#pretty sure i missed a memo or something

[dan-whoell]

gotta be honest i heard 'communal bed' and blacked out. where am i. how did i get here.

[randomnameless]

FFS Sharena

Forget the "uwu Momo was said to be an equal to the 10 Dudes" he was part of them, and erased because he was slaughtering people too much and loved to garden a lot

"She imbued this weapon -

that is totally just a normal weapon not a living corpse made with the essence of a being that was created by the goddess and wielded the purest/rawest form of magic that was passed in that being's blood and is basically what you call "Crest"

-with her magic and now can use it as her own"

Watch as the next Mary-Ann alt will reveal that if the relic reacts to her, it's not because of her crest (and the fact that the relic is still someone reacting to their own blood) but because she's just so badass that she can animate this chunk of metal and casted a spell on it to make it more OP than an iron sword.

[oceantornadoo]

inspired by a dramoine fic i read! simon riley x f!reader

it’s the third time today someone has handed you simon’s paperwork and you’re starting to get confused. in fact, there’s the distinct feeling that you’ve missed a memo.

first, it was the visiting captain, so you couldn’t blame him for confusing lieutenants. but then it was johnny turning in his mission report, muttering something about “cannae be late this time if ah give it ye, lass.” which was odd, considering you weren’t his direct report (you were gaz’s). but what really sent you over the edge was getting called into price’s office and being met with a load of folders addressed to one Lt. Ghost (Confidential).

“sir, i’m a bit confused as to why you can’t just give these to him yourself.” price looked up from his desk, eyes flickering from under his boonie hat. “hav’ you seen ‘im today, lieutenant?” you nodded immediately while trying to scoop all of this paperwork (that was not yours!) into your arms. “yessir, i saw him before breakfast and then during training and then…what?” price had silently quirked an eyebrow, his beard echoing the movement. “i haven’t seen ‘im all day, so i figure it’s faster for you to deliver since you’re more well-versed in his movements than i am.” huh. “i’m sure he’s just doing his ghost thing, y’know? slipping into shadows and…”, price patiently gave you an exasperated look, “but i’ll get these to him, sir. see you later!”

the problem was, you knew exactly where simon was. in your office.

his own had an unfortunate ground level window near the track, so he was always complaining about nosy recruits until you offered to share some office space. temporarily, of course. it’s not like you were using all the empty space anyways and it made it much easier to get the opinion of your fellow lieutenant on a report by walking over to his desk, rather than going up and down stairs. that was the second point he made, and who were you to say no?

after pushing open your office door, you beelined for simon’s desk, dumping the stacks of folders on his desk. “wot’s this?” his mask was off so you could see his eyes widen at the mess of papers. “everyone now thinks i’m a drop off box for your paperwork, so i got burdened with all of this when i was doing my rounds.” he nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his tea. “cheers, love.”

“what do you mean, cheers? don’t you think it’s odd for them to give me your paperwork? and why do we even have so much paperwork? i swear im drowning in it this week.” he snorted at your last sentence, opening the first folder in front of him while you rounded your desk, sitting in your comfy chair with a hmpf. “yer out an’ about more than me, tha’s all.” well, that was true. the infamous ghost was not known to be a sociable person on base. “i guess…” you turned to your old radio, passed down by a retired captain, and turned on simon’s favorite classical station.

“ya want mess or the pub tonight, love?” another great thing about being on base with simon - you never had to pay for dinner. “actually, that thai place we like is doing a special tonight.” he gave you a half-smirk, one cheek ticking up. “bloody raccoon. we had thai two nights ago.” you didn’t respond, instead blinking your best impression of puppy dog eyes at him. simon sighed, then shook his head at his desk. “olrigh’. the things i do.” you smiled and winked, dipping your head back down to your desk. “thanks, si.”

-

two weeks later, you were prepping for a duo mission with simon. price had been grilling the two of you for the past three hours, making sure you had everything memorized. satisfied, he leaned back in his office chair and rubbed his temples, the feeling of a headache coming on. “one more thing.” both of you snapped your head up at price, desperate to leave and eat. you’d already missed dinner and your stomach was complaining.

“the safe house is pretty small, basically a shack. one bed, no couch. i assumed ‘s fine since y’r datin-“ “‘s fine, captain.” simon cut him off, an out of character move that had you frowning. “it’s fine, cap. not like ive never slept on a floor before.” now price was frowning at what you said. he turned to simon, who shook his head imperceptibly before becoming still again. price’s brow furrowed but he didn’t push further. he got up from his chair, eyes flitting suspiciously between you two. “i’ll see you at 0600.”

“what was that about?” you whispered to simon after as you walked down the hall. “‘s nothin’.” you were missing something but it was so unclear what. “he thinks that we’re datin-“ “said it’s nothin’, sweetheart. he’s an old man. let’s get some food in you, yeah?” you nodded, letting him guide you to the kitchen. price wasn’t that old. and you were not dating simon riley.

-

the mission was beautiful, your best one in years. it was the first duo mission between you and simon, so the nerves of pulling your own weight had settled in hard. thankfully, your skills balanced each other out and you’d gotten the target in record time. now, all you had to do was wait in the safe house for exfil.

“you were so good.” you whispered once he’d locked the door. he only hummed a response, checking exit and entry points while you set up your packs, scrounging up MREs and testing the shack for electricity. price wasn’t kidding - it was practically a studio apartment. one bed, a bathroom and a decrepit stove. the soldier part of you was fine with it, but that small soft part of you ached for the warmth of your apartment. memories of yelling at simon for using all your shampoo even though he didn’t live there, of him running you a bath after a long day of training.

“you were good too, baby.” he snuck up from behind your spot on the floor and lifted you onto the mattress that had definitely seen better days. you hadn’t even checked it for bed bugs yet. “c’mere.” he pulled you into his lap, unbuckling your tac vest as you pulled off your bandana. you tugged off his mask - the hard shell since you were on a mission - and ran your nails through his short haircut. simon started kissing your neck, wet and sloppy like he couldn’t get enough. the unrestrained want he displayed sometimes scared you. the respective pulsing in both your chest and cunt scared you more.

“so are you sleeping on the floor or am i?” he flipped you over, your back flush with the mattress as simon loomed over you. there was still eyeblack around his eyes, caught on his blonde eyelashes as well, and you couldn’t help the hand that reached up to brush some of it away. “y’r funny, sweetheart.” you grinned at that - a real toothy smile. he bent down to kiss you, scarred lips caressing your own. simon bit your lip and you moaned, sliding your legs out from under him to wrap them around his torso. when you tugged him in he went willingly, grinding into your clothed cunt. his tac vest was still on, scraping against your shirt, hardening your nipples.

“keepin’ you in this bed all night.” cold fingers dipped past the waist of your pants. you were already wet, his fingers sliding easily up and down your slit as they warmed up. that’s when you realized he still had his glove on, his movements harsher than normal. wide eyes met his own, and simon stopped so you could make a decision.

it didn’t take much as you dug your heels into his back harder, meeting him in a sloppy kiss as his gloved thumb played with your clit. “fuckin’ made for me.” he whispered, and you chalked it up to dirty talk because obviously, you weren’t together. he just knew exactly what to do, giving your clit the right amount of pressure as his other fingers teased your hole, the stretch burning more than usual. it only took a few flicks and you were off, your orgasm settling through your bones like a warm cup of tea. “jesus, si.” he grinned, his scarred lips pulling up to show a beautiful smile. “know ya like th’ back of my hand, huh?” you shook your head, capturing the idiot in another kiss.

-

after the mission, after debrief and a hot shower, you made your way back to your base office. thankfully, paperwork had only slightly piled up. one envelope stood out though - a thick card-stock with glossy, swooping letters. an invite to london’s military gala, addressed to a Lieutenant & Lieutenant. simon’s name was next to yours, connected by a singular symbol. you turned to him in disbelief. simon had been going through his own backlog, but his head snapped up under the focus of your glare.

“simon, are we…dating?”

-

this was fun!!! check out the fic i linked it was so good and i couldn’t put it down.

[ddlydevotion]

dating hamzah al-emad includes...

currently listening to: lust for life by lana del rey ft the weeknd ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Hamzah quite honestly doesn’t have too much experience when it comes to romantic relationships. He’s constantly worried that he’ll do or say something wrong, so please reassure him when the situation calls for it.

he lovelovelovess having you around him as much as possible. You honestly could never “bother” him, even if he’s editing/coming up with video ideas. One day you asked Hamzah if he’d like some alone time to get some editing done and he immediately said:

“no-what are you talking about? Here, come sit down.”

You’re one of the very few people that don’t easily overstimulate him lmao

This man has insane attachment issues when it comes to you and has no issue letting you know when he misses/wants to see you. You could be out of the apartment running errands and your phone will be filled with messages from him.

‘me and the cats miss u very much btw if u even care…’

‘when are you coming homeee ;(‘

Please don’t be shocked when he comes up to you asking for very specific things that he may need for a video involving Martin. For example, where do you think he got the skirt for his White Chicks costume? Exactly.

Even if someone is meeting him for the very first time, they’ll immediately be able to tell he has a girlfriend because he’s constantly wearing something symbolic of you. That bracelet you randomly made him one night? It’s practically glued to his wrist. Your claw clip practically has a home on his belt loop. So, these little things make it pretty easy for people to decipher the fact that he’s taken.

Recording with Martin takes up quite a bit of his time so he’s constantly putting in the effort to see you, hear your voice, and speak with you in general. You’re constantly receiving photos/videos/voice memos from Hamzah when he’s in the middle of filming.

He always makes sure to bring you something back when Martin and him visit a restaurant, or a location that’s stocked up on items he knows you enjoy.

Hamzah has been through a whole lot and has experienced his fair share of loneliness. He isn’t too good with his words/voicing just how much you and your presence mean to him but he tries soso hard. There’ll be a lot of sighs and stutters filling the pauses in his sentences but that doesn’t stop his adoration from shining through.

“I just- I love you so much, y/n. I hope I say it enough, y’know? I’m really serious about you and I know I might not be the most experienced guy when it comes to this, but I hope that doesn’t make you doubt how serious I am about you. Because I am- serious about you, I mean.”

These sorts of conversations tend to happen late at night when the warmth between your two bodies blossoms endlessly. He holds you tight as your cheek is pressed against his chest. He can’t help but hold you the same way he’d hold a knife.

In his eyes, the two of you are in this for the long run and he doesn’t hide his intentions of marrying you. He even slipped up and called you his wife in a video once.

‘Yesterday, me and my wife- well…make that my future wife.’ and then a cheesy lil smirk spreads across his face 😭

He even made the both of you in Sims and made it so that the two of you got married. Mandy and Martin couldn’t help but tease him about it.

He loves you with his entire fucking being and he wants nothing but to be good for you, good to you, be the one to make you smile, laugh, feel at ease. He adores being able to do domestic activities with you since it gives him a glimpse into how it’ll be like once the two of you eventually get married. As I said, he puts in soooo much effort into making you happy so he definitely attempts to get good at cooking so he can surprise you with breakfast in bed/homemade dinner. He stills puts in the effort to learn how to cook even if you already know how to. He wants to surprise you so bad so pls let him (╥‸╥) (even if the French toast he made is a lil burnt)

Follows you around like a lost puppy. His hand is constantly reaching for yours, his arms are instantly wrapped around you as soon as the two of you get into bed, he always makes room for you to sit in his lap.

a/n: I haven’t written in quite awhile but I had to come back since my obsession with this man has worsened this past week 😞. Feel free to send requests 💌🧸

[scary-grace]

(secret) santa, baby - part 12 of a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. A fic in 12 parts. Divider by @ wcnderlnds

i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi

part xii (opening presents)

“What?” Spinner asks anxiously. “Do you think it’s too much or something?”

“Um – no.” You’re definitely lying. You can barely see Spinner around the enormous box he’s carrying. You’re not sure if he can see anything, either. “I mean, it’s the last Secret Santa gift of the year. Go big or go home, right?”

“Yeah,” Spinner agrees. He sounds relieved. “And after what happened – she deserves something extra nice, don’t you think?”

“Definitely.”

You weren’t sure how Spinner would react to the news that Aiba and her boyfriend have broken up – or rather, that Aiba dumped him when she found out about the kiss. You know people who’d have been happy to find out that the person they’d liked from afar was finally single. But Spinner wasn’t happy. He looked so unhappy when he found out that Twice elbowed him and said he’d never seen anybody be that upset over good news.

Spinner stared at him like he was crazy. It’s not good news, he said. She’s really sad. Why would I be happy about her being sad?

Spinner’s a good guy, and you’re pretty sure the giant gift he’s carrying is something he bought before the mistletoe-day disaster. When you look around the ballroom where the party’s being held, you see a lot of giant gifts, enough that going all-out with the last gift must be a tradition or something. It’s a tradition, and you missed the memo. Your last gift for Tomura is small enough to fit in your purse.

It was hard to find, and you’re pretty sure you outed yourself as Tomura’s Secret Santa to Spinner in the process of figuring out what “video games” meant on Tomura’s list. Tomura apparently has a thing for retro consoles, and retro consoles only play old games. Spinner mentioned a game Tomura’s been half-assedly searching for since last year, and you decided to find it. It took a lot of time spent scrolling on Ebay and picking through thrift store discount bins, but you finally found it, and you even found an old console to test it on to make sure it worked. You were really excited to give it to him until you got here and saw what everybody else did.

But it’s too late to change anything now. You’re here with your tiny gift, and Tomura’s going to think you didn’t try at all. If he’s even here. “Do you know if Tomura’s going to be here?”

“Last I heard, yeah,” Spinner says. “He changes his mind last-minute about stuff, though. I can text him if you want?”

“I have his number,” you say. “I can do it.”

You can, but you won’t. You know Tomura hates parties, and you don’t want to put his maybe liking you to the test against how much he hates getting dressed up and going out. It’s what kept you from asking him yourself, even though the two of you have been texting more than two people who see each other every day at work really should. The only person who brought up the party was him, when he asked if you were going. You said yes, and then he asked why. There’s going to be free food, you said. And I want to meet my Secret Santa.

As far as you can tell, most people have at least some idea of who their Secret Santa is, but you don’t have a clue. Your Secret Santa’s never written a note to go with any of their gifts, and nothing about the gift-wrapping style – or lack thereof, with the first few gifts – has given them away. The only thing you know is that they haven’t been following your hyper-specific list to the letter. While everything they’ve gotten you has been on the list, it’s all been an upgrade from the versions you asked for.

So they’re generous and bad at wrapping gifts. That could describe half the office. You’d like to know who it is, and there’s free food, so you’re here. And if you might have dressed up a little more than you usually would for an office holiday party on the off chance that Tomura makes an appearance, you’re going to keep that to yourself. Nobody has to know. And you can have fun at the party whether or not he’s here.

It is a really nice party – probably the nicest one you’ve ever been to. The decorating committee went berserk, to the point where there are multiple live Christmas trees on each wall and food tables on either end of the ballroom, each stocked with its own chocolate fountain and champagne tower. There’s music, which Yamada apparently arranged for but isn’t actually performing. Yamada’s in a good mood. When you run into him while trying to grab a glass of champagne, he grins at you. “Next year. Acapella. Are you in?”

“Ask me next year,” you say. “Once the holiday spirit’s worn off.”

Yamada cracks up at that, snags two glasses of champagne, and speeds off through the crowd. You finally manage to separate one for yourself and get clear of the table. Half a glass of champagne later, you’re ready to mingle. Time to see if participating in the office’s holiday traditions as a way to make friends actually worked.

It feels like it did. People say hi to you, and when you stop to talk to them, it doesn’t feel awkward at all. You’re willing to admit that some of it might be because you’ve all been drinking a little bit, but at the same time, you’ve gone to office parties where people were drunker than this and still silent as the grave. Some of your coworkers have already found out who their Secret Santas are, and some of them are carrying gifts that look even more over-the-top unwrapped than they did when they were covered in festive wrapping paper. Maybe it’s better if Tomura doesn’t show up. You can find a bigger gift and leave it on his desk next week, and no one will have to know that you messed up.

You cross paths with Tomura’s friends here. They’re all dressed up, probably more than anyone else at the party, although it looks more like they’re here for a costume party than a Christmas party. “Like it? It’s an Enji’s credit card special,” Twice says, tugging at the lapel of his purple suit. “He really wanted Dabi to come home for Christmas this year.”

“Did you?” you ask Dabi.

“Yeah, but I brought everybody with me,” Dabi says. Everybody. Even – “Shigaraki, too. He hates this shit, but he never misses a chance to stick it to somebody else’s shitty dad.”

“It was fun this year,” Magne says. “Fuyumi made us our own stockings and everything. That thing was nicer than any of my actual socks.”

“It sounds fun,” you say.

“Could have been worse,” Dabi says. He glances at you. “What did you do?”

You didn’t, really, which is the other reason you’re here – Christmas alone in your apartment was fun or at least peaceful the first few years, but lately it’s been feeling lonely. “Not too much. I just slept in and then came here.”

Tomura’s friends exchange glances. “Next year you’ll hang with us,” Twice announces. “You can still sleep in. We always show up late anyway.”

“You don’t have to invite me,” you say at once. You must have sounded a lot more pathetic than you meant to. “And Twice, you probably shouldn’t invite me to Dabi’s house –”

“First, it’s not my house,” Dabi says. “Second, I invite whoever I want. The more of my friends I bring, the more uncomfortable I make my jackass of a father. As long as you don’t hit on my sister –”

“Come on, that was one time,” Twice protests.

“Yeah, one time too many –”

You sidle sideways out of the conversation while they’re still debating exactly how many times one of Dabi’s friends have made a pass at his siblings. Dabi probably didn’t mean the invitation. You won’t count on it. But it’s nice that they’re thinking about it tonight. Hearing it makes you feel a little better, even if it’ll evaporate well before next Christmas.

The party ebbs and flows around you. Sometimes there are people dancing, but other times, the music quiets enough to let people talk. There are fewer and fewer unopened gifts floating around. You see Spinner still toting his gift for Aiba, which means that Aiba’s either not here or he just can’t see her around the box. The latter seems more likely to you. She’s really tiny. No matter where you look, there’s no sign of Tomura.

You do find Aiba, though, when you stop by the chocolate fountain. You can’t tell if she’s trying to hide. “Hi,” you say, and she looks up. “He’s not here, if that’s what you’re worried about. I haven’t seen him.”

“He said he wouldn’t come to it,” Aiba says. She looks like she didn’t sleep well last night, but her outfit’s on point. “I’m not worried about him. I’m just not very – fun right now. I only came to it because I wanted to meet my Secret Santa.”

“Really?”

“I thought the Secret Santa was going to be ruined because of – him. But then I found out it wasn’t him,” Aiba says. You nod. “And that makes it – nicer, I think. All the gifts I got were perfect, and none of it had anything to do with him. So there’s still one part of my Christmas that’s nice. I want to say thank you.”

Spinner had better have a game plan. “They haven’t come to talk to me yet, though,” Aiba says. She frowns. “Do you think they’re even here?”

“I know they’re here,” you say. “If you stay here, I can go find them and tell them to come over.”

Aiba nods. “Thank you,” she says. “And thank you. For the other day. That was nice, too.”

“No problem,” you say. “Just stay there.”

Courtesy of the giant present, Spinner’s really easy to find. You give him specific directions to where Aiba’s standing, tell him to take it easy, and wish him luck. As you watch him go, you find yourself wondering what’s in the box. Maybe you should have asked. It would have given you a better idea about the kind of thing you should have gotten for Tomura.

“Hey.”

That’s Tomura’s voice. You turn and find him standing behind you, a haphazardly wrapped present in one hand. You feel a temporary surge of relief at the sight. He got something small, too. At least you aren’t alone in totally missing the boat. But then you take a look at the rest of him, and the relief evaporates into something you can only describe as a kind of awestruck surprise. Tomura cleans up nice. Really nice.

Like the rest of his friends, he’s dressed up. Unlike the rest of them, he went pretty standard with it – black suit and tie, although he’s got a red cape around his shoulders. It should be incongruous, but he makes it work. He’s done something to his hair. Brushed it, maybe. Either way, it looks good. You can’t help but stare.

But even though he looks great – he has to know he looks great, right? – he doesn’t look quite comfortable. Maybe because you’re staring at him, and you haven’t said a word. “You look really nice,” you say, and a faint flush comes up in his cheeks. “I didn’t know if you were coming. I know this isn’t really your thing.”

“It’s what you’re doing,” Tomura says, and your face turns red, too. “I want to meet my Secret Santa.”

That’s you. You and your stupid gift that’s too small. “Right,” you say. You fumble in your purse and pull it out, then offer it to him. At least you did a decent job wrapping it. “It was me. I’m your Secret Santa. Here.”

Tomura takes the gift, then holds out the one he’s carrying to you. You did a decent job wrapping it; he probably needs both hands to get it open. “The wrapping on this looks nice,” you say nonsensically while he picks at the tape on yours. “You don’t have to open mine right now. You probably want to give this to the person you were Secret Santa for.”

“I just did.”

It takes way too long for you to figure that one out. “Wait, it was you?”

“You didn’t guess?” Tomura looks almost affronted. “I figured out you were mine days ago.”

“How? Was it my handwriting on the notes?”

“No,” Tomura says. He gives you a weird look. “I wrote on my list that I hate the cold, but I don’t tell anybody that. The only way you would have known is if you got my list.”

“Oh.” You would have thought the thing that gave you away would be bigger than that – like getting too familiar in your notes, slipping up and using his given name and not going back to his surname when you realized your mistake. “Okay.”

“You really didn’t know it was me?” Tomura’s stopped trying to open your gift for the sole purpose of staring at you. “I thought Dabi gave me away. When he was talking about how shitty I am at wrapping gifts.”

You vaguely remember a joke Dabi made. You really shouldn’t have had so much champagne. “Sorry. I should have thought about it a little more.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Tomura says. It’s quiet for a second. “A bad surprise?”

“No,” you say at once. “A good surprise. But – you could have just told me it was you. Then you wouldn’t have had to come to the party.”

“This is what you’re doing.”

“I know, but we could have done something else. Something you wouldn’t hate as much.”

“I don’t hate it as much as last year,” Tomura says. He nods at the gift. “Are you going to open that or what?”

“Yes,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Don’t say thank-you when you don’t know what it is,” Tomura says. “Just – open it.”

You don’t have any idea of what it could be. You know Tomura’s gone through everything on your list already. His wrapping job is easier to get through than yours. You peel back the paper and untie the ribbons and find yourself holding a hat.

It looks sort of like your hat. The one you gave him. But you found that hat on sale somewhere, ages ago, and this one is a lot nicer. Yours is just knitted, but this one has a soft lining, and the fabric on the outside feels like it might be water-resistant. It also has a goofy little pompom on it, which yours definitely doesn’t have. This isn’t anything you’d have bought for yourself. But you like it a lot.

You look up, ready to thank Tomura, and find him staring down at your gift, unwrapped in his hand. “You didn’t leave a note,” he says. “I like the notes.”

You’d facepalm if you weren’t holding the hat. “I thought I would just say what I would have said in the note to you. Face to face.”

He looks up. You’ve never seen that look on his face before. In fact, you’re not sure you’ve seen that look on anybody’s face – wary, expectant, maybe surprised, maybe hopeful. You should have planned what you were going to say a little better. Before you can say anything, though, Tomura speaks up. “How did you know about this game? I’ve been looking for it. Where did you even find it?”

“I found it on Ebay,” you say. “It wouldn’t have shipped in time, so I picked it up in person. I made sure to test it. It works. And as far as finding out about it – I asked Spinner about the kind of games you liked. I wanted to get it right.”

“I half-assed my list. Why would you try that hard?”

“I just – I don’t know,” you say. “I know Toga kind of bullied you into doing this. I wanted you to get something nice out of it. Sad Christmas might make more sense to you – and me, sometimes – but I thought it would be nice for you to have a happy one.”

That was a dumb thing to say. Tomura hasn’t told you a lot about his background – you’ve really only gotten close recently – but what you know isn’t good. It’s dumb of you to think that one video game and a handful of other gifts could rewrite any of that. You avert your eyes in a hurry. “Thank you for the hat. I didn’t mean to make you go off-list.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Tomura says. “I just thought you needed a new one. Since I’m keeping yours.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You are?”

“If you weren’t lying when you said it looked okay,” Tomura says. His hand brushes against your jaw, then applies pressure, turning you back to face him. He looks almost frustrated, but his face is flushed in a way you recognize. “And if you like me.”

“Do you like me?” you ask without thinking, and Tomura kisses you.

You’ve been regretting not giving him a real kiss under the mistletoe at work, but now you think it’s for the best that you didn’t. You haven’t had very many good first kisses, and you want a chance to savor this one. You wrap one arm around Tomura’s waist and pull him a little closer, and even though he startles, he keeps kissing you. He’s not hesitant, so you aren’t, either. There’s no way you’re going to be the first one to pull away.

When you do separate, it’s at the same time, and for what you’re pretty sure is the same reason. The music’s kicked back up. “Is that the stupid Grinch song?” Tomura asks, and you nod. He’s ever so slightly out of breath. He looks kind of flustered, but not nearly as much as you want him to. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“I mean, I could always sing All I Want For Christmas Is You again –” You see the face Tomura’s making. “I’m kidding. Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care,” Tomura says. He unwraps your hand from around his waist, then keeps holding it as he leads you towards the doors. “It doesn’t matter, if you’re coming with me.”

The wind hits you in a sharp blast as soon as you’re outside, and you pull your new hat on one-handed. “Maybe somewhere warm?”

Tomura pulls on your hand, and when you turn towards him, he kisses you again. Now that you’ve got both your hands free and you’re not in the middle of a crowd, you can kiss him how you want to – one arm around his waist, your other hand gathering up a few strands of his hair. Tomura’s breath catches, and a moment later, so does yours, and although it takes a while for you to separate again, you’re both out of breath when you do.

Tomura doesn’t go far. His arms are tight around you, and when he answers a question you’ve almost forgotten, you can feel his breath against your skin. “I’m warm enough.”

the end

<- part xi

[cordidy]

Grieving...

The LaDS men helping you after Josephine and Caleb's fake death (cause he definitively is "shady guy" idc).

I took the part of not dating cause I wanted some friendly comfort and since Zayne is a chilhood friend I assumed he would be more present than the others, hence his is longer (😏🤭)

TW : mention of death, funeral

Featuring Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel and Sylus.

English is not my mother tongue.

- Zayne was in surgery when the explosion happened and it's only a couple of hours after you got admitted to Akso's ER, when he got back to his office to relax, that he got the memo as your physician.

- He spends the night by your side, refusing to move until you wake up and holds your hand the next day when the police comfirms they did not find any remains in the rubble of the house.

- The man will be HERE for you all the way down, moving onto your couch the moment he brought you back home. While he can't clear his bussy schedule, his free time will be dedicated to you, making sure you get healthy meals, rest and all the support you need but also leaving you space of needed.

- Zayne is very organized so wether it's the paperwork with the insurance or the funeral organization he will help and will even step up to take decisions when you mentally can't.

- He's madly in love with you but won't try anything innapropriate in your weaken state, going as far as gently push you away when you try to hit on him one night just to feel something else than the despair you've fallen into.

- "Not like this" he will whisper as you try to kiss him before breaking down in his arm. He will hold you while carressing your hair to try and sooth you thou, kissing your forehead gently, lulling you to sleep with sweet words.

- The day of the funeral he stands by your side, holding your hand tight to remind you you are not alone, your fingers intertwined being the only thing grounding you.

- On the following weeks he will abuse his prerogative as you physician to check your tension and run tests to make sure you are not letting yourself drown in sorrow. Dropping by you place after work will also become a habit and he won't hide the fact IT IS to check up on you, no shit given at the side eye you give him while he is cooking you dinner instead of instant noodles.

- Xavier finds out when the news reaches the Association.

- He will volunteer to bring you flowers and condoleances on behalf of your coworkers and will offer to drive you home when you get discharged from the hospital since you are neighbors.

- He will find ANY occasion to show up at your door. "I ran out of sugar" "do you have hot water ?" "The delivery guy (he bribed) gave me your package" all of these just to check on you without saying it out loud cause he knows you don't like people seeing you in a weak state.

- He will barely get sleep as he wants to be sure he won't miss your knock on the door when you'll start doing the same just to not be alone with your thoughts.

- It will become a habit for you to fall asleep on his couch whihe watching a movie to try and change your mind since your place, so full of memories, will become unbearable. His place will turn into your sanctuary even when he is at work as he gave you a spare key.

- After the funeral, once you're back to work, he will always offer to train together whenever he sees that look in your eyes, just to keep you busy and will start to do some overtime (mainly in the firm of sleeping at his desk) so he has an excuse to walk home with you.

- Whenever one of your friend come to visit and he knows he had a couple hours he will take the opportunity to turn the N109 zone upside down, looking for intel

- Rafayel heard about the explosion on the news, like everyone else but did not realize you were involved so, when you did not answer his messages for the past 3 days (cause you were at the hospital) he got pretty annoyed at being ignored, spaming your phone with complains.

- One evening, he shows up at your door unannounced, all pouting and whinning, thinking the bruises on your face are from another "stupid mission" and it's the reason you didn't show up to his last exhibition when he "really needed you to protect me from all these snobs !"

- "You obviously don't care about me or your job as a Bodyguard ! I could have died over the past 3 days and you wouldn't care" He complains dramatically, not expecting you to snap at him (very poor choice of words from his part thou !) and break down in tears, telling him how immature he is, that the world doesn't revolve around him and you don't want to see him again before slapping the door to his face.

- Thomas is the one telling him what happened when he reads about the upcoming funeral in the news and Rafayel is mortified. He shows up at your doors with flowers and when you tell him you don't want them he stops you "they are for your family..."

- He will spend all his nights on the phone with you, talking about everything, listening to you cry or just being there and won't hang out until you fall asleep (also answering on the first ring whenever you call him back if you had a nightmare)

- Sylus is not around at that time but that doesn't mean he doesn't know someone is trying to frame his organization and himself for the explosion. He will remain in the shadows thou while trying to find out who did it.

- Not being involved with you yet, it's not really about you but more about "fuck around and find out" to him.

- Luke and Kieran will attend the funeral discretly to keep an eye on the survivor and see if anything suspicious happens.

- You also start noticing strange little trinkets left here and there, a little coin, a shinny rock, a pretty leaf....

[heesimp]

tasty (teaser) - heeseung

summary: it’s not your week and it doesn’t seem like the semester will ease up on you as time flies by, but your best friend is here to help in more ways than one.

word count estimate: 5.6K (891 for the teaser)

notes: let me know if you want to be tagged :) this is based off of a request an anon sent, so thank you anon! I’ll probably post it tonight or tomorrow. xx

warnings: reader touches herself, porn mentions, vibrator mention, phone sex, oral (f. receiving), dirty talking, mentions of heeseung with other girls, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.

posted!

Heeseung isn’t shy about physical touch with you or anyone else. He’s the kind of guy girls feel comfortable around with just a few words spoken and you’ve always envied the way Heeseung can talk his way through anything. People love him, girls want to fuck him, and guys want to be like him. There’s a part of you that wishes you could exude the same aura that your best friend does but, unlike him, you cower at any chance of interaction and can’t seem to get anyone to be interested in you the way you’re interested in them. Heeseung has heard your fair share of love debacles whereas it seems like romance is presented to him with the snap of a finger. 

It isn’t that you haven’t had experiences with sex and dating, but they haven’t been worthwhile. So far, nobody has been memorable enough to keep in your backpocket for days like this, when you need a hot and erotic memory to come in an instant. It feels impossible to find guys who know what they’re doing when a woman is presented in front of them. Guys are so lucky because it takes next to nothing to get them hard and get them off. 

And like, your best friend has had his fair share of hookup stories that leave you wetter than a goddamn fountain. He’s not shy about skimping the details because he’s seen you cry snot since kindergarten and you’ve seen him eat shit on bicycles since elementary school. Sex isn’t off the table. You just don’t have anything to contribute and he doesn’t judge you for it. You aren’t really keen on telling him about all of the bad experiences you’ve had when he talks about how mind blowing sex for him is. Part of you is envious that your best friend has never had one bad day of sex in his life. Allegedly. 

Still, this frustration bubbles up and there’s nothing you can do to quell the way you feel. Perhaps it’s a mix of general life stress and the events leading up to this very moment. The entire day felt like a test to your patience as minor inconveniences piled up on top of one another before your breaking point. You thought your vibrator sitting uncharged was your last straw but it seems like your mind isn’t clear enough to focus on getting off. You recall a few unread text messages from Heeseung and open your shared text thread with him and watch all of the funny TikTok videos and tweets he sends you. You’re missing him right now. 

Heeseung answers after one ring. 

“Back from the dead, I see. What’s up?” 

You huff. “Nothing.” You hear him laughing from the other line. The faint sound of his keyboard clicking echoes in your ears. 

“Can’t be nothing. You always call me when you need to tell me something.” 

“Not true.”

“Y/N, you and I both know you prefer to talk on the phone when you have something important you need to say so neither of us ends up sending long voice memos.” Okay, he’s got you there. “So begs the question: What’s up?”

“Well I called you because I’m bored. Happy?”

Heeseung laughs again. You’re sure he can hear your disdain. “It’s a good thing I know how to deal with your attitude, huh? Since you’re bored, I’ll have you know you’re calling me while I’m playing with the guys.”

“What, no girl to hook up with?” 

“Not tonight, princess.” 

“How sad.” 

“If you must know why, I had a pretty long day at work but I’m fine now. Jake’s ass keeps dying so that’s pretty funny.” You don’t say anything, not right away. Not when you realize you called him in a haste and that you’re naked except for a tank stop and dainty white socks. The realization makes your cheeks heat up as you think about it, even though Heeseung can’t see what you’re wearing. “You good? You’re unusually quiet, especially when you give me attitude.” That makes you roll your eyes.

“You know, it’s unfair that all you have to do to get off is brush your hand against your dick.”

“Where’s this coming from? You don’t really talk about sex. Is everything alright?”

“It’s unfair!” He hears you groan in frustration. You’re somewhat annoyed he’s still typing away on his gaming keyboard.

“Y/N…Are you okay? What’s gotten into you?”

That question alone seems to ease your mind a little as your irritation bubbles over the surface. You couldn’t stop yourself from talking even if you tried. You tell Heeseung everything, good and bad, and he won’t relent until he knows you’re okay. But even this is treading into new territory. It isn’t that you haven’t noticed just how attractive your best friend has gotten since you met him for the first time as kids, but it’s the first time you’ve ever acknowledged it while talking to him. 

“I can’t get myself off.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper. You don’t hear the sound of his keyboard anymore.

“What?”

“Heeseung…”

“No, say it again.” 

Suddenly, you’re starting to regret calling him to complain about something like this. You feel like you might as well be diving into the depths of your secrets.

“I can’t get myself off.”

[yuyusuyu]

birthday surprise!

pairing. idol! kim hongjoong x gn! non idol! reader

synopsis. hongjoong knows wooyoung is up to no good... which is a good thing because he sure is in for a pleasant surprise at midnight!

warnings. a few curse words (lolsies), pet names (it's just one i think), a little bit of violence (it's not bad i swear, but someone gets a lil physical IJFAIWJ), mentions of food, lovesick couple energy (ew), reader is a foreigner!

genres. fluff, romance, slight comedy?, established relationship

rating. sfw

wc. 1.6 k

a/n. birthday special for hongjoong ! (we are going to pretend like i posted this on his birthday and that it was posted in november okay 😻)

reblogs and comments are appreciated as it helps with not getting shadowbanned!

HONGJOONG knows something is going on. something evil is brewing right under his nose and he needs to find out right now because for the hundredth time now wooyoung has given him a knowing look accompanied by a smirk. why the hell is he smirking? he has to be plotting something against him. his downfall, maybe?

he taps his foot on the ground, checking the time on his phone every once in a while waiting for wooyoung to finish his shoot, having decided to wait for him to go back to their dorm together. the time is nearing midnight; hongjoong huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“you look like you’re losing your mind, hyung.”

“shit, jongho! you scared me,” hongjoong jumps, glaring at the younger male out from the corner of his eyes. “what are you still doing here?”

“i just finished shooting,” jongho shrugs, “are you waiting for wooyoung hyung?”

with a nod, he presses his lips into a thin line. “yeah… so i can figure out what he’s up to.”

“i think you’re being paranoid—”

“see!” hongjoong points at wooyoung, gawking at him. “he did it again.”

“...did what again?” jongho glances at wooyoung, shooting him a glare and looks back at hongjoong quickly.

“he just winked at me!”

snorting, jongho pats his back. “hyung, wooyoung always winks at everyone.” a chime from his phone has him checking it once, turning away afterwards, “i’ll see you back home, hyung.” jongho leaves him after bidding goodbye to wooyoung with a wave of his hand. hongjoong goes back to patiently waiting for wooyoung to finish, entertaining himself on his phone.

hongjoong: hey there

yn: hi there stranger

hongjoong: you’re up?

yn: i think i should be asking YOU that. isn’t it nearing midnight for you, mister?

hongjoong: it is

yn: filming, i assume?

hongjoong: yeah

hongjoong: hey can you send me a voice memo? kinda want to hear you right now

yn: how about i call you instead?

your caller id flashes on his phone, his lips curling into a small smile when he answers. “hi,” he breathes out, walking out of the building. hongjoong leans against the wall next to the door, looking down at the screen when you hum out a greeting in return. “how are you?”

you laugh, “i’ve been better. how is my pretty boy doing?”

“doing just fine,” he answers, chuckling. “i miss you.”

“woah,” you gasp, “is the kim hongjoong being mushy with me right now?” your face is shrouded in darkness, only illuminated by the lighting from your phone—which, now that he thinks about it, is weird. it should be morning for you right now.

he shakes those thoughts away, thinking that you probably still have the curtains drawn in your room. “don't be a brat,” he huffs through his nose, amused. “or else i won’t be like this anymore.”

you apologize quickly, making his smile turn into a cheshire grin. “why are you still in bed, dear?” hongjoong drawls, his eyes twinkling when he watches you start to stutter. he isn't very affectionate, but he knows that you love it and cherish the moments when he is. pet names? they make you swoon. “you should get up now.”

when you're about to reply, you end up falling and disappearing from his sight. worriedly, he calls out your name. “i’m fine!” you pop up on his screen again, though it’s just your eye staring into the camera, blinking.

hongjoong raises a brow, “now what are you up to, y/n?”

“absolutely, no—” you pause, disappearing from his screen again and returning momentarily. “gotta cut the call short, joongie. i’ll call you later, okay?”

“y/n, wait—”

“i love you, hongjoong,” you sing.

baffled, hongjoong replies, “i love you, but what—” the call ends and he’s left staring at his text messages with you. shoving his phone into the back pocket of his pants, he straightens up when the doors to the building slam open, wooyoung walking from them.

“oh, hyung!” he says, “why are you out here?”

“i was on the phone,” hongjoong replies, leaning forwards to peer inside the building. “are you done?”

“yeah.”

humming, he excuses himself to thank the staff for all of their hard work and returns moments later. he’s motioned into a car along with wooyoung, their manager dropping him off at their apartment. they both walk in unison towards their home, the oldest’s steps are sluggish, sleepless nights finally catching up to him while the younger one’s are energetic, a bounce in each step he takes. but as soon as they reach the door, wooyoung shoves himself in front of hongjoong, shouting, “i’ll get the door!”

the little voice in the back of his head heightens his senses, telling hongjoong that, again, wooyoung is up to no good. so he leans back, watching with careful eyes as he fumbles around with his bag. “sorry,” wooyoung mumbles, “i��m looking for the keys.”

“wooyoung?”

he responds with a hum.

“we don’t have keys,” hongjoong stares at the back of his head, seeing how wooyoung freezes. “we have a passcode which i’ll put in.” he moves to step in front of wooyoung, only to end up in a fight over who gets to open the door.

“hyung, let me open the door!” wooyoung whines, trying to hook his foot behind hongjoong’s ankle in an attempt to trip him.

hongjoong tries kicking wooyoung’s legs in retaliation, attempting to shove him away from the door. “you’re being weird, wooyoung! let me—oof!” wooyoung successfully trips hongjoong; he lets out a triumphant noise of sorts, checks his phone and steps aside, smiling widely as the oldest stands up slowly.

“okay, you can open the door!”

gawking at him, hongjoong grumbles profanities and punches the passcode in. the door unlocks with a click and he takes a step inside, taking his shoes off and putting them neatly on the side before walking over to turn on the lights, only for wooyoung to jump on his back and clamp a hand over his eyes. hongjoong staggers forwards, quickly regaining balance. “what the hell, wooyoung? what are you doing?”

“it’s not midnight yet!” he hisses, yelping in surprise when hongjoong manages to shrug him off. 

glowering at him, hongjoong crosses his arms over his chest and taps on the ground with his foot. “now, what is going on—”

“surprise!”

the lights are turned on, blinding both males. however, the sound of familiar giggling has his heart beating faster. he slowly turns around, thinking to himself that there’s no possible way that you were here and—oh, but you are here. you, his beloved partner, standing amongst his members, squeezed between the tallest of them all, while holding a birthday cupcake with a singular candle on it, smiling widely at him.

“oh look at him,” gags jongho, “he looks lovesick!”

“i do not,” hongjoong retorts, shuffling forwards.

“i got you a cupcake,” you sing, holding it out to your boyfriend when he stands in front of you. “because i know wooyoung would have tried shoving your face in a cake like last time.”

“damn right i would have!”

“let’s give the couple some space, yeah?” seonghwa ushers everyone towards the kitchen with promises of letting everyone get the food out from the fridge.

when it’s just the two of you in the living room, you open your arms up and hongjoong dives straight into them, nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck, his breath hitting your skin and causing goosebumps to appear. “miss me much, lover boy?” you tease, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

all hongjoong does is nod, continuing to breathe in your scent for a few more moments before speaking, “you were here this whole time?”

“i actually got in after you left for filming to prepare the place,” you say, laughing softly. “you should thank wooyoung and jongho. they helped in buying my ticket and booking a hotel—.”

“and who said you’re going to stay in a hotel when you can just stay with me?” 

“um… no thank you.”

hongjoong pulls back, eyebrows pinched together and his lips pulled into an adorable pout. “and why not?”

“because i’ll start nagging at you,” at the sight of hongjoong’s shoulders drooping, you continue, “i’m just messing with you, silly.”

your boyfriend’s pout becomes a frown that soon turns into an amused smile. you had reached over to the cupcake with your arm that’s wrapped around his shoulder, taking a bit of the frosting from the small desert and smearing it across his cheek, giggling.

“well, aren’t you quite the mischievous individual today?” he grins, resting his hands on your waist.

you shrug, “only for the birthday boy.” 

“ew! they're kissing!” wooyoung screeches. you weren’t. he’s just exaggerating.

both you and hongjoong wince, hongjoong resorting to leaning over slightly—you cling onto him when you end up leaning backwards because of him, but he holds you easily—to grab a pillow from the couch to fling it at him. wooyoung dodges and the pillow hits jongho. with wooyoung laughing and jongho flinging the pillow at him, hongjoong watches you. he sees your eyes close from how hard you’re laughing at wooyoung running away from jongho chasing him around the apartment, he sees your lips start to tremble from how hard you're smiling, and he sees the way your eyes glimmer when you glance at him.

that evil thing brewing right under his nose was nothing of that sort; instead, it was a very nice and pleasant surprise that came in the form of his significant other flying out to celebrate his birthday at midnight with him… and the others as well.

perma taglist. @asjkdk @kodzukein @hrt4jeno @jeonride @lissiesykes @satsuri3su @atinytownclown @sanhwaism

[anna-the-undertaker]

The living room of the House of Lamentation was unusually quiet, which was never a good sign. MC stood in the center, their expression twisted in frustration as they paced back and forth like a caged animal. The brothers watched from a safe distance, sensing the impending explosion. This wasn’t the usual kind of annoyance, like when Levi hogged the Wi-Fi or Mammon tried to steal their snacks—no, this was something else entirely.

MC suddenly stopped pacing and threw their hands in the air, letting out a dramatic groan that echoed through the room. “You know what? I’ve figured it out! I know what God really wants, dammit!”

The brothers blinked in unison, caught off guard. Satan arched an eyebrow, while Mammon looked around nervously, as if expecting lightning to strike at any moment. Asmo, always the drama enthusiast, leaned in slightly, eager to hear what was coming next.

MC’s voice grew louder, filled with exasperation. “He wants me to kill my motherfucking self!”

There was a beat of stunned silence. Beelzebub paused mid-chew on a sandwich, while Leviathan’s game controller slipped from his hands. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, waiting to see where this outburst was headed.

“But the joke’s on him!” MC continued, their voice rising to a near-shout as they jabbed a finger toward the ceiling, as if personally challenging the heavens. “I ain’t gone give that motherfucker the satisfaction!”

A beat, and then…

“Wait, what?” Mammon blurted out, his confusion clear as day. “Did ya just—what? MC, what the hell are ya talkin’ about?”

MC threw their hands up in mock exasperation. “You heard me! If there’s some grand cosmic plan to mess with my life, well, guess what? I’m not playing along! God can take that idea and shove it right up his ass!”

Belphegor, who had been dozing on the couch, cracked one eye open and mumbled, “Pretty sure if anyone’s getting a rise out of this, it’s you.”

MC shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m tired of getting kicked around by fate, or destiny, or whatever cosmic nonsense is at work here. I mean, what’s next? A divine memo telling me I need to take up knitting to ‘fulfill my true purpose’?”

Leviathan finally recovered from his shock, picking up his controller again. “If God’s out here trying to troll you, then maybe you should just… uninstall?” he suggested weakly, half-joking.

MC’s laugh was more of a snort. “Right! And where’s the ‘leave game’ button, huh? You see it anywhere? Because I sure don’t!”

Asmodeus sidled closer, a playful smile on his lips. “Darling, if the universe really is conspiring against you, it’s doing a pretty terrible job. I mean, look at you—you’re still here, still fabulous, and still driving us all crazy in the best possible way.”

MC couldn’t help but grin at that. “Damn right. I’m not going anywhere. God’s got another thing coming if He thinks I’m checking out early.”

Lucifer, who had been silently observing the entire exchange, finally spoke, his tone dry. “While I appreciate your… spirited determination, perhaps it’s best not to challenge divine entities so casually.”

MC crossed their arms, smirking. “Let them try me, Luci. I’ve got an army of demons, an endless supply of sarcasm, and enough stubbornness to outlast eternity.”

Beel shrugged and resumed eating. “I’m just glad you’re not planning on going anywhere. We’d miss your cooking too much.”

There was a collective groan from the others, but it was clear that the tension had broken. MC’s outburst, as wild and over-the-top as it was, had become just another bizarre moment in their chaotic life with the brothers. And honestly? That was just fine with them.

With a final huff, MC plopped down on the couch beside Belphie, grabbing a pillow to squeeze. “You know what? Forget divine drama. I’m just gonna focus on what’s important—like how to get Mammon to finally pay back that money he owes me.”

“Hey, what the hell!” Mammon yelped, his face turning red. “I said I’m good for it!”

MC’s laughter echoed through the house, and the brothers joined in, the earlier tension now nothing but a distant memory. After all, when you’re living in the Devildom, sometimes the only way to deal with cosmic absurdity is with a good sense of humor—and a lot of sass.

[malarign]

situationship

(when you’re not dating yet)

contains: bf!hyungline x fem!reader | genre: fluff | tw! none i think? lmk | wc: 0,7k

reblogs are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: i’m so delulu bc of this, it’s not funny anymore

you’ll find maknae line version here!

Lee Heeseung | 이희승

very confident

Heeseung is the type of guy who knows what he wants. And what he currently wants is to make sure you and everybody around you know how much he is interested in you. Honestly, to say he’s interested in you is an understatement since all he can think of is you. Every single thought that comes to his mind goes back to you.

Everything just comes so naturally like playing with your hair whenever you’re telling him about your day or preferably when you’re telling him about your day and playing with HIS hair, all while he lays on your lap comfortably.

Obscene flirting with you around his friends is also part of the pack. Heeseung just can’t help eyeing you up and down and complimenting your look. But not just any compliment will do. His praises are always very descriptive, letting you know his exact thoughts, just like he has no filter (he doesn’t).

Park Jongseong | 박종성

confident but a little oblivious

Jay didn’t even realize something started to happen between you two. It took him two conversations with his friends and three compliments from you to finally see not only it’s him who’s interested but that the feeling is mutual. His confidence went up, but still, he did not let anybody know how it made him feel, and let me tell you he got butterflies just from thinking about it.

What is so attractive to him about you is how ambitious you are, and how much knowledge you possess. Your versatility in interests makes you unique, that’s why he started researching them, just to impress you in a deep conversation or even just playful chitchat.

But what truly makes your situationship obvious to everybody around you is how truly clingy you get whenever you are close. Hand-holding and even hugging from behind is not enough, so he started inviting you to sit on his lap (which you gladly accepted), making it your new default seat each time you’re spending together.

Sim Jaeyun | 심재윤

pretty confident

Jake is usually a menace just to society but now that he has you in his eye he doesn’t even let you forget and miss him for a second. At first, you could think it’s an exaggeration, but let’s be for real, when Jake falls for somebody he devotes himself to that person, leaving no room for doubt of his feelings.

Some could think it’s pretty annoying the way he called you and send you voice memos almost every second, updating you on each hour of his day. What could possibly cross the line was how he almost every day called you in the middle of the night. He wasn’t trying to cover the fact he missed you and wanted to listen to your voice, making it your new favorite part of the day, which you waited for every day.

What actually made a blush creep to your cheeks was how many nicknames he used. Of course, his favorite ones were either basic “baby” or a little bit more jokingly said “wifey”(was it though?). None of them made you uncomfortable, especially after you started to use just as cliche and cheesy nicknames on him.

Park Sunghoon | 박성훈

very shy

Now, when it comes to Sunghoon he wishes he could be more confident but as soon as he sees you he can’t help a blush that paints his cheeks and tip of ears. He’s the definition of admiring from afar, watching you with a fond smile talking to your friends, and enjoying games you play.

That doesn’t mean he does it all the time. Just as much as he’s a shy person he’s also a jealous one. When he likes somebody he wants them just for him, and him only. That’s why when he feels a little bit neglected he gently taps your shoulder earning not only your whole attention but also your beautiful and charming smile, that only he is worthy of seeing.

But when you are completely alone or just without any of your friends he absentmindedly starts to play with your fingers while either watching a movie or just chitchatting in a cafe. He does it ever so gently and delicately as if your fingers were just as fragile as glass. The way his fingers brush against yours makes your stomach do flips and fill with butterflies.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

taglist: (open) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @skzenhalove, @nfrgirl, @kpoprhia, @redm4ri, @jaelaxies

[vulpixisananimal]

Pains and Patience

TW for self harm/dagger under the cut.

(You are sitting in a chair in the main room of the place you and your family were staying. Bonnie and Nille are around. You asked them to leave you alone for a bit. You can hear them talking in the distance. Your eyes are closed.)

(What does it look like?)

(One breath, two, three, and you're there. This blurry place that feels like a dream yet to be fully formed. Stretching above you so impossibly high was the favor tree. Around you it was pitch black, with stars dotting the skies.)

(It came to your mind naturally. It was... Strange, not a daydream, it was just... There. A place in your own mind that felt so... Real.)

(It's still growing.)

(It is. You turn around and that other part of you is there. Mal Du Pays. It fit here better than you did, it seems.)

(You still can't see the rest of it, can you.)

(No, I can't. You say. It's still the favor tree, just the tree. Where's loop?)

(Hiding, I expect.)

(You're very helpful.)

(I'm trying to keep you alive.)

(You shake your head, that's what it always said. Keep you alive. It was hard to believe when you'd come back to front to find you did something bad that you don't remember.)

(You look out to the stars. This place still felt off, like it was missing pieces. Every time you tried stepping beyond the tree you'd freeze up. Gripped by a fear you had never felt before, was fear even the right word?)

(You'll figure it out.)

(Right. We'll figure it out. We're getting a rest now after all. We'll figure out what's going on with Ramos, figure out why we're still Looping, THEN we'll deal with this disassociating, thing, whatever Odile called it.)

(Odile is not exactly a psychiatrist.)

(She's better than guessing.)

(I will not talk to her. You will not make me talk to her.)

(... Fine, for now, but eventually-)

"'Heyfrin!"

(Your snap to attention, back in reality, Bonnie was leaning in from the doorway. They looked a bit worried.)

"Hey Bonbon."

"Ramos showed up, Nille's distracting them right now."

(Huh?? You stood up.) "Here? Did they do anything?"

(Bonnie shook their head.) "Nuh uh, said they were looking for 'Beau and thought to stop by."

(You breath a sigh of relief.) "Alright, just act like you don't know anything, alright?"

"Duh, I know how to keep a secret."

(Walking to the front room area, Ramos was there talking to Nille. Casual conversation. They looked just as relaxed and cheery as the other loop. They didn't look like a kidnapper or anything, seeing you approach, they waved.)

(Do not get fooled by good acting.)

"Hello! You're Siffrin, right?"

(You waved back, smiling.) "That's me, Nille giving away my secrets again?"

"Your name's not exactly a secret, Siffy." (Nille said sarcasticly. Seemingly, she got the memo to act cool.) "Sorry Isabeau isn't in right now."

"That's fine." (Ramos said cheerily.) "Mind if I stick around untill he does?"

"Sure!" (Nille cut you off before you could say no. Great. Fantastic.)

(Maybe you could learn something.)

(You all headed back to the common area, walking and talking. Ramos making a bad joke and ruffling Bonnies hair, much to their annoyance.)

"So how'd y'all meet Isa?" (Ramos asked.)

"Met 'em a few weeks ago after getting de-frozen from time. Showed up to my place saying lil Bonnie helped save the country."

"YEAH!!! We kicked the Kings CRABBING BUTT!!"

"Language."

(You all chuckle.)

"I met 'Beau running from the curse. Nille told me to run when showed up at Bambouche and I did untill I passed out."

"You must be one tough kid then." (Ramos was smiling.)

"And don't you forget it!!!"

"What about you, Siffrin?"

"Oh, well." (How did it go again...) "I bumped into Mirabelle, Isa, and Odile by chance, off to save Vaugarde and all. They were fighting a sadness and I helped out. Asked me to join after that."

"Woah." (Ramos looked pretty engrosed in the story.) "It must have been real strong, Isa isn't a pushover."

"Oh, well, it was kinda strong." (You shrug.) "Not strong enough though, since I took it out in one hit."

(Ramos beamed, they leaned over and grabbed your hand.) "No way!! That's awesome!! I wish I coulda seen it!"

(You wince, and Ramos releases your hand.) "O-oh, sorry."

"'Frin doesn't like being touched." (Said Bonnie.)

"Ha, it's alright Bonnie." (You replied.) "It just took me by surprise."

(Why was Ramos so.... Relaxed? It didn't make any sense. If it was Ramos who tried grabbing Bonnie, why'd they come to visit? Where you wrong about them?)

(It's acting. Siffrin.)

"How's Isa been anyways?"

"Stupid." (Says Bonnie.)

"A good stupid." (Nille continues.) "Real bumble of emotions from what I've seen."

"Mmhm!" (You nod along.) "He's great, sure saving the country was stresful, but, Isabeau's been there with us the whole way."

"I'm glad!" (Ramos leaned back in their chair.) "Did he mention me at all?"

(You smile, of course he did.) "All the time!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! We went through a lot together, aparently you helped him a bunch? I've honestly been itching to meet you!"

(Wrong.)

(What?)

(That is wrong. What are you doing.)

(Bonnie was giving you a look, what do you mean? Don't you remember?)

"That's, wow!" (Ramos rubbed their neck.) "I didn't, think he'd mention me at all."

"Haha, you left quite the impression."

(Stop talking. You aren't acting.)

"Well, I gotta ask, what was it like? Saving the world."

"It, well, to be honest it didn't go great, not at the end." (Stop.)

"'Frin?" (Bonnie was looking between you and Ramos. Confused.)

(You continue.) "It should have been impossible getting to the King, really."

"Oh?"

(Stop, Siffrin.)

"Well, I shouldn't really talk about this, but if Isa trusts you, then I'll trust you."

(Siffrin, that's enough, stop talking.)

"But, the truth is--"

(. . .)

(. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .)

(It feels like a migrane with no pain. A force of will. A wave of intense, snapping bones. It feels like your brain gets dunked in ice. It feels like a lot of things, all of them hard to explain.)

(But you had to stop Siffrin from talking.)

(You stare at the stranger who's name is Ramos. Whatever Ramos could do, that was it. Siffrin was about to talk about the loops, the wish, everything. All that to an enemy.)

"Siffrin?" (Ramos was staring at you.) "Are you alright?"

(What did you do, Ramos. What did you do to Siffrins little head. You had a cold anger in your soul. Ramos had hurt you. Who are you, Ramos. What are you. You stand up.)

"'Feeling alright, Siffy?" (Nille asks.)

(You open your mouth. You ask a quesion.)

(You see all three of them wince. Nille is conused, Bonnie is gripping their head, Ramos is looking at you, afraid.)

"S-siffrin?? I, uh, didn't quite catch that." (You could see Nille trying to comprehend what you asked.)

(You look at Ramos, they looked confused, and pained. Did they not understand? You say something else.)

"H-hey cut it out, it's giving me a headache."

(Ramos is looking back at you. You can see a fear in their eyes. What do you look like to them right now. Like a monster? Good. You speak again.)

"I, I-I can't understand, please!"

"'F-frin..."

(You open your mouth. You want to hurt them. You want to know what they did. You need to. If they don't understand you, fine then. You'll just keep asking them. As long as it-)

"'Hurts..."

"Siffrin?" (Ramos was staring at you.) "Are you alright?"

(. . .)

(You stand up wordlessly. They didn't know the language. They didn't recognize it. So they weren't from home. So how could they make a wish. Was it dumb luck? Not likely.)

(But, Bonnie...)

(. . . You leave to your room. You ignore them calling after you. It didn't matter anyway.)

(You're tired. You looped again. Yes, it was only a few moments back, though. You could feel the nausea starting to catch up to you, but you forced yourself to continue. You're in your room. You grab your hat. As much as you told Siffrin your skin was sensitive, they ignored you. Thats why you wear a hat, stupid.)

(You Move fast. You go to the window. The jump out isn't that bad. You get up on the windowsil, and jump out. You land solidly, and run for the library.)

(The sprint gave you a chance to think. Ramos did something to Siffrin, and now Siffrin thought Ramos was some friend. It made you sick. What did Ramos do? Touch you? They did touch your hand. Was that it?)

(Why was Bonnie bleeding. Why were they bleeding that shade?)

(You ignore that question, for now.)

(You're at the library. You run inside. There you see Odile, Isabeau, and Mirabelle all about to leave with a couple books. You sprint over.)

"Siffrin?!?" (Mirabelle spots you first.) "What are you doing here? Did something happen???"

(You don't, can't, respond. Instead you go to Odile, who was holding the books, and tapped one.)

". . . What?" (Odile looked confused.)

"Uhh... Are you wondering if we found something?" (Isabeau spoke up. You nod.)

"Ah, well yes we found something. But is everything alright, Siffrin?"

(That didn't matter right now. You shake your head, and tap the book impatiently.)

"Alright alright." (Odile puts the books down on a nearby table and opens one, you follow.)

"Should, shouldn't we be worried??? If something bad happened??" (Mirabelle asked. She was scared.)

"Well, if Siffrin ran all the way here then I bet they're about to loop back anyways." (Isa said confidently. He was also scared.)

"Quite.. Ah here." (Odile got to a page in the book. Looking at it now, it was craftonomy. The page was on different crafts and what kind of tactile response they had with a body.) "This one, a strong scent of mint is often assosiated with potent Mind Craft."

(Mind craft.)

(Odile continued.) "An advanced craft type that's distantly related to body craft; its use is... contreversal. In Ka Bue it is explicitly banned."

"I was taught a little about mind craft at the House, about how it can be used to help with someones memory, or to forget a traumatic experience." (Mirabelle added.) "We weren't ever taught it, though."

"I mostly see it in fiction. Mind crontroll, brainwashing, spooky stuff like that." (Isabeau comments.)

(You keep looking over the page. Strong sense of mint. Confusion. Hard to master. That must be it. Ramos' touch gripped Siffrins mind. You nod.)

"Compared to time craft it shouldn't be hard to undo. Unless it's powered by a wish." (Odile muses.) "Tell the next me about it then, if we don't have time here."

(You nod. It was about time for that then. Your hand slips into your cloak and to your dagger.)

(. . . Isabeau is looking at you.)

(There's an awkward silence. Odile breaks it.) "Er, actually, Mirabelle, Isabeau, there's some complicated intricacies I'll need to explain. Could you go make sure Ramos doesn't disturb us?"

"Huh?? I-I mean-"

"Leave it to us, M'dame!" (With that, Isabeau rushes to the library entrance, Mirabelle hesitated, but followed. You look up at Odile.)

". . ."

(. . .)

(There is a painful silence.)

"I, wanted to ask you something. I did not feel comfortable asking with those two around." (she eventually said. Looking at her face, it was stressed, worried.)

(she continued.) "Siffrin, or, if you want to be called that. Please be honest with me. Do you... Use your dagger in order to loop back."

(Oh Odile, still she surprises you. You tilt your head slightly as if to say "go on.")

"You've had... Moments ever since we defeated the King, and, forgive me if I'm being insensitive, you always seemed to not Care too much about your own wounds." (She paused, clearly uncomfortable.) "That, combined with... With everything, really. It would make sense."

(. . . You nod.)

". . . Is it the only way?"

(You put up a wavy hand. Not sure.)

"Is it the only consistent way? That you know of at least."

(You nod.)

". . . It, does it hurt?"

(You nod. Odile is looking at you, brow creased. She pinches the bridge of her nose. After a moment, and taking a breath, she continues.)

". . . In a next loop. We can, figure out something better than that. If you tell me I promised to keep it secret from the others, I probably will, too."

(You nod, and file that away with Odile's other offer. She was reaching out to you. Why. You don't trust her.)

". . . Thank you, Siffrin." (She takes a breath, and turns her back to you, waiting. Ah, she doesn't want to see.)

(Whatever. It's time. You take out your dagger and. . .)

(. . .)

(It still hurts.)

[captain-hawks]

How about more band!au jean??? maybe post-show andrenaline rush sexy times or something?

ghosts of you and me

jean kirstein x f!reader

you weren't exactly planning on fucking your musician ex-boyfriend in the backseat of his jeep in the parking lot of a concert venue months after your painful breakup. and yet—

wc: 1.9k

18+

c: smut (with feelings!), band!au jean, exes to lovers, car sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, tattooed!jean, jean’s big dick

“Jean,” you whine, fingers tightly grasping the headrest for purchase, the plastic seat belt clip digging into your knee. 

The car creaks and groans, and Jean’s mouth is hot and wet against the tender juncture between your shoulder and neck, fingers splayed across your lower back. You tell yourself it’s the adrenaline—the way the stifling air in the backseat of Jean’s shitty old Jeep feels like an overworked rubber band that’s about to snap. 

It’s nothing more than muscle memory—the way the divots of your spine intimately remember the steady pressure of his fingertips along each notch. 

It’s a reflex—the way you reach up to rake a hand through his messy brown hair, revelling in the way his breath hitches beneath your touch. The answering stutter of your heartbeat in kind.

It’s—

“I missed this,” he shudders, every ounce of his wrecked tone thrashing helplessly, ruthlessly against your ribcage.

You missed it, too. 

Even if you shouldn’t.

—

“Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone.”

The final guitar chords crackle over the amp as the band's set comes to an end, the drums petering out while the bright, colorful lights flooding the stage slowly fade into darkness. Turning toward the bar, you slide onto a stool while the crowd bursts into excited murmurs. Cool air wafts into the humid room from the double doors at the entrance as people begin to disperse and make their way outside.

And despite the fact that the continuous rush of amplified sound is no longer vibrating throughout the room, your heart hasn’t quite gotten the memo as it dances an unsteady beat in your chest.

The bartender slides you a cup of water, and it’s halfway to your lips when a voice beside you interrupts, “Can I get you something stronger?”

You don’t immediately respond, taking a slow sip before looking over the rim of the glass at the man sitting in the stool beside yours. Though you’ve never met him, you’re fairly certain he was in one of the opening bands.

“I’m good, thanks.”

He quirks a brow, seemingly a little taken aback that his messy auburn hair and boyish grin aren’t enough to garner more of your attention. 

“You sure?” he asks.

“She’s said she’s good,” an all-too familiar voice cuts in from behind you, a little rough after being poured into a microphone for the past forty minutes but settling deep in your gut all the same, and the weight of an arm settles around your shoulders.

The man’s eyes widen a little as he takes in the sight of the tall man you know is standing there, and he murmurs an awkward apology before seeing himself out, leaving his half-full drink behind. 

Leaning your head back against the warmth of a solid chest, you look up and meet Jean Kirstein’s gaze. “Maybe he just wanted to see if I could get him backstage to meet the headliner.”

He snorts, “That’s what you think?”

“The lead singer’s pretty hot,” you shrug, like this banter between yourself and Jean is still considered normal. 

Like you didn’t break up six months ago.

Like this wound isn’t still fresh.

Like your skin isn’t ignited, set aflame, burning helplessly beneath his touch.

As you turn around to face him fully, Jean casually leans against the bar, and you do your best not to allow yourself the privilege of roving your eyes over the fresh tattoo nestled in the crook of his elbow, the bold colors standing out amongst the existing sleeve covering the expanse of his arm. The trails and lines of ink are slick with sweat, and it’s a battle in and of itself to try and forget all the paths your fingers and mouth have traced across them.

All the ways those designs have been pressed flush against your skin, slick with sweat for an entirely different reason.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Jean says carefully, referring to the text he’d sent you last week with a screenshot of an email confirming you were on the guest list for his band’s first hometown show in months. 

The first text he’d sent you in just as long. 

You’re still not sure what possessed you to, given that Jean’s unforgiving, tiring tour schedule was the crux of your breakup in the first place. 

“I didn’t think I was going to either.” Inhaling slowly, you slide off of the stool. “I should go.”

Jean’s eyes track the movement of your keys now clasped in your hand. “Can I walk you to your car?”

--

Foolishly, you thought this might give you closure—watching Jean sing and yell and trail his fingers along his guitar strings beneath the blazing stage lights from your place at the back of the room. You thought you would know you both made the right choice when you looked at him and no longer felt a sharp, stabbing ache of what once was. 

But the moment he stepped onto the stage and drug a hand through his messy hair, the light catching on the stupid green woven bracelet you snugly tied onto his wrist two summers ago, all the air left your lungs in a rush as a dizzy feeling poured over you.

And now you’re straddling Jean in the backseat of the same goddamn car you shared your first kiss in, the same car he bent you over the hood of on a balmy summer evening parked right on the beach beside the crashing waves, the same car you fucking cried your eyes out in when you realized this wasn’t going to work anymore.

The same car you slammed the passenger door of and didn’t turn back, not even when Jean’s headlights sat idle at the curb long after you stumbled into your apartment.

You could blame him for the way his hand ghosted over your wrist as you slid your car key into the lock on the door handle, his intake of breath audible as his chest brushed against your back, lips buried in your hair as he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

You want to blame him for the way every nerve ending in your body was set alight, the way you were helpless to stop your body’s need to sink into his embrace.

But as your fingers carded upward through the back of his hair—

As a soft little groan rumbled in his throat, his thumb inadvertently stroking your hip through the fabric of your dress—

The trajectory was inevitable, the desperate crash of his mouth against yours, his lips setting every scattered thread of longing ablaze. 

Fog coats the windows of Jean’s car, the opaque swirls of white leaving little to the imagination as the dull glow of the parking lot lights illuminates his lust-blown pupils. Yet you can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’re choking down a whimper at the feeling of his cock sliding horizontally along your slick folds.

One strap of your sundress falls down under the careful tug of Jean’s finger, your bra following, and there’s a reverent sound spilling from his lips as he leans forward to mouth at the breast now exposed to him. He lightly drags his teeth over your peaked nipple, the way he knows will make you squirm and moan, and there’s a rumble of satisfaction in his throat as you arch into his touch and shamelessly grind against his shaft.

Looking up at you, he exhales, his breath hot against your spit-soaked skin. “I don’t have a—”

“I’m still on the pill if you’re—”

“There hasn’t been anyone else.”

His admission hangs heavily in the air between you, your heart fumbling in turn with the words as they repeat in your head.

“But we don’t have to…” he trails off, giving you an out if you want it.

As if you’re not still head over fucking heels.

“Jean, please,” you whisper, past the point of caring about the pathetic way your voice breaks midway through.

He cups your face in both hands, a thumb swiping away the tear sliding down your cheek as he leans in to kiss you softly, tongue flitting across your lower lip. 

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, low and rough. “I’ll give you anything.”

Him.

This.

Everything.

“Fuck me,” you plead.

Jean’s fucked you plenty, and yet even the memory of it pales in comparison to the feeling of him nudging the head of his cock at your entrance, the stretch of his shaft sinking into your tight, soaked cunt to the hilt.

His mouth finds yours again in a messy kiss, both of his hands gripping your waist as he groans into your mouth. “Were you this wet all night?”

You’d be lying if you denied the way your thighs clenched together as Jean tucked his guitar pick between his teeth, callused fingertips deftly working along the strings.

It was embarrassing, the wet patch you could feel forming in your panties as you found yourself lost in the gravelly tone of Jean’s vocals against the mic, your thoughts betraying you with memories of that voice lost between your thighs as he mouthed at your cunt.

“What do you think?” you gasp as he lifts you from his lap just enough to start fucking up into you.

He kisses you again, tongue sliding against yours like he’s fucking your mouth now, too, and it’s so hot and messy that he groans at the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him in turn, a line of spit hanging between your mouths when he pulls back to nip at your swollen bottom lip. 

“I almost called off the show as soon as I spotted you in the back wearing this fucking dress,” he grunts, one hand sliding up your side and grasping your breasts. 

Jean’s dick is so big, it would be borderline painful if the walls of your cunt weren’t intimately familiar with accommodating this euphoric push and drag. You’re already drunk on it—the feeling of being stuffed so goddamn full again. Of the feverish, intense pleasure that comes from riding his cock, your tits bouncing with each jerk of his hips, another fresh wave of sticky arousal leaking out of you. 

“So fucking wet,” he moans appreciatively, hotly mouthing at your neck, fingers digging even harder into your hipbones as the sopping squelch of your cunt is amplified with each thrust. 

There’s a surging, trembling need in the growing sloppy desperation of his length pounding into you, the increasingly strangled way you’re choking out his name and begging him to fuck you harder, harder like some fucked up, filthy prayer. You’re both too keyed up for this to last any longer, not when Jean’s fucking you this deep—like he wants to make sure your pussy will never forget the feeling of his cock buried inside of you. 

And Jean knows you’re close, it’s clear that he remembers how you start to sound like you’re about to cry as you whimper with the white-hot pleasure of your impending climax.

“Come for me,” Jean heaves against your throat, teeth dragging against your sensitive skin. “Come all over my cock.”

You’re lost in the sweeping downpour of pleasure that explodes inside of you, your cunt pulsing and dripping as your walls flutter and contract around Jean’s shaft, every muscle in your body quivering with an overload of ecstasy.

Watching you fall apart sends Jean hurtling toward the edge, your panting, needy plea of, “Inside,” his final undoing as he chokes out a gasp and plunges in hard one last time before emptying himself inside of you, hot, thick cum spilling deep in your cunt.

And despite all this reasons this shouldn’t work, didn’t work, can’t work, won’t fucking work—you don’t care.

Not right now.

Not when your ears are still ringing with the desperate, choked out moan of your name on Jean’s lips as he came.

(Not when you swear you can feel something wet dripping on your skin as he shudders, his face buried against your collarbone.)

[themculibrary]

Steve And Bucky (Stucky) Masterlist 6

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

a day in the life (ao3) - powerfulowl (StuckyFlangst) E, 20k

Summary: Steve Rogers wakes up on Tuesday October 30 1956, and doesn’t seem to remember his life that well. Why does every day feel so familiar? And why does he keep getting visited by tall, dark, handsome men who remind him of Bucky?

Amaryllis by paperstorm E, 70k

Summary: So do I remind you of someone you’ve never met, a lonely silhouette? And do I remind you of somewhere you want to be, so far out of reach? I wish you’d open up for me, ‘cause I want to know you … amaryllis bloom. // In 19th century Europe, Bucky and Steve are members of neighboring royal families. Steve is the heir to a throne he does not want, and Bucky is the neglected third child waiting to be married off and forgotten about. Trapped in unhappy lives by seemingly immovable circumstances, they find a way out in each other.

and the river flows beneath your skin (ao3) - Deisderium steve/bucky E, 114k

Summary: In which Steve and Bucky are forced to room together their senior year at boarding school, and accidentally soul bond to each other even though they kind of hate each other. All they have to do to get out of it is not kiss each other for a year so the accidental bond will fade. How hard could it be?

At Face Value (ao3) - lambchop33 E, 64k

Summary: Steve Rogers is leading what he thinks is a pretty normal life in Sanctuary, a bustling city with a large population. And a big wall around it. He has a good job and good friends. Totally and completely normal–except for the face he sees in his dreams. Every night. The face of a stranger. One he’s hopelessly attracted to. When that stranger unexpectedly drops into his life in the form of Bucky Barnes, Steve’s got to figure out what it all means, and how to handle it when his totally normal life suddenly is anything but that.

Chase This Light (ao3) - leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) T, 58k

Summary: In the modern world, where the creatures of myth live side-by-secret-side with mundane humanity, Steve Rogers is one of the gifted humans who straddles the line between mythfolk and mundane, and he's never told anyone about the day he healed a dragon.

Living in the city in human form, Bucky's managed to shed most of dragon-kind's more unpleasant tendencies, but he's never quite managed to shake the tendency to get attached, especially not when it comes to the healer who saved his life.

When healers start going missing, Bucky will do anything to make sure Steve isn't one of them, something that would be a hell of a lot easier if Steve could stand the sight of him. Of course, Steve might feel differently if he knew Bucky was the dragon he'd saved all those years ago.

First, Do No Harm (ao3) - BarqueBatch, SkyisGray E, 77k

Summary: James Barnes should be just like any other patient Steve sees in his Brooklyn clinic, but the mob enforcer bleeding all over his waiting room chair apparently didn’t get the memo.

honestly thought i’d be dead by now, but what you can trust is that i need your touch (ao3) - orphan_account E, 105k

Summary: Bucky is 37 years old; he’s unmarried, hasn’t had a Sub of his own, is definitely not ripped, comfortable at his job as an Advanced Practice RN at Brooklyn General ER, and just got his Five Years coin from AA. Steve is 26 years old; he’s unmarried, his last and only Dom has Alzheimer's, he's worryingly muscular, uncomfortable in his job as the government’s poster Alpha for masculinity and strength, and worries more than he should about his BMI. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky meet initially in a not-cute moment. Bucky’s tired as shit thanks to the sudden alien invasion that shook New York and Steve is tired as shit because he hasn’t slept more than 20 minutes at a time in – well, since 1936, probably. Bucky’s Alpha instincts get irritated at the sudden presence of another "Alpha" into his territory and Steve’s suppressed submissive tendencies latch onto this grumpy bachelor Alpha and he only suppresses it further. Bucky’s grumpiness and Steve’s duckling impressionism aside, both of them are a mess. But since both of them are a mess? Their messes seem to fit pretty well together.

No More In Darkness, No More In Night (ao3) - OllieoftheBeholder steve/bucky, clint/phil T, 37k

Summary: He is the Asset.

He is the Winter Soldier.

He is a weapon, a blade honed to perfection and then kept in a sheath, a gun cleaned and loaded and then locked in a cabinet, an object to be used and put away until needed. He is a machine, a thing, an it.

He is a man without a country, without a past, without a face, without even a name.

He is running.

And someone is catching up…

Only the Good Die Young (ao3) - ZenaidaMacroura M, 23k

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a paramedic who is doing pretty good. He’s got a good crew, a good family, and a good job.

And then he meets Captain America.

May contain: Awkward conversations, even more awkward conversations, people hiding to avoid said awkward conversations, descriptions of paramedics doing paramedic things, Steve Rogers running in a very tight shirt.

Raise Your Glass (ao3) - minkeys steve/bucky E, 10k

Summary: Bucky knows Steve in ways that his 21st century friends could never even begin to imagine. Or at least, they couldn’t until tonight. It’s about time somebody corrected all those historians that painted Steve as a straight-laced, God-fearing soldier, and what better way to do it than over a harmless game of “Never Have I Ever.” What’s the worst that could be said?

Read, White & Blue (ao3) - JJK  T, 99k

Summary: Librarian Bucky helps freshly desfrosted Steve learn how to use computers and catch up on everything he missed whilst he was in the ice. Featuring mutual pining and cute awkwardness.

Runaway (ao3) - ABrighterDarkness, mandy3000 T, 20k

Summary: In which Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes grow up together under circumstances that no child should have to face, and Bucky paints Steve daydreams of a better life together, if only they could run far enough.

swallow my pride (ao3) - mwestbelle E, 6k

Summary: When Bucky first came back to SHIELD, Natasha took Steve aside and quietly told him that he needed to be patient. She didn’t offer up more than that, but Steve understood. He's been patient. If patience is a virtue, then he thinks he should be up for that sainthood that Tony’s always joking about him getting by now.

The Blind Leading (ao3) - SkyisGray E, 43k

Summary: Steve is specifically told not to fraternize with the independently contracted Winter Soldier.

the universe expanded (ao3) - foreverthyme M, 105k

Summary: There is no life without Bucky, or Steve and Bucky from the beginning onward and every place in between.

Treasure (ao3) - BlueSimplicity, greywrites E, 94k

Summary: Steve has finally reached the age where all those from his homeland journey out into the land of the Six to begin the most important quest of their lives; the search for the one thing that will give his life meaning, and allow him to finally grow into his true potential - his Treasure. Except, just three months in, it looks like Steve will never complete his task, dying as one of the Lost. Or at least it appears that way until a mysterious and deadly stranger named Bucky emerges from the shadows, in a dance of blades and blood, saving Steve’s life. Through circumstance and desperation, the two become travelling companions, Bucky teaching Steve about these strange lands he has found himself in, and Steve getting the both of them into more trouble than even Steve knows is good for them. As time passes, and their friendship grows, Steve learns that Bucky has secrets of his own, and a task he has sworn to fulfill. Steve only hopes he can change Bucky’s mind before it’s too late. It takes him far too long to realize it, but Bucky might, just might, be what Steve has been searching for all this time, and unless he can alter Bucky’s course, it’s not only Steve who will be Lost, but Bucky as well.

two gentlemen of brooklyn (ao3) - rooonil_waazlib E, 7k

Summary: Or, five times Steve and Bucky weren’t married, but sort of were, and the time they figure it out.

We always know (ao3) - bangyababy steve/bucky, bucky/thor M, 32k

Summary: Steve and Bucky were best friends until middle school when Steve overheard Bucky saying it was weird he didn’t talk. Soon after, Bucky moved away and they never spoke again. Almost fifteen years later, they’ve somehow managed to become roommates.

We Set a Precedent, and Now I’m Living With It (ao3) - Voylitscope_speed T, 8k

Summary: Work friends Bucky and Steve get into the habit of helping each other escape uncomfortable, awkward, or bad situations. Their escape plans get increasingly elaborate as their friendship gets increasingly close. That's probably why their whole office thinks they're actually dating.

When you stop being a ghost in a shell (ao3) - Bittersweet_in_Boston E, 12k

Summary: The first time the Asset hears about the Captain, it’s by accident.

[qaxqxd]

Kinktober 1

♡: Brahms Heelshire x F!reader

Genre: Smut/fluff

Warning: Lost of virginity, suggestive content, the usual smut, mommy kink, a bit of a breeding kink, Sub!Brahms

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: first kinktober 😋

Summary: Brahms has never had sex before, he wants his first time with you.

You were a nanny at the Heelshire's mansion. It wasn't what you expected though. 

You thought you were supposed to nanny a child for a couple of months. While they went on vacation.

But instead.

You got a doll, which was supposed to represent "Brahms" the Heelshire child. The parents found him very real.

The couple of months didn't go smoothly either. They gave you a list which you followed completely without question.

Things would move around the house, or go missing. You had to assume it was Brahms.

At first you didn't believe he was real. Since it was sort of hard to believe he was moving stuff around. 

You just thought it was the grocery boy, trying to play tricks on you. But when you found out it wasn't him. Things took a turn.

It was truly Brahms, moving and taking stuff. Then he started to talk to you. It was strange at first, but you eventually got used to it.

Then he revealed himself. He was no doll. He was just a man. A man in the walls.

Yeah, that also didn't go so well, but he eventually warmed up to you.

Turns out he just needed someone by his side.

You were making dinner for yourself, and Brahms. As Brahms walked into the kitchen. You looked at him as he had a book in his hand.

You just taught him how to read. He was quite a quick learner.

"(Y/N)." He called for you. "Yeah?" You cock your head towards him. 

"What's sex?" He asked with a book in his hand. "Wh- what?" You went speechless on the topic. "Where did you even learn that word?"

"Book, talks about it." He handed you the book, which you quickly skimmed over to see what he was talking about. You quickly closed it, getting flustered.

"Where did you get this book?" You asked. "Your library." He tilted his head. "Is Brahms in trouble?" He whined.

"No— I guess sort of? You weren't supposed to go into my shelfs." You sighed. "Brahms got curious, can (Y/n) still explain?" His eyes softened for you.

You didn't know how to explain what sex was. Hell it was like explaining to a 6 year old where they came from.

"Well… it's an activity that involves two people who love each other a lot." You tried to explain in the most innocent way possible.

"Will you show Brahms, how to?" He held you closer to him. You loved him no doubt, but you weren't sure if he was ready for stuff like this.

"I'm sorry Brahms, but I don't think I should." You cupped his porcelain mask. He whined, saddened by your answer.

"Do you not love me?" He pleaded his eyes. You gave him a look.

"Brahms, you know this. I love you dearly, but I'm just not the right person for this." You scolded him. He sighed.

But just like a child, he wouldn't easily give up like that.

The past couple of weeks he would ask non stop till you applied.

So you eventually gave in. You needed stress relief either way.

You were in your room, scrolling on your phone. Brahms snake an arm over your waist.

"Please?" He begged. You inhale and exhale. "Fine," You were going to give him what he wanted.

You laid him down on the bed. "Tell me when to stop if you're not comfortable, okay?" You sat on top of him.

His beautiful eyes looking directly at you. You slipped your clothes off, and Brahms seems to have gotten the memo too.

You both had your clothes off. Brahms got flustered seeing your pretty body right on top of him awoke something in him.

Him wanting you. He traced his hand up your thigh. Brahms kept his boxers on, which you slipped off finding an aroused cock, already dripping with pre-cum.

You gave it a peck, which it throbbed in response. Brahms let out a little whine. His cock was pretty thick.

"May I?" You hovered your hands over it. He nodded. "Ah-ah, use your words, Love." You wrap your fingers around it.

"P— please…" He whimpers, you stroke it up and down slowly. Hearing Brahms make small whines and whimper.

You bite your lips back, trying to contain the aroused mess in your lower part. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to create friction.

You continue to stroke his length in the same movement, but picking up the speed. A good dripped out of the head of his cock.

Giving him a satisfying whimper at the end. You rub the cum all over his thick cock. Using the cum as lube.

You hovered your body over his cock. Slowly sinking into his cock, it was painful how good he was stretching you out. You didn't know how big it really was until it couldn't fit anymore.

You were filled with his cock, full even. You felt like you could see stars. Brahms moaned when you fully filled yourself with him.

His eyes rolled back deep into his skull. You were squeezing him so much.

"Warm, v- very warm." He whimpered. "Is it okay, Brahms?" You kissed his temple. "Mmhm, Brahms okay"

You started moving at your very own pace, you rode his thick cock in every direction. Which abused your cervix making your orgasm rise a bit quicker.

It's been a long time since you've had sex, so you hope Brahms enjoyed it.

But you wanted to punish him too, for the past few weeks. He's been bothering you with this non-stop.

So everytime he tries to grab you or hold you, you would slap his hand away. He whined and begged but of course.

You didn't let him.

Brahms didn't last very long since it was his first time. He came inside you. The warm seed filling you up, made you have your orgasm a lot faster than usual.

You rode out your orgasm, as you watched Brahms whine and pant.

"More, please, please." Brahms moaned.

Just as he said you couldn't resist him. You continue riding him, slamming down on his big cock.

You kept squeezing him, to add more friction. Brahms emptied out his sack. The mess all underneath you, but keep going.

At this point you were overstimulating him. His happy trail soaks in you and his juice. Brahms was helpless.

He whines, moans, and pants the whole time. Like words weren't in his vocabulary anymore, just your name.

Each slam was a whimper from him. His cock was soft now, still throbbing insanely though.

After a couple more rounds, you barely could have feeled anything on your lower body. Brahms pulled you off his cock gripping you right next to him.

You both fell asleep, wore out.

[evilfloralfoolery]

Along Came Fire - Avery/Blair, Pt. 2

A lot more snz and misery in this lol. Avery showing her true colors. Blair being unbearably into it. Both of them wondering about the other. Plz enjoy my hasty edit! :)

_____________________________

By the time the heaters in the stadium get the memo, the set is over and Blair has had just about enough of this frigid bullshit.  

He’d managed to fend off whatever fuckery his sinuses were concocting during the performance, but now, it’s gotten to the point where no amount of shallow breathing and nose rubbing will do the trick. His body has just had enough of him.

And the feeling is fucking mutual. 

Blair cringes against his knuckled fingers with a flash of teeth. "HhhRISSCH! –RIIHHHSSCHuh! EKTSSCH! UhhhCHHSSSH!" He pauses, breath a hitching, ragged heave. "Hhh–RIISSSCCHHiiiuuhh!"

"What, you're not going to try for an even six?”

He stops with the miserable, wet sniffling and glances over his shoulder.

It's her. Just standing there with a laminate around her neck, like she belongs there. No idea where she’d gotten the pass, but he’s not going to ask questions, especially not with the way she’s looking at him right now.  Kind of like how the Blond Wonder looked at him, but with a more curious sort of concern rather than outright, overly empathetic gawking.

Hard not to stare back at that mane of hers with all the red, orange, and yellow competing for space, a vibrant cascade of fire that has the nerve to call itself “hair.”

“Hey.”  She waves a hand in front of his face with a bit of a laugh. “Are you okay in there?”

He offers her a slow blink in tandem with the realization that he has said nothing to indicate an answer.

“I am,” he says.  “Just too damn cold.” One eyebrow arches high.  “Are you?”

She tilts her head. “Cold?” 

“Okay,” he clarifies. 

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.” She combs her hair away from her face with one hand and laughs. "I’m pretty sure I left puncture wounds on that idiot, so there’s that."

Probably.  He hadn't missed how aggressive she'd been. Kind of a firecracker for such a slender chick.

Hot.

"Yeah, well. Guys are assholes." He offers her a smirk.  "But I'm a bigger asshole." 

"Good quality, if you ask me." Her smile is a sly mirror of his own.

“Damn straight.”  He tugs at the knot on his bandana out of habit.  “Avery, right?” 

“Yep.” She pokes him in the chest with one finger.  “You didn’t tell me you were the bass player.”

Cue the smartass eyebrow arch. “You didn’t ask.”

“I don't usually introduce myself and then be like, ‘so, do you play the bass?’ ”

“Why not. Good conversation starter.” 

She flicks a piece of his hair with a pop of her fingers. “You're weird.”

He’ll take that.

But what he’s not going to take is any more shit from his sinuses.  Sort of.  Goddamn it.

She does the curious, cocked head thing again at his abrupt change of energy and asks the obvious question.  “Something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’ssss uuhhh-hhhheh!” He holds up a hand to politely silence furthering questioning, breath catching in his throat with a choppy attempt to draw in enough air. "Heeh-hh. . . Hh'RISSSCHU! Hkg–CHISSSHUHH! Fuck."  He rubs at his nose with a sniffle. "Hhngh, sorry. The cold fucks me up."

"I can tell," she says as he sneezes again with twice the force and less control. 

Goddamn it. 

"God bless," she says in this voice that's somewhere between concerned and a bit. . . something else. 

Interesting . . . 

"Stick around and you'll get sick of saying that real fast," he says. 

She laughs, but doesn't refute him. She does, however, close the distance between them unexpectedly.  "Hold on." A hand reaches up to adjust the apparently lopsided bandana tied around his head. "You're about to sneeze this off." 

"Heh, thanks."  He fiddles with the knot on the thing and tightens it. "Wouldn't be the first time." He regards her with a slow, assessing tilt of his head.  “Feel like sticking around?”

Her eyes are the lightest shade of honey gold he’s ever seen.  And to think she asked him about contacts.

“Sure,” she says. “You might need someone to fix that bandana again.”  A faint hint of super white and slightly pointed teeth peek from behind her lips,  which is so absurdly attractive to him, he shoves a hand in his pocket to keep it to himself. 

But that still leaves him with one.  Which he holds out to her.

It only takes her a second to decide to fork over her fingers, which slide into the width of his palm like something delicate and precious.  Compared to Blair, most people are on the smaller side, but while Avery is tall, she's particularly slender of frame, a fact that is emphasized by the tight black pants and matching bodysuit with strategically placed fabric slashes she’d chosen for the gig. It highlighted the fuck out of her multi-colored hair.  Like autumn leaves in a jeweled pit fire. 

“Hungry?” he asks as he leads her down the rowdy expanse of the corridor where musicians and techs alike are loudly congratulating themselves over the success of the show.

“I could eat something,” she says.

So could he. 

______________________________________

The booth is a semicircle, not one of those across the table deals. And she sits close to him, so close that her leg presses against his thigh. 

He's not sure what he's done to elicit that kind of contact, but he wants more. So, he does the cheesy movie thing and drapes an arm across her shoulders, casually at first, but when she willingly curls closer against his side, he ups his game with an upper arm squeeze. 

Damn, she smells good. Like spring rain and oleander. 

"Are you still cold?"

He nuzzles her thick hair. "Not as much." 

Mainly because she's a fucking furnace, like a personal space heater. No complaints from him. 

Well, except for the goddamn prickling the "defrost" is causing in his sinuses. No, dammit. He's not unwinding his arm from her lithe body. 

He unrolls the napkin-wrapped silverware and snaps the thing open, but doesn't quite make it. 

"HhhRISSCH! ISSCCHUH!"  His lip curls away from his teeth in a snarl of irritation and he clamps the napkin over his mouth and nose. "AahhRISSCHuh! IKGSSSH-U!"  He sniffles and dabs at his nose with a hint of a smirk. "Hnnnh, sorry I'm so goddamn sexy." 

She laughs in a high, almost tittering way that is reminiscent of something he can't quite place, but he likes it. 

"I think I can handle you." She hooks a piece of his hair that escaped his bandana behind one ear. "God bless." 

Her breath tickles his ear and coaxes the hair on his arms to stark attention. 

"Hmn, thanks." His voice drops to a lower, darker version of itself. "You want a steak?"

"Sure," she says. "Purrs" is a better word. "I like meat." 

The way she says that is hotter than it has any right to be.

"Yeah?" He rubs at his nose with the back of his hand. "How do you like your meat?"

Her lips brush the line of his jaw with scantist touch. "Extra rare." 

Okay, fuck it. 

He shifts his body just enough to slide a hand into her hair and leans in close, pausing just shy of capturing that mischievous mouth of hers. Makes her wait for it. Teases her with a faint exchange of breath.  But when the tip of her tongue darts out to just barely flick his lower lip, he’s over it.  

And damn, can she kiss.  It’s electricity and fire, the slow, smoldering promise of something far more urgent, but deftly restrained. His body finally gets the message and switches on the heat until his skin is feverishly hot.  Sharp nails dig into his shoulders just enough to make temporary, pointed crescents in the flesh and he sits back against the vinyl seat as the kiss recedes, the faintest wisp of smoke curling from his lips. 

“Goddamn.” His eyes flutter shut for a moment and he exhales a breath from the depths of his chest, as if he’d been holding it for hours. 

Nails drag down his forearm in a light, affectionate scratch.  “Been a while?”

“Oh yeah,” he says.

A long fucking while. 

__________________________________________________________

The seated dinner had turned into “fuck an hour wait, room service is better” and man, had he made the right choice.  

The idiots in the kitchen had forgotten the steak knives and rather than ask some underpaid kid to go seventeen floors down to get a couple, Blair and his “date” had opted for the more barbaric option. 

Just pick the shit up and eat it. 

Now, watching Avery snack on that rare slab of meat was hotter than any porno could ever be.  There is something primal about the way she takes small, but efficient bites of the steak, the way she sort of tears off a chunk and licks her fingers afterwards.  And when he doesn't eat the entirety of his own steak, she finishes it for him. 

Where the hell had she put it all?  The woman is a slender wisp of a person.

If that’s what she actually is. 

It's the same thing with Caspian.  A flash of something wild. That “otherness.”  He’s seen it before. Plenty of times. 

“I don’t usually do this, you know,” she is saying as she licks the last of the blood and juices from between her fingers. 

“And what’s that?”

She flashes him her super pearly whites.  “Eat meat with strange men.” 

He chuckles and it morphs into a bit of a cough, reminding him that the surge of heat between them earlier hadn’t been enough of a catalyst to jumpstart his body into actually doing anything about his damn "illness."

Her expression morphs from playful to concerned and she sets the plate on the nightstand.  “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”  He wipes at the edges of his nose with a clean napkin and winces.  “Still too goddamn cold, I guess.”  

That fucking nose ring.  Not like he could just take the bastard out without some pliers.  Special ones. 

Avery moves closer, but he holds up a hand to stop her progress, his breath hitching in ragged, uneven catches.  

“Hhheh—!  RISSSCCH–UHH! ISSCCHHU!  Mother. Fucker.”  He growls to himself and drops the napkin in favor of the box of tissues that she’s now offering him.  

Fuck it, he’s taking the whole box.  

“Thanks,” he says in a tone that is way more grumbling grouchiness than he means it to be.  

But she’s obviously not put off by that because she’s suddenly right beside him, her hand on his thigh, even though he’s gross as hell whilst taking care of his dripping sinuses. 

“Sorry,” he says with a sigh.  “Was hoping this shit would just let up or fuck off.” 

“Stop apologizing.”  She rolls her eyes a little and he’s reminded of the same exasperation Caspian uses for Miami, which is more than a touch amusing. “I’m not worried about your cold or whatever it is.”  She tosses all of that flaming hair over one shoulder.  “I like a guy that can be a hot mess and own it.” 

Blair laughs.  “Jackpot, then.” 

“You can lie down, you know.”  She pats the top of his free hand.  “It won’t hurt my feelings if you’re tired.” 

After tossing the tissues into the trash, he slips her fingers into his palm and scratches his thumbnails over her knuckle.  “Mmn, I’m not that tired.” 

She leans in for a kiss and he affords her the opportunity with eager reception. Doesn't stop her when she presses herself against him again.  In fact, he pretty much pulls her into his lap and she’s happy to be there, given the way she’s kicked off her boots and settled in.

“I’m not contagious,” he says.  

Her hands slide over his chest and clutch the fabric of his shirt.  “Wouldn’t care if you were.” 

“Want me to take this off?” He tugs at the edge of his shirt.

“No,” she says.  “I want to take it off.” 

If his eyebrow arched any higher, it would disappear into his hairline.  “Okay.”  He leans back against the bed frame and lets go of her hips.  “All yours.” 

(TBC...)

[sillymaxing]

Hi it's me again :3 give me angst hcs for a Tord x Matt pairing maybe?? Or for Tom x Matt!

Maybe I will do BOTH.

In this ask, everything is set in a timeline where Red Army invades very soon after The End. Like a months or two after Matt, Edd, and Tom move into a new apartment.

Note: I LOVE this ask guys. I didn’t really capture the angst like I could have in a fic. But I certainly described it!! Also, I didn’t implement any romance….. if you want that I can make another hc list :3

But NORMALLY I do platonic stuff.

CW: Gun violence, mentions of war, implied torture if you squint really hard, gore, near death experience, implied kidnapping, body horror. Let me know if I missed anything!

Tom & Matt Angst

For this, I’m honestly thinking about Matt and Tom getting separated first. Red Army invades, all 3 run, but Tom gets separated from Matt and Edd.

I think Edd would abandon Matt pretty quickly after feeling like Matt is slowing him down. Matt would have trouble swallowing his fear of what’s happening in the start, and Edd wouldn’t stick around with someone who he thinks could shift and join the Red Army, or surrender.

Matt would have to learn how to manage things on his own and fast.

Tom and Matt would regroup at some point, probably after Tom fends off some soldiers trying to attack Matt.

Maybe on his knees, shaking, with a soldier’s gun to his head. And then he sees the dude drop dead right in front of him. Tom runs up to Matt. THATS when they regroup, and Matt explains how Edd left. This totally won’t cause Tom a long-living grudge and hatred for Edd! I’m sure!!

Things will certainly get difficult when WANTED posters start showing up everywhere they go, and radio stations start to broadcast a description of Tom, Matt, and Edd, expressing the Red Army wants them to be turned in ALIVE.

There are different bounties on each of them. It seems like Tom is the one most sought out by the Red Army.

Matt certainly tries to convince Tom to surrender. It’s hard to get by on little food and shelter. Matt expresses that maybe Red Leader is trying to help them. Tord wants them alive. Not dead, not even hurt.

Tom inevitably gets kidnapped first, probably out to sneak by and steal food, leaving Matt at their current shelter.

Matt thinks Tom abandoned him too.

When Tom is kidnapped, he stands his ground for months. He doesn’t give in, doesn’t talk, withstands torture.

The next time he sees Matt, he’s in a Red Army uniform. Tom feels so betrayed, still being stuck in a cell. It’s obvious that Matt surrendered, gave in. Something else happened, considering the prosthetic face bits.

Their friendship is never the same. Matt is certainly forced to partake in watching over Tom. Tord encourages the idea that Tom abandoned him, so there is a constant feeling of anger between the two.

Tord & Matt Angst

Matt HATES Tord. At least in the beginning. Matt was the one who beat the shit out of him in The End with the robot.

But seeing his beautiful face on posters, saying Tord needed him alive? It put a little hope in his heart. Maybe Tord didn’t really mean to hurt him.

At some point, a while after he had captured Tom, Tord got a call about Matt having been captured.

What Tord didn’t know is that the people who captured him didn’t get the whole “Wanted Alive” memo.

Needless to say, they were both killed on sight the moment Tord arrived to retrieve Matt.

Matt was critical condition. He tried to run from the bounty hunters, but ended up getting shot in the head. Pretty gnarly, took his entire jaw off. But he somehow survived with only a severe flesh wound.

He was in a coma for a while. Tord really didn’t know if Matt would live, and wished he could go back and make the death of the bounty hunters a bit slower.

Tord considered Matt to be a friend of his. Leaving him in the first place hurt. Hurting him hurt. In the moment of exploding the house, Tord was filled with rage and nothing else. It was all meant to be taken out on Tom. Not Matt and Edd.

But afterwards, guilt ate away at him, gnawing at his bones until he was nauseous.

When Matt woke up, Tord stayed by his side for days, letting Paul and Pat take over duties for him.

Matt wasn’t a fan of this. Being cuffed to a hospital bed made it difficult to beat the shit out of Tord for all the awful things he did.

Matt found that he couldn’t speak. Just make noises. Apparently his tongue was still in tact, which was good. But having your jaw ripped off your face kinda inhibits your ability to communicate.

Tord tried to accommodate for this. He wanted so badly to explain everything to Matt. To hear what he had to say. To try and find some common ground. So he gives Matt tablet and notepad. It was his choice which one he wanted to communicate with.

But Matt wouldn’t indulge, and his days were spent moping, crying, and ignoring everything Tord had to say.

Of course, during all of these visits to Matt, Tord is telling Tom that Matt surrendered and is living a life of luxury.

Also, here’s a big kicker guys, Tord refuses to give Matt a mirror. No reflective surfaces at all.

Even after the surgery to implement the prosthetic jaw.

Of course, that wasn’t even the main concern. Getting Matt to be able to use it was WORK. Especially when the only time he accepted physical and speech therapy, the only words that would come out of his mouth were insults.

Slowly, Matt starts to break. He’s allowed out of the hospital room, even eventually allowed to see Tom. Of course, Tord tells Matt that Tom abandoned him.

It makes Matt rely on Tord a little bit. For like, ALL his emotional support. Tord is happy to help.