#round three though... that's another story

[the-crooked-library]

I noticed something near the end of Dracula when Jonathan and Mina separate for a final time (so she can go to Dracula's castle), that a difference between Harker and Hutter is also near the end.

For context, several chapters earlier Jonathan gets two weapons “put these flowers round your neck”—here he handed to me a wreath of withered garlic blossoms—“for other enemies more mundane, this revolver and this knife;.

Then when Mina and Van Helsing are about to depart for their ride to the castle, Jonathan keeps the knife and gives the revolver to Mina. Even for me a large-bore revolver; Jonathan would not be happy unless I was armed like the rest.

I know the phallic analysis of the weapons in the book are overstated in scholarship but I think it's telling that Jonathan insists Mina to be armed with a big gun while he lets her go do what she wants without him. Thomas didn't arm her and likely wouldn't even it were suggested imo.

omg yes! That is definitely another detail that really stood out to me during my watch, and yet another reason I genuinely start getting annoyed whenever people conflate Thomas with Jonathan - because frankly, that is allowing Thomas to reap what Jonathan sowed, so to speak. I've seen a lot of people absolutely in love with him, and yet the traits they list as the reasons are none that he possesses; in fact, the great majority of them are in exact opposition to his canon personality, and this is one of them.

Don't get me wrong, I love Thomas as a character. I think he is quite sympathetic - and, on the Watsonian level, really trying his best; but at the same time, I think it is essential to acknowledge that he is deeply flawed, if only because on the Doylist level, these flaws are fundamental to his arc in the story. It is purely a question of structure and function; because, at the end of the day, he is a fictional character, and thus, a narrative component, rather than a person.

In this case, his choices prior to the vampire hunt provide the viewer with further evidence -> of an aspect of his characterization -> that acts as one of the driving forces behind the plot of Nosferatu. Specifically, he does not notice that Ellen is lying to him; he leaves her at home as he goes off to "fight"; he doesn't even consider arming her; and he does all these things because, even though he does care for Ellen, he never really thinks of her as a person.

Thomas doesn't notice that Ellen is lying, even though she is clearly nervous when she does it, because he doesn't know what she looks like when she's hiding something (I personally think it is because she masks around him, at least to some degree - throughout the film, he is uncomfortable every time she's honest). He doesn't bring her to the hunt because it doesn't occur to him that she could help with tracking down Orlok - despite him being aware now of her immense psychic abilities, despite Von Franz describing her as a native in a world he is only visiting. And, exactly as you said, he doesn't even think to leave her a weapon; because, even as he sets out on his "quest," even after she's told him of Orlok's obsession, even though the point of the hunt is apparently to "save" her, he doesn't consider the possibility of Orlok going after her.

Contrast that with Jonathan - who knows Mina so well that they can get concerned over three lines of writing, who works with Mina's brief psychic connection to Dracula in order to track him, and who arms Mina before the final fight, because he is not satisfied unless he can do everything in his power to ensure her safety. When it comes to their relationship, Mina's revolver, while not exactly phallic (seriously, why is that topic so overwrought?..), becomes a narrative symbol of his thoughtfulness.

The difference here is that, while Ellen is important to Thomas, this importance only extends insofar as she is his wife. He sees her as a responsibility, but never as herself; and, ultimately, he never actually considers her a factor that could conceivably affect his - or anyone's - decision-making. He plans their life without even asking what she wants from it, he neglects her emotional needs, and he leaves her like a sitting duck during the hunt, without a weapon or anyone to guard her. She continuously slips his mind, utterly inconsequential beyond whatever their surrounding society defines as her role and value; and Thomas, tragically, is unable to overcome this ingrained, rigid set of rules.

This is an essential aspect of his character - because, as stated previously, the plot wouldn't happen without it. If Thomas took Ellen's wants into consideration, he wouldn't have been so hell-bent on chasing a promotion, and he wouldn't have left her right after their honeymoon to go to another country, especially if she begged him to stay. If he knew her better, he would've picked up on the plan she made with Von Franz - or she would've told him!.. Most certainly, if he saw any real personhood in her, he wouldn't have dreamed of leaving her unarmed and undefended.

Nosferatu is about Ellen's continued systemic dehumanization. The point of the story is that every single human character contributes to it on some level, despite whatever love and best intentions they might have for her. It's about the inherent monstrousness of being othered by humanity, and Thomas is - inherently, narratively, crucially - human.

[karespocketboyfriends]

𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍

Chapter Three

A Love and Deepspace Fanfiction (Sylus X OC)

Warnings -> Side character death, implications of addiction

<- Chapter Two

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

When it rains, it pours.

And it's fucking pouring.

“Sorry!” I exclaim to the poor group of kids that are forced to jump apart in order to avoid being run over by me.

The sky, dark as it may be for the late morning hours, is clear, not a drop of rain in sight. The tragedy I witnessed last night kept me tossing and turning, had my nerves shot to a point of being unable to relax. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the man, Anthony, dying before me. Felt his blood coating my skin. Saw a pair of gemstone red eyes that exposed me right down to my soul.

At some point, I did manage to fall asleep. What I woke up to wasn’t my alarm, but my brothers making a mess of the kitchen. It didn’t take long for the realization that I had slept in to cut me like a dagger. The realization that I was late for work stabbed through me like an ancient sword.

I almost forgot to take my medication on my rush out the door, and forgetting that would have been the cherry on top of this disaster cupcake.

My calves are burning, lungs threatening to give out, but I push myself around the last corner and down another quarter block until I reach Tomes. It blends in with the rest of the modern day architecture, much so that it doesn’t even look like a bookstore, but it’s precious to me regardless. Tomes has been my first and only job, the place that’s filled with the material thing I love most and kind enough to help me keep my brothers and I housed and fed. Maybe not very well, but it’s saved us from being out on the street.

I almost fall on my ass in front of the glass door lined with bars to keep thieves out, partly because of how abruptly I halted, and partly because of the large ‘Permanently Closed’ sign hanging on the door.

“What?” I whisper through my fight for breath, the shock of the sign making it even more difficult to calm my racing heart.

No matter how many times I read it, the letters don't rearrange themselves. My mind doesn't spot a trick my eyes are playing on me.

Chest heaving, I stumble to the door and pull on the vertical handle. It's not locked, so I let myself in. Everything looks just as it did last night, no sign of books being stored away or shelves being moved out. The register hasn't even been opened yet, the till missing and likely still locked up in the safe. The store is dead quiet, and no matter how hard I strain my ears, I can't hear any movement on the first floor. Above me, however, I hear footsteps.

"Russell?" I call, slowly making my way towards the staircase at the back of the store. I've never been to the second floor, because old man Russell lives up there. He did share the space with his wife, Edith, but that was up until she passed away three years ago.

I listen as the footsteps move across the ceiling, hold my breath as they slowly make their way down the stairs. The person who appears isn't elderly, or a man at all.

"Evie?" The woman breathes, one hand resting on her largely round stomach, her eyes red and raw.

"Charlotte."

She's Russell's daughter, his pride and joy. He keeps a photo album behind the counter, and whenever there was free time, he would sit on a stool and flip through it. He's shared with me story after story of the photos, so even though Charlotte and I weren't very close in school before I dropped out, I feel as though I know her like a best friend.

"How are you? How's the baby?" I ask, trying to remain polite despite the questions racing through my mind.

Her laugh is strained as she draws a circle on her bump. "He's healthy. A big mover." She carefully makes her way down the rest of the stairs, and after reaching the bottom, leans against the banister. "I'm sorry, I didn't know how to contact you. I'm still going through dad's stuff."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "He... He's not...?"

Charlotte flashes a sad smile and nods, fresh tears brimming in her eyes. "Yeah. He didn't call me this morning, so I came to check on him. It'll take a while for the autopsy, but he didn't have any physical wounds."

Closing my eyes, I suck in a deep breath and struggle to keep my voice from cracking. It does anyway. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too." She looks down and rubs her belly again. "He was so excited to meet the little one. He never said it, but when he found out I was expecting, I think he was having regrets about waiting so late to have kids."

In, out. In, out. Mentally, I'm focused on my breathing. Whatever comes out of my mouth is pure instinct. "I can't say for sure, but I do know that he loves you. Russell would never regret that."

Charlotte laughs a little and looks up at me again. "You haven't changed. You're still a beam of sunshine, aren't you?" The lightness in her expression falls bleak once more. "Um, listen, about the shop-"

It's my turn to sport a sad smile. "I saw the sign."

"I'm sorry, Evie, but the money I'd get from selling this place is more beneficial to me than to keep it."

"You don't have to explain. You have a family to look after. I get it." I nod towards the counter. "Russell keeps a phone book under the counter, my number's in there. If you ever need a friend, feel free to reach out."

My mind feels like its in a daze as we say our goodbyes. I don't even remember how we said farewell or leaving the shop, but the crisp air zaps me back the second I'm standing outside.

Russell's dead, a man who did more for me than my own father has, a man who hired a desperate young girl even though he really didn't have the budget for it back then. The memories of my time here start coming back to me, the busy days were he, Edith and I rushed around to get the orders stocked on the shelves, the quiet days where he'd place a record in the record player and waltz around the store with his wife. Every holiday, including my birthday, he'd let me pick a book from the store to take home and keep, claiming that my preferred reading material was just collecting dust and deserved a home.

I think he kept ordering romance novels for my sake, given that most of our customers came in for non-fiction.

The size of the sob stuck in my chest feels like I just swallowed a boulder, and no longer trusting myself to stay put together, I lean against the wall of Tomes and slide to the ground. I brace my elbows against the stops of my knees and push the heels of my hands onto my eyes until I see white.

The man I loved like a grandfather is gone, and although I want to do nothing but grieve, another thought blasts through it.

I'm jobless.

It feels selfish to think about it, but it's reality. I'm the breadwinner of the family, Drew and Mateo's shenanigans too unreliable to keep us afloat. If I don't work, my family is screwed.

"Come on, Evie." I whisper to myself, dropping my hands from my eyes. "You're a hard worker. You can find something."

Naturally, I went ignored by everyone who passed by. I'm probably the only freak in the N109 Zone who would stop to check in on someone who looks distressed. Or so I think.

"Evie?"

Looking up, I catch sight of a regular customer of Tomes. He's looking down at me with his eyebrows furrowed, curly strawberry blond hair falling in front of his forehead.

"Hi, Landon." I greet him while pushing to my feet and dusting myself off. "Did you come to purchase more books for your boss? Sorry, but the shop's closed. Russell passed away."

Landon sucks in air through his teeth. "Shit. Another good man gone, huh?"

"A great man." I fold my arms over myself.

I'm not sure exactly how old Landon is, but he can't be too much older than me. He's only got a few inches on me, but his boisterous energy makes him feel bigger than he is. He drops by the store weekly to pick up special order books on his boss' behalf, more rather, his boss' wife. I don't pry into our customer's personal lives, but Landon is a bit of an over-sharer, so I know his boss is in the jewelry business and that his boss' wife craves knowledge on all things.

"How are you taking the news?" He asks, the concern in his pale blue eyes genuine.

I shrug one shoulder. "I'm not sure. I just found out. It feels real but doesn't at the same time, you know? It probably won't sink in fully until I go job hunting."

Landon nods. "I get that. Well, it'll suck not to see you every week. I'm a man of routine." He tilts his head as if thinking. "I'm sure a girl like you will find work easily, but there is a small gig that can hold you over until then."

That has my ears perking up. "What kind of gig?"

He lifts a hand and scratches the back of his neck, letting out a small sigh. "To tell you the truth, my boss' wife has been battling an illness lately. The doctor ordered her to stay in bed, so she can't attend an upcoming gemstone auction with the boss man. It'd be a hit to his social status to show up to a big event like that alone."

My heart sinks into my stomach. "So, you're asking me to...?"

"It'd be one night, and the boss pays well." Landon laughs a little. "To tell you another truth, the reason I came today was to ask if you'd be interested. Boss asked me to try and find him a plus one, and you're not violent, so I wanted to ask you first. You'd just be keeping him company at the auction, nothing more."

My teeth sink into the inside of my cheek. I'm not in a position to be turning down a paying job, and Landon's boss is doing more than well financially-

White hair, crimson eyes, and a stone cold expression flash in my mind. My heart leaps and starts hammering against my ribs.

My mouth suddenly feels dry, and I swallow just for the sake of moving my throat muscles. "I'm flattered that you thought of me, but I just got out something hectic. I don't think I'd be very comfortable taking this job."

Landon looks disappointed, but he nods anyway. "That's fair." Still, he reaches into his pocket and hands me a business card. "Take this anyway, just in case you change your mind. Or get desperate enough."

I almost turn him down again, but the words vanish from the tip of my tongue at ‘desperate.’ Even if it’s the last thing I want to do, refusing an opportunity to keep food in my brothers’ stomachs would be silly.

Forcing a small smile, I take the card and tuck it into the pocket of Simon’s old jacket. He grew out of it a few years ago, but luckily it fits me enough to use until I can afford to replace the one I lost. “Thank you.”

Landon grins. “Of course. All the best to you, Evie.”

He gives me a playful salute before turning around and walking down the street. The card weighs nothing yet feels like bricks in my pocket, a harsh reminder of the hole I’m falling into.

I just hope I can find something to grasp onto before I hit the bottom.

When we had to find a new place to live after Dad bailed and left his children with rent they couldn't afford, there weren't many conditions our new living space had to meet. As long as Drew, Mateo and I could cover it with our pathetic paychecks, it would do. It was pure luck that this shabby apartment building we chose happened to be relatively quiet.

That's not the case now. I could hear the raging voices the second I hit the fourth flight of stairs, could practically feel the walls shake with the noise by the time I reached the fifth. Naturally, this sets me on high alert, and I lighten my footsteps as to not make the floorboards squeak as I move down the hall to my unit.

The voices only get louder.

They're coming from my unit.

My foot freezes an inch above the floor, talons made of ice sink into my chest cavity and shred it, making way for my pounding heart to drum loudly in my ears. It only lasts a second before I'm sprinting the remainder of the short distance and throw open the front door. The knob crashes against the wall with a loud bang, startling the four men inside so badly they jump and whip towards me.

I scan the room. The kitchen looks undisturbed, with the exception of dishes in the sink one or more of my brothers neglected to take care of. The living room isn't trashed, but the poor coffee table has suffered a beating. It's been flipped over, one of the legs snapped at an angle that would be extremely painful if it were human. Standing on either side of the abused furniture is my brothers, older twins on one side and younger twins on the other.

"What the hell is going on?" I ask, eyes shifting from my older brothers to younger and back again.

The boys roughhouse on a regular occasion, but the looks on their faces don't look playful, nor does the way they're standing. Drew is almost chest to chest with Mateo as if using his body as a block, while Simon has his arms wrapped around Troy's waist as if trying to hold him back. The two more hot-headed of the pairs have resumed their glaring contest.

"Evie, you're home early." Drew says, pushing Mateo until he sits on the couch behind him.

"Yeah, I'll explain later." I glance back and forth between the lot of them again. "Someone fill me in, please."

Troy tilts his head and grins in a way that's on the edge of sadistic. "Tell her, guys. Tell her what you've been running around doing every night and spending the family's money on."

My adrenaline was just beginning to climb down, but it spikes right back up. "You know?"

"We just found out." Simon replies, letting his brother go. It seems Troy is no longer interested in physical fighting. "You two tell her right now, or we will."

It's Mateo's turn to smirk. "Ass kissers."

Troy makes to lunge, but Simon catches him again.

"Enough!" I hold a hand up towards Troy, and turn my attention to the older two. "Out with it."

Drew sighs and drops into the empty space next to his twin. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees while running a hand over the top of his head. "We've been working at a club. Mateo's a bouncer and I bartend."

I give his confession a minute to sink in, and after that minute, I'm more confused than anything else. Bouncing and bartending aren't jobs to be ashamed of - they can pull in quite the extra cash in the form of tips, at least for bartending. It doesn't explain why they take more money from the account instead of adding to it more often than they do, but it answers one big question.

They haven't gotten involved in anything gang related, and knowing this now takes a massive weight off my shoulders.

I nod at them. "Thank you for telling me, but why did you feel the need to hide it in the first place? It's not something I'd judge you two for, you know that."

I can feel Simon and Troy growing impatient behind me, but I ignore them for now. I almost consider sending them out of the room, not wanting them to ruin things now that our older brothers have finally started to crack, but I don't. This is a family matter, and they're not children anymore. I don't want them to feel as though I still see them as little kids.

Mateo leans back, crosses his arms over his chest, and crosses his leg so ankle is resting on his knee. "Because we've been paying the dancers for private sessions."

I give his confession a minute to sink in, and after that minute, I'm... "I'm sorry, what?"

Drew sighs and starts to stand. "Evie-"

"You're paying dancers for attention? With the money you make every night plus the funds that are supposed to take care of us?" With every second that goes by, disbelief bleeds into anger. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"If you're going to tell the truth, tell the whole truth." Troy snaps. He shakes out of Simon's hold and moves to stand next to me. "You know how we found out? They brought them here."

I'd rather be punched in the chest so hard I'm left winded than let that be true. "Don't tell me you're paying them for...?"

Drew, who decided to sit back down, hangs his head. Mateo has his face turned to the side, but even then, I can see him fighting to pretend that he doesn't care. Even as kids, the corners of his mouth would twitch when he tried to keep a careless expression.

I feel like I can't breathe, and yet, I can't stop words from coming out and using the precious air I'm struggling to keep in my lungs. "Are you two addicted? Because that's the only thing that would explain your lack of self control. For months I've been busting my ass to keep bills paid for, pulled my hair our trying to budget food and other necessities, trusting that whatever the two of you were up to would pay off in the end, and this is what you've been doing?"

Mateo snaps his head towards me and glares. "Not all of us are perfect little angels, Evie. Books aren't stress relief for everyone."

"Watch it." Simon hisses, appearing on my other side. "She's the reason we haven't starved and still have a roof over our head."

Mateo closes his mouth and turns away again.

I'm not done, not through with laying into them. "You know we're struggling to stay afloat, and not only are you blowing your entire paychecks on dancers, plus digging into the family funds to cover it, but you're also sneaking them in here? You're bringing strangers into our home? In the N109 Zone?"

For a long time, they say nothing. When they do, it's Drew who breaks the silence. "We're sorry, Evie."

Inhaling sharply, I ran my hands over my face. when I finally drop them, I clap my hands together and put on a sunny smile. "You two can start apologizing by getting your act together, because Russell's dead, which means I'm out of a job. I'm pulling the two of you off the account. Whatever we have left has to last until I find a new one."

I turn and storm towards my closet bedroom. The boys resume their bickering, but the migraine settling in my temples doesn't leave me much room to place peacekeeper. As soon as I lock myself inside, I make good on my word and change the password to the family's bank account. I'll slip the new password to Simon and Troy later, but until Drew and Mateo can be trusted, I can't risk them draining the measly three-hundred dollars left in the account.

The calendar app on my phone catches my eye as I close out of the online banking, and my heart sinks. Bills are due in a few days, and that is going to destroy the little savings we have.

"Fuck!" I screech, tossing my phone onto the mattress.

Pulling my knees up, I bury my head between them. The position pulls on my neck and makes my migraine worse, so I lay on my back instead. I didn't turn the light on, not wanting to aggravate my eyes further, but even in the darkness, I can see the outline of my dragon suncatcher hanging above me.

The corners of my eyes burn with tears, and in the shadows I whisper to it. "I don't know what to do."

Of course, it doesn't answer. I close my eyes and take in another deep breath, shove my hands into the pockets of Simon's jacket as I soak up the warmth it provides. I have every intention of taking a nap, numbing out the storm brewing inside of me, but my fingers brush against something that has my eyes snapping open again.

Pulling the small card out, I sit up and, despite the way it'll make my eyes sting, reach up to turn on the light.

"Take this anyway, just in case you change your mind. Or get desperate enough."

I don't want to. I really, really don't want to. Being an arm accessory to a complete stranger sounds like a nightmare, a great way to die and leave my brothers to fend for themselves.

But if I don't do this, we'll slowly die anyway.

Shoving every single emotion into the deepest parts of me where I can't feel them, I dial the number listed on the card. A male voice answers after the second ring.

"Landon? Hi, it's Evie." I look up at the red glass dragon and silently ask it to lend me its strength. "I've changed my mind."

Masterlist

Chapter Four ->

Tag List:

@xxfaithlynxx @angelafinstone

[gingernut1314]

Couldn't Sleep?

Summary: It's not unusual for Robin to leave your side in the middle of the night, but it still doesn't stop you from missing her and seeking her out.

Content: GN!Reader, Robin struggling to sleep, pet names, set on the Thousand Sunny

Word Count: 1K

A/N: Your honor, I love her ✋😩 why I haven't written for her yet is a mystery because she is in my top three one piece blorbos. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!!

↞ to One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

You knew the arm wrapped around you wasn’t attached to a body.

You knew it the moment you began to wake up, throat dry and eyes burningly heavy. The arm was soft and comforting as always…but the lack of the body it belonged to had you semi-fully awake. 

The girl's quarters were dark, the only light dimly seeping in from the crack under the door, though it was just enough ligh to see the arm holding you. An arm that had bloomed from the soft mattress beneath you. The master of this bloomed arm was missing, just as you had known, but seeing the nearly empty spot next to you confirmed it. 

It wasn’t unusual for you to wake up and find a missing Robin. Some nights she struggled to sleep and some mornings she was up even before Sanji. And although it was usual it still didn’t help ease your missing her. 

You turned into the arms hold, brushing your hand up her forearm so that you could take hers gently. You raised the hand to your lips and placed a sweet kiss to the inside of her wrist, the bloomed hand giving you a small squeeze before poofing away in a cloud of pink petals and the smell of cherry blossoms. 

Nami gave a small, airy mumble in her sleep as you swung your legs over the edge of your bed, shoving your feet into your pair of fluffy slippers. You tried your hardest to muffle the sound of your exit, not wishing to wake Nami up and enact her wrath. 

The rest of the ship was warmly quiet, everyone within dreaming soundly. You wound your way to the first floor and heard how the rest of your crew was sleeping. 

Deeply sound but oh so loud. 

It was sounds you once thought nothing human could make, but no matter how loud and bone-shaking, it was yet another thing you had grown to find comfort in. 

A salt-filled breeze greeted you as you made your way outside, the deck of the Sunny awash in the silvery glow of the ever-watchful moon hanging above. It gave you enough light to make your way safely across the Sunny and towards the stern, where the library observation room was located. 

It was also where you knew she would be held up.

You carefully opened the door, finding the lamp had been switched on to give the room a near-golden glow. Your eyes scanned the rounded room, taking in all the different books your crew had filled the shelves with. Took in the small table at the center of the room and the ladder leading up to the washroom before they finally landed on Robin sitting curled up on the plush bench that rounded the room. 

Her sapphire blue eyes were already watching you, a toothless smile pulling to her lips you were quick to return.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You questioned as you shut the door behind you. 

“I’m nearly finished with this book.” She said in that silky smooth voice of hers. “It was all I could think about.”

You knew it was only part of the reason she couldn’t sleep. Knew there definitely was much more on her mind than the story in her hands, but you didn’t push for the truth. You never pushed. You two had come far enough together. She would come to you about that stuff when she was ready to talk, just as you would do the same. 

And besides, it was far too late for such discussions.

“I think this is the fastest you’ve read a book yet.” You mused, grabbing a big, fluffy blanket from the basket full of them in the corner. 

“Oh? You think so?” Robin’s blue eyes tracked you as you crossed the way over to her. 

“Yep. Your fastest record was a week. This book has only taken you--what? Five days?” Robin gave a closed-lipped chuckle, placing her book over her knee to give you her full attention.

“I would say that’s still about a week.” You shook your head. 

“Nope,” You gave the ending of the word a nice pop. “There are seven days in a week and you, my dear, have taken two less days than that.” The corner of her eyes crinkled as she smiled up at you.

You remembered a time when her smiles never quite reached her eyes. Remembered a time when those smiles seemed like they were almost an act. 

So you made sure to take a few seconds any time she gifted the world such a smile. A whole face smile that you wanted to burn right into your memory and never forget. 

“If you insist, flower.” You gave a small chuckle yourself, leaning down to kiss her forehead gently. 

“Can I cuddle with you till you finish? I got a bit lonely.” Robin gave you an instant nod, holding one of her arms out in welcome. 

You quickly climbed onto the light blue cushioned bench, pressing your side flush to hers and shimming a bit down so that your head could rest on her collarbones. Her arm wrapped around you tightly, keeping you closer as you threw the blanket over you both.

Once settled, Robin bloomed two new arms to hold her book up while she held you close. She nuzzled her nose against your forehead before placing a tender kiss there. 

“I’m--sorry for leaving…” She murmured against your skin.  

“It’s okay.” You snaked your arms around her waist, letting your fingers lazily move up and down her side. “Next time you can read in bed with me. Nami wouldn’t mind it if you used her book light, I don’t think and the light won’t bother me.” Robin kept her face against your forehead in quiet thought for a moment longer. Just breathing you in and taking in your presence. 

“Thank you.” She placed another kiss to your forehead before turning so her cheek rested against your head as she read. 

“You’ll have to tell me the rating you give this book after you finish, m’kay?” You snuggled closer into her warmth, eyes growing heavy with sleep all over again. Robin gave a small nod. 

“Anything for you, flower.”

[frasermints]

will you hate me if i root for dallas in the playoffs? 🥺

like? right now? baby IM rooting for dallas in the playoffs what do u mean??? fuck colorado

[shrimpybbq]

rafe in bed

synopsis: rafe loves his precious girlfriend so so much, but the one thing he loves slightly more is fucking her

i feel like (controversially) when rafe is deeply in love with his partner and in a committed relationship, i don’t think the sex is that rough or kinky

sure, they get down and dirty but there’s always lots of hand holding, and rafe loves the feeling of his girlfriend’s body pressed up against his

rafe likes to feel connected and close to his girlfriend and sex is no different for him

i think he really likes any position where he can see her face, and the expressions that he draws out of her. he loves missionary for that reason, and he’s always nuzzling his face into her neck as he cums

rafe is absolutely obsessed with eye contact - he needs to see how good he makes her feel, and vice versa

if it's not missionary, he probably has his girl on her stomach, his hovering body pressed up against her so tightly she can barely breathe as he hits it from the back, his hips slamming against hers

rafe has stamina and he can easily go two or three rounds in one night, though they’re often interrupted by the sound of their son crying in the nursery, but otherwise that man would go allllll night if he could

when he and high school gf were actually in high school, i picture lots of sneaky sex: think car sex, sex in rafe’s room at tannyhill while everyone else is sleeping, sex in unoccupied classrooms at the academy. they were both so desperate for each other that it didn’t really matter when or where

while I don’t think he’s super kinky, I do think he still loves control, and he loves to exert his power in bed

she can be on top, but only if he’s controlling the movements

delayed gratification and not letting her cum until he tells her to!!

rafe loves affirmations in bed too, needing to be reassured how well he’s doing and how much gf loves him

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel, baby.”

“You wanna cum? Yeah? Beg for it.”

“Look at me - who’s making you feel this good, huh baby? Who? Hmm - me, yeah - I thought so.”

“C’mon baby, you can give me another one.”

rafe is mostly a grunter. he lets out low, strained groans when he feels her warm pussy clench around him, echoing fill the room with each thrust he makes. it’s only when he’s about to cum does he let out a few moans, his voice rising in volume as he tilts his head back

rafe wandering around the house with his shirt off, forgetting about the red scratch marks down his back - he just makes her feel so good she can't help it. he only smirks if anyone comments

after high school gf falls pregnant with charlie, rafe is scared for a bit and uses condoms every time they have sex, but after his son is a little older, i think rafe goes in raw - it's his favourite state and he just feels so close to her. his gf began taking birth control so he feels more comfortable now, and it’s not like he’s sleeping with anyone else

(part of him isn’t opposed to knocking his girl up again either, but he doesn’t say that just yet…)

i think rafe loves to have his girl trapped under him, unable to run away from the pleasure he’s giving her. he likes to cage her in, keeping her pressed against the bed as he thrusts harshly over and over again, her body writhing and wriggling against him. he likes to know he’s making her feel good

sloppy making out as he fucks - nuff said. there's so much tongue its almost embarrassing, but its so so hot (gimme gimme plssssss)

also bathtub sex!

rafe wants to feel wanted, especially in bed

rafe who loves to hold hands as much as possible. eating her out holding hands, entering her holding hands, and most definitely cumming inside of her holding hands. he wants to feel loved, and to him, sex with his person is intimate and important

basically moral of the story is that rafe fucks good, a little nasty sometimes, but so good

[aamircoeur]

Kenji Sato Boyfriend HCs

i feel like he's a very bitey guy

not in a sexual way (unless?? HEHE) but like, imagine having soft and round cheeks and he just creeps up from behind you to nibble on your cheek

kenji: :0 nomnom

HUGE pda guy

he needs to be touching you at all times

m talking about a hand to your hips, squeezing you three times to say i love you

or an arm around your shoulders, making sure to keep you close to him

he would mention you at every interview

"amazing home run today, mr. sato,"

"all thanks to my girl, she's the one that pushes me to do my very best every game."

"congratulations on your win today, ken sato!"

"i would like to thank my wonderful girlfriend,"

"what's your secret to staying fresh during games?"

"ah, it's the deodorant my girlfriend buys for me. she knows me so well. i would like to thank her,"

like yea ok we get it kenji wrap it up

anw he loves spraying cologne on his neck, chest, arms, and wrists

his reason being so that when you're in for a hug you'd smell the cologne, or when you cling onto his arms you'd smell it too

calls you babe, baby, baby girl, sweet cheeks, pudding, and love

his favourite is baby girl though

"what's wrong, baby girl?"

"my prettiest baby girl,"

"your smile just melts me, baby girl."

he's so vulnerable with you and he's so sorry for it :((

after games or after a battle with kaijus, he'd be on his knees a second after coming home out of exhaustion and you were always there to help him up

he'd be resting on his bed while you draw him a warm bath with yours and his favourite vanilla scents

you clean his back while cooing at the poor baby, telling him how great he was, how you're so so proud of him, and how brave and strong he was for making it through yet another battle

he would have his head back, facing you while puckering his lips to ask for a kiss, which you gladly grant him

calls and visits from his dad includes a home-made bento from him to you!

hayao sees how you've guided kenji to a better path in life, and he sees a bright and happy future for the both of you

you three have weekly dinners to catch up and bond, and kenji most of the time's just embarrassed by all the stories hayao tells you from when he was a child

okie that's all for now :3 i love kenji sooo so much he's my darling :(( sorry for the short hc i'm eepy !!! bye-bye hehe reqs open !

[jaggedamethyst]

golden boy (part 3) | jayce talis x female reader

3.3k words

content: fawk it!! part three of jayce making reader a vibrator with hextech. everyone round of applause for golden boy!! (part one, part two)

notes/warnings: 18+ minors dni, angst, oral (female receiving), some sub!jayce, unprotected sex (dont be like them!), lmk if I missed anything as always

ps: while this is the end for now, I may consider adding some parts when inspiration strikes. its been fun writing for my best guy for a few weeks now...the arcane brain rot is real and I will never stop adding to the madness. thanks for reading in advance. - amethyst 💟

series masterlist

⭑·ﾟﾟ·*:༅。.。༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅。.。༅:*·ﾟﾟ·⭑

Being from the Undercity meant that from a young age you were particularly skilled at evasion. When Enforcers arrived, you were able to lie at the drop of a dime. At the mention of your now nonexistent family you could mask your emotions. Most importantly, you could get out of Piltover undetected. 

Slyly turning corners, you’d finally emerged on the outside. Regret filled you, then. 

You didn’t want to think of Jayce there—the fact that he would wake up alone. Truthfully you’d often reason that this was for the better, that you leaving would soften the blow of having to explain how fucked up you were. It was something you found yourself discussing often. 

“I have a particularly vested interest in this…seeing as though I also fell for a Piltie.” 

It was hard to be a Zaunite and not at least know of Vi. You’d actually met when you were younger. You swapped stories of lost families, hate for authority, and a penchant for being hardasses. 

“I didn’t fall for him, Vi. He was just there when I needed someone.” 

“Sure, but I was here, too. When that piece of shit lied to you…got married…I was here. You’re not all over me like you are with Jayce. So how do you explain that?” 

You knew it was more than just sex with him as much as you hated to admit it. But there’d been countless examples of the between-worlds love story simply not working. 

“Vi, you and the Kiramman girl didn’t even work. Again and again you two have tried and nothing…”

“Sometimes it’s just worth saying you tried. That despite everything, you opened up just that little bit.” 

You’d downed drink after drink that night—the sting barely masking the nagging at your mind to just go see him. But the sadness you’d feel was always overrun with hate. He proved you right. The cycle continued. A month had passed and he hadn’t even looked for you.

You and Vi proved similar, again. When she suggested you take up fighting to release your tension, you hadn’t even thought twice. It was yet another way to remind yourself that you deserved to feel this. Every stupid decision you’d made up until this point warranted the physical pain. 

It quickly got out of hand. 

Before Jayce became a member of the council, he didn’t make a habit of leaving Piltover. Now that he was in a position of power, he found himself in Zaun often. It was important to him that he didn’t see you, though. The twinge in the pit of his stomach had only subsided moderately at the thought of you. Until the embers in his body had completely burned out—he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of giving in. Of being good. 

The opportunity to walk the Undercity afforded him time to observe things he’d later note in his proposition for a large-scale integration. He figured this was bigger than you somehow. If you ever did will yourself to feel even a modicum of what he felt for you, it’d be worth it to have made it safer for you. Regardless, he was still taken aback by how gritty Zaun was every time. He thought of his partner living here—hardly able to walk. 

You saw him, then. He was passing a corner, clearly in thought. Something that crossed his mind had upset him. You wondered if it was about you. What you would give to be able to smooth the creases in his face, to tell him that whatever it was would be okay, to make certain it was. 

But it wasn’t. You’d left. Again.

He should’ve expected to run into you. He’d never seen you look so disheveled; there was always an air of composure about you. But looking at you now, you’d been neglecting to take care of yourself. 

It happened so fast. As if you felt the magnetic pull of his eyes on you. In the second that you’d turned to examine him, a crack hit the side of your face. You wanted to swing back, finish the fight you started, but you figured you deserved this. You’d let the rage take over. So when the punches came down and you started to black out, you couldn’t help the smile on your face. 

_________

You jolted awake later, observing a man hobbling across the room. 

“Viktor?” 

He turned to you, “You know who I am?” 

You sat up a bit, “Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you, although I wish it was under better circumstances.” 

“You must be the Zaunite girl.” 

You interrupted, offended by the remark. “Excuse me-“

Viktor held up a hand to stop your incoming rant, he knew the feeling too well. 

“My partner…is nothing if not consistent.” He sat down next to you, “Taking two helpless Undercity residents beneath his wing seems quite…fitting for Jayce.” 

“You’re…from Zaun?”

He nodded. “I’m sure you understand the feeling of being around someone like Jayce.” 

You nodded in response. The feeling of unease not needing further explanation. 

“Jayce mentioned to me this plan he has. To consolidate Piltover and Zaun into one entity. Again, my partner fails to recognize the intricacies of having such an ambitious plan.”

“I…didn’t know about that. Makes sense that he would be so set on creating a utopia.” 

You both laughed at that, knowing the man all too well. 

You continued, “With Jayce, I feel like I’m always seeking something out. Like I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?” You shifted in your seat, trying to explain. “If I get ahead of the bad I know is coming, I can avoid getting hurt. But that feels so…pessimistic?” 

After a while, Viktor stood again. “I would be remiss to call a person such as yourself a pessimist.” 

He slowly made his way over to a cabinet, pulling out an umbrella. 

“Despite my life's work here, I truly have nothing else to offer you except this…and time.” He pushed the umbrella into your hands, “It should rain soon. If you want to get away before he comes back, you should go now.”

You slid off of the bench that you were seated on. “But why?” 

He motioned toward the door, following behind you. “Jayce Talis is the most brilliant man I have ever known, and yet he fails to see the world with the nuance it demands.” 

There was an understanding between you again. That reconciliation was a lot to face. That although there was an inexplicable care for the man, it was hard for him to understand you both sometimes.

“Thank you.” 

——————

The umbrella did little for protecting your body as you ran through the storm, yet you’d left a mental note to thank Viktor at some point. 

Fury had bubbled in you in a split second, “Shit!” You kicked one of your chairs in frustration. The thought of Jayce going out of his way to make sure you were safe and arriving to you gone again was painful. You wanted to feel numb. The desire for nothing about Jayce Talis to ever harm you again was debilitating. 

A banging on the door made you freeze. It couldn’t…

A knock again, and the voice you longed to hear from. 

“It’s me.” 

Jayce called your name, his voice breaking with every repetition. 

You swung the door open. He looked so defeated—out of breath and covered in water. He’d clearly not thought to grab anything to shield him from the rain. 

With your usual feigned annoyance you broke the silence. “I told you to never come here.” 

There was an agreement made between you two, that you would always come to him. You weren’t embarrassed of your home, far from it. But you did hate the feeling of relinquishing control. When with Jayce, you always reserved that right to leave at your own discretion—with him here you instantly felt the restraints. 

He huffed at that, his usual apprehension replaced with exasperation. 

“Shut up.” 

He pulled you in by your neck, kissing you as if to punctuate the command. He moved you back into your house, closing the door behind you both. Every fear had evaporated from your mind. It was always so good with him. You knew he would take care of you in every way. 

Everything between you remained unspoken for now, your rain-soaked clothes finding their way to your floor. 

Jayce’s physique is one that you loved, but became rather daunting the more he’d taken control. 

He pushed you again, this time leaving you on display for him on your bed. He looked you up and down slowly. It made you nervous—the lack of readable expression on his face. When you’d finally made eye contact, he broke it quickly, reaching toward his clothes on the floor. He returned to you quickly, his body fully enveloping yours. 

He kissed your neck sweetly, a way only he could. He made note to suck down on your telltale spots—where you’d been the most sensitive. Making his way to your chest, he looked up at you with a mix of desire and hurt in his eyes. In his left hand he’d massaged your nipple between his fingers, his mouth finding the other. Your chest heaved. Your eyes fluttered shut. You were distracted. He knew the trick very well, seeing as you’d fooled him more than he could count. 

A sudden pulse and sucking sensation jolted you to attention. Jayce had a coy look on his face—and his free hand was on what you had to assume was a new prototype. 

You instinctively circled your hips toward him, craving more. He pressed you down, stopping your movement. The way he continued rubbing on your clit made you fight the urge to writhe against him. 

Your face was suddenly met with his and a peck was left on your lips. When he broke contact, he simultaneously turned the vibration up to the max. You were completely inconsolable. He watched your coherence leave your mind with a menacing smile—still refusing to utter a word. 

You wanted to say something, anything. You fought to question what this sudden change was about, why he was so adamant about tearing you apart right now. But part of you could tell that this was his way of keeping you silent. A sensation this good always left you speechless—your jaw slack and eyebrows pinched together. 

The max setting was a continued pulse and grip on your clit that you couldn’t even process. You weren’t sure where the pain and pleasure met but it was too damn good to stop. 

He kept looking at you. He knew you’d be done soon. All of the signs were there. It was sort of torturous for you to try and form words in your mind and have nothing come to fruition. 

Having him stare at you with a look of disdain in his eyes was even worse. The once yellow color that would wrap you up like the warmth of the Sun now pierced into you. 

He still coaxed you along, needing to prove a point—for you to finish. Within a few more seconds you jolted and froze against him, your legs tightening around his waist. 

He quickly brushed off your grip on his torso, moving to stand. He turned his back to you, discarding his prototype, and steadying himself with his hands on his hips. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He didn’t look at you. He didn’t have to; he knew you were confused by this entire thing. “Is this all you ever need from me? To show up, make you feel better for a while, and then watch you leave?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“What do you know? Because at this point I can’t tell.”

“Me either.”

Jayce finally turned to you, observing your head in your hands. “W-we can’t keep doing this. It’s not healthy.” 

“I know.” 

He moved a bit closer to you, surely angry now. 

“Are you going to say more than a few words to me or will this be the same as always?”

You spoke under your breath, barely audible over the sound of the rain. “What else do you want me to say, Jayce?” 

Words threatened to spill from you. The force with which you’d pushed them down had left you. A figurative steam had started to escape you, a bubbling on the verge of spilling over. Looking at Jayce was often the only catalyst you’d needed, that remained a constant today, it seemed. 

You peered over at him now, “What do you want me to say, hm? That I feel fucking stupid because I let myself feel something I swore I would never? That you’re the only person to make me feel something other than fear?” You dropped down from the bed, looking up at him. Tears that you’d held in finally met the brim of your eyes. “That,” you paused, “I care about you so much that the thought of it being more makes me want to die. That because I felt that before…with someone else…and was ruined entirely because of it that I can’t let myself be happy. Is that what you want?” You wiped your face swiftly, looking away, “Is it?” 

He surprised you when he carefully brought you into a hug. The grip of one hand on the back of your head, the other on your back was cathartic. You recounted every instance for which you’d felt safe with Jayce, there were too many to count. 

He inhaled slowly and let out an even deeper exhale. “What I want is for you to meet me where you can.” 

He pulled back a bit, his arms trailing your arms as he grasped both of your hands. He slowly sank to kneel in front of you, both knees planted to the carpet. Despite you both being completely bare, his grip around your body was far from sexual. He laid his head on you, his forehead relaxing into your lower abdomen. 

“For every night that you’re willing to stay, I promise to be with you the next day.” 

You stared ahead, the man’s head in your lower peripheral. The sheer magnitude of that kind of commitment already weighed on you. But you figured, who better to carry the load with than Jayce? You didn’t need to be strong enough to bear it alone; you knew the golden boy had enough fortitude to make the heaviest of burdens feel light. 

“Say something…please.”

You blinked, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” He leaned back, looking at your face. 

You nodded. 

The tough exterior the man had worn soon dissipated. A veil so uncomfortable for him that he didn’t recognize himself in the last few minutes. He nuzzled into you, grasping at your skin like you would disappear into thin air.

The whole ordeal had happened so quickly, you didn’t even get to comment on the way his appearance had changed. 

“I like the new hair. It really says tortured scientist to me.” 

He hadn’t actually noticed his lack of upkeep these last few weeks. He chuckled, knowing he’d pinpointed how you didn’t take care of yourself—and yet here he was. 

“Do you see what you’ve done to me? I didn’t even shave my face.” 

You brushed a piece of hair behind his ear. “I actually think the rough look is pretty sexy. Maybe we should stop talking for another month.” 

“Too soon.” 

“Is it?” You lifted a leg over his shoulder, “We shouldn’t talk about it then, right?”

He tilted his face, rubbing into the inner skin on your thigh. He nodded, but got distracted by the sight in front of him. You were already dripping, a mix of arousal from before and now. He looked up through his lashes, asking for your approval. 

“Go ahead.” 

You would think that Jayce was starving the way he started to devour you. His head between your thighs, his tongue pushing into you, and his hands kneading at your legs was a combination that always had you weak in front of him. If you somehow could stay this way forever, spread thin, you would. The added friction of the stubble on his face hurt so good. You were sure there’d be a burn on you later—but you would wear it with honor. 

In the way you admired his fingers you would give the utmost praise to Jayce’s mouth. You shivered, his tongue flattening over you, a long and final swipe collecting every drop of you. He tapped your leg on his shoulder twice before lowering it. He made a show of licking his lips while he laid back on the bed. 

“Come take what you need.” 

You’d been in this position before—the man beneath you dripping in precum. You straddled him, the muscle memory kicking in. You let your lips trail across his collarbone. You’d yet to let him in you, rubbing your wetness up and down him. You made certain he was rock hard as you slowly connected his shoulder blades in an assortment of bruises. Eventually you gripped him, circling your hole with the head of his dick. 

He rested his hands on your hips, pressing down a bit. “Please-“ 

You slowly sank onto him, letting out a puff of air at the stretch. 

Leaning toward his ear, you spoke again. “I think you’ve waited long enough.” 

Without missing a beat, you pushed up and down on him. He instinctively met you, slapping into you at a slow rhythm he knew you’d loved. You rolled your neck, the piercing in your stomach was worth the time apart. You’d wait for him, you thought. It was the least you could do after he’d been so understanding with you. A month…a year…any amount of time was worth seeing him splayed so pretty beneath you. 

The wet sounds of you two slowly working each other could have been considered lewd had it not been for Jayce’s whimpers. Suddenly, the sounds bouncing off your walls seemed rather sweet. 

“Mmm, f-fuck,” and he continued like that for a while. Resounding sounds of pleasure and pain vibrated in your ears—urging you to speed up. 

Your deliberate circlings into him had become less controlled bounces. You were close. It didn’t matter how much longer, Jayce always found a way to finish with you. 

“C-can I?” He looked between you, the way you molded together so well. He always asked before he came in you. You definitely should’ve cared more about the implications, but your fervent nods made him snap up into you even harder. 

He noticed your irregular movement, flipping you two over. He was above you now—a sight you were getting more familiar with these days. An inadvertent smile found your lips, then, as he scrambled beside you. He immediately started the vibration on your clit, pumping into you at the same time. You clawed at his back, your walls squeezing into him, coaxing the release out of him. 

“Need you to cum, baby. Let me feel you,” he uttered between moans. 

“Jayce, I-“ 

“Its okay…its all okay.” 

He always had a way with words. Even when the situation found you both entangled with one another—he found a way to reassure you that you were safe. The thought alone had your legs wrapped around his back, finally finishing with him. Your entire body pulsed as he worked you thoroughly. He slipped away from you with a groan, his hand swiping at you. Before you could protest, he sucked on a drenched finger, cleaning it completely. 

“Sweeter than I remember.” 

You both laid there, heaving for breath but not a word exchanged. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jayce fighting sleep. Without thinking, you reached to turn off the lights, draping yourself over his chest. He sighed and kissed your forehead—finally allowing himself rest. 

——————

Jayce woke in the morning, the Sun’s rays meeting his eyelids with a heat that forced him to relinquish sleep. He felt around for you but as he’d suspected…nothing. He craned his head to the side, eyebrows raising a bit. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” 

You were there. 

You scrambled a bit, “I’m sorry, I stepped out and went to the Lanes really quick. Vander’s not the best cook but I figured you might be hungry…I’m starving-“

He let out a breath he’d been holding, “It’s good to see you.” 

You smiled, “You too.” 

[heich0e]

tomura tries to sneak out of your apartment one morning before you wake up, because he has to get all the way back to his apartment before his dad shows up to take him to a 9AM yoga class.

god forbid he be forced to explain:

a) why he slept over at an apartment that was not his own to his father (toshinori would be calling wedding venues and asking his assistant to look into your ring size before they'd even made it to the yoga studio)

nor b) the fact that he was going to a fucking yoga class at 9 o'clock in god damn the morning with his dad, to you.

he slips out of your bed soundlessly, moving as carefully as possible not to wake you. it pains him to do it. really, it does. your sheets are warm, and soft, and smell like you. and you're still there resting so peacefully, tucked under them, breathing soundly with your face burrowed into the collar of his hoodie that you'd worn to bed the night before. you look so pretty like this, tomura had spent at least half an hour just staring at you while he was laying next to you in your treacherously comfortable bed, and would have happily spent another hour more doing it.

there are very few forces on earth that could tear tomura out of bed like this, but the mortifying prospect of having to explain to his over-enthusiastic father that he has a girlfriend is certainly one of them.

he creeps out of your room and into the bathroom, splashing some cool water on his face and using the lotion that you keep next to the sink that makes his skin feel so nice. you started buying a bigger bottle lately, now that the two of you are both using it, and you never mentioned it but tomura still noticed when the little tube was replaced by a larger version of the same product. next he reaches for the toothbrush that he's started keeping next to yours, double checking the hour on his phone to make sure he wasn't running out of time.

he contemplates stealing one last peek at you in bed before he leaves, but he knows that if he doesn't leave now he won't have time to change his clothes before his dad shows up outside his place, so he heads straight to your front door once he's done in the washroom.

you're standing in his path before he can get to it.

you've got a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, but he can still see the soft skin of your thighs where the hem of his hoodie hangs peeking out from underneath the edges of it. there's a little frown tugging the corners of your mouth down.

tomura freezes in his tracks.

"going somewhere?" you ask him, your voice quiet and a little bit hoarse from sleep.

oh, fuck.

"morning," he mumbles, a bit nervously, as you pin him in your stare.

"it is," you reply, as though agreeing with him. "early, even. so why are you sneaking out of my apartment like a burglar?"

tomura rakes a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "i, uh, gotta be somewhere."

"you have to be somewhere?" you repeat, a bit incredulously—like the words don't quite compute. you don't seem mad at all, just thoroughly bewildered by the whole strange situation. "tomu, we went three rounds last night and you're awake before two PM on a weekend. are you okay?"

"'course i'm okay," he rushes to get out, tripping over his words.

"did I like... do something? or is there someone el—"

"are you kidding?" tomura's voice cracks and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. he reaches out and grabs the edge of the blanket you have wrapped around you, his fingers twisting into it desperately. he knows you can't possibly—can't reasonably—think that he's seeing anybody else when the fact that he even landed someone like you is an honest to god miracle. the kind of underdog success story they make multi-part docuseries on.

tomura groans, shuffling forward and resting his forehead against your shoulder as he snakes his arms underneath the blanket around your frame to hold you close.

"you're being weird, tomu," you say quietly, brushing your fingers through his hair and letting your nails drag lightly against his scalp in that way that makes him want to shiver.

"fuck, I know, I know,"—he buries his face further into the crook of your neck, breathing in shakily—"'m not being sketchy or anything."

"you are," you remark lightly. "it's not that I don't trust you, I'm just confused."

tomura mumbles something, but the words are lost to the skin of your throat.

"what was that?" you ask.

tomura steels his nerve and takes one last long breath buried against your warmth. he pulls away and faces you.

"I have to go to a yoga class with my dad."

he loses his nerve about halfway through his admission, his eyes flickering away from yours to a point on the wall just above your front door, as a violent heat surges through his cheeks.

"a yoga class?"

he knows it sounds ridiculous. it is ridiculous. it may have been more believable to tell you he was going to hook up with someone el—

"why didn't you just say that?" your laughter cuts through his spiralling thoughts like a morning alarm.

his gaze snaps back to you, only to find you smiling softly.

"you... you're not...?" tomura isn't even sure what he's going to say. mad? surprised? convinced he's lying?

"i mean, i've noticed you've been looking kind of toned lately, but honestly i thought it's because we've been fucking so much," you scrunch your nose up a little. "yoga makes sense on both counts, though."

you turn and look across your apartment to the clock hanging on the wall.

"what time's your class?" you ask him, suddenly worried that this impromptu interrogation may have made him late. "i didn't mean to—"

tomura grabs either side of the blanket wrapped around your shoulders and tugs you forward, pressing his mouth to yours while your lips are still parted in speech.

(he doesn't make it to class that morning after all.)

[rainydayathogwarts]

Fancy ride - Sirius Black

summary: Sirius gets jealous when you're sharing stories from your date with Evan, so you put him in his place. cw: jealous!sirius, caught making out wc: 2.3k+

"It was the most inappropriate joke but something about it just worked, I don't know."

The marauders all sat in the common room, listening to you recall the story of your apparently amazing date with Evan to Lily and Marlene. The girls asked questions about information James and Remus claimed they did not want to know, despite leaning forward to hear you better. Sirius sulked on the couch next to Remus, who had whispered to him to be nice before you'd started your story, well-aware of his feelings for you. Now, looking at the boy, he was shocked. Sure, Sirius always flirted with you, but everyone always thought it was just for shits and giggles, two good friends poking fun at each other. Or at least, Remus thought Sirius just had a little crush - nothing big. He thought Sirius would be ask mean questions about your date, belittling his masculinity, however he only sat silently on the couch with a frown on his face.

Loud giggles from the three girls opposite Sirius had his head snapping up, attention grasped. His eyes locked on you, sitting on the floor laughing, hands clasped around Lily's bicep as you leaned on her for support to sit up straight. Sirius glanced towards the two boys sitting on his right: James's face was flushed pink at the intimate details being shared and Remus was laughing along with you guys in disbelief. "Shit, well how fancy was his ride at least?" Remus added, throwing you and Marlene into another fit of giggles. Sirius furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding the relevancy to the date. Shit, he wished he was listening now. "Wait I don't get it. He picked you up to the place so you're in love with him now?"

When the laughing calmed down, Marlene scrunched her face up, muttering "What?" With an amused scoff and Lily gave him an almost pitying look that had Sirius throwing his hands into the air in surrender, saying "I zoned out for two seconds, I don't know what happened." You smiled at him, a gorgeous smile that made Sirius feel like the most special person in your life. God, you were too nice to him. He smiled back at you. "No, Sirius. He was my ride, if you know what I mean." Sirius's smile dropped as Lily squealed at the reveal of new information, reaching for her butterbeer. "You fucked!?" Marlene questioned, and you nodded, almost proudly, gesturing towards Remus with a nod. "Remus had a feeling, didn't you Rem?" The boy nodded, leaning back against the couch.

"Hence the question." He said, looking over to James and slapping a hand on the boy's shoulder. He looked horrified. "Jesus prongs, it's as though you've never had sex!" Remus exclaimed with a laugh. "I didn't know this was how girls spoke about us afterwards!" He yelled, voice comedically high-pitched. Despite the commotion, Sirius found your eyes still on him, observing his reaction. You were fiddling with your necklace nervously, afraid that he was judging you. "What? You asked the long-haired boy, making everyone's attention turn towards you. Sirius shook his head quickly "Nothing. I just feel like I should have been listening to the rest of the story now." You laughed at his response, but Sirius could tell it wasn't genuine. You knew he was lying.

"I don't know if James is up to hear any more information-" "Forget James!" Remus interrupted, picking up his butterbeer and rounding the table to sit with you and the girls on the floor. "I want to know." You giggled, and Sirius took note of how the smile reached your eyes this time. "Wait so was the ride taking you, or were you riding the ride?" Marlene not-so-subtly questioned, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. "A little bit of both." Remus hummed, muttering into his bottle "That's probably why I can still smell it on you." You gasped, jumping up and screeching "You're joking! I've showered twice since!" In the corner of your eye, you watched Sirius stand up, walking towards the staircase. Your gaze followed him, head turning to see him disappear up the stairs. James stood up too, jokingly stating "Well I'm going to let you girls finish your little gossip session" before following his best friend. Remus threw a pillow at James, narrowly missing his retreating figure.

When you turned back towards your best friends, finding their eyes locked on you, you retreated into yourself, mumbling "What?" Lily cocked her head to the side, a knowing expression on her face. "Why'd you care so much about what he thinks of your date?" Pointed out Marlene, leaning against the table. Remus's face contorted into one of confusion, going silent as he observed the interaction. You rolled your eyes, turning your attention to the lit fireplace to avoid eye contact with either of your dorm-mates.

"It's fine to admit-" "No I won't!" You cut Marlene off, sharply turning towards her. "Because the second I admit that I like him out loud it becomes real." You whisper-yelled at her. A silence dawned on you and the girls, but Remus gasped loudly. "You like Sirius!?" He asked, matching the volume of your voice and looking around the common room after name-dropping. "Men." Lily scoffed, and you followed her action, scoffing too. "What about Evan?" He asked. "Evan was a date. I had fun with him. Once. It's different with Sirius." Remus put his bottle on the table, the glass making a loud slamming sound as he did. He turned towards you, saying "Y/n he likes you too. He likes you too much." You shook your head at Remus's words, telling him "No, Sirius is protective and pretends to flirt with me to make me feel better about myself. He doesn't like me, he's just pissed I'm not playing his game right now."

Remus's jaw went slack in shock, shaking his head aggressively. "No, no, y/n, Sirius doesn't just flirt with people he doesn't like." Ouch. "Remus!" Lily scolded, watching as your face changed, and your eyes went glassy. "So he just likes everyone then?" You spat, and Remus's eyes widened, shaking his head even faster now. "No, no, you don't get it! You just can't tell when Sirius is actually flirting with someone. There's a very fine line between flirting and being nice for Sirius." He insisted. None of you looked convinced.

"Save your breath Remus, you're not making it any better." The boy ran his hands over his scarred face, thinking up solutions. "I know! He'll just tell you himself!" Your eyes widened when Remus stood up, realisation dawning on you. "Remus no!" You tried, but the boy wasn't listening to you, already halfway to his dorm. Speeding up your pace, you chased Remus up the stairs, only catching his wrist hallway across the hallway when he came to a stop in front of his door. "Remus," you whispered, panting lightly. "Don't." Remus looked at you for a while before finally nodding when he noticed the fearful look in your eyes. Unfortunately, the door to the dorm swung open nonetheless, and you found James stood in front of you. He took a moment to look at you and your hand wrapped around Remus's wrist, confusion settling onto him.

Unluckily for you, directly facing the doorway, Sirius sat at the window nook, smoking a cigarette near the open window. He observed the scene just as James did, and you let go of Remus's wrist, letting your arm fall to your side. Remus looked at you with a pleading look on his face. "Just fucking tell him." You scoffed, an incredulous look on your face. He finds out about your crush and five minutes later has you trying to tell Sirius? Absolutely not.

"No."

Sirius exhaled, smoke from the cigarette dispersing in the air. "Tell who what?" Sirius asked, making both your heads snap towards him. James slid through the doorway and between you and Remus, watching you from the other side of the door now. You angrily strolled into the dorm and Remus's eyes lit up, watching as you snatched the cigarette from between Sirius's lips, telling him "I thought you said you were gonna quit smoking." Putting the cigarette between your lips, you inhaled deeply as Sirius scoffed, muttering "Fucking hypocrite." Remus grinned, reaching over to shut the door before turning to James. "Progress." The confused boy grimaced, letting out a clueless 'huh?'

On the other side of the door, you stood looming over Sirius as you smoked silently, eyes shutting in satisfaction. "Give that back! Aren't you supposed to be talking about the mind blowing sex you had?" Sirius growled, taking the cigarette from you, watching as you sat down next to him, exhaling the smoke into his face with an annoyed smirk. Fuck. Sirius gulped, inhaling the smoke in the air. God knows he would have yelled at anyone else who did that, but with you? It was sexy. "What's so annoying about the sex I have? God knows I've had to listen to you talk about countless women." Sirius swallowed, cheeks heating up. You had a point. "You just annoyed that the sex I have isn't with you?"

Sirius froze, the cigarette burning between his fingers. You smiled condescendingly, taking the cigarette from him and bringing it back to your mouth. You inhaled, leaning back on the pillows behind you, your head hitting the cool glass of the window. The cigarette rested between your fingers, hand draped over the couch as you blew the smoke into the air, staring up at the ceiling. You felt your heart aggressively beating against your chest, swallowing a lump in your throat as you attempted to keep your nonchalant attitude. Sirius’s face popped in your ray of vision. Glancing at him, you realised how much closer he was to you now, hand propped right next to your shoulder to hold himself up, leaning over your torso. “What?” Your wall of confidence wavered, and you took in a shaky breath, eyes softening in fear of his judgement. “Remus told me everything.” You blurted out, a fake confidence in your voice that Sirius didn’t buy for a single second.

“Sit up.” Sirius spoke, shuffling away from you to make space for you to sit properly. “What?” You mumbled, pushing yourself up on your elbows. “Sit up so we can have a proper conversation.” Following Sirius’s orders, you sat up, leaning over to put the cigarette out on the ashtray in front of you before resting your hands on your thighs. Sirius stayed silent in front of you, a solemn look on his face. He only stared at you, as though trying to decipher the look on your face. You felt sick. “Sirius I swear to god if you reject me I’m going to throw up out of that window.” Sirius grimaced at your words, scrunching his nose up before snapping his head towards you.

“Wait, me reject you?” Sirius breathed out. You nodded wordlessly, watching as Sirius’s face morphed into twenty different emotions before starting to speak again. “Remus told you I like you.” You hummed. “So why on earth would I reject you?” Shrugging your shoulders, you opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. “I thought you were here to reject me.” Your back straightened at Sirius’s words automatically. “Remus wasn’t lying?” It was Sirius’s turn to shake his head, and he hesitantly moved closer to you on the couch.

“What about Evan?” Sirius asked, and you felt his cold breath on your face. You reached a hand over to push Sirius’s black locks behind his shoulder, cupping his jaw and stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Sirius, he was never a real option.” A relieved grin made its way onto Sirius’s face, shifting his weight to lean closer to you, cupping your cheeks to bring your face closer to his, and pulling you into a desperate kiss. You gasp the seconds your lips touch, both hands closing in on the fabric of Sirius’s shirt. You let Sirius manhandle you onto your back, his torso hovering over yours as he needily deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue into your open mouth. You whined as one of your hand slipped under Sirius’s untucked shirt, feeling his muscles clench at your soft touch. Sirius barely pulled away from you, biting softly at your bottom lip before kissing you properly again, bringing his body closer to yours so you could feel his chest touching yours, hair falling over his shoulders to tickle your cheeks.

Just as Sirius brought his hips down, dragging them across yours, the door to the dorm slammed open, and Sirius jerked away from you, straightening up so he straddled one of your thighs. Your head snapped towards the door and the two silent teenagers who stood there. James gestured with his hand awkwardly, and you felt your face heat up as he said “We were sitting outside and we just- we uh-” “-We thought we should check on you. Just… in case.” Remus finished for him, eyes glued to Sirius, now pulling on his shirt to make himself look a little more presentable. When Remus and James still don’t move, you pushed yourself up on your arms to help yourself sit up, and your thigh pushed upwards, grazing Sirius just between the legs. The boy gasped loudly, hands immediately flying to his crotch, and he jumped off you, instantly walking towards the doorway, where Remus and James stood. “Well, you checked up on us for sure!” Sirius exclaimed, pushing the door closed and forcing them out into the hallway.

When Sirius swung around to face you again, you were already stood behind him, and your hands immediately got to unbuckling his trousers. You dropped to your knees and Sirius felt himself get harder at the sight of you looking up at him with a glint in your eyes. His hand reached back, blindly searching for the doorknob until he heard the ‘click’ of the lock. Outside, Remus and James stood still in confusion and near awkwardness. They didn't say a single word until they heard a loud moan on the other side of the door, and immediately scrambled away, tripping over their feet to reach the common room.

[jessamine-rose]

.˚₊‧໒❀˚‧ Laurestine ‧˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Read my Yandere! Capitano fics first ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

Aahh I can’t believe it’s been two years since I wrote my Yandere! Capitano x Damsel! Darling longfic!! This epilogue has been in my drafts for nearly as long, and I figured now would be a good time to revisit my favorite fairytale <3

Synopsis:: “While the Captain carries out his mission in Natlan, how does he protect his darling from afar? Her guard is here to provide the details.”

Tw:: yandere, Stockholm Syndrome, invasion of privacy, implied abuse from darling’s backstory, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female reader described as physically weak and smaller than Capitano

♡ 1k words under the cut ♡

Sender: Sergeant C. Naiad

Note: CONFIDENTIAL

My lord,

At the time I am writing this report, it has been eight days since your departure for Natlan.

Your wife is in good health. She rarely speaks to me and the new live-in servants, though she seems to have fully adjusted to our presence.

Below is a record of her daily routine. There may be slight variations depending on her energy levels and emotional state. But for the most part, Lady ______ adheres to this personal schedule.

-

7:00 - Lady ______ wakes up.

7:10 - Bathtime.

7:30 - Lady ______ leaves the bedroom.

7:35 - Breakfast.

8:00 - Lady ______ strolls around the woods, escorted. Occasionally picks flowers.

8:30 - Lady ______ preserves new flowers (if any) and checks on the other flowers in her collection.

9:00 - Lady ______ begins reading her first book of the day.*

12:00 - Lunch.

12:30 - Lady ______ continues reading.

15:00 - Lady ______ finishes her first book and arranges it in her personal library.

15:30 - Lady ______ begins reading her second book of the day.

18:45 - Bathtime.

19:00 - Dinner.

19:30 - Lady ______ continues reading.

20:00 - Lady ______ finishes her second book or stays up late to finish reading it.

20:15 - Lady ______ makes her request for breakfast the next day and goes to the bedroom.

20:30 - Bedtime.

*Depending on the length or contents of the story, Lady ______ may devote a full day to a single book. Other times, she chooses to instead rest in the bedroom, cook her own meals, or learn the Snezhnayan language through her textbooks and my assistance.

Regarding the last activity, her pronunciation is improving.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

Today, Lady ______ read Records of Jueyun Vol. 2.

Based on her expressions, she seemed particularly fond of this story. The day prior, she also expressed interest in continuing Fables de Fontaine and Tales from the Waves.

Once you give your approval, I will place an order for the remaining volumes of all three book collections.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

We have received the garments commissioned for your wife. She seemed pleased with your gift, even going so far as to change into one of the dresses. Specifically, it was the lavender corset gown with off-shoulder puff sleeves.

Later, I overheard the staff praising her—a common topic of discussion, if I may add. This time, their compliments revolved around her physical appearance and your love for one another. They continue to serve her with utmost devotion.

Attached is a candid photograph of Lady ______ in the aforementioned gown.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

During my morning rounds, I discovered a Cryo Whopperflower two yards north of your residence. It was immediately eliminated, and I dispatched agents to eliminate any remaining monsters within the woods.

I have Private Hercyna’s confirmation that your estate has been purged of all potential dangers to Lady ______. She continues to enjoy her morning strolls.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

Lady ______ has reorganized her personal library. The servants offered their help, but she insisted on lifting the books and climbing the ladder by herself. Nonetheless, I remained by her side in case of an accident.

Afterwards, she reread Heart of Clear Springs. She then requested a shipment of Dandelion Wine and ingredients native to Mondstadt.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

I have a serious matter to discuss with you.

This afternoon, your wife requested a cup of Love Poem tea. It was served in the living room, and the maid tripped while holding the tray.

I was able to keep the hot tea from splashing all over Lady ______, but she was visibly shaken. Even after I confirmed that neither of us had been scalded, she went upstairs and spent the rest of the day in her bedroom. She explicitly ordered a cold beverage for dinner.

I can only imagine the traumatic memories that resurfaced, based on the personal information you have disclosed to me.

From what I saw, it was purely an accident though that does not excuse Lady ______’s distress. I also had the tea checked for any poisons that could be absorbed through the skin.

Attached is the personal file of the offender. Their punishment is at your discretion.

Rest assured, there will be no repeat of this incident.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

Lady ______ has received your package from Natlan.

The flowers arrived in perfect condition. She spent the most time admiring the Brilliant Chrysanthemums.

She cried while reading your letter.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

Lady ______ finished preserving her previous batch of flowers.

I was also told that she needs a new notebook for her collection, as her current notebook only has a few blank pages left.

She suggested a trip to the local bookstore upon your return.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

At the time I am writing this report, Lady ______’s letter should be en route to Natlan, along with the flowers she preserved for you.

After she gave me the sealed envelope, I checked the trashcan and noticed a crumpled sheet of stationery.

Given the circumstances, I chose not to read it. Instead, I have enclosed the stationery in my report, so that you may be the one to check if there are any secret codes or messages.

-

I hope you like the laurestine. I think it turned out better than the other flowers.

After your mission, what do you want to do? We haven’t traveled to Fontaine yet. The  botanical gardens should be in bloom next season. Or if you want, we can just stay at home. I’m fine with anything.

Please take care of yourself. And tell me if the mission has to be extended.

I miss you.

♡

Read Artifact Set for Capitano’s letter <3

Aahhh I still can’t believe we’ve finally made it to Capitano’s in-game debut. So much has happened since A Winter Night’s Lazzo, and I can’t wait to write more Capitano x Damsel once his lore is available (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

Lastly, I just want to give a shoutout to my beta-reader @diodellet, my mutuals (you know who you are), and my readers!! I rlly appreciate your presence over the years, and thank you for enjoying my work :’>

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @brynn-lear @harmonysanreads @euniveve @naraven @ainescribe @mochinon-yah @navxry @euniveve @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @lucidasara @dulcetailurophile @melody3cherryblossom @avryxlle @lumincryo @pinkislost @tylerxrbtwhp @whispereons @tamikahoshiko

[vunblr]

An Unfinished Goodbye

Pairing: Ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Jealous Bucky. Slight angst.

Summary: Bucky tells himself he’s only watching over his ex-wife and son for their safety. But when someone threatens to alter the status quo, his quiet vigilance falters.

Word Count: About 2.6k

note: Although the events of this story take place before those in The Weight of Choices, this fic is intended to be read afterward, and not as a typical prequel.

Bucky didn’t let himself linger in the neighborhood too often. He told himself it was for her safety, to make sure no remnants of his past ever came close to the life he’d left behind. But the truth? The truth was much harder to swallow.

So here he was again, parked inconspicuously down the block, watching his old household from the safety of shadows. Nearly two years had passed since the divorce, yet his routine surveillance hadn’t faltered. He called it caution. Vigilance. Love disguised as duty.

But something had shifted over the past few months. He’d noticed a pattern: Wednesdays, late afternoons, like clockwork. She would leave the house with her bag slung over her shoulder and a bounce in her step. She wasn’t dressed for a date: no makeup, no particular effort in her outfit. Casual, comfortable, but... somehow purposeful. She always walked, sometimes taking Benjamin along, though not often. Her destination was only three blocks away, a quaint bookstore with dark wood paneling and colorful window displays.

At first, he dismissed it as another errand. But as the weeks passed, he couldn’t ignore how much time she spent there. The store was small, not the kind of place where someone could lose themselves in endless aisles of books. She never came out with stacks, just one or two bags that didn’t explain why she lingered inside for nearly an hour each time. It intrigued him.

What was she doing in there? Who was she talking to?

He had no right to feel like this, not after everything he’d done, not after he’d been the one to walk away. But knowing that didn’t make the questions stop, nor did it ease the tightness in his chest every time he imagined someone else making her smile the way he used to.

Bucky shifted in his seat, gripping tightly the steering wheel. He knew the store was safe, he’d checked it out the first time she visited, a quick sweep of its modest interior to ensure there were no hidden dangers. But that was before he noticed the pattern. Before he noticed him.

The clerk.

Attractive in an unassuming way, clean-cut, and friendly. The type of guy who probably didn’t carry the kind of baggage he wore like a second skin. He’d seen the way the man smiled at her, the easy banter as she lingered at the counter. It didn’t take a genius to see the man was interested. But what stung more was the question that haunted him every time he saw them together.

The first time Bucky walked past the bookstore on a Wednesday afternoon, it was a coincidence, or so he told himself. He’d been in the area, making one of his usual rounds to ensure Hydra remnants weren’t stirring trouble when he saw her through the large display window.

Was she interested, too?

-----

She stood at the counter, leaning slightly, with her bag hanging loosely off her shoulder. Bucky slowed his pace, his eyes drawning to her like a magnet. Her lips moved as she spoke to the clerk, and then she laughed. He couldn’t hear the words, but the warm smile she gave the man was loud enough to make something twist painfully in his chest.

His steps faltered, but he forced himself to keep walking, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He didn’t look back.

The second time, it wasn’t a coincidence.

She didn’t see him, of course. She never did. He’d become an expert at moving through the edges of her world without disturbing it. That afternoon, he lingered across the street, leaning casually against a lamppost while pretending to check his phone. She was there again, standing at the counter. The clerk handed her a small brown paper bag with a flourish, and her head tilted in a way Bucky recognized, a sign she was amused. The way the clerk smiled back was almost smug, and Bucky’s jaw tightened before he realized what he was doing.

It wasn’t jealousy. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t about him. He was there to make sure she was safe, not to… what? Spy on her? Analyze every smile and gesture? No. That wasn’t why he was there.

By the fourth Wednesday, Bucky had stopped pretending. He started arriving just before she did, timing it perfectly so he could loiter nearby, feigning to check the notices on the community bulletin board. He didn’t always stay long, just enough to see her walk in, to make sure nothing seemed off. He wasn’t watching her. He was watching over her. There was a difference, even if it felt like splitting hairs.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

That day, though, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing through the window. Just a quick look, nothing more.

And there was the clerk. Smiling. Laughing. Reaching across the counter to tap the back of her hand, like he was entitled to.

The afternoon pick-up at the kindergarten next day was as uneventful as ever. Bucky leaned against the frame of the door, arms crossed, watching as Benjamin rushed to shove the last of his toys into his tiny backpack. The teacher smiled at Bucky, offering a polite nod before turning her attention back to the other children.

His stomach churned, and he didn’t wait to see how the rest of their interaction played out. He turned on his heel and left, quicker than usual.

-------

“Ready, buddy?” he asked when Ben finally zipped up the bag with a triumphant grin.

“Yep!” the boy chirped, slinging the strap over his shoulder and racing over to grab his dad’s hand.

They walked back to the car, and the boy chattered about his day: the finger painting, snack time, and the new dinosaur toy one of the other kids brought. Bucky listened, smiling faintly, trying to savor these rare moments of normalcy.

When they reached his apartment, Ben bounded in, already pulling out his toys and making himself at home. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He set down Benjamin’s backpack and started unpacking it, pulling out pajamas, a toothbrush, and a small paper bag. The bag’s contents caught his eye, a glossy new children’s book with a vibrant cover featuring talking animals.

“Where’d this come from?” he asked, holding it up for the child to see.

“Mom bought it yesterday!” Ben called from where he was lining up his action figures. “She said it’s funny, and I wanted you to read it to me tonight.”

That night, with Benjamin tucked under a warm blanket and already halfway to dreamland, Bucky opened the book. He flipped through the first few pages, skimming the cheerful illustrations, until something yellow caught his eye.

Bucky swallowed hard, tightening his fingers briefly around the book. It was a small thing, a routine purchase for their son. “Sure, pal,” he said, forcing a smile. “We’ll read it before bed.”

-----

There, stuck neatly to the inside cover, was a post-it note.

His stomach twisted as he peeled it off. The handwriting was neat and precise, the kind of deliberate script that came with care.

"For Benjamin and his supermom. If you ever need a moment to yourself, you know where to find me. Coffee’s on me."

For a moment, Bucky just sat there, with the note pinched between his fingers, and his jaw clenching tighter with every passing second. He read it again, and then again, as if repetition might dull the sharp edge of what it implied.

The clerk wasn’t just leaving a kind gesture for Benjamin. This was for her, testing the waters, pushing the boundary between friendly and…something else.

His chest tightened as he looked down at his son, fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in his father’s mind.

He ran a hand over his face, letting out a slow, controlled breath. He knew he had no right to feel this way. He was the one who left and broke her heart. She deserved a chance to move on, to be happy. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t interfere, wouldn’t sabotage any future relationships she might find.

And yet, as he sat there in the dim light of his living room, with his son’s soft breathing being the only sound breaking the silence, all he could think about was the smile she gave the clerk, the ease of their conversation. It twisted inside him, the raw ache of knowing she might be moving on, that someone else might be filling the space he’d left behind.

But it didn’t feel like that. It felt like something had been ripped out of his chest, leaving an empty, hollow ache. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

The book lay open on the coffee table, the colorful illustrations staring up at him like an accusation.

He should be happy, he knew that. If the clerk was kind, if he made her smile, then wasn’t that what Bucky had wanted? To know she was safe, loved, and cared for by someone who didn’t carry the weight and dangers of a bloody past?

Bucky told himself to sleep it off, to push it down and let the night take the edge off his emotions. But when he slipped under his covers, the darkness only seemed to amplify everything: the sting of the note, the look on her face when she laughed with the clerk, the ache in his gut.

What was he going to do? March into the bookstore and tell the guy to back off? Make a scene, all because he couldn’t handle the sight of her moving on? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. It was pathetic and out of line.

----

He turned onto his side, then his back, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers he couldn’t grasp. Hours passed like this, his thoughts circling the same drain, relentless and unyielding.

He fell into a fitful sleep sometime near dawn and woke up with a headache pounding at his temples. Dropping Ben off at kindergarten helped distract him for a while; the boy’s energy was infectious, and Bucky managed a real smile when he waved goodbye, watching him run inside without a second glance.

He later met up with Sam at a quiet café in the city to discuss a potential mission overseas. A dangerous arms dealer had resurfaced, and Sam was talking about intel, tactical approaches, and backup options, but Bucky only half-listened. He nodded in the right moments and offered a few curt suggestions, but his heart wasn’t in it.

But once Ben was out of sight, the intrusive thoughts returned.

‐-----

Sam noticed. He always did. “You good, Tinman?” he asked, giving him a sidelong glance, his voice dipping in concern.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, too quickly. He took a long sip of his coffee. “Just a rough night.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, but didn’t push. He knew Bucky well enough to recognize when to leave things alone. “Alright. But if you’re not up for this trip, just say the word.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky insisted, setting the cup down a little harder than he meant to. He forced a smile. “Besides, what else am I gonna do?”

Sam’s grin softened the tension between them. “Yeah, well, we both know you’re bad at sitting still. Just… if you need to deal with whatever’s got you distracted, handle it before it blows up in your face.”

Bucky’s smile faltered, and for a moment, he wondered if Sam could see straight through him. “I will,”

The day dragged on, filled with errands and prep for the potential mission. It was late afternoon when he realized where he was, standing across the street from the bookstore, hidden in the shadow of a building.

He shouldn’t be here. He knew he shouldn’t be here.

But he couldn’t leave, either.

The clerk was inside, bustling about, turning off lights and flipping the sign to Closed. The street was quiet, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows. Bucky’s pulse thrummed in his ears as he watched the man lock up, and a spring in his step made Bucky’s jaw clench. He didn’t know this guy’s name, and he didn’t care to know it. All he knew was the way the man looked at her, and it was enough.

Bucky stepped forward, letting the streetlight catch his face just enough for the man to see his cold and unyielding expression. He took his time, closing the distance with the kind of deliberate, measured steps that always made people nervous. He wanted the clerk to feel it, to know exactly what this was.

“I’ve seen the little note you left,” he said quietly, in a low rumble that carried in the empty street. He didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t need to. The menace was in the calm, the quiet control. “And I need you to know something.”

The clerk swallowed hard, taking a half-step back. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Bucky’s eyes were steely as he interrupted. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with. I want you to stay the fuck away from my wife.”

The words hung between them, heavy and deliberate. He knew he shouldn’t have said it -my wife- but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to leave an imprint, to sow the seeds of doubt and fear. The man’s face paled, his eyes flicking between Bucky’s unyielding gaze and the empty street behind him as if he was already considering his escape.

“It didn’t mean anything,” the clerk stammered, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I was just… being friendly, I swear.”

Bucky leaned in closer, and his voice dropped to a near-whisper. “I don’t care what you meant. If you dare to leave another one, if you talk to her again, if you so much as breathe in her direction, I’ll know. And trust me, you won’t like what happens next.”

He let the threat hang between them, it wasn’t neccesary to elaborate further for the man to understand. The clerk nodded frantically, backing away, nearly tripping over the curb in his haste.

The next Wednesday, she walked into the bookstore as usual, expecting to see the familiar face behind the counter, the easy smile, and the warm greeting. Instead, a tall, bearded man she’d never seen before looked up from behind the register, offering her a polite but distant nod.

Bucky stepped back, letting the shadows swallow him again. He watched as the man stumbled away, disappearing down the street at a near run.

------

“Um, hi,” she said, trying to keep the confusion out of her voice. “Is Matt not working today?”

The new clerk shrugged. “He switched to the morning shift this week. Said he wanted more daylight hours,” he explained casually, returning to the task of rearranging colorful bookmarks without much thought.

“Oh,” she replied, caught off guard. Matt hadn’t mentioned anything about changing his schedule. For a moment, she couldn’t shake the odd twist in her chest, a mix of confusion and something that felt uncomfortably like rejection. It was silly, really, but she’d thought there was a small, unspoken connection between them, a hint of something starting. But clearly, she’d been reading too much into a few friendly gestures.

After a quick, half-hearted browse, she left the bookstore sooner than usual, with a distant expression as she stepped back onto the sidewalk. Her mind churned with a muddle of questions and disappointment, feeling foolish for hoping there had been something more.

Of course, Bucky was there, watching from a safe distance as she walked out of the bookstore, with a subtle sag of her shoulders. He knew exactly why; he’d made sure of it. It was pathetic, really. He’d driven off a harmless guy, because he couldn’t stomach the thought of her finding comfort or affection in someone else.

He swallowed hard, staring after her as she disappeared into the crowd. He’d done it again, made things harder for her, twisted the knife he’d already lodged in her heart. But despite the suffocating shame, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

[struggling-with-drivers]

People Watching - Lando Norris

⋗ Pairing - Lando Norris x Reader

⋗ Summary - You've never been in love, at least you don't think you have

⋗ Word count - 2k words, fluff, [Requested by Anon]

⋗ Masterlist - requests are open, this was just a short cute idea I had on my mind after getting a request. Feedback and reblogs are appreciated

You’re enjoying a nice lunch with Lando. He has a lot of things to be doing after, but for now. It’s just the two of you, a set of good friends. Your eyes wander over his face, a soft look of concentration is on his face as he tries to take pictures of you and your lunch. The way his lips are slightly strained, as he keeps fiddling with his camera. Then he rearranges your glasses, and then he puts them back, before rearranging them once more. 

“Do you need help?” You ask, a small laugh bubbling in your throat, as he can’t seem to get the shot he wants.

“No no, just keep sitting there, you look good!” He chirps up, quickly dismissing the thought of you moving from the pose he instructed you into. 

Your laugh finally makes it way past your lips, at the absurdity of the scene, your eyes close as the flash goes off once more. You don’t notice how Lando mutters, got it, nor how he takes a few more just for his enjoyment. 

“Time to dig in.” Lando scrambles to sit down and stuffs his mouth with his slightly cold food. 

You stick a bit to your food, but your gaze falls out onto the crowd of people navigating outside. So many couples are spread across the grid as all the fans gather to get a closer look at the cars. Despite your perspective from above, the thing most glaring to you seems to be all the hands clasped into others. 

“How long do you think they’ve been together?” 

“What?” Lando looks up from his plate of food, trying to follow your gaze, but he gets lost in the crowd of people immediately, not at all being able to figure out where your eyes are looking. 

“The elderly couple.” You say, as though it’s the most obvious thing, as though there aren’t multiple, as though you and Lando didn’t call Max Verstappen and his girlfriend an elderly couple last weekend, despite Max barely being 2.5 years older than Lando and less than 2 years older than you. 

“Three days.” Lando says, voice full of conviction, “They actually met this Tuesday and have had the wildest sex for 3 days straight, before any of their children realise that their parents are missing from the nursery home.” 

You snort loudly, accidentally getting soda into your nose, making Lando laugh with you, as you struggle to breathe. 

After recovering from your soda mishap, you wipe your nose with a napkin, still chuckling. Lando grins mischievously, taking a sip of his drink as he watches you with amusement.

“Smooth move, right?” he teases, referring to his imaginative tale about the elderly couple. “I mean, who wouldn't want a love story like that? Beats the usual 'met in high school and got married' scenario.”

You both share another round of laughter, the casual banter making the lunch even more enjoyable.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.” You sigh wistfully as you glance down at the crowd of people once more. “Not seriously. I mean, I’ve had a fling here and there, and a few you don’t know about.”

“Ouch.” Lando mocks being hurt, as he throws a piece of lettuce in your direction. Missing you completely. He’s an excellent driver, but a terrible thrower. You’re suddenly elated that he never became a handball athlete or a basketball player. 

“I just mean, I’ve never had that big grand love moment, you know. Nobody has ever done any big gestures, I’ve never had fireworks go off during a kiss. Never pictured that American suburban picket fence dream, you know?” You rattle off as Lando leans his head to the side. You can see the grin on his face before the words leave his mouth. 

“And here I thought you loved me,” he throws another piece of lettuce in your direction. It lands on your plate, and you cock an eyebrow at him, very unimpressed. “I don’t think I know anyone else that would get up at 3 am just to make the world's worst pancakes, all because it’s some pancake holiday, and I had to be out of the door at 5 am.”

The memory of that early morning springs vividly to your mind, and you can't help but chuckle at the recollection.

The night before Pancake Day, you meticulously planned your pancake surprise for Lando. You envisioned a perfect morning: the smell of freshly made pancakes wafting through the air, the joy on Lando's face as he discovered the delightful breakfast you had prepared just for him. However, the universe had other plans.

At 3 am, you tiptoed into the kitchen, trying your best to be as quiet as a ninja. Armed with a box of pancake mix, a whisk, and an optimistic spirit, you were ready to conquer the culinary world for the sake of surprising your friend.

The kitchen was dimly lit, and you moved with caution, not wanting to wake anyone up. As you began mixing the ingredients, you felt a surge of determination. This was going to be the breakfast surprise of the century. You even hummed a little tune as you worked, believing that love and effort could conquer any culinary challenge.

However, in your sleepy stupor, you made a crucial mistake. The sugar and salt containers looked eerily similar in the low light, and without double-checking, you confidently poured what you thought was sugar into the mix. Little did you know, you had just set the stage for a disastrous flavour profile.

Undeterred, you moved on, mistakenly grabbing the baking powder instead of the baking soda. As you mixed the concoction, the batter started to take on an unusual texture, but you pressed on, convinced that your culinary masterpiece was just a few flips away.

With the batter ready, you heated the pan and poured the first pancake, envisioning its perfect golden-brown finish. However, the sizzle that followed was more like a hiss, and the kitchen started to fill with an unpleasant aroma. You tried to fan away the smoke, hoping that the burnt scent wouldn't reach Lando's bedroom.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans. As the smoke thickened, a piercing sound echoed through the apartment – the unmistakable wail of the smoke detector. Panic set in, and you rushed to open windows, waving a towel at the alarm, and desperately trying to save the surprise.

Meanwhile, Lando stirred in his sleep, disturbed by the cacophony of the smoke detector. He stumbled out of his bedroom, bleary-eyed and disoriented, only to find you amid your culinary chaos, smoke billowing around you.

“Ah, Pancake Day,” you say with a grin. “I thought it would be a fantastic idea to surprise you with a breakfast feast before your busy day. On the other hand, I gave you a free day off from having to sit in on a bunch of meetings.”

“Yeah, because my house nearly burnt down, and a bunch of firefighters showed up.” Lando waves his fork at you. “I doubt a lot of other people would have done that.”

“Tried to burn down your flat?” You mock him, as you flick the piece of lettuce back to his plate. 

He laughs, shaking his head. You’re missing his point, but he’s also not attempting to make it clearer for you. 

“What about when I stay up with you on the phone, because a sale is starting past midnight, but you’re barely holding it together and it’s not even 10 pm? Isn’t that an act of love?” He asks, but he leaves no room for you to answer his question as he goes back to eating. 

Lando can’t see the storm that’s slowly brewing behind your eyes, as you go over memories of your friendship. All the small things you do for each other. All the time you spend together. 

As the memories flood your mind, you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The snippets of shared moments and small gestures between you and Lando become a cherished montage.

There's the time when he surprised you with a playlist of your favourite songs on a day when you were feeling down, the carefully curated mix capturing the essence of your friendship. You remember the genuine joy on his face as he handed over the playlist, completely aware of how much music meant to you.

Then, there are the instances when you stayed up late into the night, listening to his racing stories and sharing in his victories and disappointments. You recall the laughter and camaraderie that transcended the distance, making those late-night conversations a treasured part of your connection.

Lando smirks mischievously as he eyes the last bite of your dessert.

"Mind if I grab that last piece? You know I need the extra energy for my thrilling life as a driver."

You narrow your eyes at him, holding the fork protectively. "Oh, please. The only thrill you get is trying to beat me at Mario Kart."

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I'll have you know that being a Mario Kart champion requires skill and precision. It's practically a training regimen for the racetrack."

You scoff, taking a deliberate bite of the dessert. "Skill and precision? Last time I checked, you kept getting stuck in the void on Rainbow Road."

"That was a strategic move. I needed a better view of the stars," he replies with a grin, trying to swipe the fork again.

You playfully slap his hand away. "Nice try, but you're not getting this last piece. I already had to fight off your trainer once this month, because you keep stealing my food."

Lando feigns offence, placing a hand over his heart. "Are you saying I don't have the physique of a finely tuned athlete?"

"I'm saying you have the physique of someone who eats all the desserts that aren’t meant for finely-tuned athletes," you retort, 

He leans in, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, at least I can burn it off on the track. What's your excuse?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I burn calories, dodging your attempts to steal my food. It's a full-body workout, really."

"Fair enough. But mark my words, next time we play Mario Kart, you won't stand a chance." Lando laughs, shaking his head. 

"Bring it on, slowpoke. I'll be waiting with banana peels and blue shells," you challenge, finishing the dessert triumphantly, savouring the last bite right in front of him. Silence falls as he starts typing on his phone, and your mind gets distracted by what he said earlier.

As Lando mentioned, the nights when he stood by you during stressful sales and business endeavours resurface in your mind. The unwavering support he offered, even when the clock struck midnight and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you, painted a picture of love in the small actions.

And of course, there are the countless times when he'd spontaneously pop by with your favourite snacks or the coffee blend you adore, just because he remembered. Those little acts of consideration spoke volumes.

Lost in these memories, you realise that love comes in various forms. It's not always grand gestures or sweeping romantic moments. It's found in the everyday kindness, the shared laughter, and the unwavering support that defines your friendship with Lando.

A thought strikes you down.

Do you love Lando?

Lando glances up from his phone, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. He meets your gaze, and there's a silent understanding between you. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of shared laughter, failed pancake attempts, and genuine care, you realise that love, in its purest form, is already present in the beautiful tapestry of your friendship with Lando.

An even more terrifying thought hits you as he looks at you with that soft smile and those shiny eyes. 

Does Lando love you?

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, I had a lot of fun writing this small piece, it was just pure fluff and enjoyment

[luveline]

hi love ;)

i have a request for hotch and pregnant reader if thats okay w u, how about reader having terrible morning sickness btu not wanting to wake hotch up because he was away on a case and got home super late and she wants him to rest up BUT hotch obv wakes up and uk coddles her

i hope u have wonderful day/ night and tysm for writing such wholesome stories <3333

thank you angel 💌

cw sickness / throwing up

You’re mostly asleep, occasionally and briefly awoken by a panging ache in your spine. You only know Aaron’s home because you sigh in pain and he shushes you gently. 

With the weight of his arm over your stomach, you mumble, “What time is it?” 

He whispers back. “Nearly three, honey. I’m sorry for waking you.” 

“Didn’t.” It’s the achy back.

Aaron gets the memo. He shifts your weight onto his chest, and that stretch of your shoulder is all you’d needed. You’re asleep again in moments, his breath warming the shell of your ear. 

You wake again a few hours later. It’s still dark out, the alarm clock blinking a bleary 5:42AM. You clutch your tumbling tummy and hold your breath even as your mouth fills with saliva, determined to fight it today. You’re sick of being sick.

Aaron snores behind you. His hand has moved up to your chest, though it’s not a salacious touch where his hand rests on your breast. His fingers cover the skin above your heart, his face pressed to a shoulder like he’s desperate to be near. 

Oh, no, you think. You’re not eager to throw up, but it’s not what panics you. He only got home a few hours ago and he’s hard not to wake when you move, he’s hyper vigilant even in sleep. But if you don’t get up soon, you’re gonna be sick in your white sheets. 

You pant a hot breath and peel away from him slowly. Climbing out of bed is a pain, and you hold your hand to your mouth to stop from throwing up as you stand. You shuffle, disorientated but urgent, to the en-suite bathroom, palming along the wall for the light. You barely have time to grab the toilet lid. 

It doesn’t get easier doing this every morning. You eat light before bed and it doesn’t matter, it hurts regardless, your eyes tear up and you feel wholly miserable. Worse when a familiar creaking comes from your bed. 

“Ugh,” you whisper, hanging your head, hand tight-knuckled on the lid. 

“Why don’t you sit down, Y/N?” he asks softly. “Come on, kneel down on the floor. That’s it, honey. It’s alright.” 

You can’t stop yourself from resting your arm on the seat. It might be unhygienic, but you’re exhausted, and the effort it takes to throw up has depleted everything you had. Aaron pauses to touch the space between your shoulders, before he flushes the toilet and kneels down beside you, bringing a wad of toilet tissue to your face. 

“I was hoping your morning sickness might’ve gone away while I was in Georgia,” he says, his open hand coming up to cup your back, while the other wipes at your chin. 

“It can go all the way to your third trimester.” 

“I know, but I still hoped.” He rubs the brunt of his palm gently over your back. 

“I’m so sorry. You look so tired.” 

“I don’t mind. Do you think it bothers me?”

“Just wanted you to rest.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” —he kisses the skin beside your eye carefully— “honey, it’s fine, we’ll sleep again when you’re finished.” 

He jinxes you, summoning another round, but it is admittedly less horrid to go through with his hands at your face and neck. You struggle to breath when it’s done, gasping unsuccessfully for a full lungful of air. 

Aaron encourages you away from the toilet with some loving manhandling. “Sit here. Just take a deep breath.” He blows one out for you to follow, and another in. “You got it. Let me get you a glass of water.”

“Can you help me up? I’m done. Just want to be out of this room.” 

He’s quick and strong, hands under your arms, pulling you up. You fully believe he could get you into bed if you didn’t get your feet under you, but you do, and he walks you back to your room with a sluggishness you know to be a great deal of care. He goes slowly with you as though you might break. You press your face to his arm and think, Well, at least he loves me.  

Being sick is awful, but that’s a certain truth. 

“I should’ve made you brush your teeth,” he says, ushering you down onto your side of the bed.

The idea of a toothbrush near the back of your mouth gives you chills. “Maybe in ten minutes.” 

He fluffs the pillows behind your back. He seems tempted to kiss you regardless, but he just touches his nose to yours for a brief second and then pulls away. “Drink this,” he demands, passing you the glass from your nightstand. His hands are careful tucking the sheets over your legs and up against your slight bump. “I’m sorry.” 

“You should be.” You take a couple of sips. “I wish I could hate you for this.” 

You’re joking makes him laugh. “That’s okay. It’s my fault, honey. Hate me all you want.” 

“I don’t want to,” you say. 

He cups your face. Like you didn’t just throw up, no hint of disgust in his touch, only love. “Thank you.” His clumsy thumb on your cheek betrays how tired he is. You move over and usher him onto your side of the bed for hugging, your face hidden in the place between his shoulders. 

“Don’t be sick without me,” he says sternly, his hand reaching back to hold your arm. 

You try not to think about it. “Ugh.” 

[hysteria-things]

hello again !! i know you just posted my last request but i have another idea !

• SMUTTY PLSZ

• matt/chris x teacher!reader

So basically, chris/matt are in senior year or any year in college and he has a teacher(reader) who's quite young and closer to their age but is still older and knowing men, she's already very popular in their school y'know y'know?

ALSO if you're gonna make the other students be a big part of the story too or add more plot, pls don't make the girls of the school hate her. it just feels unrealistic since in our school, it's mostly the girls that simp for the hot female teacher lmao

This idea was based on their video "truth or eat" i think(i forget everything) where he was asked if he's ever had a crush on a teacher and he answered yes w no hesitation and also the song "Teacher's Pet" by Melanie Martinez but switched genders.

i just think the male being the teacher and the female being the student felt overused/overdone(?)

Only if you're comfortable w this idea tho !!

TEACHER'S PET (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x teacher!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt asks for extra help after class (even though he knows exactly what he’s doing)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, making out, oral (male receiving), throat fucking, p in v, unprotected sex (nuh uh!), degradation, cheating (cheat on tests, not people), hair pulling, spanking, breeding, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,236

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: shoutout any of you in college i dropped out after a month i give you guys so much credit that shit’s hard😔

for @skadltmf :)

matt and his college friends sit at the round table in the food court. they’re at the home stretch of senior year with the spring semester starting tomorrow.

“i got that hot professor for one of my morning classes.” one of his friends brags. “she’s so fine.”

“who?” matt asks, and the two sitting with him stare at him like he should know this.

“professor l/n.” the other one starts. “literally everybody is obsessed with her. she’s only twenty-five; three years older than us.”

“there’s no way she doesn’t let students fuck her to get a good grade.” they both laugh, but matt stays quiet. his friends are in their conversation about you while matt thinks to himself.

he has you for a class too but at 6 PM.

you stand at the front of the class, teaching like a normal teacher should. half of the class never pays attention, anyway, but you still have to do your job.

they may not know, but you listen. you listen to what they say about you, and to be honest it boosts your ego.

one student in particular actually pays attention and takes notes, like what he’s doing right now. you couldn’t help but stare at him from time to time, and he’ll already be staring at you when you do.

you’re grading papers on your desk as your students work independently for the last fifteen minutes of class. you feel a presence, and you look up to see him there, fiddling with his worksheet.

you smile at him. “hello, matt. do you need help with something?”

“kind of. will i be able to stay after class?”

your phone lights up, and he glances at the lock screen. it’s a photo of you, your husband, and your son. “of course you can.”

he nods, going back to his seat.

the last fifteen minutes went by in a breeze, and all of the students left. except for one, of course.

you stand up and go over to the whiteboard, grabbing a marker just in case you need to explain something. “so, matt. what is it that you needed help with?”

“this question,” he says, stepping closer to you and pointing at the paper. you look at it confused because he already answered it. flawlessly.

“matt.” you chuckle. “you’ve got the problem right and showed your work perfectly. are you sure that’s the right one?”

his cheeks flush as he grabs your face, kissing you passionately. you pull away from his hold, weirdly sad that you did.

this is a first. you know the rumors that go around saying that you fuck students for an A+ but it’s not true. hell, you’ll lose your job.

he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, and you stare back. what you did next was a completely new person.

you go back in, his tongue inserting your mouth and swirling inside. this is so fucking wrong, but it feels so… right?

whining into the kiss, you move your hands down to his belt to unbuckle it. he chuckles, pulling away and pushing your head so you get on your knees.

he takes off his undergarments, revealing his—

your eyes widen. oh, god.

his red tip slides against your lips before you open, pushing himself into your wet mouth. “fuck.” he whispers.

grabbing onto your hair, he guides your head up and down his cock. he groans, leaning over and rutting his hips further into your mouth. your gagging fills the empty classroom, and spit starts to spill from your mouth.

it clicks in your head what you’re doing. you have a husband and child at home, for christ’s sake. you place your hands on his thighs and try to push your head back, but his grip is far too strong.

he slowly pulls out to watch his dick move past your lips, and slams back in. “take it, sweetheart. just like that.”

you keep gagging around him, your eyes becoming glassy as your mascara starts to smudge.

your lashes flutter each time he thrusts to the back of your throat before he stops. “s-shit.” he whimpers, but he doesn’t want to cum just yet. he closes his eyes to ignore the throbbing, pulling out of your sweet mouth. you cough, your lips swollen.

“bend over for me, yeah?” he smirks when you scramble to your feet. he grabs your waist, pushing your back so your stomach lays flat on your desk.

he lifts your skirt, moving your soaked underwear to the side. he wraps a finger around them and lets go, the elastic snapping against your core. you yelp at the sudden pain.

“such a slut.” he groans, inserting his tip into your folds but staying still. “letting one of your students shove his dick down your throat.”

he moves his tip out, but then puts it back in, thrusting it in and out teasingly. “bet you were thinking about this the whole lecture. i saw the way you were looking at me.”

you pathetically whine and nod. then, he grabs your hair so the upper half of your body is lifted from the wood. your hips dig into the edge of the desk as he starts entering you.

the stretch hurts, but it feels too good. your eyes flutter back, but a hand landing on your ass gets you out of your trance. he chuckles, taking the hand that’s not on your head and covering your mouth with it. “don’t be too loud, baby. don’t want the people outside that door knowing what a whore you are for me.”

he slides in deeper, a moan leaving your lips that’s muffled by his hand. he starts rutting his hips, going faster when you fit around him. “m-matt.” you gasp.

“so fucking tight around my cock.” he breathes out. your pleasurable cries and squelching of your pussy fill the room, along with his thighs slapping against your ass.

he removes his hand from your mouth, honestly forgetting that there are probably people around. all he’s focused on is pounding the daylights out of you. his teacher, mind you.

you grip the desk for support, moaning louder than any other time when his tip starts brushing against your cervix. “holy— shit.” you hoarsely scream, squeezing your eyes shut.

he lets go of your hair, your head immediately falling between your shoulders. “i’m gonna cum!” you warn, whimpering when he moves more mercilessly. both your thoughts and guts are getting scrambled at once.

“i wonder how disappointed your husband will be if he saw you like this.” he grunts and thrusts a few more times before continuing. “clenching around my dick, so badly wanting my cum inside you.”

you moan at his words. he feels so fucking good. you hate to admit it, but this is the best sex you’ve had in years.

“want me to fuck my baby inside you, you filthy whore?”

“y-yes, please,” you whine, repeating yourself over and over again.

you cum around him at the same time he stops deep, spreading your legs wider to finish inside. you moan one last time before becoming a rag doll, the bruises forming on your hips from them banging against the desk.

he moves your underwear back over your freshly bred pussy, kissing your shoulder and neck before whispering into your ear. “i’ll let you know when i need help again, professor l/n.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Do you accept orders? could you do a story about Dom!Viktor x Sub!Reader x Switch! Jayce, on the day of the ball, the reader wears a dress that made her look more beautiful and cute than usual and was therefore drawing people's attention at the ball to she , would the boys be jealous or possessive? Would they punish the reader?

- 🌸

Hi anon 🌸!! I'm not taking requests for fics currently, because I've got quite a few ongoing projects, but you can check my pinned post or my header description to know whenever I am 💕! But I just HAD to blabber about that idea for a second because I LOVE jealous shenanigans

Viktor and Jayce both strike me as the jealous type, but in two very different ways.

Viktor is the more silent, envious type of jealous. He has too much self-respect to just throw himself in front of you dramatically. So, he watches. He overanalyses every look anyone gives you, any kiss of your hand that seems to last a second too long. He’s methodical, following you around like a shadow the entire night with a falsely polite smile plastered on his lips. It's just one night, he tells himself, one night of pompous nobles leering at your cleavage and showering you with compliments. In the end, it won't matter, because you'll be in his bed when this is over, not theirs.

He won't outright tell you he was jealous, because he's embarrassed at the idea of seeming childish, but boy, will he still let you know. Expect bite marks on every visible inch of your skin and the imprint of his pretty fingers around your neck and thighs. He'll probably edge you a few times, have you beg and moan his name in tears without letting you cum, just to feel like he's the one in control again. He's willing to admit he's a little petty when it comes to you.

Others might not know it was him when they see your smeared makeup and strategically placed bruises tomorrow, but you will, and that's really all that matters to him.

Jayce is the visibly possessive type of jealous. Is some diplomat telling you a funny story? Jayce doesn't give a damn about decorum. His hand will quickly wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him and he'll enter the conversation with a megawatt smile as if he's always been part of it. But his hand will stay firmly in place for everyone to see what's off limits. In fact, it would be almost impossible to find him not touching you in some way, whether that be by gently replacing wayward strands of hair or wiping away imaginary stains of wine around your lips. He can't help it, especially when he sees others look at you with the same desire that he has for you. He has to show that you're his.

Jayce will be especially talkative in bed after that, constantly mumbling your name under his breath as he fucks you, repeating the word ‘mine’ over and over again. He's very petty about it too, asking if you liked having everyone's attention on you, if you got off to strangers undressing you with their eyes. If he’s gotten really rilled up, the usual “baby” and “princess” might become a “whore” or “slut”. Always his whore though. Nobody else's. He doesn't say it to be mean, in fact he tends to feel bad afterwards, but he needs confirmation straight from your lips that you don't care about them. That the only one you want to ruin you is him.

If you oblige, you are getting fucked raw on the closest available surface for a solid three rounds. You're too tired for another one? That's alright, he’ll pump his cock in his fist right above your entrance, and only push in when he's ready to cum. He'll fill you until he’s satisfied no one could look at you and doubt for a second who fucked you that good.

[peachylynnie]

blackjack

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: in which you pique sylus' interest with a game of blackjack.

contains: sylus x fem!reader (not mc, first time meeting), sylus is lowkey messed up, alcohol consumption, cursing, violence, and gambling (know the rules of blackjack).

a/n: yes, this will be a series. it's not obvious in this part but this story was inspired by the cover art of the ml and fl from tears on a withered flower, an adult webtoon. do not copy or translate my work, sylus does not endorse plagiarism. reblogs and comments are appreciated.

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sylus is bored. inconceivably fucking bored.

on his right is sherman, a greedy, corrupt imbecile who thinks he can get away with promising counterfeit protocores. on his left is sherman's lackey, a two-faced, ambitious moron who thinks he can improve his boss' hideous image by claiming the so-called protocores were "hard to find." and in front of him is a pitiful dealer who not only fumbles the cards every time he tries to shuffle for a new game of blackjack but also loses every single round to the point no one is afraid to hit more than once.

unfortunately for sylus, dealing with people like sherman and his minion is a daily occurrence. after all, he runs the n109 zone, a wasteland filled with scums of the planet who are not only shallow to the point a fucking newborn can tread the depths of their hearts but also manipulative of the lives of the weak solely for the sake of monetary growth.

exhaling an irritated sigh, he reaches for his glass of gin fizz, causing a series of flinches from the men at the table. normally, sylus would revel in the effect he has on people. he never would have gotten this far if it hadn't been for his steel-like business ethic and unwavering confidence. but again, he's bored, severely bored of the constant mingling with shitty people at shitty lounges. though he supposes this lounge isn't bad, considering how pleasant the fizz tastes on his tongue. at least the alcohol will help him get through another dull round of blackjack.

"ha!" sherman laughs as he collects more chips. "this table is quite lucky. i have never played against a dealer with such buttery fingers."

the dealer winces before apologizing meekly. sylus makes a note to tip him later.

"agreed," the lackey continues his ass-kissing. "i feel bad for the table next to us, though. that lady dealer has been ruthless all night."

sylus doesn't think much as he brings his cup to his mouth and averts his attention to the table beside him. however, his tongue never makes contact with the fizz. it lingers on the rim of the cup instead. furrowing his brows, the silver-haired man takes a closer look at you, the supposed ruthless lady dealer.

there you were, clad in a crisp dress shirt with a tight button-up vest on top and a pair of sleek trousers. but never mind what you're wearing (it's what all the employees of this lounge have to wear, but you looked good); you're new. sylus has never seen you before, and that astounds him because this is the n109 zone, the very domain he is in charge of. even if he has never met every single person in this place, he sure as hell has seen them through records. it's his job as the head of onychinus. but you, you're new, a fresh new face he has never seen on any digital or physical records.

but what astonishes the man even more is your winning streak. in the last three minutes sylus has been staring at you, you haven't lost a single game of blackjack. moreover, your hands have been impressively consistent, only flipping twenties or immediate blackjacks.

however, what catches sylus' eye the most is your face. not because of your undeniable beauty (he can think about this later) but because of your expression. in the last four minutes sylus has been staring at you, you never showed an ounce of emotion. your lips never quirked when you won. your eyes never flared when the men at your table accused you of cheating. heck, you didn't even react when one of them dared to grab you by the collar of your shirt and shake you violently with demands to give him back what he lost.

taking a quick sip of his fizz, sylus stands up and strides over to your table. firmly gripping the outstretched arm of your aggressor, he gives him a subtle yet threatening smile. "is there a problem here, sir?"

"s-sylus?!" the man immediately lets go of you, trying to release his poor arm from sylus' unrelenting grip. "i didn't realize you were here."

sylus tilts his head, recognizing the man's face. "mason? the last time i saw you was when you tried to strike me a deal with fake protocores."

gulps can be heard around the room.

"i must say," he continues, tightening his grip. "it's one thing to try and deceive me, but it's another to harm an innocent person just because you're losing sorely."

"s-she's not innocent," mason squawks. "she's cheating! she has to be! she hasn't lost once tonight. besides, she's the dealer. she must have been tampering with the cards!"

sylus faces you, still not letting go of mason. "miss dealer. you have been allowing these men," he nudges his head towards the pigs at your table, "to shuffle the cards before each round, correct?"

"yes," you answer calmly, not a single quiver or tremor to be heard. "each person at this table has shuffled before a round. it is protocol to allow customers to shuffle." smoothening your collar and vest, you gesture to the table with a hand. "also, i have been using two separate decks of cards, which not only ensures a faster game but also prevents cheating from both the dealer and the customers."

sylus frowns. you didn't even look at him while answering his question. not a single look of acknowledgment was spared. your eyes never left the poker table, and that bothered sylus greatly. he doesn't know why. but what he knows for sure is that he wants your eyes on him. he wants to break your focus so fucking badly. he wants to see what kind of face you would make when he beats you in a game. it's only fair. after all, you satiated his boredom the moment he laid eyes on you. 

"you heard her." he says as he thrusts mason to the ground. "i'm afraid you are simply terrible at cards. now, i suggest you leave before i break your arm."

"what?! but she's-" sylus stomps on the man's arm, eliciting a terrifying scream. cradling his now-shattered arm, mason hunches over in agony, his wails of pain never ending. 

sylus rolls his eyes as he pulls a seat to your table. "any time now, mason," he snaps.

glancing up at you, the silver-haired man can't help but tut. still no reaction from you. just a formal pose of a hand folded over the other and resting on the stomach. seriously? he just crushed a man's arm in front of you, not to mention a man who's been troubling you nonstop, and you don't even blink? by no means does he expect gratitude. it's the n109 zone, after all. but given the indisputable fact that you're new here, surely you must be unaccustomed to spontaneous violence. but no, you just reach for a deck of cards and start shuffling, never acknowledging the man, the fucking head of onychinus, sitting in front of you.

"excellent display, sylus!" sherman chirps, pulling a seat next to him as mason and his men scamper away. "mason, that moron. never able to accept a loss."

"indeed," his lackey joins as well, causing sylus to sigh in frustration. oh right, the imbecile and his ass-kisser were still here. "accepting losses is vital to surviving in the n109 zone. wouldn't you agree, miss?" 

no answer. you just keep shuffling the cards. first a riffle shuffle, then an overhand shuffle. sylus quirks a brow, mildly impressed by how fast your fingers move. finally, you speak.

"your bets, gentlemen?"

sylus blinks. you looked at him. you finally looked at him. and it wasn’t with any flaming desire to win big against the one and only head of onychinus. no, it was with sheer boredom, as if he was just another one of those insignificant nobodies in the n109 zone. he can't help but chuckle. he can feel the excitement coursing through his veins. oh, he can't wait to see your reaction when he bests you. it’s only fair he returns the favor, right? he’ll gladly satiate your boredom as you did for him. and he is dying to see what kind of face will make. will your unmoving, bewitching eyes flicker? will your smooth, crystalline voice falter? will your expressionless, winsome face finally contort? oh, the man is raring to find out. 

it seems sylus, the man who was bored to tears less than ten minutes ago, is confident tonight will be the most entertaining night of his life.

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