#that’s why i’ve never really struggled with hair cuts being too short

[debushit]

i dyed my hair 10 days ago and my roots are already showing 🤨

[flemingsfreckles]

Replacement Part 2

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Other chapter HERE!

Warnings: none, language, it’s a tiny bit angsty I guess

WC: 2.7k

A/N: I’ve been struggling to write this to say the least… I’ve got certain scenes written, I’m just struggling with making those scenes come together in a fluid way 🤷‍♀️ hopefully things ease up and I’ll be able to get this series rolling

You spent the next day ignoring Jessie’s texts, thankfully not having practice today meant you could avoid Janine’s questions as to why you were being so stand offish to Jessie as well.

However when you did walk into the locker room the following day, there was Janine. You greet her with a smile and a wave and she returns with a cold glance and a whisper of a hello.

“What’s up with you today?” She’s sitting down in her cubby just a few over from yours.

“Why didn't you text back Jessie?” Her voice is hushed despite the locker room being nearly empty. You knew it was coming, you knew Janine would ask.

“I- '' You start to think, you couldn't sit here and tell Janine it's because you wanted nothing to do with her Canadian teammate. You wanted her to go back to London, back to where she wasn't a threat to your playing time, you wanted her anywhere else. Instead you play dumb. “I just, I opened the text late at night, I didn’t want to wake her if she was already asleep, and I guess I forgot to respond in the morning. That's my bad.”

She gives you a questioning look. “Alright, but maybe text her back, I really think you two would get along, I mean you'll meet her today so, forget it whatever.��� You give her a nod and find your way over to your locker, noticing the locker next to yours, where Weaver used to be set up, is now empty, Morgan’s name plate is now sitting two lockers away. You ignore it and sit down, starting to change into your practice kit. You change your socks, shorts, and shirt before you make your way around and down the hallway to where all the boots were stored, you grab yours out and turn to head back to your cubby. You hear increased chatter coming from the locker room and when you walk in you see why.

Sinc is standing in the middle of the room holding the shoulders of a shorter player in front of her. You realize Jessie must have arrived given the line of teammates standing in front of her to greet her. You turn your focus back to walking toward your cubby, you sit down and begin unlacing your boots, occupying yourself with them instead of the excitement revolving around the new girl, you’d meet her eventually.

It takes two tries for you to tie your boots comfortably, accidentally pulling way too hard on the laces the first attempt, cutting off the blood circulation to your feet temporarily. As you begin to retie them you see a pair of feet come to stand next to you, facing the empty locker. You feel a bag get set down, you already knew what was happening.

“Hi.” you look up to see Jessie smiling down at you, she's got a hand extended out to you.

You take a second to look at her. You had never met her in person, you’d seen her play before but never been this close to her. She’s smaller than you thought she would be, you knew she wasn’t tall but you now realize that if you stand up her eyes would probably line up with your mouth. She’s got a hat on, her hair is down resting at a length just above her shoulders. The brown of her eyes is lighter than the brown of her hair and her face is covered in freckles. You look down to her big smile, looking at her lips for a moment before snapping out of your thoughts realizing you’ve been sizing up the girl for a little too long.

You reach out your hand, taking hers giving it a shake before you return your focus back to your shoes.

“Hey. Guess this is your cubby now?”

“Uh yeah, I guess they reorganized it for numerical order or whatever, I feel bad they had to shift everyone, I really didn't mind being at the end, it would've been fine. I didn't want to come in here and disturb the system, but the equipment team insisted. I guess it's easier for them, I don't know.” She rambles at you. “Sorry, I don't know why I’m telling you all this.”

You go back to fixing your shoes as Jessie gets ready for practice, you couldn't help but be annoyed by all of your fellow teammates making their way over to Jesies locker, standing conveniently in front of you to talk to her. You listened to them all say how they are looking forward to getting to know her, how they were excited for her to be joining the team, how they were excited for her to be bringing in talent into the midfield, unintentionally insulting you.

As the next few weeks of preseason training went by you could feel your playing time slipping through your fingers. All of those minutes falling into the lap of Jessie.

She was perfect and that pissed you off. You watched her everyday at practice. She was everything you were and also everything you weren’t. She was more tactful than you, she knew more about other players than you, she was faster than you, she rarely made a bad pass, hardly ever missed a pass coming to her, she made clean touches, she was an ideal midfielder.

On top of being a damn good player she was too nice. She was nice to everyone, all the time. It drove you crazy. She was especially nice to you. She would chat with you while you dressed for training, you thought maybe she’d get the hint when you only gave her one to two worded answers and never really initiated a conversation but she didn’t. She’d offer small words of encouragement during practice as well as helping explain what a coach was trying to get across to you, she’d answer questions in meetings and it seemed she always had the right answer.

During her second week, she walked in with Janine, two coffees in her hand before she made her way over to you. She extended her arm and before you could ask her what she was doing she explained for you. “Janine and I stopped for coffee, I figured we’d get you one too, Janine said it was one of your favorite places.”

“Oh, thanks.” You found the interaction a little weird but it was probably Janine’s idea anyway to get you the coffee. You look across the locker room and catch Janine’s eye before raising the cup and shouting her a thanks. You forgot about the surprise coffee incident until a few days later when Jessie brought you a muffin.

She once again stopped in front of where you sat, hand outstretched in your direction with a muffin in her hand. You recognized the muffin, lemon with a blueberry glaze on it. “Uh, Janine mentioned how much you like these when she and I were at the coffee shop a few weeks ago, she said they’re always out and it’s hard to find them, they had them this morning, I remembered so I got it for you.”

You looked from her to the muffin in her hand. The genuineness of her offer was frustrating you, she truly was just being a kind person, but to you it felt manipulative. Like she was trying to somehow get under your skin, into your brain, she brought you treats and coffees, somehow it would lead to your downfall. That’s what ran through your head every time she walked in with something for you.

“What do I owe you?” You reach for your wallet.

“Oh, no, nothing, it’s just a gift.” She shakes the muffin at you, you finally take it from her and she sits down into her cubby next to yours.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” You place the snack into your cubby for safe keeping, you were definitely going to eat that after practice.

“I just wanted to.” She responds with a smile before changing into her practice gear.

The small gifts didn’t stop. She’d bring you coffee or a snack every once in a while which you politely would accept but you couldn’t fathom why she kept doing it. You couldn’t lie, the more it happened the more genuine your thank yous became, it made you feel a little fuzzy inside when she’d hand it to you and your fingers would brush against each other. As if the two of you could maybe be friends at some point. But then you’d go on the field and that feeling would be gone as she would outperform you again and again. You’d see the coffee cup upon returning to the locker room and suddenly have the urge to throw it out, to not let Jessie continue to think you were friends, you weren’t, she was competition. The cycle of hating her, to being a civil acquaintance for just a little bit before training and then back to hating her on the field continued day in and day out, week after week.

You shouldn’t have been surprised when the first game came around and you found yourself as a substitute. You tried to keep your emotions at bay as Jessie’s name was listed in the position yours typically was. You clenched and unclenched your jaw, trying to ignore the frustration bubbling up. When you walk to your cubby Jessie is already there, getting dressed.

“Hello.” She smiles at you as she changes her shirt. Her tone happy, upbeat, of course she was happy, she was starting.

“Hey.” Your tone was the opposite, monotone, dull, no sense of excitement.

“Are you excited for the game?” Jessie continued on. You just shrug in her direction before putting in headphones and sitting down to put on your socks. “A woman of many words.” Jessie is still smiling at you when you look up at her. “Come on, be excited, it’s the start of the season!” She gently shakes your shoulder before turning away to go talk with Janine. You look across the room and catch Sam’s eye, she raises an eyebrow in your direction and you see her stand up quickly looking down at the ground.

Sam finds her way to your cubby. “What’s up with you?”

“Huh?” You pull a headphone from your ear and look up at her.

“You’re moping, you’re quiet, it’s so obvious you’re not yourself and you haven’t been.” She’s standing one hand on her hip looking down at you. She must’ve noticed the way you looked around the room to all your teammates standing within earshot. “Alright equipment office, let’s go.” She points a finger in the direction of the always empty office.

You follow her in and quickly hop on the desk, grabbing the pen that’s sat on it to begin fidgeting with it.

“Talk to me.” Sam crosses her arms leaning against the door.

“I don’t know.” You shrug, lying straight through your teeth. “Just in a mood, woke up on the wrong side of the bed I guess.”

“Okay, bullshit. I’m not stupid. You’ve been waking up on the wrong side of the bed all pre-season, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you’re lying. Are you unhappy here? Did something happen in your life? Because you’ve been weird for weeks and I’ve tried, Janine has tried, but you just shrug everyone off, so what gives?”

“Janine’s too busy with her now, I’m surprised she noticed.” You mumble it and you really don’t mean for Sam to hear it but she does. It was true though, you found yourself spending less and less time with Janine. Despite what she had promised you in the car before Jessie’s arrival, you felt replaced. You’d invite her out for a walk, she’d already be with Jessie, she’d invite you to dinner before conveniently mentioning Jessie would be there too. You felt like not only had Jessie come in and taken your spot on the team, she had taken over your spot in Janine’s life.

“Is that what this is all about? Her? Jessie?” Sam makes her way over to you.

You shake your head, it was, but it also wasn’t. It was more about the fact that you were being replaced, not just used as a sub. “I don’t know Sam.”

“I think you do, you just don’t want to say it.”

You throw your hands up toward the door. “It’s so obvious she’s here to replace me.”

“She’s not.” Sam tries to wrap an arm around your shoulder but you stand up before she can. You didn’t need her sympathy or whatever she was trying to do here. You were frustrated, annoyed, she wasn’t helping.

“Don’t lie.”

“I'm not!” Sam tries to explain to you but you don’t want to hear it.

“Hard to argue when she’s starting instead of me today.” Fed up with everyone, you push past Sam back into the locker room, not saying anything to anyone you throw on your warm up shirt and head out to the pitch early just to escape.

The game is relatively uneventful for the first half. You want nothing to do with watching Jessie play but it seems to be all you can do. Your eyes are constantly on her, as if none of your other teammates or the opponents exist. You watch how she effortlessly can make space for herself, how she can make accurate passes barely having to look at the other players, everything she does is clean. She makes an assist just before the half you cheer for a moment, happy to take the lead before a sinking feeling builds in your stomach.

The second half starts with you kicking your feet together as you sat on the bench still. It isn't until 30 minutes remaining that you get told to start warming up and it’s not until 61 minutes that you are standing next to the referee as Jessie’s number is lit up in red and yours is in green. She gives you a high five as you sub on but you don’t listen to the words she says telling you to do well.

You don’t do much for the remaining 29 minutes only getting a few touches, nothing good but also nothing bad. The game ends with a victory and you start walking around the pitch with your teammates.

Jessie finds her way to your side. “You had some nice passes.”

You look at her, feeling as if her comment is almost backhanded. It wasn’t backhanded, Jessie was genuinely complimenting your playing, she meant nothing negative by the comment, you did have some good passes. You just look at her, no smile, no words, nothing.

“You alright?” Jessie presses.

“Look, Jessie, I’m really not interested in talking to you right now.”

You can’t miss the look of confusion, hurt, and sadness across her face. “Oh, okay, I’m sorry.” She stops walking, letting you walk off ahead of her, you continue to walk alone around, signing a few things, taking a few photos but then making your way into the locker room.

You get undressed and shower quickly before coming back to your locker when Jessie walks up. The tension is obvious between the two, she didn’t greet you like normal, she barely acknowledges your existence. You look up to her. She still has a sad expression on her face, she refuses to make eye contact with you as she grabs her stuff and walks away. You notice Janine’s cold stare when she walks past you as you’re headed out of the room your backpack already packed and on your back.

“That was a dick move. She’s just trying to be your friend.”She mutters to you as you pass her. For a second you think about turning around, telling Janine how despite her promise to you that your friendship wouldn’t change, it had, how she had abandoned you the second Jessie showed up. You debate telling her you want nothing to do with Jessie, that you hate her but she’s too damn nice that you can’t outright shoot her down. But you don’t, you keep it in and continue to walk down the hallway. You open up the door to a rainy evening, leaving your head down you pull your hood up and make your way to your car.

[works-of-fanfiction]

The Love of Another - Part One || Cillian Murphy x actress!Reader

Summary: After meeting on the set of Peaky Blinders, Cillian and Y/N struggle to keep their relationship professional.

Warnings: Swearing, cheating (loose mentions of Cillian being divorced).

Word Count: 3.8k

a/n: I’ve been wanting to write for Cillian for a while, so I hope this reaches the right people! My blog has always been mixed so why not include some more fics with more people?

“I miss you too.” She sighed, sinking deeper into the bathtub with her phone balancing on the ledge. Dipping her head underneath the water, she missed her husband’s next words and came back to the surface with a small splash. The tub was filled just an inch too high, suds lapping over the edge and wetting the bathmat below. “I didn’t catch that last bit. What did you say?”

 “I asked if Cillian had stolen my wife yet.” Her husband chuckled, the laughter trailing off when she didn’t immediately respond. “Y/N?”

She sighed, this time in frustration, as she reached with a wet hand to grab the phone. “I can’t even tell if you’re joking anymore.”

There was silence. Then a stutter. “What? Obviously, I’m kidding!”

“Are you though? These so-called jokes about Cillian are becoming a little too frequent…” She looked up to the ceiling, mentally recounting the three previous occasions in that week alone that he’d felt the need to bring her co-star into the conversation. “You call me to check in, but it feels like you’re really calling to see if I’m with someone else.”

“Y/N…”

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me. This isn’t the first time you’ve been weary of one of my co-stars. I’m not here on holiday, I’m working.”

“I know – “

“So, please stop calling me and accusing me of something you know I would never do. I married you.”

As much as her husband had always supported her career, he’d never gotten used to seeing her play alongside different men. Kissing and romantic scenes made his skin crawl, and now she was a regular on one of the country’s most loved shows and spending a lot of time around the same man, his suspicions only grew. He was well-known to jump to the wildest of conclusions.

He mumbled an apology, and Y/N made an excuse to cut their call short, tossing the phone onto the pile of laundry on the floor. Huffing, she sank back below the bubbles and turned the tap with her foot, adding more hot water. “Marriage…” She muttered to herself, sniggering before closing her eyes and dunking her head beneath the water once again.

She scrubbed at her scalp, relieving tension from the day, and loosening the insane amount of hairspray that had been holding her hair down since eight o’clock that morning. Holding her breath, she stayed underwater for a moment, savouring the few minutes a day she could spend in silence.

The hot water showering her feet stopped and she sat up, pushing her wet hair out of her face. “What was that about marriage?” A familiar voice asked, and she opened her eyes, vision adjusting to the figure sat on the edge of the bath looking down at her. “Let me guess… It’s not all it’s cracked up to be?” He laughed, tugging at the knot in his tie. His hair was fluffy and messy from wearing a hat all day, his collar slightly dirtied from the face powder the make-up team had spent the evening reapplying beneath the hot, harsh lights of the soundstage. Still, he looked like he’d barely done a day’s work and the way that suit hugged his body made Y/N’s stomach flutter.

“Definitely not when your husband doesn’t trust you.”

“And what reason would he have not to trust you? Because…” He stood, slipping off his shoes and pulling the tie off, letting it join her clothes in the corner. “I can’t think of a single one.” He shrugged his jacket off and hung it on the door handle, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows.

She giggled as he lifted his foot and stepped into the bath, most of his clothes still on. The water lapped over the side and soaked the floor as he clumsily knocked the shampoo bottles over. She squeezed her legs together and he knelt over her, lowering his upper body towards her, but keeping a hold of the tub to steady himself. “Cillian!” She squealed, watching the water seep into his shirt and trousers.

“Sorry, love. Forgot to ask. Can I join you?” He smirked, cupping water into his hand and dampening his hair with it. With flushed cheeks, whether from the humidity in the room or Cillian’s presence, she smiled at him, reaching out to run her fingers along his jaw.

“Wardrobe are going to kill you.”

“It’s a good thing they’ve got two more suits just like it then, isn’t it?”

“Hm, it feels weird seeing you dressed like that, sounding like that.” 

“Would you prefer I talk like this, Mrs Shelby?” He adopted his signature Brummie accent from the show, instantly snapping into character and gazing at her through furrowed brows. She stifled back a laugh, unable to take him seriously with his soddened shirt and hands slipping along the bathtub’s edge. “You’re not supposed to be finding this funny.” His accent melted back to normal through the sentence, a smile creeping onto his own face. 

“Sorry, I just don’t see Tommy Shelby diving into a bath on top of his missus.” 

“That’s because he’d probably be the one on the bottom.” He teased, dipping a hand into the water and settling it on her waist. 

“Don’t get too comfortable. Believe it or not I was enjoying my bath before a fully clothed hooligan decided to jump in.” She propped herself up and fiddled with his buttons, her wet fingers making it a little difficult. She started from the bottom and he gave her a hand up top, before he peeled the damp garment off his body. 

“Is that better?” He quipped, as she stared at his character’s tattoo which had started to smudge from a mixture of water and sweat. Nodding, she ran her fingers over his chest, smearing the design even more. “Are you going to wash me? Is that it?” 

“Well you need it. You’ve got more makeup on than I’ve had all series!” 

“Then let’s get these trousers off too, eh?”

Lying on Cillian’s chest, Y/N listened to his breathing and heart beating. The low light in the bedroom made her eyes feel heavy, but she wasn’t tired enough to sleep just yet. His hand absentmindedly played with her hair, gently massaging her scalp with the very tips of his fingers, being careful not to scratch her. These moments behind closed doors away from prying eyes were their most cherished. They spoke about their days, the hours spent together and apart. Y/N praised Cillian for his performance in a scene earlier that day, and he tried his best to deflect the compliment and switch the subject to her scenes instead. “Will you ever accept my compliments?” She teased, poking him in the chest.

“I will accept your compliments if…” He started, stopping to think. She sat up, looking at him in anticipation. “If you let us finally talk about your birthday.”

“Cillian…”

“You know the studio are going to go all out. You can’t avoid it.”

“I’m turning thirty. I’m ancient! This is not something to be celebrated.” Covering her eyes, she shook her head and groaned. Cillian laughed, lightly swatting her hands away from her face.

“If you’re ancient, then what am I?”

“Men age better, you don’t count. Just let me enjoy my last few days of being twenty-nine.”

His chuckling made her frown twist into a smirk which she tried to hold back. Gazing at her with sleepy blue eyes, he scooted closer cupping her cheek in his hand. “I seem to remember your birthday being rather special.” He cooed, his thumb lightly stroking the soft skin below her eye. She sighed, remembering the moment like it was just days ago.

Thinking back to it with such fondness was wrong. She knew that. One moment on her twenty-ninth birthday snowballed into something so much bigger, and the lingering thirtieth celebrations reminded her just how badly things had gotten out of hand. The lapse in time made it impossible to take everything back. However, selfishly, given the chance, she knew she wouldn’t change a thing.

“Cillian…” She whispered breathlessly, his face still close and mouth still hot against hers. He drew back, his hands remaining on her cheeks, fingertips brushing the skin below her earlobes.

As her eyes fluttered open to meet his, he suddenly let go, catching his head in his right hand. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” He stumbled over his words, looking around the room in a panic, eyes darting to the door that was still clearly open, wide enough for anyone to walk past and see what he did. What they did.

“I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck, you’re married! What the hell is wrong with me?”  

She stood there, hands trembling by her sides as she watched his gaze jump across the floor, his feet struggling to stay still. Her lips tingled and stung from the contact, almost desperate to kiss him again, to feel his hands on her body. They’d kissed a hundred times on set; playing husband and wife meant that physical contact was just another part of the job, but he’d never kissed her like this. So tender. So slow. Their onscreen kisses were robotic in comparison.

“No one has to know.” The words spilled out of her mouth before her brain could catch up, her arm reaching out for him. He dared himself to look back up to see her flushed cheeks and freshly kissed lips, plump and pink, glistening and hungry for more. Something twisted inside his stomach, and her lashes fluttered innocently in his direction like they were two teenagers in love. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe, like his stare could burn holes through her body.

“No one – has – to know.” She stepped closer with each word, her body making the decisions for her. This feeling and attraction towards Cillian was certainly nothing new, but she never thought he’d return her affection.

Cillian searched for reassurance in her eyes, making sure she really meant what she said as her fingers traced the stitching along his sleeve. Sensing his apprehension, she slipped her hand into his. He sighed, the heat from her fingers sending electricity through his veins, a feeling that felt so right despite how wrong it was.

“We should get back to your party.” He breathed, the muffled sounds of voices and music somehow growing louder as if they were getting closer to the door, closer to finding them together. “Your guests they… Well, you don’t want to keep them waiting.” 

“Cillian.” She uttered quietly, pleading for him to look her in the eye and tell her she hadn’t just dreamt the past few minutes. She needed something, anything that would serve as confirmation that she hadn’t imagined it. That she hadn’t imagined his hands holding her face, pulling her to him, their bodies moulding together as their lips met for what felt like the very first time. This was no rehearsed kiss inside four cold white walls; this wasn’t in front of a crew of ten men with cameras zooming in on their faces. This was between the two of them. Raw and real. 

Defeated, she dropped his hand and headed to the door. Gripping the handle, she went to pull it towards her until Cillian pressed a firm hand against the wood, slamming it into its frame. He cornered her, his intense stare making her neck hot and her cheeks visibly pinker.

The kiss was hesitant at first; their movements staggered and filled with doubt yet fuelled by longing and the sheer desperation to feel each other again. Once each were confident that the other wanted the same thing, they melted into one another’s grasp, Cillian’s hands tangling into her hair, Y/N’s fingers clutching onto his shirt as if he could disappear at any moment. It was feverish, like a craving had finally been satiated for them both. They knew there was no going back now. They were in this, and they’d have to spend every waking moment hiding it from everyone they knew, both mutual and individual. 

“That means it’s been a year since…” 

“Since this started.” Cillian waved his finger between himself and Y/N, a reminiscent smile on his face. She never knew how to react when they actually sat and talked about their relationship. It was undoubtedly easier for Cillian, being divorced and completely free to do and see whoever he wanted, but Y/N was still very much married and playing a dangerous game. Every day she lied to her husband’s face and made fun of his insecurities surrounding Cillian. Little did he know, he had every right to be worried about his wife’s co-star, considering he was the one who wound up in her bed at the end of most days.

Cillian opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. He knew diving into the specifics of their affair made Y/N uneasy. She didn’t like to talk about her marriage; she preferred to pretend that what she and Cillian had was healthy and real. If she didn’t think about her husband, she could convince herself she wasn’t hurting anybody.

“We should get some sleep.” He said comfortingly, wrapping an arm around her as she laid back on his chest. Y/N knew he was trying to distract her from her thoughts, and she was all too willing to escape them, so she closed her eyes and begged for sleep to come quickly.

“Happy birthday!” The cast and crew cheered, clapping and whooping as Y/N stepped onto set. She grinned in faux surprise having been pre-warned by Cillian that they were planning something. A table littered with cupcakes and cookies stood at the side with some crew members already lingering, hoping for an early treat.

“Thanks guys! You shouldn’t have done all of this for me.” Y/N smiled, hugging various people and receiving more birthday wishes as she made her way around the room. Cillian stood by the cameras pretending to look busy, trying not to draw attention to himself. To the outside world they were just castmates, friends at a push. People praised them for their work and chemistry onscreen, unaware of the true feelings below the surface, and the two had grown very good at playing acquaintances around others.

Reaching Cillian, he gave her a quick side hug and a friendly smile. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” He said politely, pulling a small card out of his pocket. “It’s nothing special.” He raised his voice to purposely reach those around them.

“Thank you, Cillian. I’ll add it to the pile.” She beamed, knowing she definitely wouldn’t be adding his card to any pile for anyone else to see. She didn’t know what he’d written, but judging by the glint in his eye, it wasn’t a decoy card to keep up appearances. It was the real thing, and he was playing with fire bringing it into the studio in the first place, but she’d chew his ear off about that later.

When everyone broke off for lunch, Y/N rushed off to her trailer, Cillian’s card burning a hole in her pocket. Throwing the door open, she was surprised to be greeted by a large cake on the counter, iced in her favourite colours with an obnoxious ‘30’ in the middle made from chocolate.

“It’s hazelnut. Your favourite.”

She spun around, confused, only to find her husband sprawled on the sofa behind her. “Surprise.” He grinned, opening his arms for her. She gulped, taking a step forward and leaning down to hug him. He shifted on the sofa, giving her enough space to sit in his lap as he squeezed her tight, feathering little kisses on her cheek.

Her body felt stiff in his arms from shock. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that he would show up, but it made perfect sense. It was her thirtieth birthday, of course he was going to come!

Glancing out of the window over his shoulder, she saw Cillian engaged in an animated conversation with the producers, throwing his head back with laughter. She sighed, wishing there was a way out of this situation, wishing she could run out of the door and disappear with him, leaving the guilt and the pain behind. Hugging her husband felt wrong. She felt ashamed to be dreaming of another man whilst the one she’d sworn her love to was right there in front of her.

“Are you OK?” He asked, moving so they could sit side-by-side.

“Yeah, I’m just surprised!” She lied, her voice high-pitched and shaky. She felt Cillian’s card crumple in her back pocket, but she thanked her lucky stars she didn’t have it on show when she walked into the trailer.

“I had to come and see you on your birthday. What shall we do tonight?” His arm around her shoulder made her feel suffocated and she hoped the ground would somehow magically swallow her up. She shimmied out of his grasp, standing up.

“The crew have organised a night out. I can’t let them down.”

He stood up, his hand settling on her upper arms. “Then we’ll both go. That sound fun?”

Nodding, she closed her eyes, cringing as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I have another scene to shoot this afternoon. Will you be alright hanging in here for a while?”

“What? I can’t come and watch?”

“I don’t think it’s a scene you’d want to see.” Another lie. The scene was a simple conversation between two characters, no drama or romance involved, but it was easier to let him believe it was something he’d find unsettling. The first time he watched her kiss Cillian in a scene, he couldn’t shake the sickly feeling in his stomach all day. As harsh it was to use his insecurity against him, it was far easier than the truth.

I’m having an affair with my co-star who I repeatedly told you not to worry about, and you being here is complicating things further, so I’d rather not spend any more time around you than I have to.

Yeah… Lying was certainly easier.

“I guess I’ll just uh… Stick a film on then.” He shrugged, sitting back down.

“It shouldn’t take too long.” She hovered for a second, then remembered Cillian’s card again. “I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“OK.”

Locking herself behind the toilet door, she ripped open the card, stuffing the envelope into the small bin beside her.

‘Meet me in the wardrobe department at 1. I’ve got something for you.

Happy birthday, Mrs Shelby.

Yours,

Cillian x’

Her heart fluttered, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she re-read it a second time, then a third. What started as a joke between them became somewhat of a term of affection; calling each other Mr and Mrs Shelby. Cillian could certainly be corny when he wanted to be, but she was no better.

Checking the time on her phone, she had ten minutes to get to the wardrobe department and see Cillian before their lunch hour was over. Remembering her company outside the door, she counted a few seconds before flushing the toilet and rinsing her hands in the sink. She hid the card, pulling her shirt over her trousers so her husband couldn’t see a bump in her pocket.

“I have to go to wardrobe and get into my next outfit.” She muttered, fixing her hair in the mirror and rushing around to avoid making eye contact with her unwanted guest.

“Your lunchtime isn’t even over! Come on, babe. Sit down, let’s chat.”

“You know me, I like to be punctual.” She flashed him a weak smile, pulling out her phone to show him the time. “Plus, we both know how long it can take me to get ready.”

“Fine. But I’m buying you your first birthday drink tonight.”

“I’d be mad if you didn’t.”

He stood to hug her, but she dashed out of the door before he could even get close. Speedwalking to wardrobe, her mind raced back and forth between her husband and Cillian. She was supposed to be happy that he’d traveled all this way for her birthday. She was supposed to jump into his arms and declare how much she’d missed him over the past couple of months, not pray for him to go away. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get Cillian off her mind. He consumed her, emotionally, physically, in every way possible. She never meant for it to go this far, to feel this way, but she couldn’t control it.

Entering the room, she spotted Cillian’s shoes through the racks of clothing. She could hear him mumbling something to himself, but it wasn’t quite coherent. Once he spotted her, his face lit up, eyes twinkling as he gazed at the birthday girl. “Hi.” He whispered, edging closer to her.

“Hi, Cill.”

“I see you got my message.”

“I had to come and see what all the fuss was about.” She smiled, noticing a box on the table behind him. “Is that for me?”

“Impatient, aren’t you?”

“Just curious.” She teased.

Taking her hand in his, he fidgeted with the wedding band on her finger. It wasn’t hers, but her character’s, and Cillian wore a matching one in his role as Tommy. Looking down at their hands, Y/N couldn’t help but think about the ring that was usually in its place, or should’ve been had she not taken it off weeks ago. She thought back to her husband, sitting in her trailer watching some straight to DVD movie on the TV, counting down the minutes until he could finally spend some time with the woman he loved.

Cillian stole her attention, tilting her chin up with his thumb. “There’s something I need to tell you. You’re going to tell me I’m cheesy for saying it on your birthday but - “

“Cillian.”

“No, let me speak, please.” He went over his words again in his head, and Y/N began to panic as his eyes explored her face, pupils dilating. “Y/N, I love - “

“Cillian, my husband is here.” She blurted, exhaling a deep breath. His gaze didn’t leave hers, but the adoration in his eyes quickly switched to shock. His hand fell from her face, and he awkwardly gripped onto the hem of his jacket, rubbing the fabric between his finger and thumb as a distraction.

“…What?”

-

Next Part >

[spinchip]

“I’m sorry about your hair.” Nya says from the comfort of the bathroom doorway. Not inside, close to the halo of hacked brown locks, but not entirely outside- close enough to reassure but with a quick escape would be easy, if this conversation was unwelcome.

Dot makes a soft humming noise as she trims the fringe framing her face, her eyes exhausted but resolved as she makes sure the sides are perfectly even, “hair grows back.”

“Still, though.” Nya fidgets with the doorknob just to do something with her hands, “You loved your hair. Was there really no saving it?”

“The matting was too severe.” Dot says lightly, “Besides, even if there was a way to save it… well, it’s a bit too late now.”  she sweeps chunks of her once long hair into the garbage bin by the toilet. The pixie cut is strange and foreign on her, to Nyas eyes. She’d only ever know Dot with hair long enough to brush her lower back.

Dot grabs her canes and makes her way towards the door. There’s still hair on the floor, but Nya wisely doesn’t comment on it. In all the years she’d now known Dakota, she was never one to leave a mess. She wasn’t okay, and Nya doubted that handing her a broom would do anything to help. She backs up so Dot can join her in the hallway, and she follows her as she heads to the kitchen.

“I’ve never seen your hair this short.” She says because she’s really not sure what to say, “Even in the pictures with you and Leo it was to your shoulders.” there’s a pause, “It looks nice!” She adds awkwardly, suddenly acutely aware she may not be making things better.

Though Dot doesn’t seem to mind. She grabs a water bottle and tucks it under her armpit as she leads Nya back out of the kitchen, “It was short most of my childhood.” She says conversationally, “Chemo started young so all my hair fell out, then after remission right as it started getting long I had a recurrence and had to go for another round. I kept it short out of habit for a while after that- not this short, maybe similar to how I had it cut in those old photos.”

Nya had long since stopped comparing Dot to Zane, but sometimes she’s still struck with just how different the two masters of ice were. When it came to difficult topics, you’d need a can opener to get Zane to cough up any details. Dot had no qualms discussing the traumas of her life, with only the great devourer attack being a sensitive subject- but even then, if you asked she was willing to discuss.

So why Nya thinks to herself am I so scared to ask about the Never Realm?

They go out to the garden along the side of the monastery, fresh flowers blooming and a sweet hanging screen hanging in the air. Dot settles down on the bench there, setting her crutches to the side and cracking her water bottle to take a sip. This had always been her favorite spot in the monastery, and doubly-so after the Never Realm. She sits out here in the sun for hours, soaking up the warmth and lost in thought. Nya sits down next to her, feeling only a little like she’s intruding.

“Are you okay?” she asks quickly, ripping off the bandaid.

Dot had her head back, basking in the sunlight when Nya asked. Her lips curl into a sad smile as she cracks her eye open to look at nya in her peripheral, “Of course not.”

And maybe this hesitation Nya was struggling through was rooted in that tiny little smile. That was the most emotion she’s shown in the days since she came back- a small, starved thing that struggled past the apathy settled like weights along her shoulders. That just wasn’t natural. Dot cried over spilt milk- she cooed at cute animals and pouted when she lost board games and laughed and smile so loud and so bright you knew she was happy two rooms away.everything Nya knows about her indicates the fall out should be an atomic bomb going off, but instead the monastery is quiet and still and Dot doesn’t do anything but sit out here in the sun.

“I’m sorry.” She offers again.

Dot sighs and Nyas never heard her sigh like that, either. A put-upon, tired thing. Exhausted, “I know you mean well, but i don’t really like to hear apologies when I’m having a rough day.”

Nya blinks. That was certainly news to her, “Oh, uh, I’ll try to stop then. Why haven't you said anything before?”

she closes her eyes again, “I heard it all the time as a kid. Started to really grate on my nerves, but I usually don’t say anything because I know it's largely a sign of sympathy. It feels rude to shoot someone's sympathy down like that… the truth is I just don’t like it.”

There’s a lull in the conversation. Nya doesn’t know where to go from here, so they just enjoy the sunlight together.

A light breeze ruffles Nyas hair right before Dot speaks again, “I know everyone is worried about me.” she states plainly.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be okay.” Dot reassures her gently.

Nya looks away, “After seeing you up on that throne-” Dot flinches, but Nya barrels on, “I just don’t know how anyone could bounce back from that alone. We’re here for you, all of us are.”

There’s another long silence.

Nya continues, “...if there’s one thing I've always thought I knew about you, it's that you feel your emotions very deeply and very openly. I haven’t seen you cry once since you got back.”

The breeze liberates a few flowers from the dogwood above their heads and the white flowers trickle to the ground like falling snow.

Dakota swallows thickly and sits up more, she hesitates for a moment before speaking, “...I have had a lot of bad experiences throughout my life, Nya. I don’t think I’ve gone ten years without a new tragedy.” She starts, looking down at her hands where she is twisting her fingers together as she strings together her words, “granted, this is much different than just another hospital stay… but after each of those events I just needed time. A lot happened here, most of it stuff that I feel a great deal of shame, pain, and guilt over. I’m working though my thoughts and emotions mostly internally right now, because I don’t think I could handle the fallout if I fully unbottled these feelings just yet.” She explains.

“I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to go through this alone.”

“I’m not. I actually do have someone I’ve been discussing things with-” Her eye slickers to air next to her, but Nya’s looking at the flowers drifting in the wind and doesn’t quite catch that, “and I've slowly been letting the pressure off. Think of it like cracking a coke a little and waiting for the carbonation to go down? That way it doesn’t go exploding out of the bottle.”

Nya chuckles a little at that, “I like that analogy.” The grin slides off her face as she thinks everything over and Dot notices.

“Listen, Nya… when bad things happen, sometimes the only thing you can do is accept that this is the way it is. I can’t change the past, I can’t stop what has already finished, but I can choose where to go from here.” Dot smiles weakly again.

Several long moments pass as Nya really absorbs what Dot says before she responds. With a small returned smile, Nya leans over and bumps Dots elbow with hers, “Well, please remember you don’t have to figure it out on your own. you’ve got plenty of people who are here to help, okay? We love you.”

“I love you guys too.” Dot smiles again, and it’s genuine this time.

[trohpi]

@regulily-microfic • september 6: fire • 933 words

cross-posted on ao3

It was stupid, really. Just an offhand, innocent offer of help with the laundry, and yet that was all Lily needed to explode.

There was no build up, no steadily rising anger. There never is. No, it’s always zero to one hundred, a spark to an inferno, and she has no idea why. Maybe she’s broken. It certainly feels like it.

A pit of guilt churns in his stomach at the memory of Regulus’ face, the frustration and hurt there. He must hate me now, he thinks. I’d hate me, too.

A knock on their bedroom door startles Lily from his spiral and he sniffles, quickly wiping at the tears on his face.

“Lily?” a gentle voice says on the other side. Regulus. Her heart aches.

There’s a shuffle, then a throat clearing. “I’ve put the kettle on.”

Lily’s breath hitches at the care in his voice, and that’s all it takes before she’s ripping open the door. Regulus blinks at the abruptness for just a second before his eyes settle on the form of his upset partner. His face falls slightly at the swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks, concern brimming in silvery grey eyes. Lily feels more tears welling in her own, and she bites the inside of her cheek to hold back a nasty flood of emotion.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks softly, and it was useless. All at once, the feebly-built dam breaks open with a sob.

“I’m sorry,” Lily chokes out, hands trembling.

“Darling.” Regulus reaches out to steady his hands, slender fingers cradling his own gently, delicately. Tenderly. He shutters, his chest aching.

“I don’t know why I got so angry,” Lily stutters through tears. “I don’t— I’m sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

“Love.” A hand comes up to cup her cheek. She nearly flinches at the contact. It’s too soft, too loving, too much. More than she deserves.

“I ruin everything.” His voice is a near-whisper, thick with tears and tension. “I’m sorry I do that, I don’t know why I do that.”

“Lily,” he cuts her off with a firm voice, and this time she really does flinch. She’d been expecting this, of course. The anger, the disgust, the disappointment. Any negative emotion, really. After all, Lily is a fire. It was only a matter of time before Regulus got sick of being burned. She just… didn’t expect it to hurt this much. Not now, not yet.

“Lily,” he says again, voice softer now. “Look at me.”

Lily sniffles as he meets his boyfriend’s eyes, which are gentle and full of love.

“I don’t care that you got angry,” Regulus says, running his thumb along his partner’s cheekbone. “And I don’t care that you needed space. The only thing I care about is the fact that you yelled at me, but I also know you didn’t mean to. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Lily leans into his touch, sighing shakily. “I don’t know why I got so mad, and I’m so sorry I took it out on you.”

“I know, darling. It’s okay.”

“It’s not, though. Sometimes, it’s like a switch flips, and all of this rage that’s just…” He gestures vaguely in the air. “Simmering inside of me, all of the time, suddenly comes to a boil. I hate it.”

Regulus knows all of this already, to some extent. He’s been dating Lily for over a year, after all, and they’ve been friends for even longer. He’s seen her struggle with this more times than either of them can count, and yet he still wants to be with her. Lily has a hard time understanding why.

The hand on her cheek migrates to her hair, fingers running through the short locks of auburn. Lily sighs again. “I wish I wasn’t like this.”

“But you are.” It’s not said unkindly, but it still hurts just a bit. Regulus’ honesty can be brutal sometimes, but that is part of why Lily appreciates it so much. He is willing to cut the bullshit when no one else is.

“I know, I just—” Wish I was better for you. Wish I was better than this. “—Wish I was better at being in control of my own emotions.”

“You’re not gonna like this, but you could always try seeing a Mind Healer.”

He almost groans. They’ve had this conversation before, but Lily’s always shut it down. He doesn’t need a Mind Healer, his childhood was perfectly normal— the standard suburban Muggle family. Sure, his mother was a bit overbearing sometimes and his father a bit too lax, and there’s all the baggage with his sister, but nothing even close to what Regulus went through. No, Mind Healing is for people with real problems, not people like Lily.

But, Lily considers, perhaps it could be.

“I don’t know,” she mutters. “Maybe.”

Regulus’ fingers pause in their movements. “Maybe?”

“Maybe,” she confirms as she pulls back, wiping at the drying tears on her cheeks. “I’m just so tired of this. I’ll still feel stupid, like I don’t belong in a Mind Healer’s office, but I’ve tried everything else I can think of.”

“You’re not stupid for wanting help.”

“No, but I’ll feel stupid for needing it.”

“Just because you haven’t been through a major trauma doesn’t mean you have to be this perfect, undamaged person. You are allowed to not be okay, you know.”

“I know.” He smiles tiredly, reaching out to tangle their fingers together once more. “It’ll just take me a minute to believe it.”

Regulus squeezes her hand. “Well, I’ll be with you when you do.”

[salty-an-disco]

Man. The character poll got me looking at my designs with new eyes, and I feel like rambling about it, so Imma just do it.

(pretty long artist ramble under the cut)

The thing about me is that a lot of the choices I make when I’m designing something are mostly intuitive/subconscious; just me following a Vibe and seeing what works for the feeling I want to pass on. Not to say I design stuff without thought, I’m just not aware of those thoughts until the design’s done lol

All this to say the character poll got me analyzing my own designs and realizing what my intuitive brain was going for when doing these aissmdmfjdm

this was the first ever concept I drew for these guys, and you can already see some of the building blocks for my final designs here.

The thing that I focus most on, at first, is the overall silhouette and posing. Which is why I wasn’t worried about specific details or polishing up anything in this drawing, I just wanted to get a feel of these characters and see what kinds of shape worked best for them.

Going through each design and my process for them–

Cold was both the easiest and most difficult one for me. While I had a pretty strong idea for his overall shapes from my first drawing and knew what details were important (fluffy collar and head shaped like a water drop), specific details eluded me. I wasn’t sure what to do with its legs or cloak. Eventually tho, I decided I wanted them to be almost completely covered in feathers, leading to their white plumage with dark hands, feet, and face. Something simple, but effective, and I was happy enough with it. I was torn between a diamond or the X for its cloak’s clasp, but eventually decided the X was a more striking detail, and connected her to Spectre more.

Hero is another one that came very easily to me, but whose specific details I struggled with some. I gave him pure white eyes at first, but it limited his expressions, so I ended up giving him those black with white pupils eyes while doodling around. I figured out the helmet shape almost instantly while doing my second ever drawing of him, going for that beak-shaped helm with fiery feathers; tho the rest of his clothes I was really unsure about. Whether to give him a full set or not, if I give him a cape, or metal cladding, etc. The solution came by trial and error, simply giving him different pieces and seeing what fit best, and I eventually arrived on the set he has now!! The secondary clothes just kinda appeared as I doodled him in more casual scenes, and the hair came because I was looking at all the puffy-haired Hero designs and suddenly felt like mine was too bald lol. Overall, I’m really happy with my fluffy and smol son <3 (oh, and yeah, I always pictured him as short in my mind and never thought much about it isjsjdndjndjc)

While it too me a bit to get a doodle of Smitten out, I also figured him out almost instantly. The main thing I wanted for him was to look bright, approachable, and expressive. He’s the only one who has normal-ish eyes because of this, and the side cape was something I gave him to differentiate him from Hero and add to his dramatic flair.

Oppy was definitely the one I struggled with the most, as I had too many ideas in my head for him that all clashed with each other. He didn’t have a set design in my head for a while because of that, which you can see in my early doodles of him where I very clearly didn’t know what to do with his suit lol. His head shape was the first thing I figured out for sure, with those antennae hair strands being present ever since the first doodle I did of him, and for his suit, I just put Reigan Mob Psycho and Larry Pokemon Scarlet in a blender and that car salesman looking ass was the result (centrist politician was another vibe I was going for). I’ve been told he looks deceivingly handsome, tho personally, I just think his face is very punchable.

Broken was prolly the easiest one for me, and one I was satisfied with the first true try (I consider those first sketches up there more of a ‘test run’). I wanted them to look the most similar to Quiet (even more so than Hero), but, well, broken. A reflection of the state Quiet was left in by the Princess in the Tower lead-up. The horn tufts have been ripped off, there are a lot of slashes and cuts across its body, their feathers look unkept and like they have been torn off, and lots of its scales are missing. The sack covering its body is their measly attempt at covering their injuries, and I tried to make all the bandages look old and makeshift.

While the funny corvid face in my first attempt at drawing Contra is very neat, it just wasn’t very fun to draw or allowed them to have many expressions, so I changed it to the face you know now. The curly hair was mostly just me wanting my favorite blorbo to have my favorite kinda hair to draw, and it just so happened that it also fitted with them lol. Them being the only one out of my voices that wear pants instead of some upper body wear is something I always had in mind for them, and the suspenders were more of a little ‘extra’ thing I added to give them more of a clown look alongside with their hat. Something I find funny about my design for Contrarian is that, while it didn’t change much since my first full drawing of them, you can tell something about that first drawing seems off. A little scruffed and odd-looking, and that was mainly because I simply wasn’t used to drawing these humanoid bird things and you can really see me getting the hang of it with how I drew Contrarian, specifically.

(even the colors saturation is something I slowly figure it out by trial and error)

Paranoid was the next one I did, and not to brag but, I think I nailed it that second try aidjkxmddkfkkfc only thing I knew about her design was that I wanted her to have large eyes and a bold spot on her head, and then everything else I just kinda drew around that. And honestly? Really happy with the result!! The bald spot ended up looking a lot like part of her brain was straight-up exposed, so I just rolled with that, and she probably has one of the most fun faces to draw. Her silhouette is also very distinct, with the cloak + fluffy head and horn tufts kinda looking like pigtails giving her a very fun shape. I just love how she turned out, not my personal favorite design, but definitely the one I’m most proud of. She looks like a weird bug and I love that.

While I had very strong images for Cheated’s, Hunted’s, Skeptic’s and Stubborn’s design, it’d still be a while before I actually sat down to figure out their details. But once I did, they all came quite easily.

For Hunted, I just wanted it to look like a Creature. I had the idea of having leaves stuck to its feathers as a sorta camouflage thing, but that’d be to much of a hassle to constantly draw, so I scrapped that and just kept the camouflage marks on its cheeks. I wanted its body shape to look slender and nimble; slightly malnourished. The head shape was mainly me wanting its beak to look the most distinct from the other’s beaked voices, more of a ‘wild’ look, and the cat-like tufts was also added for that more feral look.

For Skeptic, I went back and forth on some details, but the hat, big gloves, and scarf were the things that stuck to the end. Something I find really funny with him is that he wears no clothes besides those accessories and its just the way his feathers are drawn that gives the impression of a suit, or some kinda coat under that scarf lol. His color pallette is the one I find the nicest. It’s mainly monochrome, but I think it works well for him.

Only thing I wanted for Stubborn is Big Soft Kitty. With scars. That was about it tbh, I just wanted him to look big, stronk, and huggable, he’s just a big kitty to me.

Cheated I also knew from the start what I wanted to do with him, as you can see by how similar the first concept and final designs look. Main thing I wanted for her was this sorta ‘uneven’ look, with her clothes seeming like they used to be symmetrical before being sliced and torn up. The slices on an ear tuft and a brow is something that just sorta appeared as I doodled him.

So… yeah! This is about it. It took me a while to reach to this final result, but I’m really glad with how all my designs turned out and seeing that others likes them too makes me incredibly happy!! :D

[suzie-shooter]

F2 Quali - Austria 2023 - James Blair commentary highlights

Nice view of mine and Clem's kitchen in the background there, I hadn't actually factored that in when I set everything up, but there you go.

Clem up in the top 10 [in practice], honourable mention. See if we can finally get it together, that'd be nice.

I threw my back out this morning [...] oh my back is absolutely giving me grief, holy heck. Fuck [...] fuck I really am struggling with my back here team, but I'll try not to move too much - oh fucking hell - I'll see if I can kind of sit straight that might be better for it [...] feels muscular, or maybe there's some plates there I've put in the wrong place like when a guest empties the dishwasher.

Novalak is at the top of the timing boards as we see it now. Stupendous, long may it continue.

Look good, feel good, go good. Oh, Christ. I need like some kind of heat pad or a theragun or something, or perhaps a healthier lifestyle.

I've taken the day off work by the way, in case anyone was worried the insurance industry was going to collapse.

They're being quite anal for lack of a better word, on the track limits here in Austria as they usually are. Very persnickety.

Alright Novalak's going to put a lap in and he's quicker than Stanek, so that's something. And we're quicker than Benevides. We're just going to count the people we're quicker than. Not Crawford. Jaky Moon, to the top of the sheets. Said that before, weyhey.

And it's Victor Martins up top, the sexy Frenchman.

"Who's your favourite indycar driver?" Marcus. Hate to say it, in some ways, but, you know. *sings love is blind* [...] correct, followed very closely by Scott Dixon. There's really almost literally nothing in it.

Anything you hear on Screaming Meals take it with a pinch of salt or assume it's not true.

I've heard a lot about this Barbie film, a lot of chat yesterday about some of my trousers which are apparently Barbie coloured. I really haven't paid much attention to it, it's unintentional, I do just like wearing pink and upsetting the pseudo-masculine lads in my workplace who are just terrifed of anything but a pair of chinos from Reiss and a Ralph Lauren oxford shirt.

"Any interest in the Ashes James?" Absolutely none.

Almost all of [Ollie Bearman's] points have come from race wins, so he's got to pull a couple of fingers out. I had a drink with him last weekend, caught up, and he showed up to a pub dressed like he was ready for an insurance conference, white polo and black chinos and smart trainers. So somebody's got him on a short leash. And he seemed very calm, very collected, very sort of relaxed. And then he had to shoot off to another do for his mates who had passed their A-levels, so made me feel like a complete paedophile.

I'm just listening to Theo Pourchaire here, who looped it actually, in practice, had a rare moment of, I don't know, dur-brain-ism.

Not to stir the pot but [the ART seat] was an option we weren't not considering, but thought better of it in the end.

Yes, I've had a hair cut this week. Which is now apparently news. Much to the relief of Ally. She was getting continuously more and more pissed off about the hair, which is about 90% of the reason why I kept it so long.

Yes, doing TikTok now. Not enjoying it, it's a bit silly, but Clem says it's really important to uphold a public image so I'm doing them, but I want to make it absolutely clear that it's against my will.

Novalak clinging on in P16, by virtue of probably a few track limits violations. Come on Clem. P10 in praccy, it's all you need again brother. Reverse grid pole, and a massive plug for the empire. That's what we want.

This is a real what I believe scientists refer to as a clusterfuck.

Somebody's run well wide there and it's Daruvala in the MP and he's totally fucked Fittipaldi's lap in doing so as well. Big old moment for Dizzle.

I love Gregoire Saucy. I've actually never met him but I think he's just got a fantastic name. [...] I'd love to get Gregoire Saucy on the pod, but you would need to put up with me calling him Gregoire Saucy every time I addressed him.

I'm not even going to talk about Trident. Not even gonna do it, don't fancy it.

Good on Victor, I love Victor, he's a really great young man [...] super hot, lovely guy.

I'll definitely be doing all of the races this weekend, on my lonesome [...] thanks for tuning in, and please don't be mean to me.

[aajjks]

TPOL!JK

“you know i would never put my hands on my kookie but please, don’t do that again. i love you and i always will” says ji-ae whose frown is turned upside down when jungkook mentions having kids with the love of his life AKA you.

you whose been comforting ji-ae as she cried and never treated her differently when she was struggling with her mental health.

you were there through all of it and it’s obvious the two of you are working towards a better place in yours relationship and this time you’re staying for good.

ji-ae promises to not invite chaeyoung over any longer and will make sure to change her locks and don’t think she doesn’t notice jungkook’s hand on your waist. he’s such a simp for you and ji-ae can’t help but find his love for you adorable.

the sweet moment is then cut short when jungkook’s phone goes off and he leaves to pick up the call leaving you and ji-ae alone.

“y/n?” she asks.

“what’s wrong?”

“do you…do you really think the baby isn’t his?”

“i honestly don’t know what to believe because he isn’t sure himself but i’ll still love him no matter what. i…i still want us to have a family together so i’m not going to let this deter me from loving him”

and ji-ae smiles and nods her head at you thinking how your parents did a fine job raising you. you’re a beautiful, ambitious, compassionate young woman and the more she talks to you, she begins to understand why jungkook is so hung up on you. you’re literally magical.

meanwhile, jungkook is outside fussing at, you guessed it, chaeyoung.

“quit yelling at the mother of your unborn child. guess what? i’ve decided to not release the mugshot pictures so instead of yelling at me, you should be thanking me. our baby has been in the oven for a month now and to celebrate, i’m going to tell the whole world about our baby. isn’t that great?! i hope you’re having fun with that whore because i’m going to ruin that bitch too”

He’s gritting his teeth and he almost throws his phone on the ground, “you mean the bastard child eh? It’s not MY child- and go ahead tell the world. Why would I care?” He scoffs.

“You’ve fucked many men. So… I’m not too concerned.” He smirks. “And for your info. She’s the love of my life. Not some whore. Go ahead and cry. I’m never going to love you or accept this child.” He is being harsh he knows, but what she needs is not to be craving his love but going to therapy.

“Ruin her and I’ll make sure your careers over, I’ll expose your obsession with me and everything you’ve done.” He threatens her back.

“You’re not the only woman who’s tried this, with me Chaeyoung.” He warns her, fixing his hair as he reaches out for a cigarette from his back pocket.

“I’m going to propose to yn- marry her, fuck her senseless and get her pregnant, WILLINGLY. And you’ll watch helplessly.” Chuckling, he lights up the cigarette while balancing the phone on his shoulder.

He hears her screaming, he rolls her eyes. “SHUT THE FUCK UP- even the child in your belly deserves to have a better mother than a psycho like you.” That’s the last blow he gives her after cutting of the call.

He is pretty sure that he’s hurt her a lot, enough to make her do something crazy so he’s a little concerned for you. Jungkook has to make sure that you’re safe.

You’ll have to move in with him.

He’s thinking to himself for a while and after he’s done smoking, he’s back inside. And his worries wash away as soon as he sees you helping his mother set the dinner table.

Oh, how can he ever leave you?

“Yn… once you’re done, I need to ask you something.” He smiles.

After the dinner, you, him and his mother are conversing, laughing and reminiscing about the old times and he scoffs in embarrassment when Jiae starts to tell you his childhood stories.

But overall it’s all very sweet and he feels so good. Then you finally give him your attention once his mother excuses herself to fetch dessert from the kitchen, rejecting your offer to fetch it yourself.

“Yn..” Jungkook looks at you, then on his watch, staring at it.

He hopes that you’ll agree.

“Move in with me.”

[ruminate88]

Taking The Easy Way Out In Life But Actually Living Harder:

The more you fight against growing pains, the more painful they’ll be! You’ve got to experience them and learn from them!!! I was born with a couple small complications and I couldn’t leave the hospital right away. I had a slow start in life. By the time I’m old enough for school, I’m not quite mature enough and my kindergarten teacher thought I should repeat that grade but my dad was full on against it. I was pushed on but wasn’t ready for 1st grade. Whenever 1st grade came, I hated it! I cried every morning begging not to go… That was when I met my best friend Lori who also struggled like me and we bonded instantly. It was never “love”, it was codependency. As I tried to grow up, I needed to lose Lori becuase she was only holding me back… She would never hear me out and eventually I just cut her out of my life but that sucked for me. Depression shortly followed after that.

I was always looking for “short cuts” in life but yet always ended up making life harder for myself. When I became homeschooled, I thought it would be easier than school but it wasn’t. I watched so many people graduate before me and get their diploma.(I felt like a complete loser) I had been taking care of everyone else around me and avoiding myself. I did get my GED before I turned 20 but it didn’t make me feel smart… By 25, I was focused on the kids I was raising and focused on my brother’s needs. Put myself away cuz I didn’t even know me or like me. 🥺 Always looking for an escape. Drowned myself in pornography and music. I wasn’t attracted to drugs and it’s a good thing too. (I would’ve been a complete addict)

I was in the darkest moments of my life. Learned how to be numb. Don’t feel the pain of life. Life is soooo hard yet I just want to find a short cut. I lived in depression and always used “I’m gonna hurt myself” hoping for people to not leave me but they always did. After my last toxic relationship, I’m FINALLY facing myself and it’s a total nightmare. I’ve neglected myself so long, tried to lean on other people for happiness. Tried to take shortcuts in life but by neglecting myself, I’ve made myself suffer way harder than anyone should have to. I met my husband directly after Andrew and he helps me learn to drive a car. Then we get married. Now marriage is hard work!!! Having to drive to the grocery store, carry it all inside the house, cook the food, clean up the house, be a faithful wife, save money, plan kids, be a good daughter in law, be a good friend, still show up for my parents. It’s all different now!!!!! It’s not easy!!!!

Suddenly my body falls apart within a few years of marriage. I realize I’ve lost hair, I got super sick and lost a lot of weight, I’m tired all the freakin time, I have mood swings, I am either burning up or freezing!!! Bumping into stuff like crazy and constantly having bruises randomly all over me that I can’t explain. I even fell last Christmas off a ladder putting up Christmas lights cuz I’m not stable 🥴 All the impact of being emotionally abused, finally caught up to me!!! There’s NO shortcuts to healing for it all either. I’m constantly triggered by my husband and there isn’t a thing he can do about it. It’s all me. I’m having to finally grow up and take care of myself!! No one can do it for me…

You can try to take short cuts in life but you end up on a long and crazy road. Somehow, I think everything I’ve went through will actually make me stronger but did it really have to all be this way???? My home school journey, just seemed like it was meant to be although I do feel I tried to cheat myself out of so many things. Why did I self sabotage so much????

Don’t run from who you are, face yourself and work on yourself! Don’t put it off any longer!!! You want a good life?? Gotta put in the time and effort. 🥺💪🏻

[kinagossip]

miyoung dated toast the breakup was rough and she took some time off from streaming she recently got closer to janet (toast’s other ex) before miyoung (janet is dating steve suptic)

miyoung struggle with her gender identity she talked about it on her discord and on stream she’s always had long her and her mom always wanted her to keep it like that so when she cut it short she was really happy

one of miyoung’s discord messages

Couldn’t say this during stream cuz I’m shy uwu but Ahhhhh seriously thank you to my entire community and many others for all the support and love today 🥹❤️ I know it may seem like it’s just a haircut to some people, but it means a lot more than that for me. It’s really freeing and it feels like something inside of me finally feels comfy and cozy. I know some people might find it odd for a while but I appreciate you all that accept me for me 😭 seriously you guys are truly always happy as long as I’m happy and that’s honestly a foreign feeling to me.

Although I identify as a girl I think I’ve always liked being perceived more on the masculine side, even in games I always had a name where it was very gender neutral in the sense you couldn’t assume my gender (ex : Katana)

(Side note I definitely did have girly igns for maplestory/neopets as a child because I felt like that’s what society wanted)

Whenever I wear a skirt or a dress I’ve always felt like I was trying to “cosplay” as a “girl” which is why I’m always super quick to change out of those kinds of clothes if I can!! Not saying I don’t like wearing it, but it never felt normal or right for me.. 🥲 I don’t know if I’ll keep short hair but I’m so glad I finally did it, and I’m so glad you guys gave me the courage to do so! I FEEL ALIVE! THANK YOU!!!

IF I CAN DO IT YOU CAN TOO! ❤️ <:SmileDoge:1023601088038965269>

thank you!! i honestly don't know this crew that well so it's interesting learning more about their backstory and piecing stuff together

on another note, can someone go in details about tina and her ex? when did they breakup? i want to know where kina were at in their friendship when it happened

[searidings]

hi, i just love you and your writing

can i suggest something - you are in love (taylor swift) and supercorp

i cannot listen to that song without going yeah, that's them

(also on ao3 if you prefer)

Five years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, five years from now, Lena will think back to this moment.

This moment, which is as close as Lena's come to happiness since she'd woken up ziptied to a chair in her brother's office. This moment which, despite the fuzzy feeling of her unbrushed teeth and the pungent aroma of burnt toast filling the air, is perfect.

Kara, bed-warm and sleep-heavy, is gazing beseechingly down at the charred remains of a slice of a bread as though if she only pouts hard enough, its edges will un-blacken and its corners will stop smoking.

“I'm so sorry,” she says as Lena rounds the screen separating Kara's bedroom from the rest of the apartment and perches herself on a barstool, tugging her borrowed sleep shorts a little lower down her thighs.

Kara's tone is mournful, her face so forlorn she looks to be one deep breath away from tears. “I wanted breakfast to be perfect, since it's your first time staying over and if it's terrible you might not want to stay again and I, I really want you to stay again, but I don't know why you would since you probably have a private chef waiting for you at home and I can’t even manage toast—”

“Kara,” Lena interrupts, biting at the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as Kara's bottom lip trembles. “It's fine, really. I once set fire to my dorm kitchen trying to boil an egg. And besides,” she winks as blue eyes meet hers. “I like to give my personal chef the weekends off.”

Kara huffs out a relieved chuckle, her face brightening. “Oh, well, in that case,” she grins, a sparkle returning to her eyes. “I'd better feed you up before you go home. Never let it be said that I don't look after you.”

Lena can't help the smile that pulls at her as the warm bright feeling in her chest grows and grows. She tugs the sleeves of Kara's sweatshirt over her hands, fighting the urge to fidget as the blonde orders a frankly obscene amount of food from the brunch place on the corner.

She feels exposed like this, face bare and hair sleep-mussed, unshowered with unbrushed teeth, huddled inside borrowed clothes after the impromptu invitation to stay over when last night's movie marathon ran late. It's a far cry from the regimented composure she fights so hard every day to project, and something in her chest twists anxiously.

Kara is a reporter, after all, and National City really doesn't need any more reasons to hate Lena right now. The darkest corner of her mind – the one which has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to come crashing down ever since the whirlwind of Kara's too-good-to-be-true friendship had come blazing into her life – still worries that this may all be an elaborate ruse. A trap, a way to get close to her in order to assess her weaknesses, to bring her down with an inside scoop.

But in their six months of friendship, Kara's never given her any reason to believe she has any kind of ulterior motive. And despite the suspicions and anxieties hammered into her by a lifetime of hurt, Lena knows now that even if this is a trap, she'll take the bait willingly. Especially if it means Kara will keep looking at her like there might just be something in Lena that's worth her time.

"Hey,” the blonde says gently, leaning back against the counter opposite and pinning Lena with a searching look. “You okay? You kind of zoned out on me there.”

Lena jumps, blinking back into herself with a start. “Yes, sorry. I was miles away.”

The blonde only smiles, flicking on the coffee machine at her elbow. “You sleep okay?”

“Very well, thank you,” Lena answers, fighting to lessen the formality of her tone, to soften the edges her harsh childhood had sharpened into a fortress to keep the world at bay. “Your bed is surprisingly comfortable. I had a great night's sleep.”

"Perhaps the company had something to do with it,” Kara winks as she turns to pull two mugs down from the hooks at her shoulder. Lena thinks back to the smell of Kara's sheets and the soft pulls of her breathing, to the warmth of Kara's ankle against her calf and the strong fingers that had wrapped themselves in the sleeve of Lena's sweatshirt in sleep, anchoring them together. She blushes.

Kara only smirks, pouring their drinks and grabbing the milk from the fridge. “Well, the food's all ordered, it should be here soon,” she says over her shoulder, the waterfall of her golden ponytail mesmerising in the bright rays of morning light filtering in through the vaulted windows. “And you don't need to head off in a hurry, unless you have plans—?”

She glances back at Lena, who shakes her head. “Great!” she grins. “’Cause I was thinking, maybe we could check out the botanical gardens, since it's such a nice day? Oh, and there's a new bakery right across the street that I've been dying to try—”

Lena listens to the blonde's excited rambling with an endeared smile plastered to her face, feeling happy and warm and wanted with every fibre of her being. The feeling is new but so welcome she could cry, and Lena wonders – not for the first time – how she ever got so lucky.

Kara's presence in her life is like sugar in her coffee; meant only to sweeten that which has always been bitter.

Lena's always taken her coffee black. Softening the blow was never much her style.

But here, now, perched at Kara's breakfast bar with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug the blonde has brewed to perfection, sunlight streaming in and highlighting the angles and planes of Kara's face, the way she’s smiling at Lena like there's nowhere else in the world she'd rather be, she realises her reasoning is twofold.

Sugar isn't just appetising. It's addictive. And now that Lena's had a taste of sweetness, she's hooked.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

-

Four years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, four years from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which may well be one of the lowest of Lena's life. And she's had some doozies.

The two bottles of wine she'd managed to mainline between Sam leaving to orchestrate damage control at L-Corp and Kara arriving and attempting to confiscate her glass have well and truly caught up to her now. She sways heavily on her stool, the room spinning. Tears sting her vision and guilt scorches her throat as she presses a hand over her eyes so she won't have to look at Kara's face anymore.

“Please, just— just, stop believing in me, okay?” she slurs, heart full to shattering with the faces of lead-poisoned children. “I am not worth it.”

She hears Kara sigh, and the room falls silent for a long long time. Lena drops her head fully into her hands, fighting the nausea that's taken root in the pit of her stomach. It could be the booze that's causing it, of course, but it could also be the incessant headlines baying for her blood, the bullet James had taken for her that she'd fully deserved, the curse of her family finally fulfilling itself.

The guilt, the worry, the crushing disappointment of the knowledge that despite her very best efforts, she'll never be anything but a monster— it's too much to feel. It's too much to bear.

So, Lena drinks.

She drains her glass. She pours another. Kara watches, silent and disapproving, fingers twitching against the granite countertop between them.

Lena finishes her glass. Splashes the last dregs of the bottle into it, blood on ice. Still Kara watches, motionless and mute. It's only when Lena's swallowed the last of the red and is lurching unsteadily to her feet to source another that she moves, a hand reaching out to encircle her wrist.

Shame ignites beneath her skin and she pushes Kara away. Snaps at her to go home, to learn to recognise a lost cause when she sees one and just give up already. Kara refuses with a stoic shake of her head, and Lena sighs.

They repeat the same routine three times en route to Sam's wine rack, the blonde shadowing her every step. Each time, Lena wobbles, head fuzzy and room spinning. Each time, Kara steadies her, and Lena flinches from her touch like her palm is a brand, snarls at her to leave, to cut her losses, to just fuck off. Each time, Kara refuses.

She eventually retrieves the wine after a number of unsuccessful attempts but overbalances on her toes, bottle slipping from her grip as she sways dangerously. And then Kara is there, glass bottle caught a split second before it can shatter, a firm arm at her waist that will not be rebuffed.

Lena struggles, shoving and protesting, but this time Kara does not give in. “Enough,” she says quietly, firmly, blue eyes burning a mere inch from Lena's own. “Lena, enough.”

Lena's unsteady legs buckle further and Kara’s basically holding her up now, walking her slowly over to the couch and she shouldn't be this strong, surely, shouldn't be lifting Lena onto the cushions quite this easily. But it's such a minor concern when weighted against the fact that Lena is personally responsible for the hospitalisation of children that her mind brushes over it, forgets it immediately.

"Please go home,” she slurs as the blonde arranges her on the couch, as she stashes the unopened wine far out of reach and sets about finding blankets and pillows in various cupboards. “Please, just— leave me alone.”

“No,” Kara says, almost snaps, glancing back over her shoulder. Partially hidden in the linen cupboard, her face is cast deep in shadow, a splinter of half-concealed truth. “I made you a promise, I gave you my word. I'm your friend, and I will protect you. Always.”

She crosses back to the couch, soft blankets and pillows held out in invitation. When Lena refuses the offering Kara sighs, draping a knitted throw over her anyway and perching on the cushions beside Lena's hip. “I'm not going to leave you, so you might as well stop asking,” she hums, softer now, a hand reaching toward her that Lena no longer possesses the strength or coordination to bat away.

Long fingers make contact with her cheek, with the mussed curls tangling in her eyelashes, and Kara sighs. “You are not your brother,” she murmurs, fingertips grazing Lena's cheekbone, sliding back to thread into the fine hair at her temple. “And you never will be. There's too much light in you to allow for that kind of darkness, so put that fear down, Lena. Let it go. Be free of it.”

Tears spring unbidden to her eyes. “I poisoned children.”

Kara tilts forward and Lena wonders if it's just that her vision has upped its spinning, but then warm lips are pressing against her forehead, soft and delicate as gossamer wings. Kara's mouth moves against her skin, breath damp and sweet and unmistakeably her. “You saved the world.”

Neither one of them moves. When Lena speaks again, the words hit the elegant hollow of Kara's throat. “I don't deserve your kindness. I don't deserve you.”

Kara's lips are still on her forehead. “I don't care.”

Lena feels as if her throat is splitting open, every last fear and hatred and worry and insecurity gushing out of her in an unstoppable stream. “I'm scared.”

“I know.” Kara's lips press once more, and then withdraw. They watch each other in the dim light from the kitchen. Lena's vision is beginning to blur at the edges. Kara's hand is still in her hair.

“You will get through this,” the blonde whispers, so earnest Lena almost manages to believe her. “We'll figure it out. Together.”

Heart in her mouth, tongue sticking behind her teeth, Lena's eyes slide closed.

The sweetness of Kara's words, her gentle touches, seep inside her like honey. She doesn't deserve it but God, she wants it. She wants to be worthy of Kara's faith in her more than she's ever wanted anything in her life. She wants Kara more than she's ever wanted anything in her life.

And it's telling, she knows, that she's just lost the trust of all of National City, that she has no way of easing those children's suffering and no way to prove that she isn't the cause of it, that she's finally living up to the Luthor name she's been running from ever since she'd learned what it truly meant and yet in this moment, with Kara's hand in her hair and the ghostly imprint of her lips on Lena's skin, none of it seems to matter.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

-

Three years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, three years from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which stands alone as an oasis of calm in the turbulent tumult of the past days, weeks, months of chaos. Lex's escape from custody, Eve Teschmacher's betrayal, James’ shooting, the Harun-El serum, the whole shitty totality of it all has been weighing Lena down like an nth metal chain around her neck.

And Kara, Kara hasn't been around. The one person who has always managed to ease Lena's suffering has deserted her when she needs her the most and it feels like she's been sliced open, cracked in two.

She tells her as much, when Kara at last comes to see her. Tells her she's missed her, tells her she needs her, all but begs her to stay. And what does Kara do? She leaves.

And when she leaves, Lena is gripped by a panic so intense she fears she may never breathe freely again. So terrified is she that Kara is gone for good, that she's forced away the best thing that's ever happened to her, that almost before she knows what's happening she finds herself at Catco with apologies dripping from her own tongue.

Anything to get Kara back. Anything to keep her.

Lena apologises. Kara apologises. Lena cries, and Kara holds her, and tells her that the decision to help her brother when he was dying of cancer doesn't make her the monster she now believes herself to be. And standing on her office balcony with Kara's fingers wrapped around her biceps, with her own tears spotting dark on Kara's blazer, Lena manages to believe her.

When she's collected herself, smoothed away the wetness coursing down her cheeks, she speaks. “I really want to help you with your investigation on Lex.”

Kara's face lights up; Lena's whole world along with it.

“I'd love that,” Kara says, voice quiet and still a little tentative in the wake of their new truce. “But first— would you, um. Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Lena blinks. “Don't you want to get started on the exposé?”

“I do. But—” Kara's face is still painted that earnest shade from earlier, when she'd smoothed her hands over Lena's shoulders and whispered you are a brilliant, kind-hearted, beautiful soul against the sensitive skin of her neck. Lena feels her cheeks heat up at the memory, at the intensity in the blue eyes still roving her face.

Kara shuffles her feet but her gaze is clear, unwavering. “But you were right. I've spent too much time recently prioritising the wrong things. So, I want to work on this exposé with you, and I want to bring your brother down. But first, I'd really just like to have lunch with my best friend.”

Lena's heart trips in her chest. “I'd like that too.”

So, that's what they do. Kara asks her to wait, which she does, idly tapping out a few emails on her phone. And then the blonde is back, far quicker than should have been possible, with her arms full of takeout bags from the café on the third floor and she's taking Lena by the hand and leading her to Cat Grant's private elevator. She presses the button for the roof and Lena's gaze jumps to her face but Kara only smiles, and squeezes her fingers. “Trust me, it'll be worth it,” she hums, her excitement infectious. “You'll be safe with me.”

And Lena believes her.

That's how she ends up sitting at the edge of Catco's roof on a clean sheet Kara had borrowed from the builders on the second floor, heels kicked off, Kara's red blazer draped around her shoulders. It is worth it, she'll admit; the view from this high is phenomenal. The sun burns bright in a cloudless sky, glinting off the glass-sided skyscrapers of the business district, the glittering waters of the bay beyond.

Kara had picked up Lena's favourite salad, some flatbreads and dips, and they drink kombucha and eat strawberries in the sunshine. They talk and they laugh and they catch up and there's no more fighting, no animosity, no megalomaniac brothers or backstabbing secretaries or worlds needing to be saved. There's only them, she and Kara, and it feels like all she will ever need.

The blonde's hands are braced behind her on the rooftop and she looks happy and carefree as she regales Lena with stories of her upstairs neighbour's antics, and Lena feels the tight knot of tension that had taken up residence in her chest begin to unfurl.

"Hey,” Kara hums, pushing up straighter as Lena licks strawberry juice from her fingertips. The motion brings them closer, their shoulders brushing. “Look up.”

Lena does. High above them, a huge murmuration of starlings whirls and swoops through the air. Thousands of birds move together as one, a vast wave cresting but never breaking against the blue canvass of sky.

“Wow,” Lena gasps, awed.

Against her side, Kara hums. “Yeah.”

They watch the birds for a long moment, captivated by the ceaseless swirling and diving. When Lena at last tears her gaze away from the sky, Kara's eyes rest intently on her face. "Here,” the blonde murmurs, reaching out. The pad of one finger makes feather-light contact with her cheek. Lena's breath catches in her chest.

Kara holds out her finger, proffering the stray eyelash she'd captured with a smile. "Make a wish,” she whispers, her fingertip an inch from Lena's mouth. Her eyes never leave Lena’s.

Lena looks from Kara's face to the eyelash, and back again. From somewhere deep inside her heart, the truth bubbles its way to the surface. “I don't need to.”

Kara smiles, a brilliant, beautiful smile, and Lena knows. The stresses and anxieties of their current crisis feel far away here, harmless as birdsong. She's meted out forgiveness, received it in return. For the first time in her adult life Lena has communicated an issue with a loved one and been heard, understood. She has admitted her own mistake without having it spell out the end of her relationship.

Lena smiles back. The weight of the world sublimates into nothing beneath the bliss of a simple picnic in the sun.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

-

Two years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, two years from now, Lena will think back to this moment.

This moment, which has sapped the both of them to the bone. Another fight, another screaming match, another quick-fire back and forth of accusations and recriminations. Another night of cursing and crying and choking on all the things they never said before this, on all the things they can't now that Kara's secret has detonated in the shrinking space between them like a nuclear bomb.

Another round of bloodshed, and for what?

Lena sags against the arm of the couch, exhausted. Her face is hot, scratchy with salt from the tears still drying on her skin. She's dehydrated, probably, and half hoarse from shouting, tongue blistered with the bitter sting of betrayal.

Across the no man's land of her living room, Kara slumps against the floor-length windows, drops her temple to the cool glass. She's breathing heavily, cheeks wet, posture battered and eyes dark-bruised beneath the force of Lena's wrath. As Lena watches, her eyes slide closed.

It's been three months since Lena found out. Three weeks since Kara found out that Lena had found out.

Every night since, they've done this. Every night, Kara has shown up on her balcony and begged, pleaded, apologised, cajoled, defended, rebuffed, and sobbed. Every night, Lena has unleashed the hollow agony of Kara's deception masquerading as anger in her chest, incinerating the both of them in the fires of her desolation.

She would have expected the wounds to have cauterised by now. To feel some kind of release, the relief of catharsis. Or at least, to have expended some of her fury after all this time.

She hasn't.

They've been at this for three hours already this evening, and gotten nowhere. Kara's skin is pale above that fucking supersuit, face drawn and complexion sallow.

Lena knows how she feels. The singular exhaustion that is her rift with Kara has sapped her in every way imaginable. She can't sleep. She barely eats. She's no longer interested in work, research, friends. There's nothing in her life that isn't tainted by the shadow of the lies her best friend told and kept telling, every day for four years. Lena doesn't know how any amount of screaming and crying is ever going to get them past that.

Across the room, Kara sighs. It might be the saddest sound Lena has ever heard.

“Should we keep doing this?” she asks after an interminable silence, voice rough with tears still building. Her eyes are still closed.

Lena manages, with exorbitant effort, to raise her drooping head. “What?”

“Is there a point to all this?” Kara asks quietly, hunched body sliding a little further down the glass. "The explanations, the fighting?”

Blue eyes blink open. The weight of the sadness in them is unbearable. Lena struggles to find it within herself to care.

“Lying to you about who I am is the single biggest mistake I have ever made, and if it will make even one single shred of difference I will apologise to you every day for as long as I live,” Kara says into the aching chasm between them. “But I can't keep doing this. Not if it won't change anything. I can't— I don't want to keep hurting you.”

An hour ago, Lena would have scoffed at a sentiment like that. Would have parried back with some piercingly dry comment about how the blonde should have thought about that before she decided to betray Lena's trust as soundly as she possibly could.

Now, though— now, she's just too tired.

“So, should we keep doing this?” Kara whispers, throat working. “Or— God, Lena. Should we just— should we give up?”

Green eyes meet blue, two shattered hearts haemorrhaging between them. “Is that what you want?”

“No.” Kara's voice is loud, fiercely determined in the face of Lena's hesitant whisper. “God, no. Never. I don't ever want to give up on you, Lena. I don't ever want to give you up.”

Kara straightens then, with a strength Lena cannot imagine mustering herself. Perks of being a superhero, she supposes. Perks of being Kryptonian. The thought stakes another shard of ice through her bleeding heart.

“But I know that I've spent four years calling the shots for both of us by keeping you in the dark,” Kara continues. “I've taken away your agency. I've taken away your choice. I won't do that again.”

She sucks in a deep breath, a little of Supergirl's regality seeping back into the defeated slump of her shoulders. “So, I'm doing what I should have done from the start. I'm being honest with you, and hoping that you'll be honest back. I'm asking what you want.”

Kara's fingers twist anxiously before her, bottom lip bleaching white beneath the nervous pressure of her teeth. “Do you think we should keep doing this? Or do you— fuck.” Her voice cracks, the tears brimming in her eyes once again breaking free. “Do you want to give up?”

Jesus Christ. Lena never knew that the prospect of doing the right thing could hurt so much.

“Fuck,” she mutters as she kneads her knuckles over her closed eyelids, digging in until white lights starburst across her vision. “Fuck, Kara.”

“I know,” the blonde whispers from across the room, brittle and broken. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Lena slows her assault on her own eyelids, pinching thumb and forefinger hard at the bridge of her nose instead. “I want to give up,” she mutters, and in the taut silence between them she hears the blonde gasp, watery and thick.

Lena blinks open her eyes to find Kara's face crumpling, every facet of her seeming to fold in on itself even as she visibly fights to keep herself upright.

Lena sighs, and hates Kara, and hates herself even more. “I want to, but— I can't.” She sucks in a ragged breath, hating the truth that's just fallen from her lips, hating the lies that had necessitated it. Hating everything and everyone and most of all, hating just how much she's hurting. “I can't give this up.”

The tiniest spark of hope flares to life in Kara's eyes. Lena hates that she notices, hates that she cares, hates that the sight eases the tight knot of devastation clawing at her ribcage just the tiniest bit.

She also knows that this was inevitable. She knows that, though she hates Kara, though she's nowhere close to forgiving her, though she has no idea how they can rebuild from here or even if she truly wants to try, a question like Kara's could only ever have one answer.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

-

One year from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, one year from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which is barely even a moment at all. It's more like a dream, warm and faded and fogged in darkness, seconds stolen when sleep should have long since claimed them.

Kara's nightmare had woken them both. In the month since they'd pulled her out of the Phantom Zone, she hadn't slept alone once. Often, she stays with Alex, curling into her sister's side the way she would when they were just kids after one too many late-night horror movies. Once, she stays with Nia, tucked up snug in a borrowed pair of puppy print pyjamas.

Mostly, she stays with Lena. It's natural and unspoken and easy as breathing, the way Kara will show up at her place after a Supergirl save or Lena will let herself into the blonde's apartment after a late night in the lab. They cook dinner and watch Celebrity Masterchef and brush their teeth elbow to elbow at the bathroom sink and when Kara is inevitably tugged screaming and sobbing from her night terrors, the way she presses her face to Lena's neck and her hand over Lena's heart is natural and unspoken and easy as breathing, too.

Kara's racing pulse has calmed a little, her grip on Lena's body beneath her losing some of its urgent desperation. After a long moment of Lena's hand stroking her hair, of gentle reassurances and lips pressed to her temple the blonde pulls back, just enough to rest her head on the pillow facing her.

In the dim light filtering in through the bedroom window Kara's pupils are blown, her face solemn. There's something in her heavy gaze that Lena can't identify; something weighted and potent that prickles goosebumps up the length of her spine.

"Feeling better?” she whispers into the inch of warm air between them, reaching out to tuck a sweat-matted curl reverently behind the blonde's ear.

Kara catches her retreating hand and holds tight, twining their fingers together on the narrow swathe of pillow between them. If either of them were to move so much as a millimetre, their clasped hands would press against their lips.

The blonde nods and sure enough, the soft heat of her mouth brushes the back of Lena's knuckles. She shivers.

Kara is still watching her, the intensity of her gaze causing Lena's heart to thud hard in her throat. She squeezes lightly at the fingers threaded through her own. “What?”

A pause, heavy and sweet as overripe fruit. Kara blinks once, slow. “You're my best friend.”

Lena swallows down a sudden swell of emotion. The blonde nudges closer and when she speaks, the wet seam of her lips catches on the angle of Lena's bent knuckles, painting her skin with the words.

“You're the most important person in the world to me,” Kara whispers, breaths skating fire-flashes across Lena's fingers, voice muffling out past the mouth pressed to her skin. “You know that, right?”

Lena's voice deserts her in the wake of the quiet words. She leans forward instead, presses her lips to Kara's fingertips where they rest against the back of her own hand. It's answer enough.

She hears Kara's breath catch, feels the disruption mirrored in her own chest. Both their mouths are pressed to the joined hands clasped between them. If they were to move their fingers down even just a fraction, there would be nothing separating their lips but a promise, a prayer.

Kara's eyelashes flutter in the semi-darkness. The tip of her nose brushes Lena's own. Neither one of them moves their hands.

They only gaze at one another a long moment, and Lena wonders if the blonde is memorising the planes of her face the way she's memorising Kara's. She could look at her forever, be happy here with her forever, and in this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

For the first time, she wonders if she might not be the only one.

-

Right now, Kara is reaching across the table at Noonan's and taking Lena's hand.

It's been three weeks since they'd taken down Lex for the last time. Three weeks since Kara had stormed into the Tower's med bay to cup Lena's bloody, bruised face in her hands; since she'd brushed her thumbs feather-light over Lena's split eyebrow and purpling jaw and growled don't you ever scare me like that again. Three weeks since she'd leaned in and pressed her lips to Lena's.

It's been two weeks and six days since Lena, confined to a gurney but utterly uncaring thanks to the warm Kryptonian curled against her side, had pressed her aching face to Kara's shoulder and first whispered that she loved her. Two weeks and six days since Kara had first said it back.

It's been two weeks and five and a half days since Nia had walked in on Lena in Kara's arms, lips pressed to her neck and hands wandering beneath her sweatshirt, and promptly shrieked the place down. Since their friends had exchanged pointed glances and relieved sighs and congratulated them on finally making it official, their expressions ranging from overjoyed to exasperated to plain exhausted.

It's been two weeks and four days of she and Kara dating; of morning kisses and shared showers and the perfect partner at game night and all of Lena's wildest dreams coming true.

It's been less than a minute since Kara had admitted, hushed and wondering, that she'd known she was in love with Lena ever since she'd found herself suddenly prepared to poison National City's entire water supply rather than let Lena fall. That she hadn't been able to fully it admit it to herself until she'd found herself suddenly prepared to alter the course of all of history in order to get Lena back.

And right now, Kara is reaching across the table at Noonan's and taking her hand. She's looking deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice barely rises above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And now that she has, Lena is sure of her answer.

The highlight reel of her relationship with Kara lays itself at Lena's feet, each precious memory between them stretching out like a roadmap of her growing affection, with every hard-won step leading her right to this moment.

And in this moment, Lena knows. She's in love with Kara. Really, she always has been.

[shorkbrian]

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately. 

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.” 

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment. 

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way. 

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.” 

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie. 

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone. 

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed. 

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island.  It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words. 

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest. 

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face. 

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly. 

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it. 

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

[fortuositywritings]

Tattoo Heart

Summary: Tony and you make a dumb drunk decision. He gives you a tattoo.

“Um, what the hell, Tony! You said it wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s not! It’s well-proportioned. Really it’s the best heart I’ve ever drawn. I don’t know why you’re so upset. It could have been worse.”

“The heart isn’t the problem. You tattooed Wanda’s name on it!”

“Yeah, I can see why you’re mad.”

You poked your sore arm. Out of all places, he had to tattoo it on your arm above your elbow where everyone could see. Talk about bad placement.

You pout, “How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Baseball tee’s could make a comeback. You’ll be a trendsetter,” he suggests, not helping at all. 

You glare at him. “You’re paying for it to be removed.”

“I expected no less,” he concedes. You’re still touching the tender spot, frowning. He stops you. “Poking it is not going to make it go away.”

“Fuck! I’m never getting drunk with you again,” you vow. 

“You say that now, but come Friday night, whiteclaw in hand, you’ll have no recollection of this ever happening.”

“Getting a tattoo with your crush’s name on it is kind of hard to forget, Tony,” you spit out. He wears a sheepish smile. Speaking of the party on Friday, “Shit!”

“What?” Tony asks, clearly not processing the situation you’re in as fast as you are.

“Wanda’s gonna be there,” you remember.

“Well, yeah. It’s Pietro’s birthday party and they’re twins so,” he comments sarcastically.

“It’s a pool party. How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Just don’t get in the pool. Or you know what, just don’t go. Say you got sick,” Tony suggests.

“I can’t do that. She expects me to be there and I don’t want to let her down on her birthday,” you explain. Wanda had personally invited you to her party, saying you were going to be her partner for beer pong. 

“Fine. Don’t worry about it too much. We have all week to figure something out,” he reasons. You guess he’s right. No use in stressing too much.

Friday afternoon comes too fast.

You’re stressing as you look at yourself in the mirror. You look ridiculous. 

“You’re literally a genius and this was the best you could come up with?” you complain. You already feel yourself sweating. You hadn’t thought of what to wear. You only had your one piece bathing suit. Tony told you he had something and you trusted him. What he brought you, a long sleeve rashguard to wear over your bathing suit.

“Makeup was just going to wash off. We couldn’t chance it. This way, you can get in the pool,” he says. 

“I look like I’m going surfing, not a pool party,” you huff. 

“You look fine. If anyone asks, you burn easily. Now let’s go. Your girlfriend is waiting on you,” he rushes you along, grabbing your stuff for you. You throw on some shorts and slip on some sandals.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you mumble, blushing as he pushes you out the door.

“Oh, I know. This wouldn’t be such a big deal if she was.” He closes the door.

Pietro opens the door for you and Tony. You both hug him and congratulate him on another year of being on this earth or as Tony puts it, “Congrats on being one year closer to death!”

Technically, their birthday is tomorrow but they always have a birthday dinner with their parents, so they celebrate with their friends either the day before or after. You and Tony hand Pietro your present for him. 

“Just don’t open it in front of your parents,” you warn. He decides to unwrap it right then. You roll your eyes at his impatience to wait until tomorrow. To his satisfaction it’s running shoes with a bottle of alcohol in each shoe. He laughs, thanking you for his present. He notices you looking around, searching for a certain somebody. He already knows who you’re looking for. 

“She’s in the kitchen,” he tells you, a smirk appearing on his face when you blush at being so obvious. You thank him and go find Wanda.

As Pietro said, she is in the kitchen fixing some appetizers to bring outside. What you weren’t prepared for was her already in her bikini, like she’s ready to jump into the pool. Her two piece bathing suit doesn’t leave much to the imagination but you’re quite the daydreamer it seems. You’re snapped out of your trance by Wanda clearing her throat.

She wears a smirk much like her brother’s and you splutter an embarrassed, “H-hi! Happy Birthday. You, uh, you look good. Great! You look ready for the pool.”

She smiles, amused by your awkwardness. “Thank you. You look ready for the beach.”

You blush. “Yeah, I burn easily,” you lie and quickly move on, handing her the present you got her. “Here.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she says, but you shake your head. “Of course I did. It’s your birthday tomorrow. You can open it now if you want. Your brother did.”

“Unlike my brother, I can wait. Let me go put it in my room. I’ll be right back. Wait here,” she requests. You nod and she leaves with her present. You respectfully turn your gaze to the appetizers, not wanting to ogle her backside. 

“Cowabunga, dude! What the hell are you wearing?”

“No way. I almost wore the same thing. Good thing I didn’t or that would be embarrassing.”

You roll your eyes, turning around to see Sam and Rhodey, both clearly amused by their own jokes. You give them an unimpressed look and they laugh harder. 

“Haha. So very funny,” you deadpan.

“Seriously, Y/N, why are you wearing that? It’s like a thousand degrees,” Rhodey asks. 

“Maybe I’m insecure and you guys laughing just makes me feel worse? Maybe thought of that?” you retort, but neither buy it. They look at each other and start laughing. 

“Insecure, my ass. You almost give Tony Stark a run for his money in the size of ego,” Sam says between laughs. You just roll your eyes.

Wanda returns to find the guys pressing you about the long sleeves. 

“Hey, Wanda. I think you might have given Johnny Kapahala the wrong address. She’s gonna be late for the competition,” Sam jokes and you hate that you get the joke. Wanda doesn’t and looks adorably confused. All she knows is they’re referring to you so she looks at you for an explanation but you ignore her in order to throw your own remark.

“At least Johnny wasn’t afraid to swim at the beach,” you bite, making Rhodey and Wanda laugh and Sam take offense.

“There are sharks!” Sam defends himself, making you all laugh. 

The three of you help Wanda bring out the appetizers to the backyard. They’ve got a table and a bunch of chairs laid around. Wanda asks if you’d like a drink and goes to fetch one for the two of you while you greet other friends. 

“You didn’t want one?” You ask her when she returns with only one drink. “If we’re going to be beer pong partners, you can’t leave me drinking alone.”

She giggles and takes a swig from your drink. “Happy?” She asks when she returns the drink to you and smirks upon seeing the slight blush on your cheeks. 

You get a few more remarks about the rashguard but with a few drinks in everyone’s system, the pool is more enticing than poking fun at you. You didn’t plan to get in the pool but with a simple “come on” from Wanda, you’re cannonball jumping into the deep end. 

Once it’s dark, you all begin to vacate the pool in order to play games. You and Wanda play two games of beer pong seeing as neither of you are very good and you think you’ll surely be sick if you play another round. 

You eat, you dance, you sit around and talk to your friends, and Wanda is with you the whole time. It’s midnight and you’re right beside her as everyone sings for her and Pietro. She hands you the first slice of cake, which you eat standing up just to stay next to her as she cuts a piece for everyone. 

It’s nearing 2am as people begin to leave. Wanda and Pietro make sure everyone is getting home safely, either taking a LIFT or having a designated driver. You and Tony stay later to help the twins clean up, which they greatly appreciate.

Almost an hour later, the house looks as if there hadn’t been a party. You and Tony wish them happy birthday once more before he pulls out his phone to call an Uber. The twins insist you two stay, that it is way too late and they’d feel better if you do.

Tony wiggles his eyebrows discreetly at you when Wanda invites you to sleep in her room. You spare him a warning glance before following Wanda to her room. She offers you some pajamas and hands you a long sleeved tshirt like you ask. You excuse her questioning glance saying you get cold at night. 

You change in the bathroom. When you return, you find Wanda also in her pajamas sitting on her bed with the present you gave her earlier in her hand. 

“You want to open that now?” You ask, amused at her eagerness to open it.

“I mean it is my birthday now,” she reasons. You nod, closing the door and going to sit next to her. “Or is this one of those ‘open when you’re alone’ presents?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What kind of presents are those?”

“One of those romantic ones like in the movies that show that you’ve always loved me or something,” she replies. Your palms feel sweaty all of a sudden with the way she stares at you. She reads the nervousness on your face and takes pity, continuing, “Or a vibrator.”

You burst in giggles. “Damn it. How’d you know?” you joke. 

It’s not a vibrator, obviously. You got her two necklaces, one gold with her name and the other sterling silver with her initials.

“I was going to just get you the gold one but then I thought maybe you wanted one to match all those rings you wear so, that’s why there are two,” you explain.

She puts the box aside and throws her arms around you, pulling you flush into her. “Thank you. I love them.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I could totally return those and get you a vibrator if that's what you want,” you laugh. She pulls back immediately, a frown on her face. 

“No, they already have my name,” she protests, pulling a chuckle from you. She hands you the golden one that says ‘Wanda’ and asks, “Will you put this one on me?”

At your nod, she twists around, turning her back to you and sweeping her hair up. You struggle with the clasp a little due to your nervousness, but you get it. Had you paid closer attention, you would have noticed how Wanda shivered at your touch. 

She turns back around and you admire her with your gift around her neck. “It looks great on you.” 

She leans toward you again and you assume it’s to give you another hug, which you wouldn’t mind one bit, but she doesn’t move her head to the side the way one does to hug someone. Her nose bumps into yours and you realize she’s going to kiss you. 

For some damn reason you pull away before her lips reach yours. She looks embarrassed and begins to apologize, “Sorry, I misread that. I thought with the present and the way you’ve been looking at me all day, shit.”

“No, you didn’t misread anything,” you reassure her. She relaxes. “Can we try that again? I was just nervous, but I’m ready now.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Wait.” You get up and make a show of shaking off the nerves and pumping yourself up before you sit back down. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

She giggles, grabbing your face and pulling you into her, kissing the life out of you. She moves to lie back on the bed and you follow her lead. You’re kissing and it’s getting hot and she tugs on your shirt. You remove it without a second thought. You begin kissing down her neck pulling sweet noises when you leave a love bite. She gasps and grips your arm, right above your elbow. 

You flinch in pain. The sudden intake of breath tips her off and she pulls her hand away. She asks worriedly, “Are you okay?”

You remember the tattoo and the fact that it’s not so hidden right now. You start to panic. “Yep, why? Are you okay?”

She narrows her eyes in suspicion, but you kiss her with the intention to make her forget. A minute later, she does it again, grabbing right on that spot. You try not to, but she hears the small groan and she pulls away. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong,” you lie. 

“Then why do you flinch every time I grab your arm?” She moves to grab your arm again to prove a point but you move it away.

“Nothing’s wrong with my arm,” you deny. She sits up and reaches for your arm. Once more you pull out of reach. 

“Y/N, let me see your arm,” she demands. 

“Okay.” You try to save yourself from some of the embarrassment by explaining, “But before you look, just know I did it on a drunken dare and I didn’t know until the day after what Tony actually wrote.”

That piques her curiosity and she shuffled around you to take a look at your arm. You can’t watch, so you hide your face behind the palm of your other hand. You expect her to either laugh at you or get upset, but moments pass and you don’t hear anything. 

You get the nerve to look over your shoulder at Wanda. She looks indecisive about what she wants to say, but she doesn’t look mad. Finally, she says, “I guess I don’t have to ask if you like me or not.”

You groan in embarrassment, hiding your face again. She laughs and pulls you into her as she lies back down. “Don’t laugh. It’s embarrassing enough getting your crush’s name tattooed on you. I don’t need her to actually make fun of me.”

“Aww, you have a crush on me?” she coos. 

You pull away, giving her a deadpan look. “No, I get girls’ names tattooed on me all the time.”

“Having your crush’s name tattooed is embarrassing,” she agrees.

You narrow your eyes, thinking she's just making fun of you now and that was the last thing you need but she continues, “So how about we say it’s your girlfriend’s name?”

Your eyes widen. Wanda bites her lip nervously, waiting for your answer, and that’s how you know she’s serious. You blush, “That would be less embarrassing.”

“I think so too. So what do you say?” She asks, wanting a clear answer.

“I would love to be your girlfriend,” you answer.

She smiles and kisses you. You can’t help the giddy laughter that comes after. 

“You know, he didn't do too bad. It’s pretty well-proportioned.”

[divinefireangel]

Make out Sessions with SF9 - Hard Ver.

As per multiple requests 👀. Hope y'all like it!

Warnings: Suggestive. Smut. Female anatomy. Sloppy kissing. Just go with it 😂. Choking. Youngbin's is highly inspired by Hannah 🤭. Extremely inaccurate description of wine? Cause I've never consumed any lmao. Sensual touching? Humping? Size kink for Ju? Strength kink for Seokwoo? Tbh idk what I'm doing lol

Everything under the cut!

Youngbin

You're both in the balcony, sipping on wine after a long tiring day, awaiting the weekend

Maybe it's the wine or the fact that you both are absolutely free for a whole day tomorrow, but something is just pulling you closer to him

And just like that, you straddle his thick thighs in the chair he's seated on 👀

Gulping you bite your lip, before leaning in to taste his

Of course due to the wine, his lips and tongue and saliva all taste like alcohol and his own flavour

He will pull you closer till your legs are bent at your knees and are resting against his sides comfortably and your heat is touching his crotch

He's also gonna be really loud, moaning into each kiss, breaking only to kiss your neck or jaw with closed eyes

His hands are sensually touching your back and breasts, just feeling you up and making your whine for more

Easily carries you to the bedroom for a night full of expected unexpected events

Inseong

Baby boy is so shocked when you kiss him with a lot of fervour

Takes a few seconds to realize what's happening lmao

But when he does, he will flush his chest against yours

Hands start to wander along the length of your back

And everytime he reaches the end of your back, he goes lower till he's able to cup your butt

Now you're shocked 😝

All this, while still kissing you senseless

His lips moulding with yours

Moans coming out from the both of you

Teeth pulling at your lips

Teeth clinking together

His tongue asking for permission to enter your mouth

When you give him the green light, gosh he will be ready to fuck you on the floor 🤭

Jaeyoon

Oh this one definitely tries to convert every innocent little kiss to a make out whenever you both are alone

And he knows you will give into his charm because he's cocky and we love to see it

It's instances when he's sitting on a chair in the kitchen while you cook or study and every time you get something right he gives you a congratulatory kiss

But after that last bit of preparation, when he does kiss you, his hands are on your waist, fingers pressing into your skin lightly as his lips move against yours

Pulls away when you're breathless and smirks that sexy smirk FUCK ME

Now of course, his hands move to cup your butt and pull you closer

Well he makes you sit on his lap while he's still in the chair

Holds your face in one palm before looking into your eyes and just dives in to your mouth

It as so messy but it's also so hot like????? How even does he do that lol

His tongue is more in your mouth than his, purposely drawing out moans and small surprised squeals from you and your sounds are sending electricity to his cock

Which then leads to your both dry humping each other till he just feels like he's had enough of this teasing and dramatically pushes your things off the table to fuck you on it 😉🤭

Dawon

Oh this fucker knows what he's doing but he'll act all cute so you can't even blame him 😣

And it's always things that shouldn't even affect you like feeling his hot breaths against your neck while his chest heaves on your back or his hands that slowly pull your pants a little lower IT'S NOT EVEN NOTICEABLE

But fuck he knows what he wants and he also knows he's convincing you

He's so happy when you huff in annoyance and just push him onto the bed after dragging him to the room

His smile disappears when you straddle his lap and pull him closer by his shirt

And he starts to lose his shit when you bite your lip and trace his facial features, looking at him with your bedroom eyes, lowering yourself till you feel his half hard cock

When you start to rub your clothed core against his, fuck he's even more desperate

Hands go to your hips to guide your movement

But before he can kiss you, you tilt your head back moaning so loud, making him whine to feel your lips

You give in easily lmao 💀

Grinding down harder and kissing him even harder only breaking to remove your clothes 🤤

Zuho

He's been cooped up in the studio for too long so it is fair if you go and make sure he isn't as stressed 😉

And so you do

You walk in to his studio wearing the cutest skirt you own

But he's so engrossed in work he doesn't notice :(

That's okay cause you remove your shoes and pull his chair out, abruptly sitting on his lap, your back to his chest

That's when he notices the skirt, and his fingers trace the hem slowly raising it up 👀

Groans looking at your cute panties and turns your face to his to give you a sweet kiss

Makes you stand to lean on the table facing him

So when he stands he can tower you and make you feel small

His fingers comb through your scalp till he can pull your head back suddenly and slowly kisses up from your neck to your lips as you breathe hard through your mouth

His lips meet yours with a lot of force, whimpers and moans flying out from you when he starts to move you up on the table

"Naughty kitten" and imagine that with his deep ass voice WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF 😭

Rowoon

It all starts with a boring movie, you in his lap, breathing into each other's mouth while kissing

Your hands pulling at his hair

His hands roaming your body, squeezing you ass or choking you or cupping your boobs over your his shirt

And you're just grinding your core against his, dizzying the both of you

Desperately attempting to feel some sort of relief

He will surely laugh cutely at your struggle

Then of course he uses his strength to pin you down and kiss you again

But this time he moves his kisses down from your lips to your core 😉

Being the playfully unfair lover he is, he moves back up to capture your lips

His fingers have other plans tho 👀

He feels you get wetter as he traces your folds over your shorts

While swallowing your moans and cries for more

Or if he's feeling generous he will kiss your neck, listening to your cute begs for more while fingering you

Yoo Taeyang

Okay he knows that you are loving his biceps so he will purposely flex them especially after his home workout

And I mean this sweaty well defined biceps like those in his cycling pics

Smirking he just tells you that he's gonna shower before you both can spend time knowing full well that you will not stay put in your place

When you enter the bathroom, the scene in front of you is heavenly

Water cascading down from his wet hair through his abs and down his legs 👀

"Took you long enough"

Chuckling in disbelief you shake your head while undressing cause you'd be a fool to miss out

Climbing into the shower you push him onto the wall, pressing your chest to his and scratching his back while getting on your toes

Cupping your face he kisses you, pulling you both under the water coming from the shower

Your kiss is a mix of his and your salivas and the shower water, it's messy and desperate but you can't care when you feel his dick come to life against your stomach

Without further teasing he picks you up and fucks you in the shower as you clutch onto him harder every time his cock brushes your g-spot

Hwiyoung

Poor thing all he wanted was a relaxing bath till you entered

Stripping yourself, you enter the tub, sitting on his lap facing him and his shocked expression

He becomes a little less shocked when he, well his dick feels how wet you are lmao

Bringing one dripping hand out of the warm water he freely moves it from your cheek, down to your thigh but making sure to wet your neck and tweak your nipple in the process

Clenching your thighs hesitantly at the cold air you felt wherever he touched you, you moan with your eyes closed

Gulping he moves both his hands to your neck to pull you flush against him as he connects your lips together

His hands feel up your back

His kisses needy, muffling both of your moans while you wait for his cock to charge up 🤭

Chani

He didn't have the intention of making you weak in the knees

But fuck how can you not go weak when your boyfriend is so hot

Legit all he did was pulling his shirt off with one hand, skillfully

And that made you pull him into bed with you

Your legs trapping his left leg, grinding your needy core against his thigh

Chest pressed flush on his

Hands slightly scraping the skin on his back

Lips attached to his moist ones

His hands slowly hiking up your shirt to touch your soft skin

Tbh he can't take this for too long

So he flips you onto your back and climbs between your legs, a teasing smirk plastered on his face

And his even more teasing fingers tracing your skin up from your knee, over your thighs, stomach, chest till it reaches your throat, tilting your head up so he can pepper small lovebites on you

Places a bruising kiss on your lips till your eyes are rolling back from the foreplay itself

SF9 Masterlist

[hotwings0203]

now we need a part 4 with izuku and bakugo on what happens next to the poor reader 😩✋🏼

Aight imma do a two for one here so MASSIVE BET

Tw:noncon, gangbang

When your hand reaches the doorknob, you know something is off only half a millisecond before another large hand settles itself on your wrist and another one caressing your side.

You freeze immediately at the voices that croon and snarl to you.

“Open the door quietly and we don’t have to make this any more difficult than it’s already gonna be.”

“God, you smell so good. You still haven’t changed your shampoo even after all these weeks huh? I like it.”

Your hand starts to shake and your body starts to sweat as you wildly try to find a way out of this situation. The voices sound eerily familiar, with one being higher and the other more aggressive and raspy, but you don’t dare turn around to locate the faces.

One of them seems to be catching onto your hesitation, because your wrist is crushed underneath a hard grasp and you cry out softly as they growl.

“Open. This. Fucking. Door. Right now.”

It takes a good 15 more seconds to jimmy the lock open, and once you do all three of you go tumbling in.

You whip back around to see both men standing over you, merely watching you with crossed arms and equally perverse leers.

“D-deku? Bakugo? What’s going on?”

Deku practically bounces on the balls of his feet, itching with inappropriate anticipation for what’s to come.

“We wanted to play with you! Are you ready? You can’t fucking ignore me anymore!” His voice is cheery as always but it breaks when he curses, the strains in his vocal cords sticking out while he forces himself from holding back.

Bakugo steps forward.

“Didnt I tell you I was gonna come again for you, you teasing cunt? Didn’t I say to watch your back? Now look at you, sprawled on the floor like rapetoys should be.”

Both men start slowly uncrossing their arms and advance towards you.

“No-no please, why? I didn’t do anything to you! Deku, please!” You blubber as you scuttle backwards, their strides equally as long.

You continue evading them as they play around with you.

“Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words. ‘Deku, please.’ Although, I’d very much rather you moan it for me.” He has the audacity to blush, and then Bakugo interjects.

“You deserve this y’know, so don’t start crying now. We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.” He spreads his hands and his uncharacteristic grin stretches from ear to ear, his vermillion eyes flashing in the dim light of your dorm.

“Anyone whose stupid enough to not realize how this creep has been sniffin’ your panties for months-hell, maybe even years now should get raped. You’re so fucking stupid, you didn’t realize I was protecting you from him.”

“But now look at you. Alone, afraid, vulnerable…oh, and going to the bedroom. You really are an easy slut, huh?”

Deku’s eyes light up when he realizes you truly are unknowingly backing up into the bedroom, but you realize it too late.

It’s only after Bakugo’s words come out that you try to look for a detour for the lock-induced bathroom, but Deku has a different idea.

Out of pure excitement he laughs and sprints towards you, hands outreached to touch your pretty skin, mouth open with drool softly filling the tile below him and eyes bloodshot with lust.

He looks like a creature from hell, and in the pure terror of watching him come at you like that your plan to detour was thwarted and you mindlessly trip back over your feet onto the bed, scrambling as far away as you can from them to the headboard.

You look to your left and quickly seize your bedside lamp, raising it above your head.

“Domt come any closer you closer perv. God, I shouldve known you were fucked in the head. I kept trying to make excuses for you, I thought you were my friend-“ you break down in sobs as the green haired man continues looking at you like you’re a piece of meat, absentmindedly wiping his hand across his mouth.

“And you,” you point to Bakugo who bares his teeth and smirks madly, “I already knew you were the embodiment of hell, but I thought you had a limit of how low you could stoop. You didn’t protect me from shit, you forced your way inside of me day in and day out.”

“Well now that your useless little monologue is over, Deku, tie her legs to the posts. I swear Y/N, you’re making this way too easy for me. It’s almost boring, I already know what I’m gonna get.” He raises his eyebrows at you while he lets his minion do all the work for him, goosebumps racing up his arm at the sight of you screaming and fighting tooth and nail against your fate.

But at the end of the day, after all your curses and sobs and monologues, you’re no match for either of them, especially Deku, who cooes at you to scream louder while he caresses your face and uses nylon string to secure your wrists to the wooden posts. Your legs are also bound after Bakugo seizes them from kicking, and a gag is placed over your mouth by his hands.

He roughly taps the tape covering your trembling lips and smiles condescendingly down at you.

“You’re doing so well for us, rapemeat. Keep up the good work and try to spread those legs as much as you can.” He chuckles when you scream your lungs out, thrashing as he yanks your knees apart.

“Aw, Kacchan, can’t we take the gag off? I wanted to hear her in my ears,” he pouts and looks glumly at your writhing figure.

“No, how fucked in the head are you? Someones gonna come down if she’s hollering for the whole building to hear. And cut her clothes off, I’m getting impatient.”

It seems like Deku too was at his last fiber of self control as his hands shake equally as much as yours, except for an entirely different reason altogether, the opposite reason of yours in fact.

He fishes in his back pockets for something, and produces a glinting steel knife with a black handle.

You still immediately as his descends his hands to the top of your v-neck shirt, right above your collarbones. His eyes fog up as your satiny smooth skin comes in contact with the blade, the coldness of the steel sending shivers down your spine and making you sob harder.

“Kacchan…did you ever get a taste of her blood? How does she taste?” He lifts his head to look into your tear-streaked eyes, but he addresses his childhood friend.

Bakugo snorts. “Calm down Toga, don’t get too crazy yet. We’ll have some more fun later, right now my dick is about to explode. ‘Need a hole,” he mumbles at the end and finally clambers onto the bed right atop your legs.

You stay absolutely silent as pressure from the knife rips the thin strands of your clothes apart, and Deku takes careful care to ensure you at least have thin red lines running down your stomach if not for actual blood.

“Oh fuckkkk,just look at her. You look good enough to eat…” he looks at you and licks his lips, salivating when you whine and twist at your restraints.

“Yeah yeah, you do whatever the fuck you want. Just choose what you’re gonna stick it in and hurry up.”

The blond looks bored almost as the more eager one whips to the side to face him.

“You mean it Kacchan? I can pick?”

They speak as if you’re not alive, no feelings or humanity involved. All you can do is watch and yell into your makeshift gag as the blond waves him off.

“Go for it. It’s your first time satisfying that sick head of yours, ‘must get boring doing it from behind a screen all the time.”

His slowly turns to face you, a kind leer etched across his features, eyebrows slanted and hand coming up to pull your ripped clothes apart.

You struggle and spit muffled profanities out as he slowly drags the bridge of your bra down, eyes wide open as your nipples pop out and eventually both of your tits bounce out.

He hisses and takes his nails up your stomach to fondle your breast. You can tell Deku’s too excited, too inexperienced from the way he handles them like stress balls. You grunt as his mouth latches onto a pert nipple, suckling and looking up at you as if he were some kind of demonic baby.

Bakugo watches all this with a dark glint in his eyes, absentmindedly palming himself as he watches the show unfold in front of him.

It’s entertaining seeing all of the creep’s hormones spiral out of control from years of pent-up lust. He’s never seen the dork so fired up and hungry, he’s never seen him so brutal with a civilian before, the type of people he used to say he’d protect at all costs.

After he’s done playing with your sore tits, he wasted no time in yanking your sweats off. You don’t even trash around anymore, the only thing you’re capable of in this state of terror and shock is weak moans and little sobs, maybe a writhe or two here and there.

Your panties are also torn off and you howl when the elastic cuts into your skin within the process. Bakugo takes this last stripping as an indication for him to move now. He lifts himself up on his knees and moves around your head while Deku situates himself between your violently twitching legs.

“I’m gonna take the gag out now. If you scream or pull any funny business I’ll plug your pussy and your throat with this knife, got it?” He snatches the weapon from the bed and waves it dangerously close to your face.

You nod frantically and try to turn your head to the side, but he yanks you back into place and decides to have his own fun.

While Izuku hurriedly takes his own shorts off the hothead slowly takes the tape off your mouth, staring down at you with unblinking eyes. The knife which you’re so afraid of is traced around your own squeezed shut eyes, down your cheeks and around your lips.

But the horrified trance on which he keeps you in is broken when Izuku suddenly shoved his entire length inside your dry cavern.

Luckily Bakugo has enough foresight to slam a hand over your howling mouth before the entire building can be woken up, and he glares at the sheepish-looking man down the bed from him.

“Are you a fucking virgin? At least rub her clit or something so she doesn’t go hollering at every thrust you damn nerd!”

The man between your legs winces and rubs the back of his neck, chuckling nervously.

“Oops, sorry, got a little carried away there.”

He doesn’t pull out, he merely thrusts slower, trying to fit his fat dick inside your unwilling cunt.

A string of curses leaves your lips and you grimace as the pain becomes near blinding.

Bakugo looks down at you again, the knife forgotten.

“No teeth either.” Your breaths come out in little frantic pants when his bare cock springs out of his own pants.

He taps the leaking purple tip on your lips and you open hesitantly. There’s no point in resisting anymore, they’ve got you quite literally cornered.

“Wider, slut,” he snarls, and you do-but only because Deku’s paps get more aggressive, causing your mouth to fall open in a long whine.

The blond takes this opportunity to slam his length down your throat, groaning around when he sees your throat swell with his bulge.

You immediately start gagging and trying to pull at your restraints for air, his heavy balls rest right on top of your nose and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

You can barely hear him over Deku’s animalistic grunts and whines. He’s going way too fast, as if he’s possessed by your pussy. It numbs you, taking away some of the pain in a flip side.

But on the other end of your body, you’re desperate for air while a fuzzy ballsack paps against your nose and eyes.

Each sadistic stroke he puts inside of you widens your sore esophagus, bringing bile up sometimes and large amounts of saliva too.

He’s not as loud as Deku, but he’s equally as greedy with your holes.

Your body literally hovers up almost in midair as Bakugo thrusts in and lifts his hips up, taking your upper half along with it and Deku does the same unconsciously, trying to fuck up into your womb.

It’s an exact replica of a perverted spit roast, with both of them catching each other’s rhythm and slamming inside your holes at the same time.

Your clit is suddenly rubbed inexpertly to the point of overstimulation, and the incoming sob forced out of your throat warps into a pained scream.

The vibrations of your scream makes Bakugo cum suddenly with a hoarse groan. He doubled over your body and gnaws at your bouncing tits, licking and teething at them the same way his counterpart did.

The sight of copious amounts of cum being leaked out of your filled mouth propels the green-haired man to whimper and shove himself back in one more time, hitting your cervix and causing both his and your eyes to roll back.

He cums too, but both men keep their semi-hard cocks inside of your aching body.

You don’t know what’s worse, having both of them by your side or both of them inside.

[earlgreydream]

injured.

| stucky x reader | fluff | smut |

anon requested. After so many pleads for Y/N to stay home and be safe away from the mission; she still goes on that solo mission. However, when an injury occurs, she fears that Steve and Bucky will forbid/get mad at her for going. So she tries to hide it. However, when lust take over the same night she comes home; shower sex is in play between her lovers and her. And during all that, Steve and Bucky find the injury on her body and question it. Yet all Y/N wants to do is finish what they had started... yet to bad, having overprotective boyfriends are just what she has.

cw: mentions of violence, injury

“Shit,” you limped onto your jet, nearly collapsing to your knees on the floor.

The glass was cold and unforgiving, and you struggled to inhale, black bruises forming on your side. A sharp pain shot through your chest when you took a breath, and you wondered if your ribs were fractured, otherwise deeply bruised.

You hit the autopilot, sighing as the jet lifted and set for home. You laid back on the floor, unconsciousness clouding your mind. You fought it off, trying to keep your eyes open and focusing on breathing.

.

“Don’t go, Y/N. It’s a solo, Stark can send someone else,” Steve argued with you, knowing the dangers of sending you alone to Sokovian ruins to retrieve intel.

“You’re being ridiculous. I’ll be perfectly fine. I go on team missions all the time, and this is just intel. You worry too much,” you’d shaken your head, giving him a kiss.

Bucky was unsettled, joining Steve in his attempts to convince you to stay behind. You had brushed them off, excited to finally be assigned a solo mission. You were a newer addition to the avengers team, and you hadn’t had a chance to take a solo mission. It didn’t help when you had not one, but two overly protective boyfriends. With Steve being responsible for most mission assignments, you had been placed in groups— usually with both Steve and Bucky. You were aptly trained, but they still feared for you.

.

You laid on the floor of the jet, thinking about your mission that had gone horribly wrong.

Panic seized you as you realized that Steve and Bucky were going to lose their shit. They’d told you to stay home and you’d ignored them, and ended up injured.

What was supposed to be a simple intel gain, had turned violent when someone realized you were undercover. You’d managed to escape the sleazy club with the help of a local, but only after you’d been brutally beaten.

You had barely made it back to the jet, and now pain was flooding through your body, leaving you exhausted, and struggling to take shallow breaths. You ached, but the fear of Steve and Bucky banning you from missions was worse.

Steve could be an extremist, overly anxious about your safety. Bucky was much more level-headed and rational, but you doubted that even he would remain calm when he saw your bruises.

No problem, you just had to figure out a way to cover it up. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and you didn’t intend to let them find out.

Your brain spun through how you were going to hide it, coming up short with ideas. You pushed yourself onto your knees and iced the bruises, taking some painkiller that Stark kept on the jet.

.

You managed to get yourself standing by the time you arrived back at the compound, though you still looked a mess.

Stark greeted you when the jet opened, and you hurried onto the tarmac. His eyes widened when he saw you, and you swore.

“That bad?”

“Yeah. You look like death. What the hell happened?” Stark demanded, following you inside.

Luckily, Steve and Bucky were caught up on a mission somewhere else, and you had a couple of hours before they returned.

“Morozova caught on. Gave me a beating, but I’m fine. And I managed to get the intel you asked for. But Tony, promise me you won’t tell the boys!” You begged, and the inventor looked hesitant.

“I’m fine, and you know they’ll overreact. I’ll be more careful next time, but don’t blow this for me, please!” You pleaded, walking with him to the lab.

“Fine. But only because I owe you. And if they find out, you deny that I knew. Come on, let’s get you some help.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thanking Tony and letting him inspect your injuries. He concluded all your bones were intact, and you didn’t have internal bleeding. He cleaned your scrapes and cuts, and told you to watch the bruising. It was clear you’d had the shit kicked out of you, your ribs, stomach, hips, legs, and back evidence of the assault.

“This looks painful. You’ll need to be careful, and no physical training until you’re healed up. Got it?”

“Got it. Thanks, Stark.”

He hummed in his annoyed, impatient tone, and you watched him go. You gave yourself a moment before walking to your suite, changing into leggings and Bucky’s vintage “Stark Industries” hoodie, knowing it would hide all the bruising. You fell asleep waiting for them, exhaustion getting to you.

.

You slowly opened your eyes when lips pressed against your forehead. The touch was familiar, and you tilted your head back to meet Bucky’s mouth.

“Hi, doll,” he murmured, smiling against your lips.

You sat up, greeting the boys and kissing Steve.

“How was the mission?” Steve brushed hair from your face.

“I got all the intel for Stark,” you smiled, earning proud grins from the boys.

“That’s my girl,” Bucky kissed your cheek.

You were thankful you hadn’t been dragged into their arms, squeezed and smothered like they occasionally preferred. You concealed your pain, reduced to a dull ache from the Tylenol.

“Let’s shower, calm down a bit?” Bucky offered, kissing your neck, making your spine prickle with need.

“I’m good, go ahead. I’ve already showered.” The lie slipped out before you could stop it, and Bucky drew away from kissing your neck.

He exchanged a look with Steve before turning back to you, steel and sky blue eyes narrowing at you.

“Y/N…” Steve began, but cut off, allowing you an opportunity to explain your lie.

“I mean, I just, don’t feel up to it…” you tried, shying away from Steve when he reached out to set his hand on your leg.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” Bucky asked, worry flashing across his eyes.

“Nothing, honey. I’m fine,” you promised, touching his scruffy face and giving him a kiss.

“Then let’s have some shower sex,” Steve met your gaze.

You nodded, going in the bathroom first. You got in the shower, and they followed, seeing your body covered in bruises and scrapes.

“Y/N!” Bucky cried, lifting your arm and inspecting your injuries.

“It’s fine, really. No broken bones or internal bleeding.”

“What happened? Why didn’t you tell us?!” Steve raised his voice, making you sink back against the cold tile.

“Because I didn’t want you to get angry and forbid me from going on missions!” You defended yourself.

Both men tried to contain their agitation, not wanting you to feel like they were angry. Their fears became tangible, seeing you wounded.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been injured, we’re just worried. You need to tell us when you’re hurt,” Steve’s tone softened.

“I’m sorry,” you finally conceded.

“Don’t be. First of all, are you okay?” Bucky asked, tilting your face up.

“It hurts,” you admitted.

Bucky winced at your tone, understanding how much pain you were in. You abandoned your attempts to conceal it, and he could hear the agony in your voice.

“I’m so sorry,” he leaned down and gently kissed your bruises. Steve joined, and suddenly they were kissing all over your body.

Your hands went to Bucky’s hair as he kissed your hip, and sparkling grey eyes gazed up at you. Steve kissed your inner thigh, and you bit your lip, need pooling between your legs. Tingling started to spread through your body, and you were seconds away from begging your boyfriends to touch you.

Steve stood, towering over you from behind. Strong arms gently snaked around you, supporting your weight without putting pressure on the bruises.

“Steve-?” You looked up at him, but you tightened your grip on Bucky’s hair as his mouth went where you desired.

“Oh,” you breathed as Bucky’s tongue gently lapped through your folds, brushing over your clit.

“We’re going to be gentle, doll,” Steve promised, pressing his lips just below your ear.

“Going to make some of that ache go away,” Bucky mumbled against your heat, his speech sending echoed vibrations through your sex.

You gripped Steve’s arm, thankful he was holding you up, or else your knees would’ve buckled, weak from Bucky eating you out.

He reached up, gently brushing his fingertips over your entrance, gauging your reaction. Your muscles fluttered at the touch, trying to pull him in. He smirked against you, sucking on your clit and using his tongue to tease you. You fisted his dark hair, slipping between your fingers from being soaked by the shower, and you struggled to find solidity.

“James!” You cried, throwing your head back on Steve’s shoulder as Bucky pushed two fingers inside of you, stroking your velvety walls.

Steve gently groped your chest, teasingly rolling your nipple between his fingers. The boys knew how to get you off— and knew how to do it gently. You’d never been more thankful for them as you were in this moment, soft heat wrapping around your body, mixing with the steam of the warm shower.

Your eyes fell closed and you arched your sore back off of Steve, grinding against Bucky’s face before he coaxed an orgasm from you.

“That’s it, pretty girl, come all over Buck’s face,” Steve smirked into your neck. 

You cried out, yanking on Bucky’s hair and collapsing against Steve. You winced as he bumped your bruises, trying to catch you. He murmured out an apology, and Bucky leaned back under the water, grinning up at you. 

“Let’s get you clean, then you can rest, doll.”

You were so tired you could barely keep your eyes open as they helped you wash up, sending you to dry off so they could take care of one another. You offered to jerk them off, returning the favor, but Steve just laughed and kissed you.

“Go get in bed. We’ll join you in a bit.”

You didn’t argue, sliding into bed in fresh pajamas, printed with Steve’s shields. He’d gotten them for you as a bit of a joke, but you’d loved them, wearing them all the time. The boys’ dog tags rested under the button-down top, cold against your warm skin. You were nearly lulled to sleep by the hum of the shower, struggling to stay awake as the two boys returned to your bedroom, going to either side. 

“What happened on the mission, love?” Steve asked quietly, lying down with his face inches from yours. 

“I was in a meeting, getting the information that Stark wanted on the Hydra transfers. I’m not sure what gave it away, but General Morozova found out that I was under cover. He beat me, but a Sokovian helped me escape,” you explained wearily, sighing as Bucky’s arm went around you protectively.

“You’re safe now. Once you’re recovered, we’ll talk about future missions.”

“So you’re not banning me?” you asked hopefully, looking up at Steve.

“You’re too valuable, but you’re not going on missions without Bucky and I for a while,” Steve conceded, kissing your nose.

“I could be okay with that,” you squeezed them in a hug, ignoring the pain that shot through you. 

You giggled as kisses were littered all over your face, the three of you talking until you fell asleep.