#some of these have featured in fics before

[calliopesdiary]

i wish i were heather...

synopsis: you were under the impression that you were stable in your secret long-term relationship with three of the four marauders, until it becomes clear that you aren't the girl they want anymore. (so you think). will you lose them before its too late? or have you already?

pairings: fem!reader x poly!marauders ` poly!marauders x lily evans

warnings: NO LILY SLANDER!! SHE'S PERFECT AND BEAUTIFUL AND ITS NOT HER FAULT!!, cusswords, ANGST, depressing, a blip of reader skipping meals on the radar but it's srsly nothing crazy, insecure reader, the marauders besides peter are dicks, reader is a little naive, the marauders borderline cheat on you, no happy ending, there might still be one thoughhh, possibly slytherin!reader if you squint?,

part one in the conan gray series

A/N!!: In some of the fic i use colors to represent a certain character! Orange is Lily, Red is James, and Green is Barty :3

wc; 2.4k

LIFE WAS AMAZING, which is not usually how stories begin.

You felt so safe and secure in your secret relationship with Hogwarts' once most eligible bachelors... The Marauders.

The rush of excitement that coursed through your veins every time you shared a hidden glance with Remus, or hiding in the showers of the Gryffindor boys locker room with James after his quidditch victory, and sneaking off to empty classrooms where anyone from anywhere could catch you with Sirius.

It was heavenly, these boys were all you would ever need.

until... now.

You were in Remus' sweater, he said it looked better on you than it did him. If only he knew how much you liked him...

The fireplace erupted with a citrine glow, illuminating the Gryffindor common room beautifully.

Most impactfully, it lit up Remus' scar-kissed features.

His freckles looked as if they were painted onto his face with careful hands by a renaissance painter.

His eyes half-lidded from his lack of sleep from the incoming full moon that was slowly approaching, it pained you to know how much they hurt him.

For once, Remus wasn't in a sweater. Since his was rested comfortably on your body, as your scent comforted The Wolf greatly.

And his scent comforted you, too.

Remus' book had suddenly landed on your lap, and though it startled you a bit. You didn't bother to ask why, until you sat up.

Remus was locked in a passionate conversation with Gryffindor's resident golden girl, Lily Evans.

"Evans, it's lovely to see you."

"Same to you, Lupin."

Godric, was she beautiful.

"I just stopped by to see if you had gotten any of the Defence Against The Dark Arts homework done?"

Lily Evans was as radiant as an angel who blessed anyone with her presence.

"I have; actually, I just finished my paper."

Remus seemed mesmerized by her, the golden gleam from the fire painting her features gorgeously in that same citrine glow as Remus'.

"Could I have a look of it? Not to copy it- obviously, I just want to see how others are wording the question."

You weren't even half as pretty as Lily.

"Of course, and I know you'd never cheat."

"You're the smartest witch in our year."

You tried not to mind other girls flirting with your boys.

Just because you knew that later that night they'd be back to your boys again, and only yours.

As she was about to go, she planted a soft kiss on the side of Remus' cheek, leaving him blushing softly as he bid her goodbye.

Your heart clenched, it was merely a pleasantry. You were being dramatic.

"Are you alright, dove?" Your head perked up at the sound of Remus' voice.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine." You mused, albeit a bit absentmindedly.

"Are you tired?" He asked carefully.

"I am, actually..." You forced a sweet smile onto your lips, as he leaned down to kiss them softly.

That kiss was the last one that felt anything more than a chore, an obligation.

That was also your last kiss with Remus.

Cheering James on at the quidditch pitch was just the thrill you needed after that melancholy moment with Remus.

He soared through the field like he was on top of the world, the players scattered around the pitch for one common goal: to win.

Gryffindor had won the game with 60 points, and James had caught the snitch like usual.

This game was also a rain game.

Just as you were about to head down to showers when you spotted Lily excitedly trailing after James.

You knew full well that James chased Lily tirelessly since they started school, that was also well before you came into the picture.

You also knew that she wanted nothing to do with him or the other marauders, so what was with her infatuation now?

Why your boys? She couldn't find her own boys?

But maybe she was just being friendly, right? The boys would never ever cheat on you... right?

You heard Lily giggle as James so graciously held the curtain open for her to enter the locker room, and your heart clenched.

You followed them in, jealously.

"James?" You called, as James poked his head from the changing area. Sweat glistening off his abs.

"Hi, Y/N." He shut the curtain behind him, as if he had something to hide.

Also; he barely just called you by your first name.

"You didn't come to see me after the game?" You questioned, grazing his cheek gently as he spoke."

"Sorry, Y/N. It was a long one." He excused, as he clearly looked a bit flushed.

"You look red, are you dehydrated?"

"Godric, y/n. you are hardly my mum."

You giggled as if it was a joke, yet he seemed quite stone faced.

You cleared your throat embarrassingly once you realized.

"I... just wanted to congratulate you on another win." You forcefully smiled again.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that." Then, he flashed his classic grin at you.

The grin he hadn't flashed at you since he realized he genuinely liked you.

What the fuck?

"Victory kiss?" You asked quietly, with some false hope mixed in.

"Of course." He pecked your forehead quickly, before hurrying off back to his changing area.

And with that, you had also left the steamy tent and outside into the cool, soft rain once more.

A forehead kiss? whenever he used to give you victory kisses they'd be full-on make outs in that same changing room or the showers.

James was falling out of love with you, and you knew it.

Luckily, you could easily disguise your tears with the excuse of it raining.

"Victory kiss?" Lily mewled, from her position on the stool in his changing spot.

"Just on the forehead, lovely."

You stopped showing up to breakfast, as the one time you decided to go Lily was sat in your spot next to Sirius.

Dorcas was nearly at her wits end with the boys and their antics.

The motley crew of Slytherins were the only ones who knew of your relationship, and they were pissed off.

"Treasure, surely they aren't fucked enough to know that you are the best thing they've ever had!" Barty explained, laying upside-down on his bed across from you.

"I-It's no use, Jr." You cried softly, mirroring his position yet on your bed instead. The tears (and blood) rushing to your hairline instead of your face because Dorcas said 'Your makeup is too pretty to ruin, love.' .

"There is a use, Y/L/N. we'll kill them-"

"Jr, absolutely not." Regulus chided, rubbing your shoulder. "She's clearly upset, I don't see the issue."

"Murder is never a good option, Barty." Dorcas scolded gently.

"So what are we gonna do then? My Treasure can't go on like this!"

"You said you've already talked to James and Remus? Maybe you can go talk to... eh... Sirius." Clearly, that name was hard for Regulus to get out.

"*Sniff* yeah, yeah- I'll go talk to him..." You sat up half-hazardously, and strutted out of the dorm-room to go (hopefully) save your relationship.

You still remember the third of December.

Sirius lounged on the couch while speaking with the other marauders, about some sort of prank on the other group of Slytherins.

"And then, we'll-"

"Hi, Siri." You sat next to him, beaming up at him (hopefully).

"...y/n." He greeted casually, before continuing to talk.

Your smile faded, as he continued to talk to your other boyfriends friends about this horrible prank.

Instead of leaving, you sat quietly next to them, as if you were some decoration or trophy wife.

This was truly your breaking point, as you saw Lily sit down on the couches of the common room as she caught all of their attention, you hadn't seemed to do that for ages. Though, she was wearing something familiar...

Remus'... sweater...

Remus'- YOUR Remus' sweater.

"How's it look?" Lily asked, giving them a twirl. Their eyes locked on her.

"Gorgeous, doll." Sirius flirted, shooting her a wink.

"Truly a sight for sore eyes." James grinned.

"It looks better on you than it did me." Remus took her hand and helped her sit down on the couch in between him and James.

That's exactly what he said to you...

He put his arm 'round her shoulder,

suddenly you got colder.

She's got them mesmerized... while you die.

But how could you hate her?

She's such an angel...

But then again you wished she were dead.

"Why would you ever kiss me?" You asked impulsively.

"What?" James looked up from Lily, all eyes on you.

"I mean- I'm not even half as pretty."

"Y/n, You're overthinking it-" Remus started it.

"You gave her your sweater!" You shot back.

"It's just polyester!" Remus defended.

"But you like her better." You felt the tears rush to your waterline.

"We're done." You whispered, leaving Lily looking so confused and the common room dead quiet.

"What does she mean by that...?" Lily seemed horrified.

"We... weren't really dating.." Sirius attempted to defend.

"Yes, we were, you tosser!" James shoved him.

"You said yourself that you were bored of her!" Remus stated matter-of-factly.

"Was I seriously the other woman?" Lily mewled, her hands clutching the sides of her head.

"Nonono- No, we were planning to break up with her but- because we all wanted you-" Sirius tried again.

"Then don't fuck around with her feelings just to get me!" Lily yelled, standing up quickly.

"I appreciate the admiration- but I need time to process, okay? You all were absolute... arseholes to her, I'll admit." Lily started,

"Are you saying no?" James quickly cut in.

"...No..." Lily ended.

After crying your eyes out to Barty and Regulus over your breakup, December 7th rolled around.

The day that students were meant to be studying for their OWLS and other end of term exams.

You would usually be in the library 24/7.

Lily, had finally come around and accepted the boys' proposal, and their relationship became public quickly.

Lily obviously still felt this bitter taste of guilt in her mouth, as did all of them.

So today, Lily had convinced them all to apologize to you for borderline cheating and lying and manipulating and gaslighting-.

But, you were nowhere to be found.

"Regulus! Regulus, wait up!" Lily ran through the hallways to get to her.

"Evans, Brother.. Potter... and Lupin.." She said those last three names with utter disgust.

"We're trying to find Y/n, have you seen her?" Remus asked quietly, he was definitely feeling the most guilt.

"Y/n? Well, If she was here, I think she'd completely refuse to see you lot." Regulus explained bluntly.

"W-What do you mean "If she was here"?" James questioned.

"I mean, Her, Junior., and the Rosier twins completed their OWLS early and hightailed it to Junior's holiday house for the rest of the break." He explained casually.

"What?" Sirius scowled.

"What the hell is my girl-... Y/n doing with them?" James had the same expression as Sirius.

"They are simply better friends then you were to her, hm? I don't blame her."

"When will she be back?" Lily asked breathlessly.

"End of December, If she ever returns." Regulus strolled away, potions book in hand.

"...We fucked up."

Fin.

[bamfkeeper]

Absolution. | K.W

warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI | AFAB reader | Religious themes | Priest/sinner roleplay | Soft dom/sub dynamics | Dirty talk | Spanking | Slight bondage | Anal sex | Sex toys | Corruption themes. Obviously not realistic don't just have anal sex without prep 😭

Do not read if this if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable, please just skip it. I mean no disrespect to religion, this is just a stupid fanfic please do not take this seriously.

a/n: I started this fic in JULY. So if the writing seems a little weird, that's why. I've grown a lot since I first started this blog so my style has switched up a bit. I tried to keep to Kurt's character even with the scenario, hopefully I balanced it out okay. Probably not everyone's thing so...don't read if not. Slowly making my way back here. Not proofread, will do at a later date. ;; wc: 4.7k

You were so bored.

It was a lazy day at the mansion, your boredom drove you into a cleaning frenzy. While rummaging through Kurt's wardrobe, you stumbled upon something you hadn't seen before. "Kurt, is this..." you begin, your voice trailing off as you carefully extract the garment from its hiding place.

Kurt glances up from the book he held, perched on the chair sitting in the corner of the room, his eyes softening with recognition. "Ah, ja...my robes," he responds, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. Rising from his seat, he approaches you with measured steps, gently taking the robes from your hands. "I have not worn them in quite some time," he muses, his fingers tracing the familiar fabric with reverence.

Intrigued by this glimpse into Kurt's past, you can't help but tilt your head, "You should put them on." Your curiosity piqued, you add, "I'd love to see how you look in them." You didn't share the same views, which might've been why Kurt was a bit reserved about that part of himself, not wanting to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable.

You make yourself comfortable on the bed, eager to see how he looked in his robes. Kurt, ever obliging, nods in response to your request and begins to don his priestly attire. The process is unhurried, almost ritualistic, as he carefully slips into each layer. Once fully dressed, he turns his attention to the details, his fingers working to adjust the collar just so. Standing before the mirror, Kurt takes a moment to assess his reflection, his expression a mixture of familiarity and something like nostalgia crosses his features.

"Well, what do you think, liebling?" he inquired, slowly rotating to face you with his arms slightly extended. His end of his tail tail swayed under the end of the robe in a languid motion as his eyes met yours, curiosity evident in his gaze. As you observed him, an unexpected sensation stirred within you, a powerful and undeniable attraction that you found impossible to ignore. You felt shame bubble in your belly, you shouldn't be this attracted to him like this. It was wrong, but...it felt so right.

Drawn by this magnetic pull, you rose from your seat and approached him. Your voice was low and appreciative as you commented, "You look really good wearing this." Your hand, almost of its own accord, traced a path up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric. He responded with a soft, knowing chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah... I see that mischievous glint in your eyes. You're thinking naughty things, aren't you?" he remarked, gently placing his hand over yours to halt its exploratory journey.

"I understand what you desire, liebe," he continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "However, I'm not certain I can fulfill that wish while wearing these garments. They hold too much sacred meaning for me...engaging in such activities while wearing them would feel far too blasphemous." His words trailed off, leaving an air of regret hanging between you.

Kurt held his religious beliefs close to his heart, creating a conflict between his desire not to disappoint you and his need to maintain the sanctity of his attire. The struggle was obvious in his expression as he grappled with the dilemma of wanting to please you without compromising his deeply held convictions.

"Why don't we pretend?" you suggested with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Something along the lines of roleplaying, maybe? Given your natural flair for theatrics and showmanship, I'm sure you could have fun with it." The proposition wasn't without merit, and he thought about it for a moment, his mind clearly working through the possibilities. His head tilted to the side in contemplation, and reaching his internal consensus, he nodded in agreement, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Very well," he replied, his voice a mix of curiosity and enthusiasm. "We can certainly give that a try. If it brings you happiness, then I'm more than willing." His smile widened as he leaned in, planting a gentle, affectionate kiss on the tip of your nose. "However, I'll need a moment to prepare. Allow me to make some alterations to my appearance and demeanor. I have a different robe I will change into, very similar to this one, don't worry. Just less significant to me."

And just like that, the scene was set.

In what felt like a few moments, Kurt had transformed. He now stood towering above you, his presence suddenly commanding and authoritative.

You were on your knees before him, a position that encouraged the power dynamic you both had agreed to explore. Kurt reached down and cupped your chin in his hand, gentle and assertive, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually warm and playful, now held a hint of stern judgment, perfectly in character for the role he had assumed.

"Well, well," he began, his voice taking on a rich, sonorous quality that sent a shiver down your spine. "You've been quite the naughty sinner, haven't you?" His tone carried a note of playful admonishment, but there was an underlying current of something more intense. "After all the transgressions you've committed, you now come seeking absolution? Seeking forgiveness from me?" He questioned, his delivery starting off with a hint of theatrical flair.

It was clear that this was new territory for him, and initially, he felt a touch of self-consciousness, a slight awkwardness in inhabiting this unfamiliar role. However, as he continued, you could see him settling into the character, his confidence growing with each word. His initial hesitation was rapidly giving way to a more controlled, measured performance, as he found his footing in this improvised scenario.

You felt nervous and excited, the feelings coursing through your veins, having never engaged in 'roleplay' before. A slight tremor shook your voice and a few nervous chuckles followed, you managed to formulate a response. "Oh, Father Wagner," you began, your words held playful desperation, "I've been so busy, I haven’t had the time to come to you. But now, I find myself in dire need of spiritual cleansing. You're the only one who possesses the power to absolve me of my sins." As the words left your lips, you had to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a giggle at the sheer ridiculousness of the scenario.

"My child," he responded, his tone suddenly shifting, "The act of sinning is no trivial matter to be taken lightly." His abrupt immersion into the 'role' caught you completely off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned. He released his grip on your chin and fixed you with a stern, unyielding gaze. "However," he continued, his voice low and resonant, "You are fortunate indeed. For I have been bestowed the ability to purge the corruption of sin from your very soul."

A part of you wanted to burst into laughter, seeing him adopt such a serious demeanor for this playful charade was a surprise. However, not wanting to shatter the illusion or dampen the enjoyment of the moment, you made a conscious effort to maintain your composure and play along. You gave a slight bow with your head, responding in a soft, reverent tone, "Yes, Father Wagner." You repeated his title, savoring the way it rolled off your tongue.

Slowly, you raised your gaze to meet his, your eyes wide and imploring, your features arranged into the most innocent expression you could muster. "I humbly beseech you," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "Please, cleanse my soul of its impurities."

Kurt gently lifted you from the floor and guided you to the bed. "I will have to start with the basics, my dear, but do not be afraid. I promise you, I will purify your soul," he whispered, his voice acting as a soothing balm to your nerves. His lips brushed against the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as he guided you to lay across the edge of the bed, his touch both firm and gentle. "Now, stay perfectly still..." he hummed, his voice a low, melodic rumble. You felt him move away, his presence shifting to the side as he reached for something unseen.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you attempted to turn your head, eager to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. However, Kurt's hand swiftly returned, his palm warm against the back of your head as he held you in place. "Ah, nein, my little sinner," he chided softly, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "You must remain still for the cleansing ritual to work its magic." His fingers began to move, gently scratching your scalp in a soothing manner before he slowly withdrew his touch.

You couldn't help but let out a small huff of frustration, torn between the desire to see and the need to obey his instructions. Despite your impatience, you forced yourself to comply, your body relaxing into the position he had placed you in.

"Alright, alright," you conceded, your voice a mixture of resignation and anticipation. "What exactly do you have in store for me, Father Wagner?" The question hung in the air, your curiosity peaking as you waited, body tense with expectation. The soft sound of Kurt's footsteps reached your ears as he moved around the room. When he returned, you sensed his presence beside you, accompanied by the subtle rustle of fabric.

"I have something special for you, mein Schatz," he murmured, his accent thickening slightly with emotion. You heard the gentle thud of an object being placed on the bed next to you, and from the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a small, ornate box. The sight of it only heightened your curiosity, and Kurt knew it.

"This has all of my cleansing tools, my dear. I promise you I will be forgiven when I am done," Kurt said, his voice a low, husky whisper. His hand glided over the curve of your ass, slow and deliberate, his touch both gentle and electrifying. The anticipation built with each passing second, your skin tingling under his fingertips. Just as you began to relax into his caress, he suddenly laid a firm smack to your backside. The sharp sound echoed in the room, followed immediately by a stinging sensation that spread across your skin.

Your eyes widened in shock, and before you could process what had happened, a sharp cry of surprise escaped your lips. "Ah, Kurt!" You spat out, shock in your tone as you blinked and registered the sensation. The unexpected nature of his action left you breathless, your mind reeling as you tried to comprehend that he had actually spanked you, of all things.

"Es tut mir Leid, schatz...are you okay?" Kurt asked, his voice shifting from the dominant tone he had adopted earlier to one of concern. He paused, breaking character for a moment as he gently rubbed his hand over your backside, soothing the lingering sting from his unexpected strike. The tender ministrations of his fingers helped ease the sensation, and you realized that while the spank had been surprising, it hadn't actually hurt. You still appreciated his attentiveness and care, even in the midst of your roleplay. You nodded, meeting his gaze to reassure him of your well-being.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you replied, your voice a little breathier than usual. A smile played at the corners of your mouth as you continued, "I just didn't expect it, but I'm down if that's what you wanna do." Your words came out as a purr, laden with a newfound excitement.

A playful glint danced in your eyes, reflecting your growing intrigue with this unexpected turn of events. Kurt's cheeks flushed a light shade of violet, betraying his initial surprise at your enthusiastic response.

For a moment, his carefully constructed persona faltered, and you caught a glimpse of the sweet, sometimes shy man beneath the dominant exterior.

He quickly cleared his throat, visibly attempting to regain his composure and slip back into character. As you watched him struggle to maintain his role, you felt a wave of affection wash over you. You were genuinely touched that he had taken the time to check in and ensure he wasn't overstepping any boundaries. You gave him a nod, silently telling him you were good to continue.

He delivered another firm smack to your ass, this time with increased intensity. "Such a mischievous creature you are, I certainly have my work cut out for me, ja? What shall I do with such a naughty thing..." he mused, allowing his hand to caress one of your cheeks tenderly before administering another spank. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you bit down gently, eliciting a smile from him. "Remember, liebe, if you wish to stop, simply say 'red'," he cooed reassuringly, planting a gentle kiss along your spine. You nodded in understanding, acknowledging the safe word.

Kurt delicately parted you, tilting his head to the side with a knowing and somewhat playful smile. "My, my, you're already quite aroused, my little sinner...truly a naughty thing indeed. It seems I shall have to purify you in an alternative manner." His voice carried a blend of amusement and authority, causing your heart to race even more rapidly than before. He leaned in closer, his warm breath caressing your skin, as he continued in a low, seductive murmur, "This cleansing will be most thorough, I assure you. It will be an experience that shall linger in your memory for quite some time to come...and make you think twice before committing a sin again."

You could feel something warm on your ass and you stiffened slightly, feeling a lubricated finger gently teasing the ring of muscle. He felt your body grow tense, noticing the subtle shift in your posture. Kurt circled his finger around the tightened muscle, trying to ease the tension. "Are you alright, Liebling?" Kurt asked softly, his voice concerned again. "Remember, you can say 'red' if you want to stop at any point," he reminded gently, emphasizing your safety and comfort above all else.

"I-I'm okay, just new...is all." You managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke. The sensation of your stomach tightening made everything feel a lot more sensitive. You had never done this before, and the unfamiliarity of the situation left you feeling a bit unsure, but willing to try it.

Kurt slowly pushed his finger past the muscle and you gasped. His finger weaseled its way into you, gently pumping in and out, the lube making it much easier than without. The sensation was so weird, but it felt so good too.

"Nngh...that feels good..." you murmured softly, your entire body melting into his gentle caress. With each delicate movement of his finger, you instinctively leaned back towards him, craving more of his touch. The sensation coursed through you, feeling so alien and unfamiliar, yet simultaneously exhilarating and soothing. The pleasure it brought left you yearning for more, desperate to feel more pleasure from your puckered entrance.

"Does it now? Well...a delicate little thing like you would naturally be drawn to this, wouldn't you? Such a taboo act...and here you are, completely enthralled by it." Kurt's voice was a low, melodious hum, tinged with a playfully sinister undertone. He deliberately withdrew his finger at an agonizingly slow pace, savoring every second of your squirming reaction. His intense gaze locked onto yours, observing with rapt attention as you quivered while looking over your shoulder at him.

The corners of his lips gradually curled upward into a self-satisfied smirk, clearly relishing the profound effect he was having on you. "Look at you, already trembling like a leaf," he remarked, his voice barely above a whisper, the intoxicating thrill of dominance unmistakable in both his tone and his piercing stare.

He decided to indulge in further exploration, his hands delicately gliding up the expanse of your bare back. He paused momentarily to bestow a gentle, comforting massage upon your shoulders, gradually easing away any lingering tension that might have been nestled within your muscles. His fingers traced a path down your spine, offering a soothing rub that coaxed you into an even deeper state of relaxation. You could feel each individual vertebra beneath his expert touch as he worked his way down your back with practiced precision.

As you surrendered more fully to his ministrations, he boldly ventured his hands lower, teasingly and playfully toying with your sensitive nipples. The unexpected sensation shot pleasure through your body, causing your face to flush deeply with a mix of arousal and bashfulness. Unable to contain your reaction, you let out a loud, unrestrained moan that echoed in the room, instinctively pressing your hips back against him in a clear display of eagerness and desire.

"Now, my lovely sinner, we shall proceed to the next crucial phase of your purification," he whispered, his lips barely grazing the delicate shell of your ear. "For this part, I'm afraid I must restrain you. Are you comfortable with that, my dearest?" His words, though softly spoken, carried a weight that made your pulse quicken.

You could feel your heart thundering within your chest, its rapid beats seeming to reverberate through your entire being. Your mind was racing, filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as you tried to imagine what might come next. The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, growing more intense and charged.

Every small sound became magnified in the growing silence - the rustle of fabric, the soft whisper of breath, the faint creak of floorboards. As you mentally steeled yourself for what was coming, time seemed to slow, each moment stretching out as you waited with bated breath for his next move.

He retrieved a delicate string adorned with small, shimmering beads. The intricate piece bore a striking resemblance to a rosary, yet it was not one in the traditional sense; the carefully chosen beads served a purely aesthetic purpose, devoid of any genuine religious significance. Kurt began to wrap the beaded string around your arms, his movements slow and deliberate as he secured them to the bed. Each loop was placed with thoughtful consideration, ensuring both your comfort and the effectiveness of the restraint.

He then turned his attention to your legs, repeating the process. The beaded strings were artfully arranged, positioning your limbs wide, you were unable to close them. The sensation was novel and a little weird, yet not unpleasant. Before going any further, he paused, allowing you a moment to acclimate to the unfamiliar feeling of restraint and the gentle pressure of the beads against your skin. His eyes met yours as he softly inquired, "Gut?" His voice was barely above a whisper, laden with care and seeking your approval.

After a brief moment of introspection, you responded with a nod, you found yourself surprisingly at ease. The bondage, expertly applied, caused no discomfort whatsoever. He made sure that the bindings around your wrists and ankles were secure without being restrictive or painful for you. Finding your voice, you replied, "I'm good, Father Wagner." Your tone carried a hint of playfulness, embracing the theatrical nature of the scenario.

He was pleased, so he continued. He shifted himself so his cock was exposed, he slowly stroked himself hard and he stepped closer. His cock head gently massaged between your folds and you mentally prepared for penetration but instead, he angled up at your other hole. You took a moment to realize what he was doing and you smirked, "Father Wagner...are you sure I'm the sinner?" You questioned playfully and wriggled your hips back.

"Hush," he said back quietly, his face blushed a bit before he got back in the mindset. "This is necessary for your sins. I unfortunately can't cleanse you through your womb, I must use the other hole you have..." he whispered, his spongy, blushed head pressed against the ring of muscle gently, prodding you lightly and teasing you.

You couldn't help but bite your lip, "Oh, are you sure I cannot pay for my sins with my pussy?" You asked with a gentle strain, turning to look back at him and blinking with feigned innocence. "Or have I been so naughty that my sweet cunt isn't worth my sins?"

Kurt grinned at your playful words, though caught a little off guard by the vulgarity, he was still enjoying the banter between you and he continued to prod your ass. "Oh, my dear, your sins are far too great for just one part of you to pay...I'm afraid only this hole will do." His tail curled behind him and handed him a small toy, he reached between your legs and teased your throbbing clit before he dragged it through your wet folds and pushed it inside your pussy. "Can't have temptation now can we?"

The surprising action from him made you let out a desperate whine, you could feel your pretty bundle of nerves throbbing at the light touch he had given you. "Only my ass, there isn't any other way?" You questioned, playing along with the direction the scene was going.

He leaned over you, kissing between your shoulder blades gently and he leaned close to speak in your ear. "Now then...let's see if we can't absolve some of these sins of yours." he whispered teasingly, spreading you a bit more before sliding into your ass slowly. The sudden intrusion into your ass made you stiffen in surprise. It was uncomfortable at first, the muscles not used to being stretched out.

The sensation was intense, causing you to inhale sharply as he eased in just past the tip. Immediately, he halted his movements, his eyes fixed intently on your face to gauge your reaction. Your comfort and well-being were important to him, regardless of the intimate act you were engaged in. He had no desire to inflict any discomfort upon you. "Are you alright?" he inquired in a gentle, concerned tone, his body completely motionless as he awaited your response.

"I just..." you exhaled slowly, trying to steady your breathing, "Need a moment to adjust..." you managed to say, your voice slightly strained. The initial discomfort was challenging, even with the careful preparation he had undertaken beforehand. His hands moved to your hips, gently caressing them in soothing, circular motions, but the rest of his body remained perfectly still, allowing you the time you needed.

Several minutes passed as you gradually acclimated to the new sensation. When you felt ready, you cautiously shifted your hips backward, assisting him in entering further. "Mmm...it's better now...f-feels good," you murmured, your voice a mixture of relief and growing pleasure.

"Gut...I will purify you, my child, do not fear," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He began to move his hips steadily, a rhythmic motion that gradually increased in intensity. Slowly, deliberately, he rocked into you, his thrusts careful and measured until he was fully seated within you. Kurt's arms encircled you, holding you close against his body, the warmth of his embrace felt good against the cool bedroom air.

The soft fabric of his robes swayed gently with each movement, creating a whisper of sound in the quiet room. "Ach....you are tight as a drum," he breathed, his words barely audible. He swallowed thickly, his body trembling with the effort of restraint, fighting against the overwhelming urge to lose himself in the moment.

You sighed deeply, your body responding to his movements with a shudder that ran from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck. Instinctively, you were rocking back against him, your bodies moving in perfect synchronization. "I can feel it working," you panted, your voice breathy. "I feel it, getting better...aah...the sins are leaving me…" Your words trailed off into a soft moan.

"They will fade, just let me cleanse you..." Kurt hissed against your skin, his hips thrusting faster against you as he focused on pumping himself in and out at a good pace. His cock stretched you so good, your previously unused hole now burning with hot desire, squeezing every ounce of him into your cavern.

"Kurt, oh my god...keep going," you moaned loudly, feeling every single bit of his dick deep inside you. Every vein against the muscle of your ass, the curve of that soft tip and the thickness pushing its way in and out with each piston of his hips. It felt so damn good, you were molding to him.

"I...am almost there, liebling..." Kurt rasped, his tail wrapped around your thigh tightly as he focused his thrusts. His endurance was impressive as hell, and he was determined to continue the pace he set without faltering.

The spade of his tail slithered over your clit and rubbed over it, gently teasing the bud enough for you to react and moan. His hands moved from your hips and ran under you to feel your chest. He was practically laying on you now, his hips not stuttering for a second.

You felt your climax approach and wash over you before you could warn him, and you let out a loud cry of pleasure as you came. Kurt's eyes widened, you tightened around him with your orgasm and his hips halted. He shot his climax deep into you, a guttural groan leaving his throat as he held you still.

Kurt gave a few more solid thrusts before he pulled out of your swollen hole, watching his cum drip out of your throbbing muscle. He felt such pride seeing you this way, but he knew you were extra sensitive now and the play was over after your respective climaxes. He reached and carefully removed the toy from your pussy, earning a soft whine from you.

"Ach...liebe...you will be the death of me..." He moved to unbind you, his fingers working methodically to remove each restraint one by one. As the bindings fell away, your limbs were finally free to relax from their confined position. Your muscles, having been held taut for so long, now felt completely boneless - like warm honey flowing through your veins. You rolled languidly onto your side and curled up into yourself, savoring the pure bliss that came with being able to bend and stretch your limbs again.

He settled beside you, shrugging off his robe before taking one of your arms into his hands as he began to massage the places where the restraints had been. His strong fingers working in slow, deliberate circles to encourage proper circulation. Each press of his fingertips was perfectly measured, firm enough to be therapeutic but gentle enough to soothe. He punctuated each rub with soft kisses, his lips trailing over the subtle marks left behind on your skin, trying to kiss away any lingering discomfort.

You were grateful for his gentle touch, melting into his embrace as he carefully tended to you. The warmth of his hands was soothing against your skin, and you couldn't help but sink deeper into the comfort he provided. You weren't hurt, but there was definitely a pleasant soreness settling into your muscles now. "That was...amazing," you breathed softly, your voice filled with contentment, "I mean...wow... I don't even know what to say..."

"You liked it?" Kurt asked, a gentle smile playing across his features as his hand splayed across your back, fingers working in slow, methodical circles to ease the tension around your hips.

"I didn't expect you to take the role so easily, or seriously..." You chuckled lightly, looking up at him from where you were comfortably nestled against his chest, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin. "But...it was fun. I mean, really fun. Did you enjoy it too? You didn't feel pressured into anything, right? I know it was kind of a weird request..."

"Of course not, liebe. I enjoyed it very much. Besides, seeing you so completely blissed out is one of my absolute favorite things to see...~" Kurt teased with a gentle smirk, his playful tone making you squirm as his tail lazily wrapped around your waist.

"Kurt..." You whined and quickly pulled the soft blanket nearby over your flushed body, burying your face against his chest, "We just finished! Don't get any ideas!"

"Okay, okay...no more play tonight. Just let Father Wagner take care of his precious little sinner now. You need your rest."

"Kurt!" You exclaimed, playfully swatting his arm despite the smile you couldn't quite hide. Regardless, you curled up as he continued to pamper you after the scene, his slow rubs and hums lulling you into a much needed nap.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Image from unknown source. I searched for over an hour to find the source but wasn't able to find it. If you know please message me so I can update this.

[nochedie]

intertwined, sewn together

pairing: sam winchester x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wordcount: 1k ish

summary: just some late night talking

a/n: hehe… um 😳 i actually haven’t written anything for 7 YEARS! and i haven’t ever written for spn before! so please be gentle with me 🙏 i am working on a soulless sam fic but it’s becoming pretty long soo i decided to just do a little fluffy drabble in the meantime! i have a migraine so im sorry if it makes little to no sense :) i read through a couple times and i cant tell if its bad or if i just hate my own writing (definitely the last one but it might be both 😌☝🏼) anyways i love sam and i needed some fluff! much love and please enjoy ��🏼

“do you ever think about… the future? for us?” you and sam were laying next to each other in the motel room double bed, alone in the room. dean was out at the nearest bar, and told you both not to wait up. you always cherished the alone time with sam.

he turned to face you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “all the time.”

“and what do you think about?” you took in each and every inch of his face, the sculpt of his jaw, his eyes which held a look of admiration as they looked into yours.

“i think about… one day being able to just… live. you know? me and you. forever.” his voice held some sadness. and you knew exactly why. you could think about this all you wanted, but the life you led… it could never be normal. sam had tried before, he had tried to be normal, tried to live a normal life. but everything fell apart. you knew he still felt that pain. he wanted so badly to be normal. but he was a winchester.

“maybe we can’t live some suburban life. but we don’t need that to live, sam… sure, our job is dangerous but… well we’re still here, aren’t we? we’ve made it this long.”

“y/n…” you reached out to touch his cheek, and his eyes closed at the feeling, completely relaxing into your touch. “i just… every single day i wake up and worry that something is going to happen to you.”

“hmm… it almost sounds like you don’t think i can fend for myself. you know i can beat a vampire with my bare hands!” you definitely could not.

sam’s laughter filled the room almost immediately, “oh, suddenly you have super strength?”

“you don’t know what i have.” you feigned offence, pulling out of his grasp and turning your body away from him.

“um… what do you think you’re doing?” he spoke between chuckles, slipping his arms around your torso, pulling you flush against him. “let me see your pretty face, love.”

“only if you admit that i have fists of steel and i could absolutely kill a vampire with no weapon.” sam had killed gordon with nothing more than a bit of wire, so this wasn’t the most unrealistic claim.

“right. you’re right, honey. vampires watch out! y/n’s coming! with… maybe chicken wire?”

“you’re mean.”

he practically erupted into laughter, more of an endearing laughter than anything else. he gave you a tight squeeze from behind, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“turn around please, honey. i promise i’ll stop.”

you heeded his request, turning in his embrace so that your faces were but centimetres apart.

“there you are.” he took a deep breath in as he studied every inch of your face, taking in each small detail, each feature which made up the face he loved so much.

you slid one arm around his torso and rest the other on his chest, shuffling as close as you could and letting your eyes close.

“you getting tired?” sam reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, leaving only a sliver of light in the room from the outside street lights.

“just a little. but let’s keep talking, okay?”

“alright, love. what do you want to talk about?” he shifted onto his back and put his arm around you, leading your head to rest against his shoulder, while one arm kept resting on his chest.

“chicken wire.” you stifled a laugh.

sam looked up at the ceiling, a wide smile plastered on his lips. these were his favorite moments with you, and he adored how you could immediately switch his mood.

this hunt in particular had been tough, but it was over now, and this was your last night in the motel before heading to sioux falls in the morning to meet with bobby. the hunt forced sam into some uncomfortable thoughts. you had come far too close to danger, and it sent him into a spiral worrying about you. he hadn’t even thought about what he would do if he lost you, but it felt like he had been hit head on by the thought. he really couldn’t live without you, he knew that for a fact. tonight, he was really feeling it. all he wanted to do was hold you close and never let go. but this conversation with you, your optimism and your smile, just you, allowed sam to feel a genuine content.

“i love you.” he whispered, planting a kiss on top of your head.

you hadn’t realised how tired you were, and you had already drifted to sleep. after a few minutes, sam did the same.

****

you opened your eyes to see sam looking back at you, already awake. “good morning, love.”

“good morning.” you stretched your limbs, sitting up in the bed before looking around the room. “dean didn’t come back last night?”

“he did, he went out to pack up the car. you slept in pretty late.”

“hmm.. well we better get ready and hit the road, then?”

“or… we could cuddle for a bit.” he tugged on your arm, attempting to coax you to lay back.

“sammy.. you just said i slept in pretty late.”

“and did i say that was a bad thing?” cue two more arm tugs.

just as you were about to lay back down and into sam’s arms, you heard a few knocks, followed by dean’s voice through the door. “cars packed up, you kids have got fifteen minutes or i’m leaving you behind!”

“i guess no cuddling today.” sam has to suppress a whine as he reluctantly gets out of bed.

“do you think we have time for a shower?”

“oh, definitely.” you jump out of bed and grab sam’s outstretched hand, following him into the bathroom.

[4ranghaes]

Pookie, I would love to hear your take on where do you think bonedo would love to kiss you most. Also I'm going feral for your new song fic line. YOURE DOING SO WELL I GUZZLE THEM UP‼️

Yours truly, 🎬

ot6 bnd x reader [separate classifications for each]

a/n - hey pookie my luv🎬💋 thank you so much!!!!!!! i hope you enjoy✨

sungho🎀 - top of the head! [fluff, gender neutral!reader]

“y/n.”

you groaned, stretching your body out, star-fished on the bed.

“y/n,” sungho repeated, brushing your bed-hair out of your face, a slight chuckle on his face at your screwed up expression.

“hmm, what?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep.

“i need to go to practise,” he whispered, taking your hands and pulling you so you were sat up in his bed, “i’ll be back just after lunch time cause some of the others have schedules this afternoon.”

“okay,” you spoke, unable to form much more of a sentence than that as you still tried to blink yourself awake in the dark room.

“make sure you’re up before then, okay? i’ll take you out to lunch,” sungho said, laughing at you slightly as you planted your feet on the floor, standing up in front of your boyfriend. “okay?”

you nodded, rubbing your eyes before blinking fully to take in his beautiful face. a smile graced your features, “okay.”

“good,” he said, groaning as he wrapped his arms around you, finding comfort in your body, “have a good day, okay?”

“you too,” you murmured into his warm chest, “don’t work too hard.”

sungho giggled, pressing a delicate kiss right on the top of your head, nuzzling his nose in the scent of you for a few moment after, “i won’t.”

you sighed, relaxing into his arms before sungho made a final whine, rubbing your back and pressing another kiss to the very top of your head before pulling away.

“okay, the boys are waiting for me,” he said, leaning down to match your eye level as he smiled, placing two fingers under your chin, “see you later, yeah?”

you nodded, quickly getting back under the duvet as sungho walked towards the door, ���lunch time.”

“lunch time!”

riwoo🦦🍡 - ear! [fluff, gender neutral!reader, use of real name]

“it’s busier than usual in here today,” you commented, looking around the small café that you and riwoo often chose to frequent. the coffee was good, and without the need to complicate the order by choosing the bean type; and the pastries were delicious, and small enough that you felt fine ordering a few to sample each time.

riwoo nodded, his lips naturally pouted as he looked around, “i suppose it’s cold these days, a lot of people come in just to warm up.”

you nodded, jokingly jeering at all the new faces, “they don’t know this place like we do.”

sanghyeok giggled, hiding his face in the back of your head, his hand lightly playing with the back of your neck. the two of you were sat next to each other on a bench facing the rest of the café, the window behind you was cold; but still protecting you from the minus temperatures outside.

“you’re right,” he conceded, with a knowing nod, “they really don’t.”

you giggled, turning to face you shy boyfriend. he smiled at you contently, “what?”

“what?!” he laughed, his face reddening.

“you’re looking at me weirdly,” you chuckled, turning back around to face the rest of the café, riwoo not taking his eyes off of you.

he leaned forward, murmuring in your ear quietly, “i love you.”

you smiled, he often did this, especially when you were in public. sanghyeok didn’t thrive off of public affection, but he always had a desire to let you know how much he loved you. you took his hand under the table, squeezing in reply.

his hot breath was hitting the shell of your ear, you could hear the mouth sounds as he smiled at your reply; before he finally kissed the shell of your ear gently - the final seal of his whispered words.

“i love you too,” you whispered as you turned to face him.

riwoo whined, turning your body back round, “stop! someone will hear you!”

jaehyun🪻🐕 - face! [fluff, fem terms used (girl, she/her pronouns), reader wears make-up]

“oh hey y/n,” taesan smiled, walking into the kitchen, pulling his headphones off as he saw you.

“hey sannie,” you greeted, watching as jaehyun waved energetically at his friend.

taesan chuckled, nodding and waving back, “hi jaehyun.”

myungjae laughed, “me and y/n are going on a picnic!”

sungho rolled his eyes from where he sat playing fifa on the floor, leehan laughing next to him, “stop telling us!”

“really?” taesan hummed, sounding uninterested.

any uninterest in his voice was not noticed by jaehyun, you’re sure, as hummed in reply to taesan, not once taking his eyes off you. finally deciding he was happy with the packing of the lunchbox, he came over to the table, placing everything into the cooler bag he’d prepared.

“are you ready to go?” he asked, glancing up at your face once again, breaking into a smile as soon as his eyes laid upon you.

you nodded, opening your mouth to reply, though before you could make any sound, myungjae’s hands were cupping your cheeks, his lips attacking any part of your face he could reach; your nose, your cheeks, your lips, your forehead.

“myungjae!” you cried, laughter escaping you as you gripped onto his arms, trying to pry him off you, “watch my make-up!”

jaehyun giggled, finally stopping his attack to rest his forehead against yours, slightly breathless. he leaned back again, hands still cupping your face as he pouted his lips, “you look so pretty, today! my girl.”

“leave her alone,” leehan laughed.

“what? i can’t tell my girl she’s pretty?!” jaehyun exclaimed, jeering at his teasing members with disappointed noises, before turning back to you with a smile, “so gorgeous. ah i got some lipstick on your– hold on—”

he used his thumb gently, swiping the smudged lipstick off your cheek before sighing contently, “okay! let’s go?”

you nodded, taking his hand, “let’s go, finally.”

“hyungs! i’m here,” woonhak announced, kicking off his shoes as he entered the dorm.

“woonhak! we’re going on a picnic!”

you laughed, placing a hand on myungjae’s face as you kissed his cheek, “they know, baby, they know.”

taesan🎸🐈‍⬛ - hands/knuckles! [fluff, gender neutral!reader]

“are you hungry, by the way?” taesan asked, taking his eyes off your phone as you were scrolling through tiktok together to look up at your face, “shall i get some snacks, or drinks?”

“hmm, i’m a bit hungry,” you murmured, slowly digging your face into his neck out of shyness.

“mm, okay! don’t worry,” he spoke cooly, bringing your intertwined hands up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles before jumping up and walking to the kitchen and opening up a cupboard which you could see was full of both yours’ and his favourite snacks. you smiled as he looked around, calling out to see what you wanted.

“the crisps please!” you smiled, making grabby hands in his direction, “and some chocolate too.”

“okay!” he said energetically, nodding as he decided on the snacks, sauntering back over to you. he threw them on your lap before grabbing your wrist and pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. this behaviour was such a regular occurrence from taesan, you didn’t even notice, using your other hand to grab the crisps off your lap.

“do you want to watch a movie?” you asked as you got your hand back, picking up the remote.

taesan nodded enthusiastically, remaining wordless as he tucked into his own snacks.

“what shall we watch?” you hummed, “love, rosie?!”

taesan gasped, nodding, “definitely.”

you looked at him, both of you nodding excitedly before you laughed, collapsing against his body and scrolling through the tv to turn on the film.

your body was fully laid against taesan’s, one of his arms slung over your shoulder comfortably, his legs intertwined with your own. his other hand was holding yours, playing with your fingers as his eyes didn’t leave the screen.

you shifted your body, leaving a kiss on his collar bone as you did so, taesan looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“what?”

“don’t do that,” he laughed, “it’s ticklish.”

“yeah?” you teased, moving your lips closer to his collar bone as he squirmed to get away, never letting go of your hand, “it’s ticklish, is it? yeah?”

he squealed, using his other hand to grab your face, squishing your cheeks together and your lips into a pout, “stop! y/n!”

you laughed, scrunching up your nose as he let go of your face, shaking his head and pointing to the screen. “just watch the film, idiot.”

you giggled, settling back into your cuddling position, eyes falling back on the screen, before, “dongmin-ah. can i have a drink?”

he was already readying to get up when he replied, “of course!”

he pressed a kiss to your knuckles before letting go and walking to the kitchen.

leehan🪸🐠 - lips! [fluff, gender neutral!reader]

“i’m home,” leehan spoke into your seemingly empty apartment.

“in the bedroom!” you called, placing your phone down on the bed beside you and looking to the door expectantly.

leehan smiled, just where he left you, he thought, taking his shoes off and dumping his bag before walking to the bedroom that was now often occupied by both you and him, rather than just you.

“hello darling,” he smiled, shutting the door behind him.

“donghyun-ie,” you beamed, reaching your arms up for him to come into. he did as expected, crawling up the bed until he finally collapsed onto your body, you let out a groan at the weight as you wrapped your arms around him and allowed yourself to enjoy the comfort of him. “ugh, i missed you, my baby.”

leehan smiled, resting his chin on your chest as he looked up at you. you brushed his long hair out his face, holding it back with the fake glasses resting on his nose.

“i missed you too,” he murmured, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of your hands playing with his hair, “what did you do today?”

“hmm, i showered,” you said slowly, thinking over the day of not very much while your boyfriend had completed his comeback practise, “i cleaned. i played the sims.”

leehan chuckled, burying his face in your chest and taking a deep breath, “of course. did you leave the house?”

“yep! i went grocery shopping,” you smiled, running your hands down his strong arms, “gonna make you dinner tonight. and i got wine.”

he giggled, looking up at you again, “sounds amazing, darling.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

you fell into silence, leehan’s loving gaze focused on your face as you studying his overworked body. he had bandages over most of his joints for support and bruises up his legs and arms. you traced them gently with your fingers.

“love you,” he whispered, bringing your attention to his face.

you smiled, “love you too, donghyun.”

he sighed, hoisting himself up on his arms so he was hovering over your body before leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. when he pulled away, you were smiling up at him. he smiled back.

with a content sigh, he leaned back down, almost chasing after your lips with kiss after kiss. your hand tangled in the back of his hair, now returning to it’s natural colour after the blonde had grown out.

leehan’s hand cupped your cheek, stroking gently. finally, a last kiss was left on your lips, as he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“i’m kind of hungry.”

you chuckled, nodding, “let’s cook then, hmm?”

he nodded, leaning down to press a last kiss to your lips before getting off the bed and helping you off too, “what’s for dinner then, hmm?”

woonhak🧸 - temple! [fluff, gender neutral!reader]

“ah i don’t want to!” he yelled, shaking his shoulders as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“woonhak-ah,” you laughed, “let’s just wash up now, and then we don’t have to do anything for the rest of the night! we can use it as leverage!”

woonhak looked at you with a bummed out look before nodding solemnly. “fine. stupid bets. never liked them anyway.”

you burst out laughing, beginning to haul the dirty dishes from the table to the sink, “don’t lie! you’re always the one to suggest them!”

woonhak chuckled, humming with a shrug, “maybe that’s true.”

the two of you fell into silence as you cleaned up the kitchen after the dinner shared with his members, woonhak sighing dramatically at the last stretch as he stood beside you drying dishes with a cloth.

“so close!” you cheered, looking at the last two dishes you had to clean.

woonhak’s lips were in a natural, tired pout as he nodded wordlessly. you laughed, drying your hand off and reaching up to cup his face.

“i’m okay,” he said, shrugging your touch off, “let’s keep going.”

you nodded with a smile, beginning to wash up the penultimate plate, and then the last. woonhak let out a cheer as he took the plate from you, watching you finally dry your hands.

“we did it!” he smiled, leaning forward to place the plate in the cupboard, leaving a chaste kiss on your temple as he did so.

you giggled, turning around and looping your arms around his neck, nuzzling into his body as he hugged your waist, “go and get in the shower, babe, you’re tired.”

woonhak hummed, pulling away and rubbing his eyes, “i have to win the bet tomorrow.”

“just stop making bets!” you laughed, rolling your eyes jokingly.

“nah,” woonhak smiled, shaking his head. he wrapped his arms around you from behind, the two of you shuffling out the kitchen, “go and get into bed, i’ll be in in a sec.”

“yep,” you nodded, woonhak leaving a couple short, loving kisses to your temple as he let go of your body, walking into the bathroom. “hurry up! i have to go home soon!”

woonhak whined, “why does it never go my way.”

[wadewnstonwilson]

older boyfriend wade wilson headcanons || suggestion by anonymous

pairing: wade wilson (deadpool) x genderneutral!reader

author note: let me know if you guys want me to make this into an actual fic!! also would love to make more headcanons in the future featuring logan or wade so please feel free to drop me an ask!

wade’s protective streak is amplified by the age gap. he knows you’re young and still figuring life out, so he’s hyper-aware of anything or anyone that might cause you stress. whether it’s a professor being unfair or a creep at a party, wade’s ready to swoop in. “do you want me to talk to them? or, y’know, scare the crap out of them? either works.”

wade’s surprisingly good at helping you study—mostly because he makes it fun. he’ll quiz you with ridiculous impressions, draw crude diagrams that somehow make sense, or turn your flashcards into a card game. if you’re struggling with a tough class, he’s your biggest cheerleader, reminding you of how smart you are even when you doubt yourself.

wade can’t stand seeing you stressed about money, especially when you’re juggling work and school. he’ll casually slip extra cash into your wallet or “accidentally” order way too much takeout so you have leftovers for days. if you protest, he brushes it off. “relax, baby, i’m just investing in my future sugar parent.”

wade constantly jokes about the age gap, calling himself a “cradle robber” or making exaggerated comments about how “back in his day,” things were different. it’s all in good fun, though, and he loves how your younger energy keeps him on his toes. “you’re like my very own personal time machine, babe. you make me feel young again. except for my knees—those still hate me.”

despite his humor, wade sometimes wrestles with insecurity about the age difference. he worries he’s too damaged or experienced for you and questions whether he’s holding you back. he doesn’t voice it often, but it’s clear in the way he sometimes pulls away or gets quiet when he sees you thriving in your college world.

wade is your rock during stressful times. when finals season rolls around, he’s there to remind you to take breaks, eat, and sleep. he might even bribe you with snacks or cuddles to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. “you can’t ace that exam if you’re running on fumes, babe. now eat this chimichanga before i cry.”

wade loves whisking you away from the monotony of college life for spontaneous dates. whether it’s midnight runs to a 24-hour diner or an impromptu road trip, he makes sure you’re not missing out on fun just because you’re busy with school.

while wade doesn’t want to overstep, he occasionally drops bits of wisdom from his own life experiences. if you’re struggling with a decision or feeling lost, he’s there to listen and gently nudge you in the right direction. “look , i’ve made enough dumb choices for the both of us. let me save you some trouble, okay?”

wade tries not to let it show, but he sometimes feels a little insecure about your college friends, especially if they’re closer to your age. he won’t stop you from hanging out with them, but he might throw in a sarcastic comment or two. “sure, go hang with your study group. but if any of them so much as *looks* at you funny, i’m calling in reinforcements. and by reinforcements, i mean me.”

wade tries to keep you at arm’s length sometimes, convinced that you deserve someone less complicated, someone who hasn’t been through what he has. but the more he tries to push you away, the more he finds himself drawn back to you. you have a way of breaking down his walls, and it terrifies him—because he wants you, but he also wants to protect you from him.

wade makes an effort to understand your college life, even if it’s wildly different from his world. he’ll attend your events, help with projects, and even try to keep up with your academic lingo (though it usually ends in a joke). “So, gpa stands for ‘great partner award,’ right? because you definitely deserve that.”

wade is constantly hyping you up, especially when you feel overwhelmed or unsure of yourself. “you’re the smartest, most badass person i know, and i know me. you’ve got this, kiddo.”

when you graduate, wade is your loudest, proudest supporter. he makes a huge deal out of it, throwing an over-the-top celebration just for you. “you did it, smarty-pants! now, can we frame your degree and put it in the bathroom? best reading material ever.”

despite his doubts and insecurities, wade’s love for you is clear in everything he does. from the way he kisses your forehead when you’re stressed to the ridiculous lengths he’ll go to make you smile, he’s all in—even if he sometimes worries he doesn’t deserve to be.

[darksigns-exe]

35. you know where to find me - jolly karlsson x readder

warnings: handjobs (m receiving), oral sex (m receiving), swearing, a little bit of angst

word count: 1.3k

note: for @baddestomens 🩷

masterlist | (not so) secret prompt fics masterlist | taglist sign-up

You’ve known Jolly for ages. 

Seeing him this defeated actually broke your heart a little. You know how much hope he had placed into this fledgling relationship. Sure, you can’t imagine that dating someone with a schedule as packed as his is easy, but that doesn’t mean that he deserves to be shot down like that. 

He’d shown you the messages when he’d shown up at your door late at night. She hadn’t even managed to tell him in person that this couldn’t work no matter how hard we try – her words. 

Being the ever faithful friend you are, you had offered him the pull-out sofa in your living room for as long as he wanted it. You’d prepared everything for him, after you had ushered him into the bathroom, insisting that a shower would make him feel at least a little bit better. 

By the time he re-emerged from the bathroom, you had put one of your pillows and your comfiest duvet out for him. The crease is still present in his brow, but he looks a little less broken. 

You wrap him into a tight hug, not allowing any discussions. 

“Get some sleep. You know where to find me if you need me.” you tell him, trying not to sound as if you pity him too much. 

He mumbles a quiet thank you, before you leave him alone for the night. He knows your place well enough to not feel like a stranger, he’ll be okay. 

You can’t tell how late it is when the door to your bedroom opens with a creak. Jolly pushes into your room, quietly closing the door behind him. 

“Do you mind if I sleep here?” 

You scoot over, without giving him a reply. Jolly doesn’t make a move forward until you pat the now empty side of the bed.

He finds a comfortable spot quite quickly, only shifting around for a few moments. You can barely make out the features of his face in the dim light, but the frown on his face is still so very obvious.

“I don’t want to feel alone tonight.” he says quietly. 

In all the years you have known him, you’ve never seen him like this. 

You reach out, placing your hand against his cheek. Jolly practically sinks into your touch. Deep down, you know that you shouldn’t do this, you shouldn’t even be thinking about this when he’s still hurting this much. 

You feel a hand curling around your waist. 

“Can I do something to help?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. 

You can’t deny that Jolly is attractive, he’s charming and caring and really everything you’re looking for. And maybe that had been part of the reason why you had never tried to move this into a different direction. He gets fawned over by so many people that little old you can’t be that impressive.

You’re his friend. 

Friends don’t touch each other like this, though. 

Jolly’s hand dips under your shirt. 

Your thoughts are a constant loop of we shouldn't we shouldn’t we shouldn’t.  

His hand flexes on your waist, “We shouldn’t” he says quietly. 

“I know.”  

His hand slowly moves upwards, as if he’s waiting for you to tell him to stop. But you can’t, and you know that you won’t ask him to stop. 

You force yourself to sit up eventually. For a moment, you think that he looks a little disappointed that you’re breaking away from him so quickly. 

“Will you let me do something for you?” you ask, trying to hide the shakiness of your voice, behind a brave face. 

“I – yes. Sure.” he sounds just as nervous as you feel. 

“On your back.” you say then, already moving yourself into position, “This is – it’s not crossing any lines. It’s just —”

“Just something between friends.” 

You swallow down the stinging. Without you needing to say anything about it, Jolly seems to know what you want from him. He quickly slips out of his sweats and underwear. You feel your insides heat when you let your eyes wander across his body. You’ve seen him without a shirt plenty of times. Seeing him entirely bare now makes your head spin. 

His eyes stay fixed on you when you trail your fingers up his thighs. You feel his skin prickle beneath your fingers, hairs standing upright in the wake of your touch. 

You finally build up the courage to wrap your hand around his cock. 

Jolly draws in a sharp breath, and you can’t help but smile a little. 

His skin is warm under your palm. With a little spit, you soon find a comfortable rhythm. You keep your movements slow, trying to draw things out just a little bit. It’s selfish, really, but watching his breath quicken with every pass of your hand over the head of his cock is just too delicious. His staggered breathing quickly turns into moans. Jolly rubs a hand across his face, while the other grips into the duvet next to him. 

“Fuck, your hand feels so good.” he groans. 

You drag your thumb across the tip, smearing the precum that has leaked from his across his skin. His hips buck up against your hand so desperately. You almost want to give in and ask him if he needs more, but having this man at your mercy is just too good of a sight. 

You decide to keep one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, while the other works across his length in slow, steady movements. From the sounds he makes, it must be just enough to keep him on the edge, but not enough for him to finish. And that’s exactly where you intend to keep him for the moment. 

His sighs and groans fill your head with fuzz. You briefly consider slipping a hand between your thighs, but ultimately decide that this moment is just about him. 

“Getting close?” you ask after a while. 

You’re happy to keep touching him like this, but you also don’t want to turn a good thing bad. 

“Just a little more. I’m so close.” 

He sounds as if he’s barely keeping himself together at this point. If he wants more, you’ll give him more. You lean down, dragging the flat of your tongue across his tip. 

In response, Jolly draws in a shaky gasp. 

You had hoped that he’d react like that. You repeat the motion, until you’ve built up the courage to take him between your lips. It doesn’t take a lot of this for him to fall over the edge. 

Jolly spills across your tongue. The groans that fall from his lips are interrupted by curses in his native tongue. You can feel his thighs flex around you as he struggles against the instinct to push his hips upwards. 

You’re just as breathless when you pull away from him. 

His head is tipped back, his neck exposed so beautifully. 

You untangle yourself from him, returning to your original position next to him. Jolly stares at the ceiling for a moment longer, before he finally looks at you. 

“Thank you, dear. Fuck that was – that was so good.” 

His chest heaves, as he comes down from his high. You don’t think that he’s ever been more beautiful. 

“Always happy to help out.” you offer. 

The wording feels so clumsy, but you suddenly don’t know how to move on from this situation. In the corner of your vision, you can just see Jolly struggling back into his underwear. Once he’s done, he flips onto his side, patting the spot in front of him. 

“Come here, will you?” he asks softly. 

You can’t possibly say no to him. 

As soon as you’re within reach, he wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you even closer against him. 

“We’ll talk about this in the morning. You might have to give me a little while to get over this, but – I don’t think that this has to be a one time thing. If you want that.” 

His hand is so warm and comfortable on your belly, it eases the rabbit quick beat of your heart at least a little. 

“Try to get some sleep. We have all the time in the world.”

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

@shilohrosechicken @poisongirl616 @mysticdoodlez @agravemisstake @th4t-em0-k1d

@thisbicc @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @mrsnoahsebastian @blackveilomens @sorrowsofsilence

@fadingangelwisp @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisisntablogspost @tintadecirco

@rumoured-whispers @cheyyyyr @mathfairchild1 @thewrstinme @Follow-me-down-to-wonderland

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: midway through writing this, i realized it got too romantic, and then i changed my writing music and it suddenly all became clear looool here's your smut (even though i initially thought this fic was going to be way smuttier)

part 15: the king and his queen

word count: 2,831 tag: @bruhidkjustwannaread | @rubyxx16 | @immyowndefender

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Tommy sat in the office of the Garrison, cigarette in hand, staring at the reports spread across his desk. His expression was unreadable, but the sharp set of his jaw betrayed his tension. The fire at your bookshop had been days ago, but the fallout lingered like smoke in the air, thick and suffocating.

The door creaked open, and Arthur, John, Finn, and Michael filed in, their faces unusually grim. Arthur carried a small red notebook and what looked like a charred photo in his hand.

Tommy barely glanced up. “How bad was it?”

“There wasn't much we could do, Tom,” John said, his tone unusually subdued. "There were some books in the back that were saved, but the structure is lost."

Tommy’s eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “What else?”

Arthur stepped forward, dropping the photo and notebook onto Tommy’s desk. “Thought we might find somethin’ useful, but a lot of it was gone.” He hesitated, his usual bravado replaced with an uneasy edge. “Found this instead.”

Tommy reached for the photo first. It was warped at the edges from the fire, but the image was clear enough. He studied the man's features. Photographs usually told so little, but from this small glimpse of a face from your life—one he assumed had not resurfaced since your time in Birmingham—he found himself retreat. His usual firm hold on his emotions faltered at the sight of a man who could have meant so much to you.

Finn, standing off to the side, muttered, “Guessin’ that’s someone she cared about.”

Michael crossed his arms. “We found it in her desk. Buried under a pile of papers—like she didn’t want to see it but couldn’t bring herself to throw it away.”

Tommy turned the photo over, finding a date and a name scrawled in your handwriting: Ezra—1919.

“What else?” Tommy asked, his voice calm but commanding.

Arthur put his hand on the red notebook and slid it forward. "Haven't opened it yet, but it's hers."

Tommy ran his fingers over the leather. The temptation to pry it open and dive deeper into your thoughts coursed through his arm, but he resisted. He placed his hand down firmly on the journal with a heavy sigh. The last time he pried into your life, you met him head on. Unlike then, you wouldn't have expected anyone, let alone him, to see into the very depths of your soul. He didn't know why, but the thought unsettled him. He wondered when it had become such a priority to consider your privacy as something of importance.

Michael leaned forward, his voice sharp. “Should we try to find him?”

John tapped the photo. “Whoever he is, he meant something to her. For all we know, he's the cause of all this. Maybe he's involved.”

Tommy stared at the picture again, his mind working like clockwork. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s the reason she’s running.”

Finn frowned. “Think he’s dead?”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. His eyes lingered on the man—Ezra's face until the features had solidified in his mind. He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, standing up and pocketing the photo. “I’ll talk to her.”

Arthur scoffed. “And if she doesn’t tell you?”

“She will." Tommy’s eyes were cold as steel. "In time. Don't tell her what you found. She's still healing.”

As the others filed out, Tommy stayed behind, his hand brushing over the photograph in his pocket. Whoever Ezra had been, whatever happened to him, Tommy knew it held the key to understanding your past. And perhaps, at last, everything would finally unravel.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The early evening light filtered through the tall windows of Arrow House, bathing the room in a golden glow. You sat in a plush armchair near the fire, a book balanced on your lap, though you hadn’t turned a page in some time. Your wounds had closed, and what remained was the budding presence of scars, ones that wouldn't soon fade. The physical wounds may have mended, but the ache beneath the surface lingered, more persistent than you wanted to admit.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Tommy always walked with a deliberate purpose, a rhythm you’d come to recognize.

“Come to regale me with another story of a good day at the race?” you said without looking up, your voice tinged with dry amusement.

“Not today,” he replied, stepping into the room. “If those stories don't interest you, I will tell Arthur to stop.”

You chuckled, just loud enough for him to hear. “If that is what enthuses Arthur, then who am I to stop him? Better than him trying to watch me like an injured bird trying to take flight.”

Tommy moved to stand near the mantle, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as they studied you. The photograph of Ezra still lay safely in his pocket. He continuously tucked it away, convincing himself that now wasn't the right time to ask you. Eventually, it became routine to slip it back into his pocket in the hopes that it was finally time. His fingers toyed with its edges, the presence of your past trying to escape into the open.

But he couldn't. As the days past, you looked more and more at peace. You'd settled into a new routine. Finn brought books back to Arrow House, and while none of them knew what it actually was that you liked to read, they all started to recognize your true glimpses at contentment. Whether it was a book or a conversation that had no hint of duplicity, there was a part of you that was perfectly capable of what some considered to be a normal life. The possibility of shattering this and bringing you back into his world weighed heavier on his shoulders than he would have ever imagined.

Eventually, you grew used to his presence. You sighed from your place by the fire, gently massaging your shoulder. With one hand, you unbuttoned the first few inches of your shirt and eased the collar down to reach the ache. Tommy's eyes drifted to the newborn scar, but then his gaze wandered to your chest. Your breaths were soft and steady, a tempo that matched the ticking of the clock behind him.

“You're healing well." He broke the silence. Your eyes flickered up to him with a soft smile in acknowledgement.

“Like I said before,” you replied, closing the book and setting it aside. “I do not control how a body heals, even less so, my own.”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. With the slightest movement of your shoulder, Tommy found himself staring at the scar again, and, as if it were a reflex, he reached for his own. Now a part of his chest, he realized it was just like yours. Tommy’s eyes lingered on your face, searching for something beneath your composed exterior. You tilted your head to the side, eyes fluttering shut with a melodic hum.

No—not now. He couldn't ask you about Ezra now. This moment was so fleeting, and the second he asked, it would be gone forever. If only for today, he wanted to savor this—you both peacefully existing in the same room without any threats from the outside. It was a selfish decision, and he readily accepted that it was his own.

Tommy didn't know what he was doing when he approached you and reached for the scar, but as if sensing this was a gesture of curiosity, you let him. His fingers were warm and almost soothing as they ran over the fresh patch of skin like he was studying it.

For the briefest second, you tensed, your hand brushing absently over your side where the second wound lay tucked away. Tommy quietly retreated, but before he could step back, you grabbed his wrist and stood.

You let out a heavy breath, eyes shutting again in thought. Still holding his arm, you guided his hand to the buttons that were still clasped and nodded.

"You were a gentleman then," you nodded, mostly to yourself. "Telling Arthur and John to leave. I already felt... Exposed. Naked—just from the wounds alone and being seen like that. But, still, you told them to leave, so it wouldn't be so bad. Don't think I didn't notice, Tommy."

Tommy's fingers stayed on the top button like he was still processing if the gesture was an act of repayment or the giving of permission.

"If you need to see it for peace of mind, then you can," you whispered. The usual confidence in your tone dampened into a soft pitch.

He told himself he was doing this because he needed to see if you were telling the truth—that the wound had actually closed and was now just another scar. In reality, he didn't know his intentions. It could still have been a need, but it was one with weak conviction.

Tommy undid the rest of your shirt and parted it just enough to see the second scar. Your arms stayed relaxed at your sides, your face still but forlorn, as he touched the wound gently enough to make you shiver. He pressed the palm of his hand against your waist, firm and steadying.

He stepped closer, and your lungs filled with the scent that had accompanied you to dreams for many nights, always by your side. Tommy looked down at your as if he was silently seeking permission. Though, in truth, he didn't know what he was asking for.

As if seeing the war raging in his head, you reached for his neck and pulled him towards you. You rested your lips against his with a sigh—at last, feeling what you denied yourself weeks ago. Just a taste of him was enough, you told yourself. Just one.

Unlike then, he didn't move with urgency. He simply waited for you to make the decision. If it was just a kiss, then that's all it was. For once, he accepted this was out of his control.

You pulled back, eyes bearing into his with a seriousness one only experienced in the face of a choice that would not soon be presented again—or at all.

"Listen to me, Thomas Shelby," you whispered. Your stare commanded his to never tear away from yours as you spoke, insisting without words to hear you clearly because you wouldn't repeat yourself again. "I am not something to be won because I am earned."

Tommy's breath flitted across your skin as you spoke, and in your words, you showed him that your guard could go up at any moment. But for the moment, you were letting him acknowledge the mask of pain and power, one that only you possessed and chose to grace him with. The burden of understanding you wasn't not something easily given.

"If I give myself to you, I'm never taking any of it back." You spoke so firmly, the weight of your words forcing him to listen. "And if you give yourself to me, I am never letting you go."

He told you once that your purpose of being here would come out whether you dared to say it out loud or not. While you couldn't bring yourself to say this gently, you said it regardless.

"Every mistake you've ever made until now means nothing to me. But if this is a mistake—one you will come to regret, then tell me now. Tell me what you want." Your grip on his neck intensified with the slight twitch of your fingers. "That's why I'm here. That's why I made my choice. It scares you to crave, but it terrifies you to need. If you tell me now that I am a passing craving, then you've proved a point—that this was just business. But if you need me, all I want is for you to say it. And mean it."

It wasn't a threat. This was a declaration of self-preservation over the fantasy of possibilities.

For a moment, Tommy stayed silent.

He'd loved before, loved countless times to the point where it all might have been meaningless—just fleeting moments where he felt love, but it never lingered. And now, with your intentions finally out in the open, he understood. Your goal was to force him to experience it all—the pain and the loss. To be loved and respected. To choose to be alone no longer, and to understand what it meant to choose someone because he needed them and not because he wanted them for the moment.

You wanted him to face the inevitable—that loving someone wasn't a choice. But to love someone who was truly good for him, who didn't just love the idea of what he could be—that was a choice.

And he made his decision.

Tommy gripped your waist, sliding your shirt over your shoulders until it fell to the floor around your ankles. With a solitary sigh, he kissed you again, still as gentle as the first.

"I need you."

The words rang in your ears like an autumn breeze numbing summer's heat. And all at once, his lips found you again. His touch was tender, methodically moving in a way that still treated you as fragile beneath his fingertips. He carried you to the bed, his lips trailing down your neck, peppering you with kisses until all you felt was the need he'd suppressed for so long.

You sat up, taking his face in your hands. His eyes searched yours for permission, and with the soft nod of your head, his hands wandered your body, discovering and adventuring across your skin. He slipped his shirt off, and your eyes landed on the scar on his chest.

You reached for it, seeing in a different way how similar you both were. This was not an attempt to put the other back together, but a way to hold the broken pieces to the light and admire the sunlight between the cracks. To love the other earnestly and honestly, and to hope in desperation and the fear of never loving again.

Tommy watched you as you straddled him. You eased him into you with a long drawn out sigh, pressing your forehead against his. With one hand, he steadied your waist, guiding you as your hips moved, and with the other, he held your cheek with the gentle stroke of his thumb.

He sighed against your neck, groaning every time he slid inside you, the full length of him feeling the warmth of your walls. He admired you as you grinded into him, the last of your defenses crumbling down at his touch. There was no more need for words. Tommy let you take him in whatever way you desired. He didn't care if you were using him for your own pleasure. All that mattered was that you accepted his need, reciprocated with your own carnal desire to claim him.

Slowly, the mood changed. Your eyes darkened as it suddenly settled in that, together, this was something new. It wasn't just romance. It was the molding of the power you both held. Others only alluded that together, you and Tommy could set the world on fire—if that was what you desired. He held the match, and you soaked it with gasoline. At your command, he would set the world ablaze and build you a throne from the ashes and debris.

Tommy laid you back down on the bed and lowered himself in between your legs. He gripped your thighs, taking pleasure in how you writhed from the motions of his tongue. He hummed against your core, his mouth moving with an urgency that mimicked his need and hunger. You threw your head back with a gasp as his tongue plunged deep inside you, curling and pulling you against his face.

He pulled you closer, lapping up the dampness dripping down his chin. You gripped his hair, urging him to keep going until you felt that tug in the pit of your stomach. Your legs clenched, and with a guttural moan, you came until you twisted onto your stomach, riding the high as you spilled out onto the bed. Tommy positioned himself above you and slid back into your pulsing core. He eased himself inside you, taking a hold of your chest and holding you against him. He panted against your neck, his tongue dragging against your skin like no amount of your taste was enough. With a final thrust, he collapsed, his hips still grinding against you to draw out the ecstasy.

You panted, keeping a firm grip on the sheets until he was gentle once more. He kissed your shoulder with a sigh. Tommy's lips curled into a knowing grin, and you met his expression with equal satisfaction.

The game has changed with an entirely new board. The King has his Queen, and it was only a matter of time before the world would feel the ground rumble beneath their feet.

[swordsmans]

another book delivered, and now i can talk about it! it was a pleasure and a delight to bind this one piece anthology for my wonderful friend @wytchcore / @toxinspired, just in time to visit elijah and @the-furthest-city-light for thanksgiving in (checks calendar) less than 48 hours. this bind also features art for elijah's title fic by the wonderful @starshipcaptainjojo (whose one piece volumes ive been using as photo props for the last year) and @nairi-0, found here and here <3

this anthology is a little quarto-sized bastardized three-piece bradel with a two-piece layered lotka and cardstock/chiyogami cover paper and chiyogami endpapers. the covers are 20pt chipboardwith cutouts exposing HTV titling on a chipboard/chiyogami-covered 50pt base, and the edges are faux-gilded with three layers of navy matte and light blue metallic paint.

the spine is very simply covered in black bookcloth, but i had the most fun sewing the endbands for this little bind. i spent two full days practicing a double-core version before finally settling on a single core medieval style inspired by some of of @ghostlandtoo's endbands. thank you ghost for being such a good sport about my interrogation--i couldnt have done it without you!! i also included a double-wound 4mm emerald green silk bookmark with a gold tangerine charm, because of course.

and now some typeset photos~

this was my first bind completed start-to-finish since april (with previous binds this year all having been started at least partially pre-april) and general mishaps (glue seepage, my enemy) aside, im overall very pleased with how it turned out--and even happier that its finally in elijahs hands... just in time!

[luins]

wip wednesday

i wasn't tagged directly but i did see @eddiebabygirldiaz and @sharpbutsoft share their wips on my dash (which i am SAT for btw 👀) and felt inspired to share the thing i've been working for the past week.

i've shared parts of this before. it's for my "didn't know they were dating and buck absolutely loses his mind trying to find out who eddie's new boyfriend is" fic, which right now is titled code red in my docs for reasons (but that name will most likely change).

Eddie furrows his brow again. “I wouldn’t make you sleep on the couch, Buck.” There’s that rosy flush to his cheeks again. 

Now it’s Buck’s turn to furrow his brow. He really does feel sick now, the unease in his entire body growing, as he brings himself to ask, “How would your boyfriend feel about that?” 

Eddie, to his credit, looks just as confused as Buck is feeling right now. He pulls away his hand - Buck once again tracks the movement - and lets it fall uselessly to his side. “I- what? I don’t know. How would my boyfriend feel about that?”

He’s looking at Buck like he knows the answer. 

“I think I should head home,” Buck decides after a long silence during which he and Eddie just stare at each other. 

Eddie’s face falls. “Okay.” 

Just for a moment, he looks completely devastated. Buck can see the muscles in his jaw working as he schools his features into a mask of neutrality again and steps aside so that he’s no longer between Buck and the door. 

Buck flexes his fingers, tightening his grip on his duffel bag. For some reason, he feels like he just made the wrong decision but- he can’t spend the night in Eddie’s bed when Eddie has a boyfriend. That’s a line he won’t allow himself to cross. 

Before he is able to actually make it out the door, Eddie reaches out and holds him by the arm. “Just… Text me when you’re home, please?” 

“Of course,” Buck replies automatically. How can he not when Eddie is looking at him with his big brown pleading eyes? It seems to be enough for Eddie, because he lets him go after that. 

Once he’s in the Jeep, Buck puts his forehead against the steering wheel and lets out a deep sigh.

i don't really have anyone to tag but i AM tagging some mutuals in case you do have something you would like to share. 😌🥰 @sleepylothcatbuck @eddiesbian @moonyslesbian @markofalover @cafecitoeddie @girldadbuckley

[bulkyphrase]

Post-CACW Stony: a fic rec list

I've been on a Captain America: Civil War kick lately, and since I know that Steve-friendly CW Stony fic can be hard to find, I've put together a rec list!

I am thoroughly team cap, but these range from being anti-accords to just not getting into the issue, and all are Steve-friendly as long as you can accept a lot little loving Steve-whump.

Atlas by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 11,505 words)

Summary: They don't hear each other.

Eigengrau by vorkosigan (@the-vorkosigan) (Teen And Up Audiences, 16,811 words)

Summary: Tony is captured; he doesn't know by whom, or why. He doesn't know how much time has passed since. What he knows is, he can now hear something in the adjacent cell, and that 'something' sounds a lot like Steve Rogers.

Nights When the Wolves Are Silent, and Only the Moon Howls by Cluegirl, Defiler_Wyrm (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, 77,612 words)

Note: has a Stucky element too, but the relationship between Steve and Tony is the main focus.

Summary: “Could you drop all that stoic shit and be my freaking-the-hell-out wingman for just like, five seconds here?” Steve wasn’t sure he could think of anything he wanted less to do than to freak out about his wounds just then though, so he reached across his chest and gingerly patted Sam’s clenched knuckles. “It’ll be fine,” he promised, believing it. “Serum’s handled worse.” “You know, I actually believe you,” Sam allowed after a long second of glaring. “Which is deeply alarming, considering how much of your connective tissue I’ve touched in the last 4 hours. Now you wanna tell me what Russoff’s men did to you that made it look like you got mauled by a bear?” Steve flinched, then breathed the memory down to size. “Not a bear,” he murmured. “Wolves.”

More below the cut!

(trust me when i say) i'll get back to you by machi_kun (@machi-kun) (General Audiences, 1,549 words)

Summary: “Me and Rogers are not on speaking terms anymore.”

An Infinite Number Of Monkeys At Typewriters (Or, Steve and Tony Finally Get It Right) by JenTheSweetie (@jenthesweetie) (Mature, 18,864 words)

Summary: Tony blinked up at the face staring down at him. This was impossible. This was definitely 100% not possible, he had not just started giving a good morning handy to - “Steve?” After the events of Civil War, Tony and Steve wake up in bed next to each other in an alternate universe. It goes about as well as you'd expect it to.

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep by Cluegirl (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 152,765 words)

Summary: They all made mistakes. They all have regrets. They all have nightmares, suspicions, and questions they'd like to ask. And they all left business behind them that was never quite finished. This is the story of how the Avengers ask those questions, get their answers, and come together like fucking adults to make things right again.

Bring Him Home by seventymilestobabylon (@seventymilestobabylon) (Explicit, 13,769 words)

Summary: Tony misses Steve very badly after the Accords. Some days he deals with it better than other days. (a fic featuring the booty call flip phone, minor kidnappings, and time jumps between chapters because the election has been happening and my brain has been too mush to make a proper plot)

Conjugal Visits by xtricks (Explicit, 4,252 words)

Summary: AU: Steve Rogers gets captured fairly soon after Civil War and sent to the Raft. Tony discovers that trying to appease your enemies doesn’t work and ends up a prisoner too.

Down Came the Rain by captainoutoftime (@captain-outoftime) (Explicit, 75,274 words)

Summary: A mission goes badly for Natasha, who is discovered de-aged to three years old. She recognizes no one, but every kid knows Captain America. When Tony grudgingly makes a call, Steve makes good on his promise to answer. Steve has to work together with Tony to take care of a traumatized child and figure out how to turn their itsy bitsy spider back into a Black Widow. Neither of them really want to talk about what happened in Siberia, but living in close quarters, they have to come to some sort of peace - even if it means addressing some feelings they'd rather not admit to having. As they work together to solve the problem of a re-emerging Red Room, Steve uncovers something he never expected to find again: family.

Hating Steve Rogers by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 16,243 words)

Summary: The thing about hating Steve Rogers is that it shouldn’t be easy - but it really, really is.

I Have Questions by YourFadedGlory (HisNameWasAce) (@yourfadedglory) (Not Rated, 2,808 words)

Summary: There is only so much that Steve can carry. His legs quiver and his heart aches, he looks skyward, and in a startling moment of clarity he lets the shield go. Gouged and battered, it rings like a bell when it hits the stone floor. He wonders for a split moment if it will weigh on Tony the way it has weighed on him.

The Crying Game by fohatic (@fohatic) (Explicit, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 36,403 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers stared at the dimly glowing digital screen of the little burner phone, rereading the text message as if it might somehow give away something he missed the first dozen times he scrutinized it. His frown only deepened, though, brows drawing together with consternation as the 88 characters only left him with an even more ponderous sense of uncertainty. If you meant what you wrote, I'll be at the Swissotel Sarajevo, 4/18. Presidential Suite. 9pm. Come alone. ...Nearly a year after Steve and Tony's fallout—and only weeks after press rumors that Tony and Pepper's engagement was inexplicably called off—Steve gets a message on the dedicated burner phone. Despite his instinctive reservations, he's compelled to answer the mysterious call. An approximately canon-compliant story.

the hope that kills you by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, 1,227 words)

Summary: Steve used to go on so much about freedom and choice. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. Some of the freedom he loved was big, big enough for him to lay his life down for over and over, and some of the freedom he loved was small, like the wind in his hair when he took his motorcycle out, but now he has to sob and take it when Tony sucks a deep flowering bruise where his prison uniform couldn’t possibly cover and whispers in his ear, “Who’s gonna help you now? Where are you gonna run?”

live for the hope of it all by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1,880 words)

Note: This is a sequel to the hope that kills you

Summary: “You can keep me here, can’t you?” Steve asks a little desperately as Tony kneels over him, spreading himself out all the better for Tony to take. He must have really hated his cell on the Raft, Tony thinks before he loses himself in Steve’s body, and for a little while, everything is the same as it has been for the past six months. It’s only after, in the dark and quiet of his own bedroom with Steve sprawled sleepy and heavy across his chest that Tony realises— This is their cell now.

The Phone by AvengersNewB (@avengersnewb) (Mature, 9,039 words)

Summary: Tony hates the flip phone Steve sends him, but he keeps it close at all times, and it never rings until it finally does and the news might help put things into perspective - Captain America : Civil War fix-it. or The phone can't take the place of your smile. [podfic added as chapter 2]

the things we invent when we are scared by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, 18,305 words)

Summary: Steve is trapped in a dream machine, programmed to make him believe he's living his happiest fantasy. Tony goes inside to wake him up, but what he finds is a lot more complicated than he expected.

there's nothing but blue skies by Meatball42 (Mature, Major Character Death, 647 words)

Summary: “This isn’t good,” Steve said grimly.

[ofmdrecaps]

11/25-26/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR: Happy Belated Birthday Kristian!; Taika Waititi; Rachel House & David Fane; Joel Fry; Samson Kayo; Samba Schutte; Vico Ortiz; Anapela Polata'ivao; Guz Khan; Nat Torres; Damien Gerard; Fan Spotlight; Our Flag Means Fanfiction; Never Left Podcast; OFMD Spin the Bottle; Love Notes;

Also delayed due to Tumblr Blip, sorry all! I have some other great news though! The absolute sweetheart @lowrahh has volunteered to join my team to help get Alt Text added to the recaps! She's on the opposite side of the world so we may have some time syncing differences, but she's been helping me the last few days and it's been amazing! Thank you so much @lowrahh! Alrighty, on to the recap!

== Happy (Belated) Birthday Kristian! ==

Happy belated birthday to our dear Wee John-- Kristian Nairn! (11/25/2024) And guess what, he's on Bluesky now!

Source: Kristian Nairn's Instagram

Also, coming soon, is a new track by Kristian and MikeT! - Echo!

Source: Elliptical Sun Instagram

= Taika Waititi =

More interviews with Taika about Interior Chinatown! Silly things like "if you had an entrance song, what would it be?"

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A post shared by Nicki Sun (@nickisun)

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A post shared by GOLD HOUSE (@goldhouseco)

Source: Interior Chinatown Hulu

= Rachel House & David Fane =

Rachel House, our Mary Reed, and our beloved Fang, David Fane were out at the Moana 2 Premiere in Australia! Moana 2 comes out in the US the 27th! Check it out if you can!

Source: ABC Pacific

Just some quick pics of our cast <3

Source: For Your Ref Pod

And David just being adorable.

Source: Awhimai Frasier Instagram

Source: Pere Yonce Instagram

And some silly interview questions at the premiere!

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A post shared by FLAVA (@flavaradio)

Source: Flavaradio

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A post shared by K-Zone (@kzonemag)

Source: Kzonemag

= Joel Fry =

Our dear Frenchie is joining Ncuti Gatwa in the Doctor Who Christmas Special this year!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

= Samson Kayo =

Samson is going to be in the new Voltron cast along with several other amazing stars!

Source: Amazon MGM Studios and AdoptOurCrew Bsky. and Samson's instagram

= Vico Ortiz =

Our ever busy Jim Jimenez, Vico Ortiz is joining "Reckless Spirits", a short comedy film! There's a crowdfunding effort for getting it going! Any gifts made today through EOD on Thursday, November 28 will be DOUBLED by a match (up to $7,500). Wanna learn more or support it? Check out: https://bit.ly/reckless-giving

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A post shared by vee hua 華婷婷 [fka vivian] (@hellomynameisvee)

Source: Hello My Name is Vee's IG

Some love from a fan of one of Vico's voice acting works!

Source: Vico's Bsky

I believe this has been share before but Vico is out sharing things they've been tagged in so let's post it again! The audio version of Blood City Rollers by V.P. Anderson, Tatiana Hill, and featuring voicework by Vico! Check it out here!

Source: Vico's Bsky

= Samba Schutte =

One of the short films Samba starred in - Best Life - has been nominated for the LA Independent Film Channel Festival for 2024!

Source: Valerie and Chaney IG

= Anapela Polataivao =

In case you haven't cried today, here's Rachel House, sending love to Auntie! (Anapela Polata'ivao)

In other Tinā news, it'll be heading to the 2025 Palm Springs International Film Festival in the World Cinema Now section at select locations between Jan 4-10! To get tickets, visit the Palm Springs Site!

Source: Tinā the Film Instagram

= Guz Khan =

Guz is sending out some love to these bakers!

Source: Guz Khans IG stories

And here's Guz showing off in his sweet ride.

Source: Guz Khan's Threads

= Nat Torres =

Nat Torres, writer extraordinaire, always bringing a smile to our faces <3

Source: Nat's Instagram

= Damien Gerard =

As always, our Father Teach, aka Damien Gerard, one of the coolest cat dads on the web, loves to keep us busy with cat content!

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction =

New mini-episode of Our Flag Means Fanfiction is up! This time covering The "HighSchool Jukebox" Fics by @oatmilktruther! Read by BabyKraken! Check it out here!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Spotify.

= Never Left Podcast =

A new episode of Never Left is out on your favorite Podcast Platforms! This part 2 of the Flags set-- you can check it out on their linktr.ee!

Source: Never Left Podcast Instagram

= Seven_Sugars Spin the Bottle =

For those of you on Bluesky and Twitter, you may have seen this very fun post by Ashley (aka Seven_Sugars). It's a gif of our cast and a spinning bottle! You just screenshot the gif and it tells you who you get! (I got Lucius which is 100% awesome by me, call me Pete because I love that man). Wanna try it out? Visit Ashley's Bsky!

Source: Seven Sugars Bsky

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies! There's definitely been some reminders lately that this time of year isn't the best time for everyone. Remember to be kind to yourself and don't beat yourself up too much ok? Sometimes you do everything right. Sometimes you do your best, you bust your ass, and then shit goes horribly wrong the last second. Whether it's a draft on something fan related, or getting to work on time, or preparing a candid talk with someone or being careful driving on ice, and someone else hitting you from behind. Whatever it is-- life sometimes just does not cooperate with your expectations.

To top it off, that can be very hard if you've already been dealing with so much. It really can. It can seem like.. NOTHING goes right, and like everything is frustrating, and when your cup is already full of nonsense it just starts overflowing.

You know what the good news is? Your cup will slowly drain over time the kinder you are to yourself. Rest helps it drain, love helps it drain, comfort helps it drain so you can have more room for the next thing that happens. Right now it feels like too much because your body and your mind need a break, and you deserve a break. Winter time is normally meant for human beings and animals to hibernate! To recover with the seasons! But now we work all the time, and it can burn us out real fast. Take care of yourselves, take breaks, and if shit goes wrong, keep taking breaks, if you can, until it doesn't feel so hard anymore <3 I hope you all rest this week and have some self-care time off if you have it-- and if you don't, please be safe out there. Thinking of you.

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[hydrangeapartridge]

No rings allowed on the battlefield (EmmRook short fic)

Emmrich gets injured and Rook helps ;) (no spoilers)

warning for: s*x*al allusions

It was an unfortunate accident. A stupid mistake. A clumsy fumble during a battle with a dragon. Taash and Emmrich weren’t as well coordinated as other duos Rook often traveled with, and the fight had taken them by surprise. They prevailed at the cost of a few scratches and sadly, one less minor injury.

Once the adrenaline spike dropped down like the dragon did mere seconds ago, Emmrich winced, nursing his left hand close to him, assessing the damage done to it. It was no dragon that hit him, but the back swing of Taash’s reckless but impressive last blow. The handle of her axe had crushed Emmrich’s left hand, more precisely his left middle finger, which was red and starting to swell. The ring on it, an expensive looking band of gold with a diamond-shaped emeral in the center, looked a bit battered, and mostly far too tight for the size Emmrich’s finger was growing.

The necromancer’s right hand lit up with magic and he ran it above his injured hand in a quick healing spell. However, the whole group startled when a small green crack of lightning coming from his dented ring zapped Emmrich’s valid hand, dissipating the healing spell in the process. Upon closer inspection, the emerald gem was slightly fractured, damaged enough for its enchantment to act up.

Emmrich clicked his tongue in frustration. “Of course it had to be the life spells ward…” He grumbled, annoyed and in pain as he realized he would not be able to heal himself.

Rook quickly understood the situation, and seeing Emmrich’s rapidly paling complexion and sweaty brows, she took him by the arm, urging him to sit down on a pile of rocks so she could tend to his injury before he fainted.

“I am fine I assure you” Emmrich told her, though he was not so convincing; self conscious from the attention, and feeling powerless without his healing magic. “I’ve seen worse. Worse injury at least. That was my first dragon and it is not an encounter I would like to reiterate”

Rook gently took the mage’s hand in hers as he rambled, and from what she saw, his finger had already doubled in size and was turning purple from the lack of bloodflow.

“We need to take off this ring or you’ll lose your finger” She observed. “Taash, do we have grease or butter, or anything else that could help here?”

Taash rummaged through their belongings and Rook’s too but came back empty handed. “Nah, sorry, Harding is the one who always thinks about this kind of stuff”

“I have some cream in my belongings that might help” Emmrich then remembered, having difficulty focusing when all he could feel was his blood pulsing hard in his finger. He called out to Manfred, who had been hiding during the fight, but came quickly to their assistance.

Once she had the cream, Rook applied a small amound around the ring, trying to get it on the skin under it to loosen it. Emmrich bit his lip to refrain any noise of pain when she then tried her best to pull on the ring. She tried to apply as much force as she could, until Emmrich’s hand started shaking from the pain. It was an utter failure; the ring did not move one inch, and the cream only made Rook’s grip on it slippery, making it impossible to really pull on it, even with her nails.

Emmrich’s expression was a hardly contained grimace of pain, and Rook hated to see his beautiful features contorted so. She had to do something, his finger was getting cold, they did not have much time. It was a stupid injury but it must hurt like hell.

“Don’t we have anything to cut it?” She asked Taash but they shook their head. Rook tried preparing a controlled fire spell, but the second she approached her alite finger, the ring zapped her, making her wince and extinguishing her magic.

“Maybe we should cut the whole finger and then he’ll stitch it back with necromancy” Taash offered, but Emmrich did not approuve.

“I’d rather it would not come to that” He said, dejected.

Having a dead finger in the middle of such a refined hand was admittedly not enviable. They could do better. She needed to help him. Find a solution.

“Please don’t hate me for this” Rook told Emmrich when an idea struck her, eyes begging as they met Emmrich’s sad brown ones.

She did not give the necromancer time to think before she gripped his hand tighter and brought it to her mouth. In a swift motion she swallowed his middle finger, getting down on it without hesitation.

Emmrich choked on a half-pained, half-mortified whimper of a breath. Rook, whom he barely knew, had her lips tightly wrapped around that one particular finger, mimicking an entirely different situation. He couldn’t look away from her expression of concentration as he felt her tongue poke and swirl around his ring, caressing the skin in a way that felt as painful as it was soothing. He soon felt her teeth carefully joining the mix, trying to get a grip on the stuck piece of jewelry.

He instinctively tried to take his hand back, but Rook held it firmly in her hand while she worked, her eyes closed, her long eyelashes brushing her high cheekbones.

Emmrich felt the tip of his ears, as well as his neck heat up, his collar suddenly too tight, when Rook hollowed her cheeks and sucked on his finger. Her mouth was so warm he felt dizzy from it. He barely repressed a moan of relief when the ring finally gave in, and Rook pulled away from him with a 'pop' and a victorious humming sound that was delightful to the ears.

He watched flabbergasted as she spat the ring onto her opened palm, then covered his face with his right gloved hand from the embarrassment of the whole situation.

“Damn. That’s a skilled tongue you got! Could rival Isabella’s” Taash commented, genuinely impressed. They whistled, only aggravating Emmrich’s feelings.

Rook chuckled nervously, her own cheeks flushed from the effort and maybe something else. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Emmrich’s face so she focused back on his injured hand. With the ring out of the way, she performed a simple healing spell, and in a few seconds, his finger was back to normal size and colour.

When she looked up, Emmrich’s brown gaze was on her, grateful but strained, and a bit wild too from this impossible situation.

Rook leaned back, putting some distance between her face and his. She felt hot. Why was Rivain always so hot?

She handed Emmrich his broken ring back without meeting his eyes. “Here, I hope you can get it fixed”

“I will try. It was a gift; I shall be sad to part with it” He said, gently taking the ring and twirling it in between his long pretty fingers.

Rook wondered if the person whom he received it from was still part of his life. And how important they were to him. She wondered if he left someone treasured behind in Nevarra, but didn’t dare ask. Nor did she permit to comment that he should consider wearing less jewelry when traveling around the wilderness; for practical reasons. She stayed silent, simply glad that he was fine.

“Thank you Rook” Emmrich’s soft tone finally coaxed her into looking up to his pleasant features. “You truly are a very … resourceful young woman”

Rook felt herself flush again. “Anytime” She replied in a whisper between the two of them.

Back at the lighthouse, Taash felt the need to tell every other companion how Rook tended to Emmrich’s delicate ring situaiton. She thought she would die of embarassment, but in the end, it only became a funny anecdote, soon forgotten by the group.

She did not however forget the beauty of Emmrich’s hands, and the intensity of his gaze on her. The more days she spent in his company, the more she decided that yes, she could be convinced to go down onto the professor again, anytime he wanted.

[sicknessbysalem]

Big Apple, Big Problems (Part One)

in response to this ask right here, i decided to write the fic detailing lex's worst nausea/vomiting episode to date, where he was sick for four (4) days.

so basically, here's part one. this is canon to their story (but is not featured in their book), hence why there's been a few references in other stories.

in the lore, this takes place the first tour after Lex's crisis, and it's been around a year and a half since that happened.

if you have any requests, questions, comments, etc., please send them my way!

tw emeto, nausea, stubbornness, desperation to prove oneself

The city buzzed around them, a restless hum of life that never seemed to slow. It was the second day of their four-stop run in New York, and while Lex typically thrived on the energy of a city like this—feeding off its chaos and vibrancy—today, it felt like a weight pressing against him. He leaned against the edge of the small backstage table, his hand resting lightly on his stomach in a familiar, almost absent-minded gesture, his gaze distant as he stared at the bottle of water he’d been nursing for the past hour.

“You gonna drink that, or just keep looking at it like it owes you money?” Ksenia teased as she walked into the green room, her arms full of what looked like takeout bags. Her auburn hair was pulled into a loose bun, and she wore her usual mischievous grin, though there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes as she took in Lex’s posture, the faint tension in his expression.

Lex managed a faint chuckle, though the sound was strained, almost hollow. “Trying to decide if it’s worth it,” he replied, his tone light, but Ksenia didn’t miss the edge of discomfort that lingered beneath his words. She placed the bags on the table and tilted her head, watching him carefully.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, the teasing edge replaced with quiet concern. “You’ve been weirdly quiet since yesterday.”

Lex waved her off with a faint smile, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Just… you know, the usual,” he replied, his hand brushing over his stomach in a small, unconscious gesture that Ksenia recognized all too well. She didn’t push, but her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she turned her attention to unpacking the food.

As Ksenia pulled out containers and set them on the table, Soren entered the room, his guitar case slung over his shoulder and his gaze immediately flicking to Lex. He set the case down against the wall and walked over, his movements careful, deliberate, as though he were already trying to gauge the situation before saying anything.

“You’ve eaten, right?” Soren asked, his voice low, steady, though there was a faint edge of concern in his tone. He crouched beside the table, his hand resting lightly on Lex’s knee, a small, grounding gesture that seemed to ease some of the tension coiling in Lex’s chest.

“Yeah, a little,” Lex lied, his gaze dropping as he took the water bottle in his hand, twisting the cap off and taking a small, deliberate sip. The truth was, he hadn’t eaten much since the night before—not because he didn’t want to, but because the thought of food had been enough to turn his stomach. He’d managed a few crackers and a bite of toast earlier, more out of obligation than appetite, but even that had been a struggle.

Ksenia caught Soren’s eye, and they shared a brief, knowing look—one that spoke volumes about their shared concern. Lex had always been good at brushing off discomfort, at pretending everything was fine even when it wasn’t, but they both knew the signs. The way he kept shifting in his seat, his hand drifting to his stomach, the faint tension in his jaw every time he took a breath—it was all too familiar.

“What’s going on?” Soren asked gently, his hand still resting on Lex’s knee, his tone calm, steady, a quiet invitation for Lex to let them in. “You’ve been off since yesterday.”

Lex hesitated, his gaze flicking between Soren and Ksenia before he let out a slow, measured breath. “It’s nothing,” he said finally, his voice soft, a faint, strained smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Just… a little queasy. Probably just something I ate.”

Ksenia snorted, crossing her arms as she leaned against the table. “You’ve barely eaten anything, so that excuse doesn’t really hold up,” she pointed out, her tone light but laced with a quiet, unspoken concern. “If you’re not feeling great, just say so.”

Lex sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his chair, his head resting against the wall. “It’s not a big deal,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fine.”

But as he sat there, the nausea twisted, sharper now, a low, relentless ache that settled deep in his stomach, leaving him breathless, hollow. He closed his eyes, willing the discomfort to pass, to ease, but it lingered, sharp and insistent, a reminder that this wasn’t just a passing discomfort, that his body was rebelling in ways he couldn’t ignore.

“Lex,” Soren said softly, his hand moving to rest on Lex’s shoulder, a small, grounding touch that kept him steady, that reminded him he didn’t have to carry this alone. “You don’t have to push through this. If you’re not feeling well, we can figure something out.”

Lex shook his head, a faint, strained smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve got this,” he replied, his voice firm, though there was a faint, unsteady edge to his tone. “It’s just… the usual. You know how it is.”

But Ksenia wasn’t convinced. She stepped closer, her gaze softening as she took in the faint pallor in Lex’s skin, the way he seemed to be holding himself together with a fragile, desperate control. “This isn’t just your usual,” she said gently, her voice a quiet, steady reassurance that seemed to cut through the haze, to settle over Lex like a blanket. “You look like one wrong breath will make you lose whatever crumbs you did eat.”

Lex hesitated, his hand drifting to his stomach as he swallowed, his throat tight, the nausea twisting sharper, more insistent. “I’ll be fine,” he murmured, though the words felt hollow, a faint, unsteady assurance that lingered in the air, as though he weren’t entirely convinced himself.

But as the minutes ticked by, the nausea grew worse, sharper, a low, relentless churn that left him feeling dizzy, weak. He took a careful sip of water, hoping it might settle his stomach, but the movement only seemed to intensify the discomfort, the sharp, twisting ache that gnawed at him, unyielding.

Soren watched him closely, his gaze lingering with a quiet, unspoken concern that settled over Lex like a weight. Lex felt Soren's hand on his back, rubbing between his shoulders, something grounding, something to make everything feel less shitty.

And as they sat there, the quiet tension stretching between them, Lex felt a small, tentative comfort settle over him, a fragile, fleeting hope that he could hold it together, that he could push through, if only for a little while longer. But deep down, he knew this was just the beginning, a quiet, insistent ache that refused to let go, a sickness that would only grow sharper, more relentless, in the days to come.

The takeout containers sat open on the small table, their contents wafting a mix of savory and spicy scents into the room. Ksenia, perched on the edge of a chair, had just finished arranging everything like some grand feast. “Alright, dinner is served,” she declared with a mock flourish, grinning as she gestured to the spread. “You can’t say I don’t take care of my boys.”

Lex gave her a faint smile from where he sat on the couch, his hand resting lightly on his stomach. He hadn’t moved much since Ksenia arrived with the food, and while her usual lively banter had filled the space, Lex had remained unusually quiet. Soren, leaning against the wall nearby, kept his gaze on Lex, his brow furrowed slightly as if he were trying to read the unspoken signs Lex was giving off.

“Come on, Lex,” Ksenia prompted, nudging one of the containers toward him. “I got your favorite—chicken and rice. Bland enough even for you.” Her teasing tone was laced with a hint of concern, her eyes flicking toward Soren as if to silently ask if he’d noticed Lex’s unusual demeanor too.

Lex forced a chuckle, though it sounded more like an exhale. “Thanks, Ksenia,” he murmured, reaching for the container. The smell alone made his stomach twist unpleasantly, the low, relentless nausea that had been gnawing at him since the day before threatening to surge higher. But he pushed the discomfort down, steeling himself as he grabbed a plastic fork and picked at the rice.

He wasn’t hungry. In fact, the thought of eating made his stomach churn, but he knew Ksenia too well. If he didn’t at least pretend to eat, she’d fuss over him, and fussing wasn’t something he could handle right now—not with the slow, creeping nausea already making him feel like his body was teetering on the edge of betrayal.

Soren, on the other hand, wasn’t fooled. He didn’t say anything as Lex began picking at the food, but his gaze stayed fixed on him, a quiet, steady presence that Lex could feel even without looking up. Lex knew Soren saw through the act, but for now, Soren was letting it go, probably because he understood why Lex was doing it. Still, the weight of Soren’s unspoken concern lingered in the air, heavy and palpable.

Lex forced himself to take a few bites, each one a deliberate effort that felt like swallowing lead. The rice sat heavily in his stomach, a sharp, twisting discomfort building with every bite, but he kept going, determined to prove—to Ksenia, to Soren, to himself—that he was fine. By the time he’d eaten half the container, Ksenia seemed satisfied, leaning back in her chair with a grin. “See? Not so hard,” she said lightly, though her eyes lingered on him, still watchful.

“Not hard at all,” Lex replied, his voice calm, though the faint tension in his tone betrayed him. He set the container down carefully, his hand drifting to his stomach as he leaned back against the couch, willing the nausea to settle, to give him a moment’s reprieve before the show.

The show itself was a blur of lights and sound, the roar of the crowd washing over Lex like a wave. Onstage, he felt more like himself, the familiar rhythm and energy pulling him out of his discomfort, at least for a while. Soren stayed close throughout the set, his ash-blond hair catching the stage lights as he glanced toward Lex every so often, a quiet, steady presence that reminded Lex he wasn’t alone, even as he pushed through the lingering nausea.

By the time the final song ended and the stage lights dimmed, Lex was running on fumes. The nausea, dulled slightly during the performance, had returned with a vengeance, twisting in his stomach like a clenched fist. His throat felt tight, the faint burn of acid threatening to creep up, and he could feel the sweat on his forehead, cold and clammy, a sharp contrast to the heat of the stage lights.

As soon as they stepped offstage, Lex’s composure cracked. He stumbled slightly. His stomach felt like it seized and before Lex could even realize it, he was clinging to the railing of the stairs to get on stage, one hand flying to cover his mouth as a sharp wave of nausea surged, leaving him breathless, trembling. Soren was at his side in an instant, his hand resting lightly on Lex’s arm, steadying him as he leaned against the wall.

“Lex?” Soren’s voice was soft, calm, but there was a faint edge of worry in his tone. “You okay?”

Lex swallowed hard, his throat tight, the nausea twisting sharper. “Yeah,” he murmured, though his voice was weak, unconvincing. “Just… need a minute.”

Ksenia appeared moments later, her gaze flicking between Lex and Soren as she took in the tension in Lex’s posture, the way he was gripping his stomach, his breaths shallow and uneven. “You don’t look good,” she said bluntly, though there was a hint of softness in her tone. “Is it still just the ‘usual,’ or are we past that now?”

Lex didn’t answer immediately, his focus turned inward as he tried to push the nausea down, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together. But as he took a slow, careful breath, his body betrayed him, a sharp, violent heave surging up that left him gasping, his hand flying to his mouth as he braced himself against the wall.

Soren and Ksenia exchanged a quick glance, unspoken understanding passing between them. “Trash can,” Soren said quietly, and Ksenia was already moving, grabbing the nearest one and sliding it toward Lex just as another heave wracked his body.

Lex barely had time to lean over before his body gave in, the nausea clawing its way up in sharp, relentless waves. Each heave was painful, unproductive at first, his body trembling with the effort as he gripped the edge of the trash can, his breaths shallow and uneven. Soren crouched beside him, one hand resting lightly on Lex’s back, the other steadying the trash can as Lex fought against the sickness.

When his body finally gave in, it was harsh and unrelenting, the food he’d forced himself to eat earlier coming back in sharp, painful waves. Lex gasped between heaves, his throat raw, his body trembling as the sickness overtook him, leaving him weak, hollow.

Ksenia stayed close, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. “This isn’t just your ‘usual,’ Lex,” she said softly, though there was a faint edge of exasperation in her tone. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, and now you’re paying for it.”

Lex didn’t respond, too focused on catching his breath as the nausea eased slightly, leaving him slumped against the wall, his hand still resting lightly on his stomach. Soren stayed beside him, his hand still on Lex’s back, a quiet, steady presence that kept him grounded, that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

As the silence stretched between them, Soren’s gaze softened, his concern clear in the way he looked at Lex. “We’ll figure it out,” he said softly, his voice calm, reassuring. “But you need to stop trying to tough it out. Let us help.”

Lex managed a faint nod, though the exhaustion in his expression spoke volumes. He wasn’t ready to admit just how bad it was, but for now, he let himself lean on Soren, let himself take comfort in the quiet support of the two people who knew him better than anyone. And as they sat there, the tension lingering in the air, Ksenia and Soren both knew this was only the beginning.

-

Morning came sluggishly, the pale light of dawn filtering through the thin hotel curtains, casting a grayish glow across the room. Lex lay on the bed, his body curled slightly, his long hair tangled against the pillow. His stomach still churned from the night before, a low, relentless ache that had refused to ease even after hours of restless sleep. He shifted slightly, his hand drifting to his abdomen in an unconscious gesture, as though the light pressure might ease the discomfort.

Soren was already awake, perched on the edge of the bed with his back to Lex, quietly scrolling through his phone. His posture was tense, his shoulders hunched slightly as though he’d been carrying Lex’s discomfort along with his own. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard Lex stir, his ash-blond hair falling into his eyes as he set the phone aside.

“Morning,” Soren said softly, his voice low, careful, a quiet greeting that didn’t press for too much too soon.

Lex let out a soft groan, pressing his palm to his forehead as he squinted against the muted light. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough, hoarse from the night of sickness. His throat burned faintly, a reminder of the strain he’d put on his body, and his stomach rolled as if in protest to the mere act of speaking.

“You sleep at all?” Soren asked, leaning over slightly, his hand resting lightly on Lex’s knee in a small, grounding gesture.

“Some,” Lex replied, though the faint edge in his tone made it clear that it hadn’t been restful. He pushed himself up slowly, propping himself against the headboard as he took a careful breath. The movement made his stomach twist sharply, and he pressed a hand to his mouth, closing his eyes as he fought against the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him.

Soren’s hand stayed on his knee, steady and warm, a quiet reminder that he wasn’t alone. “Take it slow,” Soren murmured. Lex nodded, trying to breathe through it. to do something that wouldn't put him at risk of losing the water or hydration drinks he tried to keep down overnight.

By mid-morning, the three of them were seated around a small table in the hotel’s lounge, sipping at coffee (for Ksenia and Soren) and herbal tea (for Lex) while waiting for the band’s manager to arrive with details for their upcoming interview. Ksenia was scrolling through her phone, her gaze flicking up occasionally to check on Lex, who sat slouched in his chair, his fingers wrapped loosely around the tea cup.

“You look like death warmed over,” Ksenia said bluntly, though her tone was light, teasing, her way of cutting through the tension without making it too heavy. “Maybe zombie chic is your new vibe.”

Lex gave her a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Ksenia. Always a confidence boost coming from you.”

“You know me,” she said with a smirk, gesturing dramatically with her coffee cup. “Always here to uplift and inspire.”

Soren, seated beside Lex, wasn’t as easily distracted by Ksenia’s humor. His gaze stayed fixed on Lex, taking in the faint pallor of his skin, the way his fingers trembled slightly as he brought the tea to his lips. “You’ve eaten something, right?” Soren asked, his voice soft, though there was a faint edge of worry lingering beneath the question.

Lex nodded, though it was clear he hadn’t managed much. “Had some crackers earlier,” he said, though his tone was hesitant, as though he were trying to convince himself as much as them.

Ksenia raised an eyebrow, setting her phone aside as she leaned forward slightly. “Crackers don’t count, Lex. You need actual food, not crumbs.”

“I’m fine,” Lex said quickly, though the words felt hollow, unconvincing even to his own ears. He cleared his throat softly, a reflexive gesture that drew Soren’s attention, his gaze narrowing slightly.

“Lex,” Soren began, his tone gentle but firm, “pushing through isn’t going to help anyone if you’re barely holding it together. We can reschedule the interview if we have to.”

“No,” Lex said sharply, his gaze snapping up to meet Soren’s. The sudden intensity in his voice startled both Soren and Ksenia. “We’re not rescheduling. This is my first tour back—I’m not letting something stupid like my stomach being chronically fucked up screw that up.”

Ksenia sighed, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her arms. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Lex didn’t respond, his focus turned inward as he took another careful sip of tea, willing his stomach to settle enough to make it through the day. But as the hours ticked by, the nausea only grew worse, sharper, each bite of food he tried to eat trying to come right back up, but somehow he barely managed to keep it down. By the time they returned to the hotel after the interview, though, Lex was pale and shaking, his body slumped against the elevator wall as he took slow, shallow breaths.

“You okay?” Soren asked softly, his hand hovering near Lex’s back before resting lightly against it. His voice was low, careful, the kind of tone he used when he didn’t want to spook Lex but needed an answer.

Lex nodded weakly, though the motion made his stomach lurch. “I just need to lie down,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand moved to press against his stomach as if the pressure might ease the storm churning inside. He swallowed hard, a faint wince crossing his face as he added, “Maybe throw up, then lie down.”

Soren frowned, his gaze flicking over Lex’s ashen features, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the way his hands trembled faintly even as he gripped the handrail. “We’ll get you to the room,” he said quietly, his hand steadying Lex as the elevator doors slid open.

Lex pushed off the wall, his legs unsteady beneath him, and stumbled slightly as the dizziness hit harder. Soren caught him with practiced ease, sliding an arm around his waist to keep him upright. Lex let out a faint groan, his weight sagging slightly against Soren as they made their way down the hallway.

“Almost there,” Soren murmured, his voice calm, a quiet anchor against the storm raging in Lex’s body.

When they reached the room, Soren fished the keycard from his pocket and swiped it quickly, the door clicking open. He guided Lex inside, keeping his arm steady around him as they crossed the threshold. Lex made a beeline for the nearest surface—the couch in the small sitting area—slumping onto it with a faint, shaky exhale. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he pressed a hand to his forehead, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Soren knelt in front of him, his hand resting lightly on Lex’s knee. “Do you need anything?” he asked softly. “Water, maybe?”

Lex shook his head, his hair falling over his face as he clenched his jaw, another wave of nausea hitting hard. “Just give me a minute,” he muttered, his voice strained. His stomach lurched violently, and he doubled over slightly, his hand gripping the edge of the couch as a faint gag escaped his lips. Soren's chest ached with worry hearing a panicked "Fuck... no, no, no... fuck" mumbled under Lex's breath, before a clearer, more desperate "Trashcan.”

Soren moved instantly, grabbing the small wastebasket from the corner of the room and placing it in front of Lex. He stayed close but didn’t touch him, watching as Lex’s body convulsed with a harsh, dry heave. The sound was sharp, raw, and it left Lex trembling, gasping for air as his stomach twisted again.

“It’s okay,” Soren murmured, his voice calm, steady. “Just let it out.”

But nothing came. The heaving continued, each one more forceful than the last, leaving Lex slumped forward, his forehead resting against his hand as he let out a weak, frustrated groan. “God,” he muttered faintly, his voice cracking. “This is… hell.”

Soren’s chest tightened, his hand hovering near Lex’s shoulder before pulling back. He knew better than to push touch on Lex when he was like this, but the urge to comfort him was almost overwhelming. “You’re doing good,” he said softly, his tone warm, encouraging. “Just breathe.”

Lex tried, he really did, taking a deep breath. Then a second. He spit, and for a brief moment felt like he might be okay. Until, he wasn't.

The next deep breath caught in his throat, he barely managed another mumbled 'Fuck' before his stomach gurgled so audibly sickly that even Soren heard it, seeing how Lex's abdomen seemed to pull in while Soren grabbed Lex's hair just in time for a thick wave of stomach contents splattered into the bin. Lex let out a small whine, before a grating retch escaped his throat, sending up another thick wave of barely digested breakfast. Lex's stomach always struggled to digest when it felt do bad, and Soren found himself patting Lex's back as Lex coughed, trying to free something from his throat before another heavy wave spilled out of him.

"Shit," Soren mumbled, "You poor thing..."

-

The hours passed of the afternoon brought little reprieve. By time Lex and Soren got to the venue, every attempt Lex made to eat—even something as bland as plain toast—was met with sharp, relentless waves of nausea, his body rejecting each bite with brutal efficiency. He’d managed to keep down water and tea, which he considered a small victory, but the constant heaving had left him drained, his back and abdomen hurt from the heaving, his body trembling with exhaustion as he slumped against the couch in the green room before the show.

Ksenia sat beside him, her legs crossed as she scrolled through her phone, though her attention was clearly on Lex. “You know, if you didn’t look like you were about to keel over, I’d almost admire your stubbornness,” she said, her tone light but tinged with quiet concern. “Almost.”

Lex chuckled softly, though the sound was strained. “Thanks, Ksenia. That means a lot.”

Soren, seated on the other side of Lex, wasn’t in the mood for humor. His gaze stayed fixed on Lex, his expression a mix of worry and quiet frustration. “You don’t have to prove anything to us—or anyone.”

Lex didn’t respond immediately, his head dipping forward as he pressed a hand to his stomach, his breaths shallow and uneven. “I’ll be fine,” he said finally, though his voice was faint, broken, a quiet, desperate hope that he could hold it together, that he could push through, even as the nausea twisted sharper, a low, relentless ache that refused to let go.

Soren and Ksenia exchanged a glance, a quiet, unspoken understanding passing between them. They knew Lex well enough to recognize that nothing they said would change his mind, that his determination to push through the show was stronger than his own discomfort. But that didn’t mean they would stop trying to help, even if it was just by staying close, by being the steady presence he needed to get through the night.

And as the minutes ticked by, the weight of Lex’s determination settled over all of them, even when everything in his body was telling him to stop.

[takaraphoenix]

Ooh.. so now I’m curious. I’ve never given it much thought but do you have a family tree for stiles that you use or do you just change up his family when you want to make something work for a story? I’ve never thought about his family outside of the sheriff to be honest.

I do not change it up!! Hate changing things up. Once I decide on it, it is set. But Stiles' family tree is something that's still a work in progress in a way. I have the closer family established in my head, but since he is of Polish ancestry, there needs to be bigger family because I have it on good authority that family's very important in Poland too - something I highly relate too - so I kinda want there to be great-grandaunt and her family too, the side of the family that still lives in Poland. Haven't had a plot that features them yet though so they are just a vague concept.

Noah's side of the family is less fleshed out though. I only got his parents, Eliasz and Janina Zieliński, aka Elias and Jane Stilinski, who changed their names to appeal better to American palates and didn't argue when their last name was misspelled upon entering the country (because Stilinski isn't an actual Polish surname and a nonsense word so I needed to justify that somehow and Americans making up surnames for immigrants because they don't care is... not a new concept. So I picked one that phonetically would be close enough to maybe be a misheard and then misspelled.)

We know grandpa Stilinski sucked, but I think grandma Stilinski was a nice and kind woman, very soft spoken though so she never stood up to her husband.

Claudia's side of the family I have more fleshed out though.

Mieczysław Gajos, aka the only one who has a canon name and thus technically actually exists in canon, was a strict and stern man. He absolutely hated that Claudia married a man so fully removed from his Polish roots (my headcanon that John never learned the language, or culture, because his parents were so set on Americanizing themselves). But he loved his daughter and grandson very, very fiercely and was incredibly proud that she named her kid after him. In canon main timeline, I do headcanon him to be dead but I do have a fic planned where he's very importantly alive (and where I will most likely also get to explore the extended family more).

His wife, Małgorzata Gajos, known as Granny Gosia, was much more forgiving and the member of the Gajos family who was the most welcoming toward Noah, however I headcanon that she died even before Claudia, so when Claudia died, Noah had no one left who was on his side.

In my mind, Claudia has a younger brother named Stanisław, who usually just goes by Stan. I first mentioned him and his kids in Delivery Upon Death and had him turn his back on Stiles and his dad.

I'm kind of ping-ponging between uncle Stan's family cutting ties with Noah after Claudia's death, or, the more painful headcanon I used in Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy), where they actually took Stiles in and raised him for a stint as a kid after Claudia's death, after Noah became an alcoholic.

That something happened that got CPS on the map, personal favorite that Stiles accidentally set the kitchen on fire trying to cook dinner because he was an eight year old child who shouldn't have to cook. And then Stiles spent some time under uncle Stan and aunt Carol's care.

Carol is a Texan country gal, big and loving and she doted on Stiles a lot while he was under their care.

They got two daughters, Maggie and Miri, who Stiles grew up close with and grew even closer to when he lived with them. Maggie is roughly Stiles' age, while Miri is a few years younger than them but loves to trail them. He learned riding with them. Yes, Stiles can now ride in any of my universes because I like the idea of him and horses (which is mildly hilarious to me, because I do not like horses).

I'll get around to making a proper family tree for Stiles once I ironed out the extended family, plus I'm still smoothing out the edges of the Hale family tree because I haven't fully settled on all angles there.

[hl-obsessed]

link to original manip

✨ fics i've read in November ✨

.🌸🌸🌸.

Roman Empire by Speechless

(E, 11k) One day Louis answers Liam's phone while he is in the shower. That's how he meets Harry, Liam's friend who moved to Italy just a while ago. And that's how Liam loses ownership of his phone.

*

“Do they sleep on the other side of the bed in Italy?”

He hears Harry laugh for a moment.

“I sleep right in the middle,” Harry replies. “Because no one will marry me.”

Louis bites back a little smile.

“Have you asked enough people?"

“The old lady walking her dog, just now.” Harry confirms. “She said no.”

Tastes like Strawberries by @sadaveniren

(E, 5k) I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out

✨ Until the Pearls Get Lost by @londonfoginacup

(M, 25k) London, 1933. Harry Styles, alpha, elusive bachelor and happy third wheel to his coupled friends, receives a visit from one Liam Payne, begging for his help.

Liam’s childhood friend Louis is about to become the talk of the city; left at the altar because the mating bond was rejected, Louis will spend the rest of his life in an institution unless Liam can find someone to take him in and care for him as he recovers. Most omegas with failed bonds are never the same again.

With rumours swirling around about the reason for the rejected bond, Harry gives in to Liam’s pleas. He hasn’t the slightest idea how that decision will shape the rest of his life.

Bloom Just For You by @sunshineandthemoonlight

(E, 7,6k) Marcel decides to get straight to the point. "So I was wondering if you’d be interested in bottoming,” he says.

He glances anxiously over at his boyfriend in time to see Louis’ eyes widen over his mug of tea. There’s a choking sound, and all of a sudden Louis is coughing violently, trying to draw in a breath as his tea goes down the wrong way.

“Oh my– oh my god, Louis!” Marcel yells, panicked.

~

Marcel has never been happier; he has a job he loves, a boyfriend he adores, and a sex life with said boyfriend that exceeds his wildest of fantasies. But there’s one thing he and Louis haven’t yet tried in the bedroom. And he can’t get the thought out of his head...

No Surprises by @louislittletomlintum

(E, 21k) “I smoke socially, sometimes. Depends who I’m with,” Harry shrugged, taking another puff. Louis watched his soft little lips wrap around it and purse just slightly on the inhale. It wasn’t the first time he considered if Harry was perfectly made just to torment him.

“Hm. I won’t send you to jail for now, then. On crimes of fibbing,” Louis decided benevolently. He was about to open his mouth to spout off some other shite before he saw Harry had a bit of a pensive look in his features despite how his eyes were a little glassy.

“Lou,” he began, and god Louis loved that he’d earned that little nickname off of him. “Can I ask you summat?” Harry added, tapping the ash of the cigarette in the tray before taking another puff.

“You just did,” Louis smiled because Harry walked right into that one. “But I’ll give you another,”

“How did you know you were queer?”

or; an office au where louis is a loveable brat and harry is working himself out

You're Not Harry Styles (or are you?) by @bluegreen28fics

(E, 20k) Singer Louis Tomlinson finally meets his crush - ex-boybander Harry Styles - on a late night talk show after he recently released a hit single mentioning Harry. They hit it off and fall in love.

Play Pretend, Find a Friend? by @angelichl

(E, 40k) They had to pull back for air. Louis surveyed the guy’s face, in awe of his blown pupils and sharp jawline, the way their shared spit glistened on his lips.

“Hi,” he breathed. He blinked, and came back to himself a little bit, blushing at his own boldness. “Sorry. Is this okay?”

The stranger removed his right hand from the curve of Louis’ waist in order to cup his jaw, tilting it up to the angle he desired. He pressed their lips together, murmuring, “Definitely.” And then he kissed harder.

***

When Louis sees his ex-boyfriend kissing a random girl at a party, he acts out of blind jealousy. He kisses the first guy he can find. It turns into a thing.

✨💎 To Fight For Freedom by @snowy38

(E, 112k) It was snowing when he went down.

His sturdy and well-worn hiking boots were tied snugly to his socked feet; the knee-high thick black fabric keeping his legs warm to almost the point his pleated kilt rested just above his knees. Almost, because there was still a good four inches of skin bared to the elements.

His father had told him he had no need to wear the traditional uniform, but Harry knew better than to believe him. In fact, the only reason his father would say such a thing was because he would rather see him in anything other than an item of clothing which resembled a skirt. The reasons for his reservations may well be justified but Harry couldn’t think about that right now.

It was snowing and he’d been shot.

✨ Into the Woods (series) by mystic_believexx

(M, 44k) The one where the future Alpha of the Tomlinson pack imprints on the human, Harry Styles.

(warning❗this story is unfinished, last update in 2017. it's so easily to fall in love with it and have your heart broken 💔)

✨ amaryllis by @hattalove

(E, 146k) "Where are we?"

"Um. A little while out of London?" Niall tries, seemingly the only one willing to not be mysterious and provide Harry with information, and. Oh.

"London London? As in, the capital of England London?" he asks, just in case he'd misheard.

"No, the other London," Louis laughs, low and biting. He comes closer finally, the moonlight just enough to reveal a sharp-cut jaw and pale skin. "Sorry, Pup."

Nobody's ever called Harry a "pup". Frankly, he finds it quite insulting, but he lets it slide to try and comprehend his current crisis.

***

or the one where harry gets bitten by a werewolf. louis is the mysterious not-quite alpha, liam and zayn have Things going on, niall is their token human, and together, they watch a lot of TV.

'Sup by @mediawhorefics

(G, 6,7k) Gemma really wants her little brother to sign up for a dating app and get back in the game after a messy divorce. Harry thinks he’s way too old to swipe. They compromise to devastatingly embarrassing results.

Meanwhile, all Louis wants is to finish the play he’s been commissioned to write, but one of the regulars at his local coffee shop keeps distracting him.

***

ft. older larry, pushy gemma, harry being a disaster gay and silver fox louis.

Can't Imagine You Without The Same Smile In Your Eyes by @galacticlarry

(T, 4k) It’s been over a week since Harry’s first semester at university began, and he has had zero new exciting friendships or noteworthy experiences, just a bizarre dream that keeps waking him up in the middle of the night.

What happens when the boy with the pretty blue eyes from his psychology class catches his eye and starts occupying his mind?

Art of seduction by harrysprostate

(E, 13k) “Besides, I have a fiancé.”

“Does your fiancé know where you are right now?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

“He knows I’m out with a friend.”

Harry blinked. “A friend?”

“What, engaged people can’t have friends?”

Harry chuckled at that and shook his head very slowly. He took his time to answer, even shifted in his seat and made sure that they were making eye contact first. “Oh Louis, we’re not going to be friends.”

Louis just smirked.

~or the one where louis is engaged but that doesn't stop harry from seducing him~

✨ my kingdom for a kiss (tonight you're on my mind) by leighbot

(E, 30k) “Oh fuck, I’m going to have to tell my mum,” Louis says, closing his eyes.

The silence stretches between them for a long moment until Harry starts breathing heavily. “I’m going to have to tell the Queen,” he says, “and my mum.”

 Or, the one where Zayn and Louis make a friendly wager and it goes too far, Harry's a baker with a heart of gold and really great hair, Liam is an overworked PA who just wants to enjoy his holiday and Niall is completely at ease, as always. An accidentally married AU mixed with a splash of modern royalty.

Still Dreaming ‘Bout You by @ireallysawanangel

(T, 3k) Harry doesn’t pay much attention to football. That’s proven even more apparent when the biggest football star in the UK walks into his juice bar and he doesn’t even notice. He does start to take notice when that football star keeps coming back.

✨ Just for Tonight (I can be yours) by @sadaveniren

(E, 42k) Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth. He'd accepted a loveless marriage as his duty to his country, until an accident threw him in the path of a gentle alpha

✨ This World's Ashes by @sunshineandthemoonlight

(E, 34k) The man stares at him, and all Harry can hear is his own heartbeat, racing.

Then the stranger turns away. He walks a few paces and bends down, picking up a large knife from the ground and shoving it into a pouch attached to his belt.

“I won’t hurt you, you know.”

Harry’s eyes snap up to the man’s face. He’s looking at Harry sincerely, palms held up as though in surrender. There’s still a knife in his right hand, though, so Harry is only slightly reassured.

Harry swallows to combat the dryness of his throat, and then says, “I won’t hurt you either.”

***

A post-apocalypse AU where Harry, battling his past as he survives in the woods, has learnt not to trust anyone except his dog. Then Louis crashes into his life, with his bright spirit and soft lips, pulling Harry from the depths of a loneliness he hadn’t realised he was drowning in. But there is danger lurking, and Harry’s not the only one wrestling with his past.

✨ no faith left to lose by @louieshalo

(M, 7k) Louis shoves an album booklet — Harry’s album booklet — into Harry’s hands, folded open to a familiar page. “I need you to tell me that that goddamn song is not about me.” His voice cracks a little in his vehemence, and ice fills Harry’s veins as he glances down at the creased page.

He doesn’t need to look closely to know what it is Louis is talking about — the title is printed plainly on the page, Second Chances, along with every incriminating lyric, line by line. It’s his most blatant offense off the entire album, probably; sickeningly indulgent and too obviously vulnerable to even defend himself against. The song is a surface-level dip into the fantasy world Harry toys with when the ache of loneliness gets to be too much in the middle of the night, the brief glimpse already toeing over the boundary he’d promised himself he’d set for his career.

Most damning, though, is the tiny embossed dedication at the bottom of the page;

“For who I’d be if I wasn’t afraid,” Louis recites, looking expectantly at Harry. “What the fuck does that mean?

***

or, the one where they miss each other more than anything.

.🌸🌸🌸.

part 1 (+50k) ✨💐 part 2 (30-50k) ✨🥀 part 3 (10-30k)

part 4 (< 10k) ✨🪷 part 5 (monthly rec) ✨💐

[phoenixcatch7]

It's always funny to me when in an lu fic the chain is offered bananas and don't accept them. Like, you're offering these high energy adventures free food?? Fruit they'll have never even heard of before??? A ridiculously expensive imported good at best?? AND it boosts your attack?

Not ONE of these idiots would ever turn down something new and interesting to eat at least once. They'd be all over those bananas and immediately get dubbed yiga and I'm honestly surprised no one has used it in a fic yet 🤭