate.

"Isn't it beautiful?" She says in awe, clamping hand around your wrist, ensnaring you towards the edge. Her eyes are widened in amazement, brimming with wonder.

Your anxiety blinds your from said beauty. All you can see is the fall, the danger, how all it takes is one uncoordinated step or a joking push from someone to fall to your impeding doom. You don't see the beauty at all, because it's corrupted by dread.

The longer you look down, the deeper the fear manifests, deep within the pit of your stomach, becoming a never-ending inferno that threatens to consume you whole.

You scramble away from the mountainside, your cousin, staggering back until your back hits the grass beneath you, and you're trembling, shaking, unable to breath.

After that day, you never venture too close to the edge of cliffs, preferring to stay grounded, safe, away from the risk. And it works out for you, for a while.

You follow designated pathways up mountains to gather flowers and ore you need, forgoing the climbing part completely in dangerous areas. If there's no way to get somewhere without climbing too high, you just move on to another area, avoiding it completely. It works. Your system may not be the best, but it isn't supposed to be. It gets the job done, and that's all you really care about.

Although every time you catch someone wind gliding from afar, or couples enjoying the view from higher altitudes, you can't help but feel a twinge of envy, a deep rooted dejection.

Your boyfriend, Childe, doesn't really let you sulk in the misery that stems from your fear of heights, finding much more fun date ideas that involve your feet safely on the ground.

His creativity never once ceases to amaze you, every single outing with him being far more enthralling than the last.

He doesn't ask. He doesn't really need to. Being the eleventh harbinger, he has a knack for observing things that people won't admit. He's patient, caring, and loving, has all the best qualities in a person (except for his penchant for violence, which you easily bypass). To be frank, he's the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

One day, in the midst of your cuddling session, you confess that you'd like to get over your deathly fear of heights.

Childe reassures you, peppering your cheeks with his loud kisses. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I'm perfectly fine with enjoying everything Liyue Harbor has to offer."

"But I want to." You pout, nuzzling your head deeper into the side his neck. "I want to appreciate more viewpoints and scenery. I want to be able to wind glide, like super super high."

He chuckles at that, finally agreeing and setting a date, but lets you know that if you wish to back out he has a number of other activities planned.

The morning comes in minutes it seems like, your jumpy nerves not allowing you a wink of sleep. You don't mourn much for the lost hours, because it gives you more than enough time to observe the adorable way your boyfriend snores.

It's not like you have a choice either, because Childe refuses to let you go—that too subconsciously. He's trapped you in a fixed position, front to front, legs tangled for the entirety of the night.

When Childe wakes up, he isn't an idiot to know you've been up all night, but doesn't seem to push it. He has a penchant for sniffing out haywire-nerves, oftentimes pointing them out in himself or his soldiers before an upcoming battle.

After you two finish with your morning routine, he takes you out. Specifically, you're headed towards Luhua pool, and it takes half the day to get there from your home back at the harbour. Once you finally reach the location, you realize why he chose it. Luhua pool is an easy place to glide, closer to shallow waters, and all the while breathtaking to behold.

"Come on," Childe outstretches a gloved hand, gently easing you in close proximity to the border of the ruin you two have climbed. "I got you."

Getting up here wasn't so bad, not when Childe was behind you, telling you to focus on each step and to take your time.

Side stepping the scattered paint brushes and random sketches that someone was in the middle of prior to this day, you clasp his hand tightly, and he weaves his fingers within your own. With a guiding tug, your face meets his chest.

"Turn around," He brushes your hair away gently. "Come on, you don't want to miss this."

Apprehensively, you peek an eye out from the safety of your boyfriend's hold, moving around so you're semi-facing the breathtaking view in front of you. When your eyes are blessed with the delicate hues of the scenery beyond you, your jaw begins to hang. Seeing everything from a distance, from high up, even if you aren't as high up as you'd one day like to be, makes everything look all the more breathtaking.

Childe's right, you don't want to miss this. You don't want to miss this ever again.

But then you look down, the intrusive rhythms of your brain forcing you to peer at the drop, the fall, inches away from where your feet are standing.

The fall. It's always the fall. You aren't even too far up, but the agitation that overtakes your entire body, numbing you completely, branching off in your heart, makes it seem as though you're hundreds of feet away from the ground.

You turn to him, to tell him about your seconds thoughts. The I'm not ready weighs down on your tongue, but the stars in his eyes as he basks in the warm casts of the setting sun terminate the words before they are even born.

So when he finally snaps out of his momentary daze, shrugging off the remaining inertia to grin at you, you doubtlessly agree to what he says next.

"Ready to try the wind glider?"

—

You failed with the wind glider. Panicked last second like a complete moron, caught your leg on the edge of a rock and then fell to your death.

Thankfully your impeccably-adept-at-flying fatui boyfriend launched himself into a free fall not even a millisecond later. With expertise like no other, he dodged your flailing hands and seized your body close to his, swiftly opening up his gliders with an experienced motion.

Even when Childe's feet landed on the ground, arms around you, safe, secure, you couldn't stop screaming, clinging onto him like you'd die if you let go. Took him a solid five minutes to calm you down, wiping at your tears and soothing you with loving words of consolation.

"Hey, are you still thinking about today?" Childe's voice draws you out of your momentary trance. "You haven't even touched your crystal shrimp yet."

"Oh," You blink, pushing them around with the chopsticks. Poking, but not eating. "Thanks."

The harbinger sighs, neatly placing his chopsticks down—not like he was using them right anyways. His hand snakes across the table, finding yours with the sole intention to relieve your unpleasant brooding.

"I'm sorry," You squeeze his hand, unable to meet his eyes yet. "It's so stupid. I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have wasted our day—"

"Stop it." For the first time, he's provoked in your presence, words holding more weight in them than they usually do on his end. "You're not stupid. It's perfectly valid to want to get over your fears, in fact, I think it's admirable. I just—I don't understand why you can't see that, why you can't see how much progress you've made today. Just because you had one slip up doesn't mean anything, it doesn't erase the fact that you faced another challenge and came out of it stronger."

"What if I..." You murmur, timid when you look up to meet his piercing gaze. "What if I don't want to anymore?"

Childe smiles at that, thumb circling around your knuckle, familiar in motion. "Then that's that. Perfectly fine. We don't talk about it ever again unless you bring it up. But if you decide you want to continue, then I'll be there to catch you. Always."

"Thank you." Your beam is small, but doesn't go unnoticed by the other.

"Of course," He lets go, scooting his chair so that it's right next to yours. "And as for compensation, you can feed me. Better feed me dessert too, us fatui are clear-cut with our dealings. To the T."

You roll your eyes, soaking a jade parcel in the broth before picking it up with your chopsticks. "Fatui scum, so hellbent on collecting debts."