#the first line of this story was the line I came up with initially

[athousandbyeol]

burning scars, set them aflame. [tanphleng fanfic]

like shattered glass and broken promises, something inside of botphleng cracks. 

[thedrotter]

sweet sweet re:kinder community... I would like to ask y'all how you came upon the game and your experiences with it because i wanna know. im genuinely so curious to hear about other people's experiences and little opinions about this game because of how wild the game is (/pos) I'd love to hear it. do ramble to me about it

[winterarmyy]

He Hates Me, Doesn't He?

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: You hurt Bucky's girl, and now he hates you.

Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Words: 6.7k++

Warnings: angstyyyyyyyyy, but with happy ending because I cannot live in agony. miscommunication galore. 'I want to strangle bucky's girlfriend.' soft reader, cold/mean bucky. bucky should've grovel more. horrible attempt of writing verbal arguments. nothing much but pain.

Inspiration: I remember reading a bucky fic years ago and I like the pain that it caused me to feel. Idk why the pain suddenly came back to me lately. So, this is my take on the same idea. I haven't able to find it. But when I do, I'll reblog it in my another acc!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

y/n had always been a steady presence in the Avengers, known for her gentle demeanour and unwavering support. Her relationship with Bucky Barnes had blossomed from a quiet friendship into something deeper. When they first met, Bucky was reserved and hesitant, still grappling with his past as the Winter Soldier. y/n, with her gentle nature and patient understanding, slowly helped him come out of his shell.

She remembered the sleepless nights they spent together when they were on the run with Steve and Sam. They'd share stories, and sometimes just sit in silence, her quiet company offering solace to Bucky's restless mind. The unspoken bond growing stronger with each passing day. Bucky looked up to her, finding comfort in her presence, and in turn, he became fiercely protective of her. They'd watch each other's backs during missions, their synergy on the battlefield a testament to their deep connection. 

And somewhere along the line, she fell for him. She had fallen for Bucky's resilience and vulnerability, though she never expected more, knowing that a relationship was not what he needed right now. At least, that's what she thought. Little did she know, Bucky had always loved her; ever since the day she offered him tea the first night they were on the run to Wakanda. Maybe she was just simply aloof, or maybe Bucky’s flirting skills weren’t translated the way he wanted, but they never crossed the line between friendship and ‘something more’.

Then when Jen came into the picture, it felt like things started to change. Jen was bold and confident, and it wasn't long before she caught Bucky's eye. Their relationship seemed to spring up overnight, and y/n, though hurt, tried to be happy for Bucky. Jen was supportive and caring, or so it seemed, and Bucky deserved happiness.

Now, as planned the team was instructed to moved into the Avenger compound for a few months to train new recruits. It had only been the first month but surely it was jam packed with endless of rigorous training sessions. The original team—y/n, Sam, Bucky, Jen, Clint, and his mentee Kate Bishop—were all assigned to train the new recruits, with additional of few agents from different branches coming in to help out.

y/n was heading to the training room; she knew it was way too early but she thought that if she didn’t get out of bed now, she might not even get up at all. To her surprise, she was not the first one. She saw a few new trainees were already on the way to the training room; some of them greeted her a good morning. She simply smiled at their enthusiasm. 

The moment she entered the area, she overheard voices coming from the corner of the room. She paused, recognizing Jen's voice, which was raised and laced with contempt. Curiosity piqued, y/n stepped closer, staying just out of sight behind the white board. In hindsight, it might seem weird that she was sneaking around to eavesdrop on Jen, but she couldn't help it.

Initially, y/n liked Jen. She tried to welcome her into their tight-knit group and even supported her relationship with Bucky. However, as time went on, Jen began acting strange. The things she said about Bucky sometimes sounded condescending. She would make comments like, "It's amazing how well he's adjusted, considering his past," or, "It's great that he's trying so hard to be normal." The way she acted often differed from her words, with Jen giving Bucky disapproving glances or sighing heavily whenever he mentioned something from his troubled past.

She had noticed these discrepancies and started to feel uneasy around Jen. She couldn't shake the feeling that Jen’s support was just a facade. Now, standing behind the whiteboard, she strained to hear the conversation.

"…and honestly, I don’t understand how anyone can trust him," Jen was saying. "I mean, sure, he's got that whole 'reformed hero' thing going on now, but let’s be real. He was Hydra’s pet assassin for decades. The things he’s done? It’s unforgivable."

Her friend, another agent from a different branch, nodded hesitantly. "But you’re dating him, aren’t you? Doesn’t that mean you trust him?"

Jen laughed, a cold, humourless sound. "Dating him? Please. I’m in it for the fame and the perks. Have you seen the way people look at us? Besides, he’s hot, I’ll give him that. But trust him? Never. People like him don’t change. They’re broken. He's a monster, and he always will be. It’s only a matter of time before he snaps again."

y/n felt a surge of anger rise within her. How dare Jen talk about Bucky like that? 

Memories flooded her mind, flashing back to Bucky’s nightmare-plagued nights. She remembered the prominent dark circles under his eyes, the haunted look that never quite left his face. The silent pain he endured, adjusting to a modern world where he felt like an outsider, magnified when Steve left. She could still see the wary, suspicious glances people cast in his direction, the whispers behind his back when they first ventured out. Before the fame he acquired as he regained his reputation after the Flag-Smasher incident.

She had witnessed his hardships firsthand—the nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat, the moments of crippling doubt and self-loathing. But she had also seen his triumphs, the small victories that slowly built his confidence. The first time he laughed freely in her presence, the genuine smile that lit up his face when he finally allowed himself to relax. She cherished those moments, the sunshine that broke through the clouds of his tortured past.

All of this came rushing back, breaking the chains on the Pandora's box inside of her. The fury she felt wasn't just for the disrespect to Bucky; it was for every ounce of pain he had suffered, every moment of joy he had fought so hard to reclaim. Her eyes hardened with resolve as she stepped forward, her voice steady but cold. "Take that back," she demanded, her presence startling both Jen and her friend.

Jen turned slowly, a smirk spreading across her face as she saw y/n. She knew from the beginning about the cute little crush y/n had on Bucky. To be frank, everybody sort of knew about it, except for Bucky somehow. 

"Or else what, y/n?" she replied with a mocking tone. "You’re quite pathetic aren’t you? You think that I can’t see how you’ve been eye-fucking my boyfriend all this time? Come on, now. Backing him up would not give you a leeway into his pants, y/n."

y/n’s face went through a range of emotions—shock, embarrassment, and then seething anger. Jen’s words were like poison, each one landing like a punch to the gut.

Jen continued, confidence oozing out of her cocky demeanor, "Besides, we all know that I can easily beat you in a fight, doll" 

The use of doll—a nickname Bucky had given y/n from day one, when Steve had quite literally kidnapped Bucky from the government—made y/n blood boil. Hearing it from Jen felt like a personal attack, a deliberate attempt to undermine everything she shared with Bucky.

And it was true that Jen had graduated top of her batch from the Avengers program and had countless successful missions under her belt, but y/n knew this wasn't about accolades or abilities. This was about something deeper, something more personal.

y/n clenched her fists, taking a step closer. "You think this is about who can fight better?" she said, her voice shaking with restrained fury. "This is about respect. You don’t get to talk about Bucky like that."

Jen scoffed, a cruel smile on her lips. "Respect? For that monster? You’re delusional. He’s a ticking time bomb, a liability to the team. And deep down, everyone knows it."

y/n’s patience snapped. In one swift motion, she slapped Jen hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room. Jen stumbled and fell to the ground, shock and anger flashing across her features.

She stalks forward like a predator cornering its prey, "I’m just done with your lies and your insults. Bucky deserves better than you." Jen instinctively crawled backwards towards the centre of the room. Seeing that she got the attention of the few new recruits she regained her composure, smirked again, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "You’re pathetic, y/n," she taunted. "Defending a lost cause." her voice was loud enough for y/n to hear but quiet enough that the others might not be able to decipher her words.

At that moment, Bucky and Sam burst into the room, followed closely behind by a new recruit who alerted them of the incident. Bucky’s eyes widened as he took in the scene—Jen on the ground, y/n standing over her, shaking with rage. "What’s going on here?" His demand was completely ignored as y/n’s mind was hyper-focused on the wrath bubbling within her. 

"Get up," y/n demanded, her voice shaking with wrath. Bucky’s momentarily froze as he watched the confrontation escalate before him. y/n, usually so composed, was now a whirlwind of rage, her eyes blazing as she stood over a trembling Jen. Bucky had always known her to be fierce in battle, but this was different—this was raw, unbridled anger. "I'm going to make you regret every word you said. So get on your fucking feet before I rip it off you.." 

Jen, still on the ground, looked up at y/n with wide, teary eyes, playing the role of the victim to perfection. "Please, I didn't– I don’t know what you're…," she whimpered, casting a fearful glance at Bucky and Sam, who had just arrived on the scene.

Bucky's mind raced. Why was she doing this? He stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "y/n, hey!" he shouted, his voice a mix of confusion and anger. "What are you doing?"

Completely ignoring him, "Get up," y/n snarled, her eyes blazing with intensity. "Get up and fight me. I’ll show you who the real monster is." Jen looked up, her hand on her cheek, disbelief mingling with her fury. "You’re crazy," she spat, scrambling to her feet.

Her response was only a furious shout. "I said, get up!"

"y/n, are you crazy?!" Bucky yelled, moving quickly to intervene. He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and unforgiving.

She turned her fierce gaze towards Bucky; her expression momentarily faltering at the hurt in his eyes. "Bucky, you don’t understand, she--" she began, but the words caught in her throat as she saw Jen's smirk flicker for just a second.

"There's nothing to understand," Bucky snapped. "You’re acting insane."

y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with hurt and frustration. "Bucky, you have to listen—"

But he cut her off, his expression hard. "I don’t care! You hurt her, y/n. You think I don’t see that bruise on her cheek?!" Bucky shouted, his face contorted with anger. His eyes, usually filled with a gentle warmth when he looked at y/n, were now blazing with fury. "This isn’t like you, y/n. I’ve noticed that you’ve never liked Jen, and I don’t know why. But this? This is just immature and reckless." His metal grip on y/n's wrist was tighter than he intended. She winced, her eyes watering not just from the pain but from the sting of his words. 

y/n had never seen Bucky like this. His anger was palpable, radiating off him in waves. It was like being hit with a physical force, and she felt her heart breaking under the weight of it. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her anger flaring even hotter. "Bucky, you don’t understand," she tried to explain, but the words caught in her throat.

Bucky’s expression remained hard, the force on her wrist tightening painfully. "You need to grow up, y/n," he seethed, his disappointment evident in his tone. "You're always causing drama lately, and it needs to stop. Jen’s been there for me in ways you haven’t, and I won’t tolerate you attacking her like this."

The words cut through her like a knife. Her heart shattered at his harshness, at the realization that Bucky thought so little of her. She yanked her wrist free, feeling the sting of his grip lingering. "Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Believe what you want."

Without another word, she turned and stormed out, leaving Bucky standing there, torn between confusion and guilt.

A gnawing sense of remorse tugging at him, but he couldn't shake the confusion and anger clouding his mind. "Jen, are you okay?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

Jen, tucking herself to his side, managed to summon a few tears, looking up at Bucky with a feigned innocence. "I don’t know why she hates me so much," she murmured, playing her part perfectly.

Bucky fingers softly traces on her wounded cheek before his gaze switched to y/n’s retreating form, a knot tightening in his chest. He wasn’t sure why those mean words had spouted out of his lips. Was it because he saw Jen injured on the ground and his protective instincts kicked in? Or was it because Jen had been whispering doubts in his ear about y/n’s loyalty, making him question his longtime friend? 

The truth was, Bucky had always relied on y/n’s unwavering support. She had been his rock through the toughest times, and seeing her so furious, so hurt, shook him to his core. Yet, in the heat of the moment, he had lashed out, unable to reconcile the image of Jen crying with the fierce anger that radiated from y/n.

As Bucky comforted Jen, his mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake the image of hurt on her face, nor could he ignore the nagging feeling that he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

On the side, Sam was only able to watch the scene play out silently, a frown creasing his brow. He had a feeling there was more to this story, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

As weeks passed, the rift between Bucky and y/n deepened, fueled by Jen's cunning manipulation. In a private conversation, Jen planted seeds of doubt in Bucky's mind, suggesting that y/n harboured hidden resentments and intentions.

"I hate to say it, Bucky, but maybe she's not who we thought she was," Jen insinuated, her voice dripping with false concern. "Maybe she's been hiding her true feelings all along, waiting for the right moment to strike." 

Bucky, already vulnerable and confused after the incident in the training room, absorbed Jen's words like poison, allowing them to fester and take root in his mind. He began to view y/n through a new lens, one tainted by suspicion and distrust. This single conversation, filled with subtle manipulations and insidious suggestions, was all it took to fracture the bond between Bucky and y/n, leaving Bucky cold and distant towards the one person who had always stood by his side.

Most days he would avoid eye contact with her during team meetings, barely acknowledging her presence when they were forced to interact. In training sessions, his instructions to her were curt and clipped, lacking the warmth and camaraderie they once shared. y/n felt each of these interactions like a stab to the heart.

She couldn't understand how quickly Bucky had turned against her, how easily he had accepted Jen's version of events without even giving her a chance to explain. The hurt festered inside her, eating away at her sense of self-worth.

Then one night, as y/n sat alone on the rooftop, staring out into the darkness, Sam found her there. He knew this was where she retreated when she needed space to think, to process her emotions. He approached her cautiously, sitting down beside her without a word.

"Why aren't you at dinner, y/n?" Sam finally asked, breaking the silence. He could see the emptiness in her eyes, the weight of her sorrow pressing down on her.

She shook her head, her voice hollow. "Lost my appetite," she muttered, her gaze still fixed on the horizon.

Sam gently prodded, knowing there was more to her withdrawal than just a lack of hunger. "Is it because of what happened the other day at the training room?" he asked softly.

Instantly, her demeanor shifted. Anger flared in her eyes, directed not just at Jen and Bucky, but at the entire situation. "I don't want to talk about it, Sam," she snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. But Sam wasn't one to give up easily, especially when he knew how much y/n was hurting. "Come on, y/n," he urged, his voice gentle but insistent. "You can't keep bottling this up. Talk to me."

Her expression softened slightly at Sam's persistence, but the pain still lingered in her eyes. "Seriously, Sam, please just drop it," she pleaded, her voice wavering with emotion.

Sam could see the cracks forming in her facade, the vulnerability seeping through the tough exterior she usually projected. Without a word, he pulled her into a comforting embrace, letting her bury her face against his shoulder.

As she clung to him, her facade finally crumbled. Her lips trembled, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "He hates me, doesn't he?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbreak. "Bucky hates me."

Sam held her tighter, offering silent comfort as she grappled with the weight of her sorrow. He knew there were no easy answers, no quick fixes to mend the shattered pieces of y/n's heart. But in that moment, all he could do was be there for her, a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions.

The dim glow of the kitchen's overhead light provided a faint sense of solace in the otherwise silent darkness of the compound. Bucky sat at the wooden table, his tired eyes staring blankly at the cup of untouched tea before him. It was a nightly ritual lately, this dance with sleeplessness and the haunting memories that lurked in the shadows of his mind yet again.

Footsteps broke the stillness, and Bucky's gaze shifted to the entrance of the kitchen. y/n stood hesitantly in the doorway, her presence casting a tentative aura over the room. There was a palpable tension between them, an unspoken weight that hung heavy in the air.

She cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. "Mind if I join you?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She was expecting Bucky to ignore her completely but he didn’t; Bucky simply shrugged nonchalantly, his guard seemed to flatter. "Suit yourself," he muttered.

As she quietly took a seat opposite him, a heavy silence settled between them. Bucky's thoughts churned with a whirlwind of emotions, each one vying for dominance over the others. His guard seemed to falter in the presence of her tentative yet comforting aura. The weight of his own vulnerability loomed large in his mind, drowning out the anger he had harboured towards her.

As the silence stretched between them, she felt a surge of compassion wash over her. She knew why he was awake at this time. She knew that the tea he brewed was to help him sleep. She was the one who planted that habit to him after all.

And despite everything that had transpired between them, she couldn't bear to see Bucky suffer alone. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she decided to reach out to him, to offer what little comfort she could.

Without a word, y/n rose from her seat and moved to stand behind Bucky's chair. He stiffened at her touch, his muscles tense with apprehension. But as her gentle hands began to massage the tension from his neck, a wave of unexpected relief washed over him.

Her touch was soft and comforting, a stark contrast to the coldness he had grown accustomed to due to Jen’s unwillingness to acknowledge this side of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, coaxing him to relax, to let go of the burdens that weighed heavily on his shoulders. For a brief moment, Bucky allowed himself to forget the walls he had built around his heart. In her presence, her voice, and her touch; he felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of warmth that he had long since forgotten.

But then, like a sudden gust of wind extinguishing a fragile flame, the weight of Jen's words came crashing back down upon him. Anger flared within him, hot and fierce, directed not only at y/n but at himself for allowing his heart to yearn for her.

He pushed himself away from the table, his movements sharp and abrupt. "I don't need your pity, y/n," he spat, his words laced with bitterness. "Just leave me alone."

With that, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving y/n alone in the suffocating silence.The disbelief that clouded her thoughts gave way to a searing agony that twisted in her chest. How could he say such things? How could he push her away so callously, after everything they had shared?

y/n buried her face in her hands, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. The weight of her shattered dreams pressed down on her, crushing her spirit beneath its merciless grip. She had never felt so alone, so utterly abandoned by the one person she had trusted above all others.

The pain of losing Bucky, of losing the love that had sustained her through the darkest of times, threatened to consume her whole. Each breath felt like a struggle, each heartbeat a painful reminder of the emptiness that now filled her soul.

In that moment of crushing despair, she couldn't help but believe that Bucky truly hated her. The thought tore through her like a knife, leaving behind a raw, gaping wound that no amount of time or distance could ever hope to heal.

As she sat alone in the suffocating silence of the kitchen, y/n felt the full weight of her heartbreak descend upon her like a tidal wave. She was lost in a sea of pain and sorrow, drowning in the agony of losing someone she had loved so deeply, so completely. And in that moment, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find her way back to the surface again.

Unbeknownst to her, Bucky lingered just out of sight, his heart heavy with guilt. He wanted to go back, to take back his harsh words and hold her close, to chase away the tears that stained her cheeks. But the poison in his mind was too strong, clouding his judgement and trapping him in a cycle of self-destructive despair. And so, with a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, leaving y/n to cry alone in the darkness.

The mission had already been tense enough, but as y/n found herself face to face with Jen in a location she wasn't supposed to be, the atmosphere crackled with an added layer of hostility. It was as if fate had conspired to place them in this confrontation, and her jaw clenched involuntarily as she braced herself for what was to come.

Jen's presence in that spot was no coincidence, and she knew it. Her suspicions were confirmed as Jen turned to face her, a smirk playing on her lips, a gleam of malice in her eyes. y/n's grip tightened on her weapon, her pulse quickening as she prepared for the verbal assault she knew was coming.

"How does it feel, knowing that Bucky hates you now?" Jen's words sliced through the air like a knife, each syllable carrying the weight of y/n’s deepest fears. It was a direct hit, striking at the core of her insecurities, and for a moment, she felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath her feet.

But she refused to let Jen see her falter. With a steely resolve, she squared her shoulders and met Jen's gaze head-on, her expression a mask of defiance. She may have been shaken by Jen's words, but she refused to let them break her.

Ignoring the taunts, she focused on the mission at hand, determined to prove her worth despite Jen's attempts to undermine her. But with each passing moment, the weight of Jen's words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over y/n’s every move.

It was a battle on two fronts – against the enemy they faced together, and against the doubts that threatened to consume her from within. But she refused to back down, drawing strength from the knowledge that she fought not just for herself, but for the team she believed in with all her heart.

But Jen's relentless barrage of insults made it difficult to concentrate, her words like daggers slicing through y/n’s defenses.

"Aww come on y/n, bet you’re reeling in the loss right now, aren’t you." Jen continued, her voice ice cold. "The Asset’s little lapdog, clinging to him like a lost puppy."

y/n’s temper flared at the insult, her grip tightening on her weapon as she fought to keep her emotions in check. But Jen's mocking laughter only fueled the fire burning within her, pushing her to the brink of her patience. "Shut your mouth, Jen," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Or I swear to God, I'll make sure that the team finds your body disassembled in one of these rooms."

Jen simply rolled her eyes, unfazed by her threat. "You love him that much, huh?" y/n had no intention to deny that fact; she does love him, "More than you ever could." her voice was firm and true. Jen’s smirk fell as she scoffed. "Ain't that cute, the Winter Soldier and his little psycho sweetheart."

Before y/n could respond, a voice cut through the tension like a knife, freezing her in place. It was Bucky, his expression dark and stormy as he stepped into view. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he took in the scene before him.

y/n’s heart sank as she realized that Bucky might have heard everything. She turned around to meet his eyes and his face confirmed her suspicion; he heard it.  Bucky had heard everything – every taunt, every insult, every word exchanged between her and Jen; even the confession of her true feelings. She met his gaze; searching for some sign of understanding of his emotions and the little that she saw was: disappointment, betrayal and guilt, mirrored back at her in the depths of his stormy blue eyes. 

In that moment, all she wanted to do was pull him into her arms, to pull him away from all the painful memories and hurtful words; so far away that he would forget he had ever been taunted, betrayed, or made to feel less than he was.

Before she could utter a word, let alone take a step towards him, Jen's voice broke through, but it lacked the usual confidence. "Bucky, it's not what you think," she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between Bucky and y/n. "I-I was just..."

y/n’s clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin as Jen stumbled over her words, unable to come up with a coherent explanation. She could see the confusion and hurt in Bucky's eyes, a reflection of the turmoil raging within her own heart.

"I-I mean," Jen continued, her voice faltering. "I was...um...just trying to...uh..."

But her feeble attempts to justify her actions only served to further incense Bucky. His brow furrowed in anger, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

"Enough," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't want to hear any more lies."

y/n’s heart ached as she watched Bucky's expression darken with anger and disappointment. She wanted to explain, to tell him the truth about Jen's betrayal and her own misguided attempt to defend him. But the words caught in her throat, choked by the weight of her guilt and regret.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky turned away, his shoulders slumped with defeat. "Let's just finish the mission," he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We'll deal with this later."

As he was about to walk away, y/n noticed a red dot on his chest, the unmistakable mark of a sniper's laser sight. Without thinking twice, she leaped towards him, her body acting as a human shield. Time seemed to slow down as she collided with Bucky, pushing him out of the way.

"y/n, no!" Bucky shouted, his voice filled with panic as her body slumped against his chest.

In the chaos, Jen was nowhere to be seen. She had slipped away, taking shelter and ultimately fleeing the area as she heard multiple footsteps approaching.

Bucky tried to pull up his gun, but it was too late. An array of bullets rained down on them. He felt the searing pain of a few shots piercing his own flesh, but it was nothing compared to the sight of y/n’s body being riddled with bullets. She was hit in the shoulder, wrist, thighs, and other places Bucky couldn't even register.

Rage surged through Bucky like an inferno, obliterating any semblance of restraint. He moved with a deadly precision, his eyes blazing with fury as he unleashed a storm of bullets on the enemy. His movements were swift and unforgiving, every shot finding its mark with brutal accuracy. The enemy fell one by one, their bodies collapsing in lifeless heaps. The air was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire and the acrid smell of gunpowder, but Bucky's focus was unyielding.

Within moments, the room was cleared, the enemies wiped out in a flurry of rage-fueled vengeance.

The adrenaline ebbed away, leaving Bucky standing amidst the carnage, his chest heaving. He turned, and his eyes fell on y/n's crumpled form. The sight of her lying in a pool of her own blood shattered his rage, replacing it with a crushing wave of worry and panic.

"Hang in there. Please," Bucky hastily spoke, his voice trembling. He activated his com line, desperation seeping into his tone. "Guys, we need help. y/n... she's... she's been shot. We need to get out of here right now!" Panic coursed through him as he turned his attention back to y/n, frantically trying to stop the bleeding on her stomach. "y/n, doll…please" he pleaded, watching her hazy gaze. "Don't you dare give up on me now. Come on."

"babydoll, stay with me!" Bucky cried, his voice breaking as he cradled her in his arms. Blood soaked through her clothes, staining his hands. "Please, hang on, you can’t leave yet. I haven't told you... I haven't—" 

Her eyes fluttered open, her breathing shallow and ragged. "It's okay, Bucky," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. "It's okay. Don't cry." Her shaking hands struggled to move, and with great effort, she managed to cup Bucky's cheek. The gesture was weak but filled with tenderness. "It's okay," she repeated, her fingers trembling against his skin.

"Don't talk like that," Bucky choked out, his own tears mingling with the blood on his face. "You can't.. I haven't told you...please doll..." His voice wavered with the weight of unspoken words and unconfessed feelings. He hadn't told her how much he truly cared for her, how every moment spent away from her felt like an eternity. He hadn't begged for forgiveness for his coldness, his mistakes, and for letting Jen's poison taint his actions. The guilt gnawed at him, each heartbeat a reminder of the words he hadn't said, the emotions he hadn't expressed. 

He pressed her hand harder against his cheek, feeling the warmth of her touch anchoring him in the moment.Her hand weakly brushing against his cheek. "I know, sweetheart," she murmured. "I know."

Bucky's heart shattered as he clung to her, feeling her life slipping away. "No, no, no," he muttered desperately. "You can't leave me. Please, y/n. Please."

She smiled faintly, her eyes closing. "I'm here, Bucky. I'm right here."

With a final, shuddering breath, y/n’s consciousness slipped away. Bucky felt a surge of panic, but he knew he had to move. He lifted her limp body, cradling her against his chest as he ran towards the quinjet. Each step was agony, his own injuries slowing him down, but he didn't care. All that mattered was getting y/n to safety.

"Hang on, y/n," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Hang on. I won't let you go."

In the sterile environment of the medical bay, y/n lay unconscious, her body hooked up to various machines that monitored her vital signs. Bucky sat by her bedside, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying. Every beep of the monitor seemed to echo through the silence, a haunting reminder of her fragile state. He held her hand, his thumb gently caressing her bandaged wrist.

Memories of their time together flooded Bucky's mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the connection they shared. He remembered the laughter they had shared, the late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. He remembered the gentle touch of her hand, the warmth of her smile that never failed to chase away the darkness.

But amidst the memories, there was also pain – the pain of their last conversation, the words left unsaid and the choices left unmade. Bucky's throat tightened as he recalled the day he had walked away from Jen, the air thick with tension and unspoken truths.

His voice was cold and final. "You almost got her killed, Jen," he had said, his eyes blazing with anger. "Stay away from us. Stay away from me."

Jen's eyes had flashed with anger, her words cutting like knives as she lashed out in frustration. "And what, you think you'll find someone better than me?" she had spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Good luck with that, Bucky. You'll never find anyone who would put up with your baggage."

But Bucky had remained resolute, his decision fueled by a sense of longing and regret that threatened to consume him whole. "Maybe not," he had admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'd rather be alone than with someone who doesn't truly care about me."

Now, as Bucky sat by y/n’s bedside, the weight of his decision bore down on him like a crushing weight. Tears welled in his eyes as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers trembling with emotion.

"I'm so sorry, babydoll," he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I never meant for any of this to happen. So, please, wake up. I need you."

But y/n remained unconscious, her breathing shallow and weak as she lay before him. And as Bucky watched over her, his heart heavy with worry and regret, he vowed to do whatever it took to bring her back to him, to keep her safe from harm for all eternity.

For in that moment, Bucky realized that he couldn't bear to lose her – not now, not ever. She was his rock, his anchor in a world of uncertainty and pain. And as he held her hand tightly in his own, he prayed with all his heart that she would find her way back to him, to the love and light that had always guided them through the darkness.

The soft hum of machines filled the air as y/n stirred awake, her senses slowly coming back to her. She blinked, disoriented at first, until her gaze fell upon Bucky, who was sleeping soundly in the chair beside her bed. His hands were clasped tightly around hers, his face peaceful in slumber, but she couldn't help but notice the tear stains on his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, the worry lines etched into his forehead.

"How long has it been since?" she wondered to herself, her heart aching at the sight of Bucky's exhausted form. She carefully sat up, trying not to disturb him as she lovingly examined his sleeping face. She couldn't help but smile as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through her fingertips.

Bucky groaned as his sleep was interrupted, muttering something about Sam needs to leave him be; before he abruptly sat up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Hi there," y/n greeted softly, her eyes sparkling with affection as she watched Bucky's reaction.

For a moment, Bucky seemed unable to comprehend that she was finally awake. His eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape. But then the realization hit him, and he threw himself at her, wrapping her in a tight embrace as if she were the most precious thing in the world .Despite the pain that shot through her body, she managed to let out a soft chuckle, returning his embrace with equal fervor. The warmth of his embrace chased away the lingering chill of unconsciousness, and for a moment, everything felt right.

"y/n..." Bucky breathed into her neck, his voice trembling with emotion. She hummed in response, her heart swelling for him. "Hmmm?"

Not wanting to let go of her, Bucky called her name once again, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "y/n-..." She paused, her lips curving into a tender smile as she whispered in his ear, "Yes, Bucky?"

Bucky tightened his grip, his breath hitching in his throat as he buried his face in her shoulder. y/n gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "I'm here, sweetheart." The scent of her hair, the feel of her warmth against him—it all felt overwhelming. Emotions churned inside him like a tempest. Relief, guilt, love, and fear battled for dominance, leaving him raw and exposed.

She gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "Bucky, I'm not going anywhere.

Bucky's mind raced, images of the past few weeks flashing before his eyes. He remembered the coldness with which he'd treated her, the cruel words that had slipped from his lips, fueled by Jen's poison. He thought of the sleepless nights, the nightmares that had gripped him, and the aching void he'd felt every time he saw y/n’s hurt expression.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "For everything. For not believing you. For pushing you away."

Reluctantly, she pulled away, but not before wiping the tears from Bucky's cheeks and fighting the urge to place a tender kiss on his forehead. As she looked into his eyes, she could see the depth of his love and the pain he had endured for her sake. And in that moment, she knew that she had found her home in his arms. Bucky took her hands in his own, his eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to her wounded wrists. "This will never happen again. Ever," he vowed, his voice filled with determination.

Moved by his words, y/n felt her heart flutter with emotion. She realized in that moment that she could never stay angry at him, no matter what had transpired between them. She understood now that they were both at fault, both victims of circumstance and misunderstanding.

With a surge of courage, she reached out and pulled Bucky into a kiss. Her lips met his in a slow, passionate embrace, pouring all of her love and forgiveness into the tender gesture. It was a moment of connection, of healing, of reaffirming their bond despite the trials they had faced.

The taste of Bucky's lips was like a soothing salve to her soul; it was intoxicating. It felt as if the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them entwined in each other's arms. When they finally broke apart, Bucky whispered those three words that y/n had longed to hear, "I love you."

Her heart soared with joy, and she couldn't help but tease him, "Took you long enough." her teasing words met with a cheeky grin from Bucky.  "I love you too, Bucky" she blinked slowly. As he whispered softly under his breath, "Come here," he pulled her back into the kiss, their lips meeting in a tender embrace that spoke volumes of their unspoken love. And in that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their world, they found solace in each other's arms, knowing that together, they could weather any storm.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I just needed to let this out lmao. It's been stuck in my head for several weeks. Thank you for spending your time reading this crap... honestly. Love you so much 🤍

[artbyblastweave]

A few years ago, there was a thread on r/asksciencefiction where someone was fishing for a superhero story with an inverted Omni-Man dynamic, or a setting where Homelander's initial presentation is played straight- a setting where the Superman figure actually is the paragon of morality he's initially presented as, but no other superhero is- a situation where you've got one really competent true-blue hero standing head-and-shoulders in power above what's otherwise a complete nest of vipers.

Someone in the thread floated My Hero Academia; while I haven't read it, my understanding is that that's not really an accurate read of what's going on with Stain's neurosis about All-Might being the only "real hero," that the point of that arc is that Stain's got an insane and unreasonable standard and that taking an endorsement deal, while bad, isn't actually grounds for execution. My own contribution to the thread was Gail Simone's Welcome to Tranquility, where a major part of the backstory involved the faux Justice-League's Superman analogue having a little accident because he's the only one who thought they were morally obligated to go public with the secret life-extending macguffin that the rest of the team is using to enforce comic-book time on themselves and their loved ones; while only a couple members of the team are directly in on it, the rest are conveniently incurious. And Jupiter's Legacy gets tantalizingly close to this- The Utopian, a well-meaning stick-in-the-mud, ultimately gets blindsided and couped by his scheming brother who creates a superhero junta staffed by a Kingdom-Come-style glut of third-gen superheroes, who are framed as fundamentally self-interested because only came onto the scene after most of the situations you legitimately need a superhero to handle have been neutralized. (The rub, of course, is that the comic is also highly critical of the Utopian's intellectually incurious self-righteously 'apolitical' approach to superheroism- if for no other reason than that it left him in a position to get blindsided by a coup!) While Jupiter's Legacy gets the closest, all three of these are only loosely orbiting around the spirit of the original idea, and there's something really interesting there- particularly if the Superman figure isn't hopelessly naive in the same way as Utopian. Because first of all, if you're Metaman or Amazingman or whatever brand-name alias the writer goes with, and you really earnestly mean it, and you put together a team of all the other most powerful heroes on earth in order to pool your resources, and then with dawning horror you gradually begin to realize that everyone in the room besides yourself is a fascist or a con artist or abuser or any other variant of a kid with a magnifying glass eyeing that anthill called Earth- What the hell is your next move?

Do you just call the whole thing off? Can you trust that they'll actually go home if you call the whole thing off? I mean you've put the idea in their heads, are you sure that they aren't going to, like, start the Crime Syndicate in your absence? Do you stick around to try and enact containment, see if getting all of these people on a team makes them easier to keep on a leash? But that's functionally going to make you their enabler pretty quickly, right? Overlooking "should you kill them-" can you kill them? You're stronger than any individual one of them- are you stronger than all of them? The first time one of them really crosses a line in a way you can't ignore- will that be a one-on-one fight? Are they the kind of people capable of putting two-and-two together and pre-emptively ganging up on you if you push back too hard? Do you just start trying to get them killed, or keep them at each other's throats so they can't coordinate anything really nasty? Can you squeeze any positive moral utility out of them, or is that just a way to justify not doing the hard work of taking them down? There've been works where the conceit is to question the default assumption that Superman in specific would be a good person, and there've been works where the conceit is to question the default assumption that superheroes in general would be good people. Something to be done, I think, with questioning the default assumption that everyone Superman becomes professionally close to would be good, and to explore how he'd handle it if they weren't.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Good Omens Musical Masterpost🎵❤

How it started :)

Some time before 2013: Vicki Larnach, the australian composer and lyricist, read the Good Omens book, imagined figures dancing on stage with brilliant music and thought, ‘Ah, I’m gonna ask Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaiman if I can turn it into a musical.’ and sent an email to the publishers. The next day she got an email saying, ‘We don’t want a musical but Terry’s coming to Australia, so come and say hello and tell us what you got.’

Rob Wilkins came down to meet Vicki and Jim Hare - Vicki's husband and writer - and took them to meet Terry. They spent an hour and a half with them where Terry asked ‘piercing questions’, had tea with them and they showed Terry a song that Vicki wrote (about the Chattering Nuns). Terry said to Rob, ‘Rob, write and email to Neil, “Dear Neil, this is Terry. I’m sitting in front of two hippies from Sydney and they want to make a musical out of Good Omens and I’m tempted to let them do it.”’ which was the best email they ever heard and then Terry said, ‘Okay, you have me curious.’ - it was because of the Nuns song which sounded like the book. ‘I’m gonna give you six months, come back with a first draft libretto and five songs.’

They then sent it to Terry who sent it to Gaiman. Terry said, ‘I really like it, you’re moving story, you’re doing all the right things, but where’s showstopper, where’s the toe-tapper, you know I need people to go to intermission just snapping their fingers with the song they just can’t get out of their head, and I haven’t heard that.’ - and they realized that they were so busy serving the story they forgot to do the wow-factor, but found it very encouraging from Terry that he wanted to make it better.

They went through the whole book again to find a centrepiece - and they found it  when Warlock is growing up and Aziraphale and Crowley are with him, and spent months working just on that one thing and called ‘All Living Things’ [the song at the start of this post :)] which is a line from the book.*’ Terry gave that song to a person he knew and asked him to play it to his wife with no context and when the next day the person said that his wife woke up still singing the song Terry said to Vicki and Jim: ‘Well, that’s what I asked you to do.’ 

* [“This here’s Brother Slug,” the gardener would tell him, “and this tiny little critter is Sister Potato Weevil. Remember, Warlock, as you walk your way through the highways and byways of life’s rich and fulsome path, to have love and reverence for all living things.” “Nanny says that wivving fings is fit onwy to be gwound under my heels, Mr. Fwancis,” said little Warlock, stroking Brother Slug, and then wiping his hand conscientiously on his Kermit the Frog overall.]

Vicki and Jim got the permission to being adapting it as a musical in 2013.

Vicki and Jim on it a couple of years ‘fumbling about’, took it as far as they could and decided to bring another person into it: Jay-James Moody

In 2015, Jay James-Moody joined the collaboration initially as a dramaturge and directorial eye, eventually evolving into co-book writer. Vicki, James and Jay have continued to evolve through countless more revisions and a number of private development readings with the support, time and talent of numerous wonderful Australian performers testing the material.

In November 2017, the musical was presented in its then-current form and entirety for the first time before an audience of over 500 eager attendees. The cast included Luke Joslin, Lachlan O’Brien, Nancye Hayes, Barry Quin, Brett O’Neill, Lauren McKenna, Nicholas Craddock, Paul Capsis, Rob Johnson, Amy Lehpamer, Debora Krizak, Blake Erickson, Nat Jobe, Ana Maria Belo, Jordan Hare, Bella Thomas, Anthony Abrakmanov and Samson Hyland.

Following a rapturous response to this reading it continued to be refined and developed.

In 2019, ten days before the show came out they did their last presentation, since then they’ve been to London and shown a videotape of that workshop to Gaiman and Rob Wilkins which was ‘a pretty heartstopping experience’.

Differences between the musical and the book

The ending of the musical is a bit different.

It opens with the burning of Agnes Nutter and Aziraphale and Crowley are introduced there. 

Act One ends with them ‘essentially breaking up’ because of a huge argument and they dissolve their friendship, Act Two starts with the first time they meet.

The Future?

What is the future for the musical: in 2021 they said that they need to work on some things and then they hope to do another run, initially in Australia.

There will be a CD of the soundtrack available when the show is produced in it’s full version.

In 2024 on insta they said that it is in "complicated process of rights to stage Good Omens" and "We appreciate your support and patience of the progress or seeming lack therof, of Good Omens the musical but we assure you, we will bring you the show in the next few years."

Videos

Vicki, Jim and Jay talking 46min about the musical (this video was shown at the Ineffable Con 3 in 2021 :))

Sizzle Reel 6min

Anathema singing The Perfect Place

Crowley calling Dagon to check on the hellhound

Shadwell and Newt

Aziraphale vanishing Hastur 👀

Links

Webpage

Instagram - a lot of more bts videos and pics :)

How to support?

Subsribe to the instagram page and like and comment that you want the musical on posts :)❤. If you want to be a sponsor or donor, there is contact on their webpage.

[iburnedmyselfalive]

FOREVER.

┃synopsis brothers best friend!sam x female reader,, reader takes sam with her to get her nipples pierced.

┃18+ nsfw, all smutty n shit I know i said i would be taking a break for awhile but guys this is based on a true story (winks) and its been bugging me, not proofread sorry :’(

You and Sam Monroe have always shared a close bond, perhaps inevitable given his status as your brother's best friend. Over the years, with his frequent presence, your relationship naturally blossomed, forging a strong connection between the two of you.

Your birthday came and went, and just a couple of days prior, you finally mustered the courage to book an appointment for a piercing you'd been longing for. Despite your excitement, you couldn't shake the nerves; you were a total wimp when it came to pain. Faced with the prospect of enduring it alone, you pondered the idea of bringing along a friend for support.

Initially, Sam wasn't your first choice at mind, but with all your other friends tied up, you figured, why not? After all, he'd seen your body before, albeit accidentally during that awkward vacation moment when he stumbled upon you changing. Though flustered at the time, it was never brought up again.

As he locked his car and stood beside you, he gallantly held the door open. "So, y'feelin' nervous?" he teased, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"No," you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm, rolling your eyes as the piercing shop loomed ahead.

"Maybe a little," you confessed in a hushed whisper, earning a shake of his head and a chuckle. He reached out, grabbing the door for both of you, his easy confidence adding a touch of reassurance to your jittery nerves.

As you approached the front desk, butterflies twisted in your stomach, a nervous energy coursing through you. Confirming the appointment, the receptionist informed you that they'd be ready in about fifteen minutes due to the busy schedule. You nodded reassuringly, both you and Sam making your way to the small seating area.

He could sense your unease, fully aware that this moment would rattle your nerves. "Drink," he offered, handing you a bottle of water you hadn't even realized he brought along.

"Relax, I'm right here, remember? n' you've gotta stay hydrated, you look pale. Does this shit really get you that worked up?" he questioned as you accepted the cold bottle, nodding in response. A mixture of nerves and excitement coursed through you; after all, you'd been eagerly anticipating getting your nipples pierced for ages.

Shortly thereafter, you found yourself in the chair, your shirt pulled up and bra discarded, feeling a rush of vulnerability as the piercer meticulously arranged her equipment. With a gentle touch, she guided you to lie back on the piercing table, where she began the process of cleansing both of your nipples with precision, using alcohol and surgical scrub.

"I'm going to need you to take a deep breath, alright?" she asked, her voice calm but firm, as she positioned the needle within your line of sight. You nodded, steeling yourself for the inevitable discomfort, and closed your eyes, bracing for the sensation.

"Relax," Sam's voice broke through the tension, his tone soothing yet tinged with a hint of excitement. Despite his attempt at reassurance, you couldn't help but feel his gaze lingering on your exposed chest, his curiosity palpable.

As you focused on regulating your breathing, you couldn't shake the awareness of Sam's presence beside you, his unwavering attention drawing a flush to your cheeks. Despite the nerves that fluttered within you, there was a strange sense of comfort in knowing that he was there, offering silent support during this intimate moment.

"Took it like a pro," he whispered softly, his hand a reassuring presence on your back as you both emerged from the place. There was no denying the pain, it was sharp and present, impossible to ignore. But even in the midst of it, you couldn't help but be aware of Sam's gaze, lingering a bit longer than necessary on your chest.

His eyes traced the movements of the piercer with keen interest, noting every grimace and subtle shift in your demeanor as the needle pierced your skin. It was as though he was cataloging every moment, every reaction, committing it to memory with a mixture of fascination and concern.

And damn well you were taking him like a pro now.

"You think you're special, princess?" he sneered as he loomed over you, your legs tucked up, stuffing you fully. "All dolled up, begging for it like a good little slut," he taunted, his gaze burning with raw dominance.

"Just like those piercings, you're gonna take every inch of me, whether you can handle it or not," he declared, with each aggressive thrust, he asserted his power over you, his cock buried deep in you, his balls slapping against your skin as your juices flowed freely, dripping all down your ass.

"You're nothing but a toy for me to use," he growled, reveling in your surrender. "Beg for more, beg for it like the desperate whore you are," he commanded, his voice dripping with authority.

"oh fuck, sam!" you cried out, eyes squeezing shut.

"That's right, take it all, take it like the filthy little slut you were meant to be," he snarled, his lips assaulting your neck in a possessive kiss before he left his mark, branding you as his in the most primal of ways.

"So fuckin' sexy," he murmured against your skin, his lips finding purchase around your breast, his eyes locked onto yours as his tongue teased over the piercing.

"Sam," you pathetically whimpered,

"mhm," he mocked in response, the vibrations sending a delicious sensation through you. "You like that?" he asked, pulling away for a brief moment before attacking your other nipple with a fierce hunger, sucking hard.

"yes, yes, yes," you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on as pleasure surged through your body.

"I can feel you getting off on this," he snarled while he pushed his fingers into your mouth. "You tryna' let everyone know what we're doing baby, hm?" he taunted, his lips grazing your ear with a hint of menace.

"m'gonna cum" you whined out, squirming beneath him.

"Even your dear brother?" he sneered, completely ignoring you.

"He'd tear me apart if he caught us like this," he warned, his fingers probing deeper. "But you know damn well I won't stop, no matter who walks in," he growled, his desire fueling his aggression.

"Do you like 'em?" you managed to choke out, your voice strained around his fingers, but he only chuckled darkly.

"You know I do. Watching you squirm as you got them had me throbbing," he admitted, his grip tightening on your hair.

"I've been waiting for this moment since the damn beginning," he spat, the anticipation making him reckless.

"And now that they're healed, I'm going to show you," he promised, his voice dripping with cruel intent.

"I'm going to show you just how much I love 'em, how much I love you ."

[satorusugurugurl]

Toji as a bodyguard

Til’ the Day that I Die

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Bodyguard!Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of stage right, performance, anxiety, stalking, panic attacks, language mentions of gun, (eventual smut)

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: this request is amazing!! It got my brain worms going! Once again, this will be a multi part series, I’m looking at a total of four parts as I have already planned down the whole story. I’m sorry for the lack of content, it’s been a rough few days and I just decided to take some time for myself! But I do have about four stories almost done so you can expect updates for the rest of the week! Love you all!! (Readers' stage persona is highly inspired by several artists! 😊)

Part Two Part Three Part Four

Performance anxiety is defined as an excessive feeling of fear related to being able to perform well. Symptoms of performance anxiety include pulse racing, rapid breathing, dry mouth, and throat tightness. Dealing with performance anxiety when you're a rising star is brutal, and you begin to regret all your life choices. You aren't sure if you want this to be your life. You were attending nursing school, but your sister posted a video of you singing online. Reading all the sweet comments was fun initially, but it's funny how fast things change.

One second, you were posting a few videos of you singing, and the next thing you knew, you had a record deal, your songs were on the radio, and you were performing at concerts. All in the span of six months. The attention was overwhelming, and, at times, your anxiety even worse. But the more you performed, the more you were able to bury the stage fright down, masking the fear with a persona you made until you were home in your apartment. In the confines of your home, you could cry and tremble; dealing with those attacks was something you’d gotten used to.

But your stalker was a whole new fucked up mess you never dreamed about dealing with.

It had started as nothing more than a couple of love letters that turned into more descriptive letters detailing information about your personal life you had never told anyone. Anytime you saw a letter come in with ‘M’ written on the front and dark gray ink, your stomach twisted. You at first thought you would be okay. You could handle something like this. This was the kind of thing that came along with the territory of being famous.

That was until a bouquet of roses was dropped off at your door in your guarded apartment building. That whole situation sent you into a full-blown panic attack. You left your apartment and went to stay with your friends. That incident caused your manager to contact Kong Security Services and hire you as a bodyguard. One, you were anxiously waiting to meet as you sat in your dressing room before your show.

“It’s going to be fine, I promise.” Nanako, your makeup artist, assured you as she fixed your blush. “Geto said this agency is the best in the business.”

You shot her a skeptical look while her twin sister fixed your hair. “Are you just saying that because your dad’s are my managers, and they told you to say that?” When both twins had ceased their movements in obvious shock at your to-the-point accusation.

“W-What—?”

“No, never!”

“Uh-huh—I don’t believe a word either of you are saying right now.”

Nanako steps back, looks you over, and bites her lip. “They really are the best, whether or not we get to go out for Boba after this. It’s not like sweet milk tea is on the line if we don’t ease your nerves.” Just as your sweet young makeup artist finishes, the door to your dressing, eyes darting towards the door as it swings further open. Suguru and his husband, Satoru, enter, displaying their matching black-and-white wedding rings. They were the best management company in the world, the power couple of Tokyo. Satoru, who was in charge of your social media accounts, types viciously on his phone while Suguru grins up at a man walking in with them.

If you could even call him a man.

A fucking mountain of muscle is a more appropriate way of describing him. He’s tall, has dark hair and navy blue eyes, and he’s fit. The mountain wore a tailored jacket and white button-down shirt with the first two buttons undone. His eyes leave Geto’s for a minute to watch you sinking further in your chair, his pink tongue running over the scar down the corner of the right side of his mouth.

“Hun, this is Fushiguro Toji,” Suguru announced before glancing at his phone. “He’s your bodyguard and will be with you everywhere you go.”

“E-Everywhere?”

“Yes, to rehearsals, your shows, meet-and-greets, he’ll even escort you home.” Your eyes rammed back over to the mountain of a man standing off to the side. When you have time off, or he needs a day away, his work partner Tsukumo Yuki will take over for him.”

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching, a subtle action your new bodyguard noticed immediately as you dug your fingers into your skirt. It was part of Toji‘s job to see behaviors and be observant. He could tell you were on edge from how your fingers twitched to how your pulse raced in your neck. His handler, Shiu, had warned him that you were an anxious mess after finding out about your stalker. But this anxiety didn’t come from just having a stalker. This anxiety was deeply rooted in you. It was probably something you had suffered with for years.

Without being told, Toji stepped forward, kneeling before you, giving you a gentle smile like a father would give a frightened child. He had to put your nerves at ease to let you know you would be okay. “I know you’re scared, but I can assure you that I am very skilled. You won’t even notice I’m around.” You weren’t sure about that. How could you not notice the handsome man who would always be around you?

“Right, thank you.”

“You’re welcome--”

“Ugh! We gotta get going; they expect you on stage in five minutes.”

“I-I s-shou—” you stuttered as the performing anxiety began to root itself into your already anxious demeanor.

“Yep, let’s get going.” Toji stood motioning towards the door of the dressing room. “After you, Miss.”

Being a bodyguard and a security escort for so long had allowed Toji to pick up on specific cues from people, like how their eyes moved around the room or how their body language told him what they were feeling. The way your fingers were twitching, he knew you were nervous and scared, and he wasn’t sure if it was stage fright or something to do with your stalker.

Regardless of whether you wanted to go up there, it didn’t change the fact that thousands of people were already waiting for you to perform. As you both walked down the hall, Tojo noticed you took a deep breath and exhaled through your nose, and as you turned the corner, you put on a huge smile. The way you put in a mask so fast nearly sent Toji stumbling back. He was usually prepared for the unexpected, but seeing this scared, shaking woman shift into a bubbly pop star rocked him back.

Everyone you encountered smiled wide at your perky voice and demeanor. You truly lit up the whole room. “Alright, guys! Thank you for all your hard prep! Now, let’s have a great show tonight!” You were handed a jeweled microphone and placed on a platform to lift you to the main stage, but before you gripped the handles to steady yourself, Toji grabbed your hand. “Oh, Fushiguro?”

“I'll be on the side, watching you. If you need me or notice something's off, you should give me a sign.”

“A sign? Like a signal?”

“Yeah, something easy and inconspicuous.”

You thought for a second, that perky look still on your face, but Toji could see the anxiety behind your eyes. “Well, I wink a lot during my shows and throw a heart sign up.” Toji hummed, pursing his lips together.

“Well, if you don't want to alarm your fans, how about this.” he took your hand, putting your middle and ring finger down. Your thumb, pinky, and pointer finger were left extended.

“Oh, the sign for ‘I love you’!”

“Only use this if you need me on stage. Otherwise, do what you normally do, but know I’ll be right there if you need me.”

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes, which probably would go unnoticed by many different people, but it was one that he could see clearly as day. “Right, thank you, Fushiguro.” Your new bodyguard looked at you as he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Toji, just call me Toji. There is no need for formalities. Have a good show, Miss.”

“R-Right, thank you, Toji.”

Your new bodyguard watched as the platform began to lift, taking you up to the stage where fans were screaming your name. Taking a deep breath before smiling, your bodyguard watched you reach the top before the band blaring music as you began singing into your microphone. The beat of the music rang in his ears; Toji ran for the stairs that led him to the stage, where he could watch you from the side.

There, Toji found your managers standing on the sidelines, watching you. Upon looking at you, he met a woman who looked nothing like the girl he had just spoken to moments before. You danced, sang, smiled, and winked at the crowd. Multicolored lights flashed as fog from the fog machine flooded the stage, and the backup dancers moved in sync with each other. I think this is poor, who was shaking upon meeting him.

“Yeah, crazy to see her shift, isn’t it?” Geto asked before pulling his phone out and snapping a few photos of you as you sang. “She’s like a different person.”

“Like? I hate to be the one to break this to you, Geto, but that woman is a completely different person. Why the fuck is she masking?”

The white-haired man glared at Toji, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “She’s not masking; it's called a stage persona.” The annoyance was clear in the other man’s voice, a tone that crawled its way under his skin.

“Look, buddy, keep your terms to yourself. I don't care about the different terms. All I know is that woman—” he jabbed his thumb in your direction as you twirled around the stage. “is masking; that’s not who she is.”

“You don’t know a lot about the entertainment industry. This is something that a lot of celebrities do. It’s completely normal, and she knows that. That’s how she adapted so fast.”

Toji wasn’t sure if that was the case. He had seen you firsthand, shaking in your dressing room. To see you change drastically for the sake of a show? Toji could see why you would be nervous to go up on stage. There had to be a fear of your mask slipping, revealing your true persona to the world.

But Satoru was right; Toji’s job was to protect and ensure you were safe. It wasn’t his place to judge how you lived or worked your career. In the end, you were just like all the other popstar divas and clients he had had before. Rich people with too much money to throw around and fame led them to believe that they were in danger all the time, which is how he managed to keep a steady income for himself and his kids as long as they were rich snobs like you, Tojo was guaranteed to have a job.

Instead of continuing to argue with your overzealous manager, Toji crossed both arms over his chest and watched you closely. The sooner the show was over, the sooner he could get you back to your apartment, where he could call to check on Megumi. He just wanted to relax, and for all he knew, you and your managers were overreacting to this so-called stalker you had. If anything, this might’ve been some cruel prank; receiving a note to roses wasn’t that big of a deal, and this was way too easy for as much as he was getting paid, so he wasn’t going to bitch about it.

What he did want to bitch about was how fucking long your show went on for. Performed for about two hours straight, only taking breaks to change costumes throughout the performance. It was in those moments when you were changing that your mask slipped. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes and how you wanted to do nothing more than take a break. But as fast as that mask slipped, you had it back on instantly. When one costume was off, and the other slipped on, you were back on stage to sing the next song.

After about two hours and thirty minutes of this bullshit, you gave a final bow and blew kisses out at the crowd of strangers who were cheering your name. While the two hours he got to stand up to the side and watch you perform was easy, he only had to look for your signal if you needed help; getting you out of the arena safely was a whole different story. Everything moved so fast The second you stepped off that stage and towards your bodyguard.

After every show, the goal was the same: get changed as fast as possible, collect your stuff, which Nanako and Mimiko had already packed, and get in your limo before the crowd started heading towards your exit. Toji gently placed his hand on the small of your back, ushering you through the maze of halls that led you back to the dressing room, where, just like you knew, the girls had packed all your stuff.

“You got five minutes to change,” Suguru announced as Satoru snickered behind his husband. “Thanks to Satoru, you’re trending again for your newest song.”

Toji could see the minutey, perky personality shift into your more anxious state. You frowned, literally frowned, at the news. Most people would be jumping over the moon to hear it. Seeing such an ungrateful expression on your face had Toji resist the urge to roll his eyes into his skull.

Spoiled little brats, you rich folks were all the same.

“Did you make sure to tag the—“

“Are you insinuating that I don’t know who to tag or which hashtags to use? Babes, I've got you covered. When have I ever let you down?”

“Never.”

“Right, so let the best PR manager handle this.”

Toji sighed, glancing towards his watch. “Two minutes,” he announced to the room of people bouncing off the walls and collecting items to clean up the green room. How could your managers be talking about more brand deals at a time like this? Brand deals were bullshit, but knowing how popular you were with the teenagers and you probably had some make-up deal or some other shit that would make you all the richer, you had to make sure the right people were tagged so you continued to be sponsored. But there was a time and place for that, and now wasn't the right time!

“I know you're the best Satoru, but I still wanna make sure the word gets out there.” You stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in black leggings and a simple T-shirt. Completely different from the baby doll dresses you were wearing on stage. “It’s imperative—”

“I know. I’ve already posted it. Everyone’s been tagged accordingly, and the hashtags are in place. You’ll get lots of people to see this, trust me.”

You were slipping on your baseball cap and sunglasses when Toji’s large hand gently grabbed you by the shoulder. “We gotta get going,” you sighed before nodding, waving off your team, and falling Toji down the hall to where your car awaited you.

Thanks to your quick change, nobody was waiting for you outside, making your getaway from the arena smooth as butter. You just wished you felt as calm as your exit from the bustling stage had been. You were beginning to regret going back to your apartment. You hadn’t been back there since the roses were delivered to your door. Going back was going to be difficult, leaving your stomach swarming with anxiety. But at least you had a big mountain of a man to protect you if, god forbid, you needed help.

The entire ride back to your apartment complex was thankfully quiet. Toji sat on the other side of you, staring out the window, not making any conversation, which was a blessing. Not only was your throat sore from the amount of singing you had done, but the idea of sitting through a conversation run solely by small talk was almost as bad as your performance anxiety. Sitting in the back of the car, leaning your head against the window without worrying about smiling or acting perfect in front of strangers, was a breath of fresh air.

Being alone with your bodyguard made you feel like you could let your walls come down for the first time in a long time. It was a feeling you might as well get used to. He would be around most of the time, so instead of adorning the perfect, pretty mask you always wore, you could be the introverted true version of yourself. Knowing that you could relax, you shut your eyes, allowing yourself to doze off as the car smoothly headed down the freeway.

If only your dreams were smooth and calm like the car ride. Your dreams were filled with mysterious notes and roses you had once loved. They circled you, drowning you in paper and petals as a roaring crowd rang through your ears. You could fight against the tidal waves, but instead, you let them wash over you, allowing yourself to be crushed by the unbearable weight of being a star at times.

Nursing school wasn’t easy, but at least when you were in school, you didn’t have to worry about a mysterious bouquet showing up on your apartment doorstep or sneaking out to avoid getting seen and swarmed by your fans. Your biggest concern in school was getting good grades and doing everything possible to get your degree. The only things you had to worry about were study dates and pop quizzes, not ominous letters that made you fearful for your safety.

These nightmares were so vivid that you wished your family had heard you singing online. Was it too much to ask for a normal everyday life where you weren't constantly stressed?

You sighed, looking up at the lingering rays of light that slowly began to peek through. More envelopes and roses piled on the cocoon you were stuck in. Perhaps there was no going back. This might very well be the rest of your life. Just as you were shutting your eyes to the casket you were being buried in, a hand reached out from the top of the mountain of dread and anxiety you lived with, reaching for you.

You couldn’t make out who was reaching out to you, but you were sure they just wanted to help you. Without hesitation, you reached for that hand, brushing over their fingertips. Just when they clasped your hand to pull you out of the burial ground, you were jn. You gasped as someone shook you, waking you from the dream.

You sat up quickly, shaking as you met Tojo’s navy blue eyes. He was frowning, motioning towards the rolled-down window, and Ijichi, head of security for your building, leaned in, giving you a weak smile. With a quick rub to both your eyes, you placed your mask back on, going from the sleep-deprived woman you were transforming into the perky popstar everybody knew and loved.

“Ijichi! Hi!”

“Hi yourself, glad to have you back.”

Toji could see how your shoulders stiffened when you mentioned being back. “Oh, yep! It's good to be back.” Toji could see through your facade, while Ijichi was blind to it.

“I just wanted to let you know that we added more cameras to the building, and my security post will be far stricter with deliveries and anything else from this point on. We want you to feel safe here, and I’m sorry we failed to do that in the first place.”

“Oh no, it’s not your fault! Plus, I feel a lot better now that I have Fushiguro!” The man with glasses peered into the car, waving at your bodyguard whose face remained stoic, not returning the gesture. “Okay, uhm Ijichi, Toji; Toji Ijichi.”

No pleasantries were exchanged, not at all. The only thing Toji managed to do was give him a nod before focusing his attention back on the massive building and making a mental note to ask for access to the cameras. That way, he could keep an eye on you and ensure nobody was hanging around who wasn't supposed to be there. Those thoughts Toji was lost in made it a tranquil ride up the elevator to your apartment. He was leaving you feeling even more anxious. Usually, being around someone quiet never bothered you; you felt so relaxed around that person, but Toji’s cold demeanor and attitude toward your friend made you irritable.

“So, uhm, are you going to be that cold and standoffish every time you meet somebody I know?” You asked, finally allowing your heart mind to win over your mind.

“Huh?”

His dark gaze had you swallowing the lump suddenly in your throat. “I wanted to ask if this is going to be normal, you being—.”

“Oh, I am so sorry little star; I wasn't aware I needed to wear a fake ass mask around people too.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, and unfortunately, unlike you, I like wearing my face. I don’t have to be someone I’m not to get people to like me. Because quite frankly, I don’t give a damn if anybody likes me.”

“I don't eit—”

Toji scoffed, leaning against the elevator wall and shaking his head at your words. “Oh, please. You’re just like every other client I’ve had. All you care about is money, your appearance, and what sponsor deals you get.” His words made your blood begin to boil.

“You’ve barely known me for a couple of hours, and you think you know who I am?”

“Oooh yeah, you're some small-town girl that made it big. And instead of showing the world who you really are, you put on this fucking mask, one that hides the true you from the prying eyes of the world. You care only about ticket sales, making your fans happy, and sponsorships like the one you were talking about with your manager not even thirty minutes ago. So yeah, I’m sure I got a good idea of who you are. It’s my job to read people..”

This was the best security in the business; bodyguard your manager had set you up with? Ha! Yeah, right, this man was nothing more than a dickhead that had a lot of opinions that were far from true?!

You laughed, pushing yourself away from the wall to stand in front of the doors before him. “That's the great thing about wearing a mask around people I don’t fucking know. They get to see the real me, but I get to see people for who they truly are.” Toji opened his mouth to continue arguing with you, but only for you to quickly shut him down, holding a hand up before you. “You were right about a couple things; I do put on a mask, I love my fans, but I could give a damn about sponsorships.” Toji pushed himself off the wall, towering over you, gritting his teeth as he tried to control his evident anger.

“Oh, you suddenly don’t give a damn about sponsorships? I just heard you talking to your manager about one.”

“You don’t know anything about me! That whole conversation had nothing to do with this sponsorship!”

Tojo tilted his head back with a laugh. “Oh, right, of course. You don’t care about your amazing condo or all the money you’re making; you don’t care about those so-called nonexistent sponsorship deals.” The elevator rattled like the lid to the rage threatening to explode.

“Alright, yes, I do live in a nice apartment, one with security that sucks, but it’s still home. But for your information, I don’t do this for the money. You don’t know what I have planned on doing with my life, so I don’t want to hear you make assumptions about me! The conversation you so rudely eavesdropped on had nothing to do with a sponsorship deal but a massive donation I’m making to the local Children’s Hospital. The same hospital is well renowned for helping unfortunate children. So yeah, that whole conversation you listened to was me telling my manager to tag the hospital in my video because the hospital inspired the song! It was a public service announcement, a reminder to help those who can’t help themselves.”

Your rant was unexpected. Toji had never had one of his clients talk to him like that; strangely, he liked it.

“And another thi—”

The doors to the elevator slowly slid open with a ding as you reached your apartment. Usually, your automatic lights would be on in the living room and kitchen, leading upstairs. But as the doors opened, no lights illuminated your bodyguard's face. You knew something was wrong, and just before Toy could look over your shoulder into the apartment,Toji’s hand quickly covered your eyes. He pulled you into his chest, and he listened in as he smashed on the lobby button on the button panel.

“Toji!?” You asked, placing your hands on top of his. “What is it?! Is something wrong? Let me see!”

Toji shook his head as if you could see his reaction, his hand reaching for the gun at the holster on his side as the door slowly shut. There was no way in hell you were going to see what was behind the door. Because he knew if you were to see what had happened in your apartment, you would never be the same. As the elevator slowly began to descend, Toji realized that he had been wrong about your stalker. It wasn’t some harmless joke.

This was fucking serious.

(TBC)

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

[hannieehaee]

18 + / mdi

content: idol!mingyu x idol!reader, established relationship, jealousy, possessiveness, afab reader, smut, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, creampie, etc.

part 1

wc: 2410

a/n: ppl rlly liked my first gyu x idol!reader fic so i decided to make a pt. 2! im working on a long fic for idol!gyu x idol!reader rn (its a diff universe from this one tho hehe) which should be out this month <3

masterlist

it's been a bit hard.

dating an idol as an idol would really seem like the ideal situation, except when it wasn't.

yeah, you had been absolutely ecstatic upon finding out mingyu had been carrying a torch for you for years. you had felt the same, only ever entertaining your other friends' flirting out of mere desperation for the man to finally notice you. after he suddenly blew up, declaring his love for you, you thought it'd just be smooth sailing from here, except you hadn't really thought much past that.

maybe you were being unreasonable. i mean, you had never dated a fellow idol before! maybe it was all in your head. or maybe you just weren't too used to the dynamic just yet. you weren't too sure. but you had no idea how much longer you could take watching mingyu flirt his way through life anymore.

fans, staff, other idols, male or female, you name it. mingyu simply had an overly flirtatious demeanor towards absolutely everyone. you, personally, always kept a very clear line in fan service, or any other type of flirtatious scenarios (sans your previous attempts to make mingyu jealous). mingyu did not afford you the same courtesy, consistently following requests to call fans his girlfriends and even going as far as initiating the flirting in both fancalls and physical fan meetings. okay, maybe this was something you could put up with. these interactions were very short lived, so they never went too out of hand, but these were not his only offenses.

you looked past the flirting with idols, chalking it up to being played up for the cameras for entertainment purposes. you looked away whenever it went far enough to have fans speculating online. you knew idols were professionals at delivering fan service, always wanting to give people something to talk about. hell, you did it too! this was a bit annoying to watch, but you trusted your boyfriend and your idol colleagues, so you let it slide. it was other things that were harder to look past.

was there any need for him to flirt up a storm among all the female staff members? he was behind the scenes, for fucks sake! there were no cameras nor any benefit from entertaining their giggles and subtle touches of his muscles as they pretended to be interested in what he was saying. you knew your boyfriend probably didn't realize that he was flirting, having simply grown too used to doing it that it was second nature to him by now, but it was still frustrating! specially when no one knew that mingyu was taken. as far as any of his staff members knew, mingyu was still just your best friend, and any sighting of the two of you together (always accompanied by another member of the 97s or a fellow group mate of his to avoid suspicion) was always assumed to be strictly platonic. even now, as you walked into his dressing room, only to find his stylist - and a few of the members' stylists - flocking around him as he told some stupid joke that probably wasn't even funny.

it was sickening, really. the way none of them saw how desperate they came off. how none of them realized that if they all flirted with him at once, it truly had no effect, as he wouldn't pay special attention to any of them in particular. you felt like a hater, but being real, you were starting to become one. you watched him for a good five minutes, wondering if he'd ever notice your presence from across the room. when he did, he immediately went over to you, cutting off any of the girls who had been flirting with him in favor of welcoming you. he was amicable, giving you a simple hug. but his eyes told a different story. anyone who knew mingyu knew those eyes were reserved for his loved ones. that made you calm down a bit, even hugging him back and daring a short peck on the cheek.

today was yet another shoot at the hybe building. you had the fortune of belonging to the same company as your boyfriend, which meant you could stop by whenever you wanted (as long as you kept a low profile). you'd often drag jungkook along with you for appearances' sake, but had decided to go solo today. gyu was clearly happy to see you, interrupting his stylists to take a quick breather with you, heading over to one of the empty changing rooms and finally indulging you with less platonic affection.

"baby! wasn't expecting you today?", despite that, he was clearly enthusiastic to see you, attached to you like a magnet now that he had locked the door behind you, making sure no one was around to see his affections towards you.

"yeah, clearly ..." you couldn't help but grumble, disconnecting yourself from him.

mingyu didnt give you much of a chance to create distance between you, immediately holding onto you again, this time by wrapping his arms around your waist, yours instinctively leaning against his hard chest.

"baby, what's wrong? what do you mean?", a pout made its way to his face. of course he was unsuspecting. the mingyu you knew was far too into you to ever seriously hit on someone else when he had you.

you responded with a sigh, "mingyu, do you have to flirt with every girl you meet?"

"w-what? what are you talking about?"

"did you seriously not notice all those girls giggling at every word you said? they all want you, gyu. and you never put a stop to it."

"i dont .. the stylists? baby, ive never flirted with anyone in our staff, what? i work with them, of course i'm nice, but its always strictly platonic, you know that."

"the fact that you dont even realize it!", you separated yourself from him again, facing away and crossing your arms across your chest like a petulant child.

"baby ..."

"no, gyu. i'm not in the mood. i came to see you, but again, you're hitting on some other girl."

he wrapped his arms around you for the third time now, pulling your back to his chest as he nuzzled his face on the crook of your neck. he was trying to break you down before you even managed to get fully angry at him

"princess, i'm sorry. i swear i didnt realize i was doing it. i- im just too friendly, i guess. why would i wanna flirt with anyone when i have you right here, hmm?", the kisses he began leaving along your neck did not help matters. he knew your weak points.

"forgive me, baby? please? don't want any of them. i'll tell them. i'll tell everyone, okay?"

"gyu ..." you whined, but still angled your neck for hin to keep kissing, leaning against his hold.

"yeah, pretty? i'll tell the whole world. it's just you for me," he paused, letting out a quiet chuckle as he shook his head, "it's kinda funny, though. now you know how i felt any time the boys would flirt with you."

"gyu! how is it my fault they liked me? and i only flirted with jungkook one time before we were ever together."

"and? still hated seeing you with anyone else. you're mine. you've always been."

he turned you around then, holding you close to him as he looked into your eyes. he smiled at you, kissing your nose before chuckling at your whines of annoyance at him. even when you wanted to be mad at him you couldnt. he'd always turn the situation around and swoon you somehow.

"let me show you, baby? show you that you're mine? maybe we can show those mean mean stylists too, huh?", okay, he was just teasing you now, lips drawn way too close to yours as he ran his hands up and down your back.

"gyu ..." you whined, making no effort to actually pull away.

"you'll let me. won't you, baby?" his eyes were glued to your lips, in a similar fashion to your own. you knew he could tell how badly you wanted him to close the gap, but you refused to make the first move. then he'd win. he'd be the voice of reason, which was something you just couldn't have.

"c'mon baby, just kiss me. you know you wanna. dont you wanna show them ill all yours? maybe leave your lipstick print all over my face for them to clean up? give me a hickey to- hmph!"

you had to shut him up eventually. he was driving you crazy. but he was also right. knowing you could make a statement about your relationship without actually having to explicitly say anything about it sounded too good to pass up, so you might've gone a little extra nastier with your kissing, running your lips all over his mouth, letting your tongue do all the work for you. mingyu had no complaints, even turning pliant under your touch.

huh.

he wanted you to be jealous, didnt he? he mightve not flirted on purpose, but now that he knew you were jealous he mustve felt some type of ... pride? at knowing how badly you wanted him to be yours and yours only. well. in that case, you were gonna give it to him.

you're not sure how it happened, but you ended up sitting on him, both your shirts thrown off as you ground on his lap as he sat back on the couch. the lower part of his face, along with part of his neck, were covered in lipstick stains, matching the smudged red along your own lips. you had left a few hickeys (okay, maybe five) on his chest area, not wanting to make the stylists work too difficult. the are with most damage, however, had been his hair, as you had messed it up in all directions possible through your incessant pulling. his hairstylists might have had complaints, but mingyu sure didnt have any. he kept moaning and sighing against your lips, hands guiding your hips from the moment you sat down on him.

"baby ... give me more ... please," you didnt blame him for growing frustrated at the lack of action. you yourself felt like you were at the precipice of pleasure, just needing to sit on him to find the way to your climax.

you helped him lower his pants enough to free his cock, playing with it for a bit before allowing it to slip under your skirt, panties shoved to the side in favor of creating a safe passage for his dick. you couldnt help the loud whine of pleasure you let out at the intrusion, feeling accompanied by mingyu and his own groan.

"gyu! shit ... feel so good- so big ..."

"i know, baby ... so pretty n so tight for me ... how could i ever want anyone else when i have my pretty girl so perfect for me. hole so wet and needy ..."

you cried at his words, speeding up as you angled yourself back to allow your clit to grace against him, making your eyes roll back even more.

"that's it, pretty. gonna cum for me? gonna let me fill you up, beautiful? that'll- fuck ... that'll show them who i belong to, huh? all yours, baby. just like y- you're all mine."

"yours! gyu, fuck! y- yours!"

"and im yours, baby. dont forget."

he kept poisoning at you from below, dragging your hips so you'd bounce up and down at a pace that had your toes curling. he always knew how to fuck you in ways that had your mind going completely blank, like right now. neither of you paid mind to the dressing room next door that was full of staff who could likely hear your muffles whines against each other's lips. you relished on it, even, knowing that once you walked back in the room they'd know who mingyu really belonged to.

"cum, baby. need you to cum so i c- shit ... so i can fill you up."

"almost there, gyu, just ... fuck! just like that! i'm cumming! gyu!"

"yeah, shit. gonna fill you up now, okay, baby? want you to keep it all in. show them im yours, yeah?", his hips never slowed down despite being you being on top. you were now just a rag doll he was using for his own pleasure. nothing had ever felt this good.

he filled you up soon after, with most of it spilling out due to the massive size of his load. he used his fingers to push it back in, then lifting them to your lips for you to lick clean, which you did with no complaint.

"oh, baby ... my nasty girl. how could i ever look at anyone else when i have my nasty baby so desperate for me? hmm? you're perfect for me, angel. dont care about any girl that flirts with me. you're all i want," he used his fingers to push down on your tongue as he said this, groaning at the way you sucked and sucked while looking at him with wide eyes.

"gyu ..." you whined as soon as he left your mouth alone.

"but im still sorry, angel. i didnt realize it bothered you. i get it. kinda wanna fight any of ur male fans when they get a little too friendly with you. that rookie at mnet last month? wanted to take him out back for the way he was looking at you when you performed."

"gyu!," you knew your boyfriend had been jealous of your friend group due to their former crushes on you, but he'd never told you that he felt the same way about literally any man you'd come across as an idol.

"what? im just saying, i get it! im also possessive and jealous. thats why we compliment each other. now come on. lets get you dressed, baby. gotta go have a very awkward conversation with my stylist so she can fix everything you just did to me."

"me?! look at me! im covered in cum!"

"hmm yeah. so pretty, angel. you better have it all in you by the time we get home, yeah?"

you huffed, but agreed, rolling your eyes at the innocent peck that landed on your cheek as he helped you look presentable.

you knew things would be awkward around his staff from now on, but it had been worth it.

[meazalykov]

two worlds collide

emily fox x WNBA!liberty!reader

summary: going on a date with a soccer player, especially an arsenal player, was not what you expected to do during the WNBA break

you sit at the corner table of a cozy restaurant in new york city, your fingers idly tapping against the wooden surface.

the glow of soft yellow lights overhead casts a warm shimmer over the room, glinting off polished silverware and the dark, gleaming wood. 

it’s early evening, just the cusp of sunset, where the streets outside hum with the mingled voices of commuters, tourists, and the occasional street performer.

sabrina had sworn that this was the perfect spot. 

“trust me,” she’d said with a sly grin, eyes glinting with a playful mischief. 

“you two will hit it off.” you remember the way she had nudged your arm weeks ago, barely holding back a laugh when you asked for details.

“wait wait wait– who’s emily? what team does she play on?” you had asked, leaning back in the locker room after practice, beads of sweat still rolling down your neck from drills. 

the name was unfamiliar, and your mind scrolled through every possible wnba roster. nothing.

sabrina had raised an eyebrow, tying back her ponytail. 

“not an emily in the wnba. she’s a soccer girl. arsenal’s defensive player, plays for the uswnt, too.”

your breath had caught in a laugh. 

“an arsenal player? you know i’m a chelsea fan.”

“and yet,” sabrina said, crossing her arms with that knowing smirk, 

“you’ll survive. she’s nice. you’ll see.”

you glance at your phone now, the screen lighting up to show the time: 6:47 p.m. 

emily’s supposed to be here at seven. the soft murmur of voices around you doesn’t distract you from the nervous thrum in your chest. 

on the court, your playstyle might say you’re fearless on the court, storming and crossing up the other team without hesitation, but sitting here waiting for a first date feels like stepping up to the free-throw line with a championship game on the line.

the door opens, letting in a quick gust of cool air that makes your shoulders tense slightly. your eyes shift instinctively, and there she is—emily. 

she’s wearing a dark denim jacket over a white t-shirt, dark brown hair pulled back in a casual ponytail that still somehow looks effortlessly styled. you’re wearing a blue sweater with blue levi jeans, somehow casual. 

emily is scanning the room, eyes bright and clear, until they land on you. she smiles, a small curve that softens her sharp, athletic features, and it’s enough to make your heart skip.

“y/n?” she asks, voice smooth, accented just slightly in a way that tells you she’s been overseas for some time.

“that’s me,” you reply, standing up and offering your hand, which she takes without hesitation.

“nice to finally meet you,” emily says, slipping into the seat across from you. she moves with the ease of someone who’s spent her life in motion.

you both take a moment, the initial rush of introductions settling. you order drinks—her, a classic gin, and you opt for your usual. 

as the server walks away, emily leans forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“so,” she starts, eyes sparkling with curiosity, 

“sabrina tells me you’re a chelsea fan. should i be worried?”

you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing at the playful jab. 

“don’t worry,” you say, smirking. 

“i won’t hold arsenal against you—at least, not tonight.”

“sounds fair,” she replies, and there’s a moment where you both smile, the warmth between you growing.

the conversation flows easily after that. you share stories about your college days at uconn—the relentless practices, the roar of packed arenas, the thrill of being drafted third overall for the liberty. 

emily’s eyes light up as she tells you about growing up playing soccer until the sun dipped low and her mother would call her home.

“and after some time in north carolina–arsenal came calling since caitlin really wanted me to play with her,” she says, sipping her drink. 

“wasn’t even sure i’d say yes. london felt like another world at first.”

“but you did,” you say, nodding, already picturing her on a pitch, stopping forwards with ease.

“and i did,” emily confirms, eyes catching yours with a look that lingers.

the night stretches on, the restaurant’s bustle slowing as patrons leave, and yet, you barely notice. 

you talk about the upcoming olympics, how emily’s gearing up for it, and she asks if you’ll be watching.

“i’ll be cheering louder than anyone,” you say, meaning every word.

she asks why you weren’t on the basketball team representing the USA in the olympics, you said it was due to an injury scare on your wrist. she understood as a girl who had many injures herself.

by the time the server brings the check, neither of you are in a rush to leave. 

outside, the city’s lights twinkle like a sea of stars, and when you step onto the sidewalk, the air feels cool against your skin.

“thank you for tonight,” emily says, and you catch the faintest hint of nerves in her voice.

you smile, hands slipping into your pockets. 

“anytime.”

“next time,” she says, with a hint of mischief, “don’t wear chelsea blue.”

you look down at your sweater, noting that the blue did match chelsea’s colors. 

“deal,” you laugh, already thinking about when the next time will be.

whenever the american girl comes back from london. 

masterlist

[tokoyamisstuff]

Delicate

Homelander x F! Reader

Summary: You and Homelander have been official for a while now, but you have yet to understand why things never went beyond a certain line.

Warnings: slight angst, slight manhandling, somnophilia, masturbation, explicit smut, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex

A/N: not proofread as always bc I cringe at my own writing. take it or leave it

Homelander had never learned how to be gentle.

Of course he knew how to touch someone without breaking them if necessary, but there's limits to his self-restraint. Especially when it came to the intimate kind of encounter.

This sadistic side of his was an expression of his desperate need for control, an inability to truly let himself fall and be vulnerable with another person.

For decades his mantra was that normal humans only exist for supes' - and mostly his - entertainment. Your weakness was his thrill, the sheer difference in power so ridiculously high that you might as well be filthy bugs - and Homelander was like a cruel child with a magnifying glass.

Usually his mates were supes themselves and even they could barely handle his violent urges, but you are a mere human. So fragile and precious that it terrified him at times.

What if he loses control in the heat of the moment? What if he breaks you? Or even worse: What if you see him for the monster he really is and run away like everyone eventually does?

A while ago Homelander heard the story about Ice Princess' fling, some Vought employee nobody. She accidentally froze his penis off during climax. Hilarious, honestly. The first time he heard this story he had a very good laugh, and he still can't look that guy in the eye without cackling when he passes him in the hallways.

But now, being romantically involved with one of those weaklings himself, the possibility of something similar happening to you made his stomach turn...

...but of course, as Homelander always does, he chose to ignore the problem at hand instead of addressing it.

Why bother with an unpleasant conversation if he can just prolong this innocent, chaste bond for as long as possible? He'd rather have you like this than unnecessarily putting you into harm's way.

You on the other hand slowly but steadily grew impatient with your boyfriend.

At first you thought he was merely being chivalrous, but it's been three months and still nothing. He's famous, so you had involuntarily learned about his past affairs - and he's definetly not old-fashioned.

Then why is he hesitating so much?

Most of the time you don't dare talking about what's bothering you, simply because any issue of yours seemed so insignificant compared to the horrible things John's been through.

Admittedly, he once literally lasered a guy's head into mush just for throwing a can to his son's head. So while his reactions can be a bit unpredictable, John cares so deeply about the few people he loves that you want to spare him any more trouble.

Unhealthy way of handling things, admittedly.

Last week you had planned it all out: What you could only describe as the perfect date was supposed to continue in his apartment, and you could literally see all blood flow from his brain to nether regions as you entered the bedroom in finest lingerie.

Anyways, you had initiated several times up until now, and initially he'd always go along with it. However as soon as your make-out-sessions turn more heated, he'd abruptly end them and practically storm off.

Everything went so well at first, with you straddling his waist and tentatively grinding against his lap. His hands moved against his will as his resolve crumbled, finding the curves of your body and relishing in the feeling of your exposed skin under his gloves. His jaw clenched as he fought the urge to go all out, fearing dangerous consequences.

A proper dosage of pain can function as aphrodisiac, at least in your opinion. So you didn't tell him to stop, in fact your senses were too clouded by desire to even notice the way his fingers dug into the cushion of your hips.

Yet there was just the tiniest microexpression, just the fraction of a second where your heart sped up and your face contorted in pain...

...and Homelander, shocked with himself, threw you so frantically off of his lap, you landed face firsr on the floor instead of the bed.

Against all reasoning, you laughed hysterically at his not-so-subtle rejection, and god knows you'll tease him about it until forever. But also, understandably, on the inside you were as hurt and confused as never before.

Doesn't make it any better that your boyfriend had been avoiding you like you were the goddamn pest ever since.

Just like today, when Homelander comes home to you way past midnight, double checking with his x-ray-vision whether you were already fast asleep.

John was aware that this topic has been tormenting you for a while now, and while he never intended to hurt you - quite the opposite, really - he also clung to this pleasant illusion he had created with you.

Lucky at cards, unlucky in love, or so they say.

The course of his life had convinced him that all remotely good things happening to him will be taken away again. A farce prepared by destiny itself just to mock him, maybe evening out the scales since he had been blessed with too much power.

On days as shitty as this one however, nothing compares to having someone to come home to - even when he made sure that you weren't awake to confront him. He tosses his boots aside, grateful for you to be a sound sleeper as they fell to the floor with a loud thump.

Your boyfriend's heart sinks as he pulls up the blanket, being greeted by a handprint-shaped bruise on the side of your hip. Seems like it still hurts too much to sleep on that side. His fingertips run over the dark purple-ish mark, a pained groan escaping your throat when he gives in to the temptation to squeeze your ass.

He really is the worst.

Homelander freezes until he's certain you continue sleeping undisturbed, the sound of his own heart hammering against his chest drowning out all other noise. His palm is still lingering on your body, running up and down your sides and earning relieved sighs in return.

Before you'd feel his excitement too much, he manages to tear his body away from you, his erection twitching painfully as he rolled onto his back.

John really had pure intentions when he embraced you from behind, simply wanting to distract himself and fall asleep while cradling you in his arms - yet instead his already hard cock buries itself neatly between your thighs, the friction making him utter vile things.

Damn it Y/N, why the fuck do you always sleep in underwear only?! Is it to taunt him or to test his limits? Because it's working.

A breathy moan escapes his lips as he spread his legs wide, cock already leaking precum when he ran his thumb across the slid. He grabs it fiercely, pumping hard to make quick work of it, while roaming every inch of your skin he can get his other free hand on.

"Need some help with that?"

Shit.

ShitshitshitshitSHIT!

Seems like he was a little too busy with getting off - so much that even his heightened senses didn't catch you waking up to this scene. Your boyfriend had a habit of sleeping naked, so right now there was none of what he did left to the imagination.

"Heyyy sweetheart..." John tried to put on his trusty showman attitude, an awkward grin stretched across his face while trying to cover himself with the next best pillow. "Sorry babe, didn't wanna wake you up. Just go back to slee-"

"And miss out on the show?" you chuckle half-sleepily and he wants to die. He's done worse things in his life, way worse to be precize - so why is he fucking shy nowy just because you caught him? "Aww, you're blushing." He contemplates lasering your lips together to make you shut up.

"C'mon, John, I know you're holding back for some reason, but we don't have to go all out." Shuffling closer to your boyfriend, you give him those damn doe-eyes he can never say no to. "And I'd love to lend you a hand, if you know what I mean."

John instinctively closes his eyes as your face moves closer, lips eagerly awaiting yours...

...but just when you were about to touch him, he takes a hold of your wrist. "Y/N, I-" he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. "Just- just let me go to the bathroom, okay?"

You frown. Worse, the humiliation makes tears dwell in your eyes. Pushing your partner is wrong, but without context you really start doubting yourself here.

Suddenly the stench of fear was lingering in the air, and your heart starts racing like a hummingbird. Trying to calm yourself was a fruitless attempt in front of a man that could perceive almost anything, even your pathetic strangled sobs.

So he was right: You're afraid and maybe even disgusted by his behavior, and just offered yourself to placate him.

Maybe he should just snap your neck to escape the inevitable heartbreak.

"A-Are you cheating on me?"

"Huh?" That question caught him off guard. He was prepared to hear anything, seriously all kinds of insults or accusations, but that? "Are you dense? Why the fuck would I cheat on you?"

And that's when it dawns on him: You are scared - but not of him.

To your defense, he did have a reputation of not being able to keep it in his pants. Maeve had remarked that fact more than once so you wouldn't forget. And him constantly being swarmed by the prettiest celebrities didn't do any good to your self-esteem either.

You're scared of him leaving you.

"Then what is it?" you sniveled, shrinking into yourself as you hugged your own legs. Seeing you like this and knowing he's responsible was somehow even worse than his earlier apprehensions. "You always react as if you got burned whenever we touch. Did I do something wrong, or- or am I not attractive enough?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" John scoffs in an almost irritated tone, unable to refrain from rolling his eyes. Comforting people didn't really come easy to him, even if he hated himself for not being able to let the shielding facade drop just this once. "You're gorgeous and you know that! C'mon, you women are always causing arguments out of thin air. Stop making this about yourself, would y-"

Seeing your glossy eyes turn into a glare at his ramblings made him shut up immediately, but the damage has already been done. "You know what, I'll-" For a while, you sit on the edge of the bed thinking and with every passing second of silence, Homelander's anxiety skyrockets. "I think it's better if I sleep at my own place for a while."

That's exactly what he's talking about, damn it! The line between control and insanity is a thin thread, and he is not willing to take any chances - when it comes to you at least.

"No!" he almost screams at you, jumping up from the bed and pointing a warning finger at you. "You're not going fucking anywhere!" When he sees your wary expression John's eyes soften, instantly regretting his outburst.

Why does he always fuck up? Why can he never seem to keep what makes him happy? Why can't he be what you need?

Homelander buries his face in his hands, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself just like you taught him. "Look, I-" He reluctantly put his hands on each of your shoulders and when you don't flinch away, he starts rubbing circles on your back. You always do it for him when he's upset, so he figures maybe it can help you too. "Please...I'll tell you the truth, okay? Just...don't leave."

You turn around to face him, nodding mutely as he wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. Seeing you cry was gutwrenching, moreso when he was the reason. "I..." he helplessly gestures around, wishing there was a script to this like he was usually provided. "I tend to become...rough."

"So?" The initial hurt now turned into confusion, suspicion even about whether he was telling the truth. You defendingly cross your arms, like a barrier so you wouldn't falter before you got answers.

"I'm not made out of glass." Compared to his strenght, you might as well be. "And I can talk. If you become too wild I'll let you know."

Stubborn as always. But he loved that about you, too. "It's not that easy, Y/N." His head falls in defeat and exasperation. John's about to cry himself, and he hates you seeing him anything less than perfect. "I'll hurt you, and then you'll hate me. Or worse..."

Consciously ignoring the worse part, you cup both sides of his face, making him look up to meet your eyes. "John..."

You straddle his waist again, feeling relief now that you finally understood. Peppering kisses across his face and neck you whisper "I was so, so worried you had grown tired of me..."

"Never." Homelander wasn't someone to apologize often, let alone sincerely. The times he did ever since leaving the lab he can count on one hand.

But despite him being...well, him, John knows best what it's like to be plaqued by insecurities. He hugs you tight enough to make you feel the sincerity of his words. "I only wanted to protect you. I never wanted to make you feel this way."

"Next time talk to me from the start, okay?" You smile softly as he aggrees, and he doubts to be deserving of all your sympathy.

Your hands never leave his body, featherlight touch reassuringly calming his nerves. And yet together with the fact that the only thing currently separating your bodies was your thin panty, it was no wonder that his body reacted the way it did.

A moan disrups your conversation when his cock stiffens again, and you can't help but buck your hips against him in response. Your panties were already soaking anyway, due to the friction and his dirty little deed earlier.

The scent of your lust wipe all negative emotions from your boyfriend's mind, replacing them with something else.

"I want you, John" you breathe against his ear and he whines. "We could just take it slowly..."

"I don't know how" he admits, and you smile at his reluctant aggreement. Gently being shoved down on his back again, it feels like he melts beneathe your fingertips. "Then I'll teach you."

Goosebumps rise on his skin as your fingertips ghost over his body, and you lean over for a longdue kiss, so tender and affectionate John thinks he will fall apart.

Homelander's groan gets swallowed by your lips as you pull your panties aside, slick folds now grinding against his cock. Your name falls from his lips in meek whimpers and you refuse to believe this wonderful man could ever harm you.

"Let me take care of you." Shit, how do you always know exactly what to say?

Raking your hands through your hair as you sit up, air gets stuck in Homelander's throat at the sight, making him choke.

You look fucking magnificent.

Hell, he'd pay an artist to paint you like this so he could look at it forever. If only it didn't require another person seeing you naked...

"You know, I thought it was just my imagination..." A mischievous smile plays on your lips now that you think of it. "But my panties have been disappearing a lot lately."

Your boyfriend didn't respond anything else but a whimmer, shame washing over him at being caught. Not that he was really subtle to begin with.

"Speak up" you tease, giving his shaft a soft squeeze and he instinctively thrusts into your hand like a dog in heat. "Did you use them to get yourself off to your fantasies, huh? Naughty boy." His cock twitches in your palm at the words. "From now on, I want you to come to me for release. Always."

"I trust you" you add as doubt is clearly written on his face, voice firm and as unwavering as your loving eyes, driving tears into his own. You lower yourself on his cock, savouring the feeling of being filled out like this. "Mhh...you feel so good inside of me. Will you behave, John?"

"Y-Yes..." was all he managed to wring out, since it takes every ounce of strenght inside of him to not cum to your sweet affirmations right away. John clutches the bedframe so hard that it crumbles under his grip, but to his surprise you don't wince at the sound - quite the opposite, it shot a wave of heat right through your core.

"John...look at me." You guide his hands away from his eyes to cup your breasts instead, looking at him like he's the best fucking thing in the world. The intensity of your gaze causes him to shiver, makes him wanna hide.

Yes, this is too good to be true.

Whatever you see in him right now he will taint with his own hands given time.

And yet he can't stop anymore, now that he's aware of the depht your love helds for him.

You read him like a damn book, noticing his internal struggle so you silence the voices in his head with a passionate kiss. "So good for me, John" you cheer him on, moving your hips at a low pace.

Tension finally leaves his body and he dives his tongue into your mouth, groaning deeply as he moves his body alongside yours. His touch was careful yet bruising, sending pleasant tingles down your spine.

"I love you, John" you cry out as your foreheads touch, eyes never leaving his. "I love you so damn much!"

That declaration was enough to drive him over the edge.

Homelander pulls you as close as close as humanly possible when he stills momentarily, jackknive-like thrusts chasing after his high. The sounds he made as you got filled up bordered on obscene, as did the amount of cum spilling out of you.

"Shit" he speaks breathlessly against your skin, covering a bitemark he had just caused with kisses. "M'sorry..."

And yet he wasn't willing to let go off of you just yet, this amazing orgasm unable to ward off the embarassment of his poor performance.

"Never apologize for having a good time, silly" you chuckle, brushing your nose against his. "I'm flattered, if anything."

John never knew that sex could be so...satisfying, more than just physically. Filled with carefree laughter instead of expectations.

After all, he was conditioned to never wanna disappoint.

"Nah-a-ah." You yelped as he spun you around effortlessly, now him being the one howering over you, bearing his canines like a starved predator. "I refuse to let my goddess go unworshipped."

"John...I'm okay, really. Sex between lovers is not just about that..." And yet when he opens your legs, you don't resist.

He bets you taste just as fucking good as you smell, feisty little thing. Driving him crazy all those weeks. Do you have any idea how hard it was to endure this sweet torture for your sake?!

A shiver runs down your spine when he licks his lips at the sight of your leaking entrance, taking a deep inhale. There's a hunger in his eyes that no sane person could ever comprehend - but you indulged in it, craved in his twisted kind of love.

Heh, you were a goddamn freak just like him all along, isn't that right?

Homelander takes his time kissing a path down to your navel, admiring the marks he left on your body he was now able to see as the lovebites they are. He briefly looks up to assure himself of your consent, an answering smile all he needs to continue.

"Myyyy tuuuurn" he chants so cheerful, you almost thought he had put on his formal persona.

A relieving finger finally has mercy and slides into your already overstimulated sex, making you arch your back when he curls it inside. Pleads and curses falling from your lips as he enters a second one and then another, and you desperately try to move yourself deeper onto him.

"Attagirl!" Seems like his confidence has returned, at least judging by that damn smug smile his tone indicated. The frustrated pout you wore right now was so adorable, he decided to end your misery and bury his head between your legs as well.

You were still fucking yourself on his fingers while he relished the taste of himself on your pussy, before enveloping your clit with his tongue. "That's my fucking girl right there" he mouths as he ate you out, pumping his fingers keenly on your weak spot he so easily found. "Come on, I want to hear you."

When you came it felt like you were ascending to the afterlife, screaming his name at the top of your lungs before collapsing into the sheets.

Your legs had long since gave out but John put them over his shoulders, humping the mattress while his tongue still ran over your nerve endings, shooting jolts of overwhelming pleasure through your system.

"Oopsie" he coos, a predatory glint in his eyes as he crawled on top of you again, his kiss giving you a taste of your own spent. "Made me hard again."

You eyes flutter open after the last bit of your climax had ebbed out, exhausted yet invitingly batting your lashes as your limbs entangled once again.

"Seems like I found the Homelander's weakness."

[anxious-witch]

I know, I know we talked about the forest scene with Monty, Edwin and the Cat King to death. But, but. Hear me out.

Edwin was ready to both forgive Monty and thank the Cat King right then and there if they didn't push him, aka crossed a line in the sand for him.

When the Cat King initially informs him of Monty's betrayal, this is Edwin's reaction:

He looks confused, he looks hurt. But he doesn't look angry. Not yet. When he says "Were you just pretending to be my friend" he sounds hurt, but when he sees how Monty is affected, he still looks oddly touched. Especially when Monty says: "At first, yes! Then...no."

I know we joke about Edwin being awful at reading people, but Monty is obviously distressed and Edwin reacts to it. Besides, Monty is his friend. He wants to believe it wasn't all a ploy. But then, Monty makes a fatal mistake and brings up Charles. Immediately, Edwin's expression falls and then it turns angry and says: "Even if it were true, you are a bloody crow!"

We see Edwin forgive Simon, his killer, the person who was responsible for sending him to Hell, in mere minutes, once he finds out why Simon did it. I don't believe for a second he wouldn't have forgiven Monty in a heartbeat if Monty properly explained himself, instead of falling back to his hurt feelings and in turn, trying to hurt Edwin the same way by bringing up Charles. Which is a shame, because they really could have used each other's help.

As for the Cat King, I think it's a very similar story too!

Immediately after Monty walks away, Edwin closes his eyes and says: "I am such an idiot." And the Cat King nods, but you can already see most of the anger Edwin held towards Monty dispersing.

When the Cat King stops him from leaving and says: "I came all the way into this ridiculous forest to save you, I think I am at least owed a thank you," Edwin doesn't seem mad. I'd even go as far as to describe his expression as soft surprise. I think he is thankful, in that moment. And why wouldn't he be? The Cat King did save him from a trap.

It's only when the Cat King brings up a second kiss, implying he should thank him by kissing him, does Edwin grow angry again.

Also, importantly, the way Edwin pushes the Cat King away is almost gentle. Bitchy, and pissed off, for sure, but also gentle. Like, if it was someone who I genuinely didn't want anwhere near me, I'd shove them away by the shoulders, and with much more force. And sure! Edwin isn't a type for violence, but c'mon. We know he is capable if pressed, as seen when Esther hurt Charles.

Edwin keeps his anger tightly locked, only letting it out through his words. He practically spits out "I am not your toy to yank around." But even so, the only tense action we see from his is the way he cocks his head and demingly looks thr Cat King up and down.

Only after the Cat King threatens him, does Edwin get up in his personal space and almost violently(by his standards) shows him the bracelet, saying "This is all that you are. Do you understand?"

My point is, if both the Cat King and Monty essentially told/showed Edwin their actions are somehow tied into his reciprocation of his feelings. Funnily, enough, I feel like if either of them didn't base this interaction on that, and instead rather connected with Edwin emotionally, they would have had a shot at getting exactly what they wanted that night. Monty, Edwin's forgivness and the Cat King, Edwin's thankfulness, perhaps even a sense that he owes him, next time they see each other.

Which is great! Because it shows us sm about the characters, their flaws, and their priorities! But yeah. Talking about shooting themselves in the foot.

I also think that, for all we joke around Edwin holding grudges, he is actually incredible in how quickly he forgives people, as soon as they show the skightest initative for change/goodwill. Part of me hopes he and Monty meet again, just so Edwin can understand his pov, the same way he understood Simon and thr Cat King's but alas. I suppose we'll see

[my-darling-boy]

(TW injury description)

I am SO glad you asked I lose my mind over this man. Sidney Beldam! He’s most known for his miraculous recovery from a major facial injury sustained while he served as a young sergeant in the First World War. If you’ve read the Facemaker by Lindsay Fitzharris you might recognise him! Sources differ slightly about his story, so I’ve pieced it together as best I could. The photos below were from about February 1919!

Born in 1897, Sidney was about 17 living with his mother in Cambridge, England when the Great War commenced. While he didn’t enlist initially, he was soon conscripted when it came about in 1916 though thankfully he was in a non-combatant role driving lorries transporting soldiers to boats headed for France. It’s where he learned he enjoyed driving! However in April 1917, Sidney was transferred to the Machine Gun Corps and eventually rose to the rank of sergeant where only 7 months later, his life would change forever.

During the battle of Passchendaele, one of the muddiest most gruelling segments of the war, Sidney was on the frontlines when a shell burst, sending a shrapnel fragment tearing diagonally through his nose and the right side of his face. The young soldier collapsed face first into the mud which ended up saving his life as falling backwards would have caused him to choke on his own blood. For three days Sidney laid in a mangled heap floating in and out of consciousness while vermin scurried about his body and the other dead and wounded around him. No one would ever know the details of those agonising three days, but the trauma he experienced there left him with a lifelong phobia of rats and cockroaches. After the initial wounded had been cleared out, a wandering band of stretcher bearers discovered Sidney alive after one man touched him with his boot fully expecting him to be dead. Miraculously, he was still clinging to life.

The 19 year old sergeant was rushed down the line and then transferred to two different military hospitals where his wounds were hastily stitched in an effort to save his life before infection could spread. Unfortunately, closing the gap where he was missing flesh in his cheek caused his upper lip to be pulled into a sneer and a sunken depression formed where most of his nose was missing around the bridge. Still, he was lucky to be alive, which he later used to remark. Well he was luckier still as he would be transferred to Sidcup military hospital in Kent where he would become a patient under Sir Harold Gillies, the man often considered the pioneer of modern plastic surgery. When he arrived at hospital in 1918, his wounds were healed but his face still bore the heavy trauma of his experience. If you want to see his photographs upon arrival, I won’t post them here but if you search his name, the photos are everywhere. IMO they’re not graphic but I know it can upset some people.

Gillies went to work trying to restore Sidney’s face. This required him to reopen the wound in his cheek where a skin flap was grafted to allow his upper lip to return to normal. He also folded down a skin flap from his forehead in order to create a new nose. Behind his facade, a series of tubes and canals had to be inserted for proper sinus drainage and other unnamed functions. While his initial handful of surgeries did most of the work to reconstruct his face, Sidney underwent over 40 surgeries between 1918 and the 1930s, some reconstructive and some to evacuate the tubes behind the flesh, meaning the common cold was a routinely painful affliction for him. Gillies understood operations were traumatic for the men at Sidcup, especially since most required more than one, and so made a point about creating a lighthearted ward environment, one Sidney says was quite jolly with the staff doing everything they could to make them feel comfortable and dignified as possible. And while I thought the topmost photos were the most updated case study photos for his recovery, I stumbled upon another set from 1920 in the Faces of War by Andrew Bamji I have not seen posted anywhere!

And lads listen. In such a sweet little twist, while Sidney was still recovering from the bulk of his major surgeries, a local pianist by the name of Winifred volunteered to play for the resting servicemen, all of whom had some form of disfigurment or amputation. Carrying in her sheet music, she and Sidney laid eyes on each other for the first time and she later remarked how his smile instantly lit up the whole room! For them, it was love at first sight. The two were soon married, and although it was in the 1920s, I don’t have an exact year for this. This most likely came after Sidney was finally discharged from service in 1921. There is a photo of their wedding and y’all look how SWEET!!

Between his initial surgeries and army discharge, Gillies asked if Sidney would be his personal chauffeur, an offer he took up quickly as he loved driving from his time with lorries during the war. One somewhat humorous account tells of Gillies—who was a bit scattered at times—asking Sidney to renew his driver’s license as the surgeon left it until the last day to take care of; Sidney in a rush waited in a long line at the county hall before jumping the queue and begging the administrator to expedite his employer’s license as it was needed to drive him to the hospital the next day. The man refused, even for a surgeon to get him to his patients. Sidney went to another staff member who was friends with Gillies and begged him the same. The man cheerily agreed but was still in need of a signature from the stubborn administrator who again refused... at least until he found out Harold Gillies nearly won a golfing championship, at which point he took Sidney to his personal office to expedite the license as he was happy to do business for a skilled golfer (apparently saving people’s lives doesn’t matter as much??). A no doubt perplexed Sidney was finally able to get back to the hospital on time!

After his army discharge and most likely about the time of his marriage, Sidney moved back to Cambridge where he worked for the council as a rent collector. He was so well liked, apparently even from the people he collected from, that he soon worked his way to Housing Manager for Cambridge. About this time, he had a daughter, Pam. Every account I read of him, people gush about how sweet he was. His wife recalls how Sidney was always adored by all his family and friends. His granddaughter Marilyn McInnes in an interview said, “He was the most warm and optimistic and loving man. I adored my grandfather, I was constantly on his lap as a small child. I never noticed anything funny about his face, I guess I thought all grandads looked like mine.”

Sadly, Sidney Beldam passed away from cancer at about 80 years old in 1978. But considering the man was given 6 months to live and ended up living for 60 years more surrounded by a large and loving family, I’d say he certainly had a full life. There is a picture of him and his wife in the 60s and they are absolutely charming!!

But anyway that’s me done rambling I’ve a massive crush on him. His story makes me genuinely happy to tell and I’m so glad you asked!

[shookuna]

// HEATWAVE! // T FUSHIGURO

a/n: first post on tha new blog !!! eeee !!! this is dedicated to the lovely mickey @teddybeartoji <3 ty for being my FIRST OFFICIAL MOOT ! MY DAYONE ! take a lil soft!toji fic pls and thank u 🤲

wc: ~ 1k oops

summary: tired grumpy bf!toji is needy and annoying w/o cuddles. cw: nsf(w) ment, plus some tooth-rotting fluff <3

cuddling with toji was becoming a rare occurrence.

it was mid-july and swelteringly hot outside, even in the wee hours of the night. the a/c in your shared apartment was threatening to give out, and the shitty fan toji sloppily assembled did little to improve matters. so, deviating from your usual routine, you and toji fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

toji noticed the distance immediately, cracking one eye open to find you not curled into his side, like usual. the sight of you dead to the world, hair messily splayed across the pillow was enough to make his heart flutter. but even still, a frown tugged at the corner of his lips.

because goddammit, you did not get him used to this "cuddling" shit just to bail on him now.

you and toji met months ago at the dawn of fall, when the days were getting shorter and the nights were growing colder. your relationship was initially a fateful coincidence, a grocery store meet-cute that was as romantic as it was awkward. his series of brazen pick-up lines went right over your head (surely, you assumed, no one would tell you how good you'd look receiving backshots in the fucking frozen food aisle) but you still ended up giving toji your number that day.

and he's never been a religious man, but he was praising every god in the damn sky that you did.

one date was all it took for both of you to be locked in. he was a bad habit, an itch you couldn't help but scratch, irresistible. he was reckless, cocky at best and an asshole at worst, everything you weren't. needless to say, dating toji was against your better judgment. but for him, being with you was the first good decision he's made in a long time.

that's not to say things were perfect, or even easy. being with someone like you was so unfamiliar for someone like toji. loving you came as easy as breathing, but choosing you, choosing to work towards being a better version of himself... that was hard as shit. even small things took time, like physical intimacy. his body count was through the roof, so he had no issue when it came to having sex with you - but affection was a whole different story. it made him feel like he was in someone else's skin, someone weaker, someone who needed to be taken care of. it took til' mid-december, when the temperatures were practically sub-zero and frost crusted the ground, to get toji to warm up (no pun intended) to cuddling.

and now you'd gone and gotten him attached to this shit just to leave him high and dry?!

it didn't matter that your boyfriend was practically a walking furnace, heat radiating off of him in waves when he caged you in his strong arms. temperature be damned, toji thought, you started this, so you had to finish it.

"wake up." his gruff voice sounded out, a stark departure from the blanket of silence the night offered. when you only stirred slightly, he gave you a little shake. "oi, get y'r ass up. i'm talkin t' you."

at that firmer command, you rose your head, a displeased frown taking the place of your previous serene expression. "fushiguro, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing waking me up at..." you paused, fumbling for your phone on the nightstand and checking the time. "...at three in the damn morning."

"don't gimme that shit. girl bye," toji grumbled, not sparing you so much as an apology for disturbing your sleep. you simply gave him a deadpan stare, making him scoff and roll over to his other side. "'s fine, not like i needed to hold ya to fall asleep anyway." he muttered bitterly into the pillow.

your eyes were already halfway closed when he turned around, but they immediately shot open when you heard his grumblings.

"what did you say? you need to cuddle me to fall asleep?" you perk up, pressing your hands on his shoulders to coax him into turning back around.

"i sure as hell didn't say 'cuddle'," he groused, but still turned around anyways. his voice might have sounded annoyed, but you knew your toji. the flicker of warmth in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

"heh, you said it just now, dummy." you grinned as you snuggled up to toji's chest, earning a flick to your forehead from the man in question. but you were unbothered, simply humming, "thought ya didn't like cuddling."

"y'r makin' assumptions," toji grumbled, the low, gravelly timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "now quiet down so i can sleep."

at that, you scoffed in playful offense. "so you can sleep? you literally just woke me u-" you started, but he silenced effortlessly by pressing his lips against yours in a lazy, heated kiss.

when he pulled away, chest heaving with each hot puff of air, you were warm from way more than just the heat outside.

"go the fuck to sleep before i put you to sleep myself." he growled out, but there was no malice in his words - more of an invitation than a threat.

deciding to resist temptation this time, you settled back into his hold, your back flush against his chest. as you began to fade back into sleep, you heard toji whisper out, "meant what i said, y'know that? can't... can't sleep w' out you now."

the next words out of your mouth were simple, but they were all it took to put him at ease.

"i know, toji."

dawww <33 hope u like this fic everyone (esp mickey mwah mwah mwah) reblogs + comments appreciated !!

© shookuna ! toji header edited by me too tehe

[seirindono]

TMS - Author's note (Arc 1)

Today I'm stepping up to talk about TMS for a while. It's going to be a lot of blah blah, no TLDR, so hang in there or save it for later if you're brave enough, haha (¯▿¯)

So, another chapter of TMS draws to a close, with the difference that this time it's a whole saga that's coming to an end! That's a big relief for me, given that we recently celebrated the comic's 4th anniversary! That's almost the entire duration of my college life, and that's both an impressive and terrifying achievement lol.

The comic is divided into 3 arcs, each separated by an interlude. The first runs from part 1 to 8, with 201 pages total (wow!). In it, you are introduced to Mel, a young skeleton with a rather unclear past, who accidentally arrives in a a foreign timeline, along with other well known skeletons. Nowadays it's just an isekai haha. Throughout the arc, she proves to be a cautious Monster, quiet and somewhat withdrawn compared to the other skeletons we come across, notably Rus, Blue and Axe, who each got their own sequences.

Still, Mel in the last few scenes is starting to show more initiative, and the interlude will make this even more obvious, but we can expect her to open up a lot more during the next Arc, about her past, motives, goals and thoughts.

I could go on at length about what's in store for us in the interlude, but given that it's due for release sometime in 2024, I'm going to talk about the general story line instead. Although we follow Mel who is foreign to what's going on in this universe prior to her arrival, the other characters and events suggest that strange phenomena are taking place in Ebott, leading many people to become embroiled in a highly unusual affair. Crossing timelines, earthquakes, mysterious apparitions in the forest, something is afoot and the situation seems to be at a turning point when Mellow gets here.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with the situation and what to do next. Some are serious and pragmatic, like Black, others optimistic, like Blue, and others, like Papyrus, find themselves completely backed into a corner, forced to do their best to fix whatever needs to be.

A special case, however, is Axe, whom Mel meets in the forest as she investigates Mt. Ebott. The two have diametrically opposed views of their current condition. One wants to return to her world by any means necessary, regardless of the advantages of a peaceful world. The other, not so much. Both refuse to talk about their past and ignore the other's circumstances, but a sense of familiarity drives them to try to convince the other to stay or go. These are two stark positions to reconcile, and while we can expect Blue and the other skeletons to have their own views on the subject too, Mel and Axe are strangely "committed" in this interraction and resort to violence, spurred on by a unknown substance that causes Axe to momentarily lose control.

Mel is wounded, Axe unconscious, and the status quo disrupted. Other consequences follow this confrontation, and several questions are raised: Can Blue really help Mel when Axe accuses him of having already given up on going home himself? What is this mysterious entity Axe came across a few days earlier? The vibrations? What was that substance that made him go berserk? And what made him stop? Can we trust Mel and what she tells us? And many others.

Because as I'm sure many of you have come to realize, Mel has proven to be a rather unreliable narrator (or at least character since you don't follow her actual POV). Blatantly lying or omitting facts to others and readers alike, it's hard to know her next move and whether she's genuinely forgotten important infos (for it's well established at this stage that she has hazy memories and that they continue to deteriorate. The same applies to her health).

In the same way, each part of TMS so far has raised more questions than it has answered, but I can confidently say that the road is paved for Arc 2 to answer and put in perspective most of them, ahah.

Ah, this is also the moment when I can announce that ALL skeletons will be featured in the Interlude. Should be. Hopefully.

I'd also like to point out a few narrative changes for Act 2! The central characters, in particular. Original cast characters such as Undyne, Metatton and a veiled character will be more formally introduced, but we'll also meet up with characters we've already bumped into, but in a much more concrete way, such as Frisk and Alphys. I can't wait for you to get to know them! You can also expect more pov changes, more elipses and so on. Things are moving fast.

But that begs the question. When is it due? As said before, the first Arc lasted 4 years and I'm entering my last (and most crucial) year of college. I still don't know if I'll have time to get much of it done in 2025, but on the other hand, I'd like to strike while the iron's hot lest TMS be discontinued after a 1-year hiatus and my entry into the working world. Student loan, life and all. There are still plenty of things I'd like to bring to this project, and I now have the skills to actually carry them out, but on the other hand, the time involved has also increased exponentially.

Tbh with you, as an animation student, it's been one of my dreams since 2020 to do one of TMS's sequences in animatic or full anim, or even a trailer for the comic! But as a solo team, it's just unreasonable and I know it. But the parasite ----. Don't get me wrong, I could, but it would take me months and it's just not realistic when 80% of my time has to go into professionnal work that goes into my portefolio or adult stuff. I can't affort to invest time in solo-ing it or to recruit and lead a team over one side project of mine ( ´ ▿ ` ) So we'll most likely stick to classic pages.

But the same goes for collabs, community events, side stories, asks, edits, dubs, testing other platforms, regular animatics. Love all of that. Really. But I never have the time to because, man, I'd love to actually finish TMS someday ahah. It all comes back to the age-old problem of “lots of ideas, little time”, and it's so frustrating but, it's a choice I have to stick to, so bear with me as I vent my frustration. Just for tonight (´ ∀ `, *)

So, yes. Act 2. Next year? Probably? It's a long interlude, so you'll get smth in the meantime, but it's likely to decide the future of TMS and whether Act 2 sees the light of day as I imagine it or if...well, something else replaces it.

bringing back this doodle cuz it seems fiting lol

Anyway, I also wanted to thank you for your engagement with Part 8!

I don't know how other comic artists experience it, but for me it's a very isolated work, and as much as I love working alone, I enjoy the interaction with readers most of all.

Seeing people losing their mind over a serious scene, or chuckling at a dumb gag, or just simping over the characters and art. It's just great, and very rewarding. Likewise, I have a blast answering questions about the TMS universe, reading tags and receiving memes, witnessing people go increasingly mad with messages full of indecipherable screams and hearts. Makes me giggle and kick my feet everytime and I can't wait to drop the next lore bomb or funny scene bwahahah

And while we're on the subject, I'd like to say a special word of thanks to the legions of rebloggers who make it their business to spread the word about TMS. You sweet, lovely, candy scented folks. And to my dear mutuals - with whom I interact objectively so little - who have no idea how a single message or note from them drives me bonkers. Thanks for dropping by. And of course to my super Patreons who support me despite the sparse updates, but to whom I'm more than grateful. Love you all.

Sounds like a farewell message. It's not lol. Just making sure they get the love they deserve.

The post is getting long and I'm kind of done pretending I know how to write organized notes so to wrap things up, here's an exhaustive list of what I'd like to get done this year and/or discuss in more detail another day. •Make a new masterpost (for Act 2) •Analyze/Comment certain sequences from Act 1 to clarify or give context •Redraw and rewrite part 1 and 2 •Make more bonus content again *ahahahahahaha*

•Re open or close the Discord (partially abandoned and it's all on me, but I'm still mulling it over).

•Finish the Interlude and enjoy and nice hiatus

And that's about it? Congratulation for reading this and making it this far! You were there!

Be well, and see you next time.

Seirin-

First part | Prev | Next (INTERLUDE)

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[annie-creates]

I deserved it

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Genre: angst

Words: 1000

Note: This story is inspired by this amazing song so I'm very greateful to the person who used it for an Agatha edit. Please be aware there's a talk of scars in case it makes you uncomfortable.

When Agatha Harkness entered your apotheke on the outskirts of your town, you thought it must have been a mistake. She would never step into a mile radius of yours willingly. But she wasn’t alone, she had a young boy with her. A kid who was a little too excited to get on the path of death for your liking, but at the same time it intrigued you. It was clear Agatha herself didn’t really want to be here, but once he told you about the coven list, you understood she really didn’t have much of a choice. If she wanted to find the witch’s road, she needed a coven with you in it.

Against your better judgement, you came to the meeting point, other witches already gathering. Quite a weird group in your opinion, Agatha must have been desperate. You couldn’t fathom she’d choose any of them willingly. That’s how you got yourself into the shenanigans of trials and tests, each one crazier than the one before. You weren’t all exactly friendly with each other either, most of you having some old beef with Agatha. Which at least didn’t leave you alone in your reservations towards her.

In the chaos of the last trial Teen got hurt and you all rushed outside to tend to him in the calmer surroundings. Everyone seemed desperate to find something to help, but surprisingly most of all Agatha, who pushed Jen to come up with anything that would help. You stand by his side, calling to your healing powers your hands starting to glow.

„Don’t touch him!“ Agatha screams at you, the cruelty in her voice taking you back.

„Do you want him to live or not?“ You spit back after the initial shock, masking your hurt expression.

In the mean time Jennifer makes her makeshift potion, slowly healing his wound. You take a few steps back, still hurt by the refusal of your help. You watch as they take him to sleep, opting to help Lilia with setting up a campfire instead. She notices your sudden quietness but doesn’t comment on it. The day has been hard on all of you.

“He might get a scar from this one,” Alice comments as she and Jennifer return, leaving Agatha looking after the kid.

“I bet he’ll find it pretty cool,” you answer halfheartedly.

“Do you guys have any magical scars?” She asks, stirring up a friendly conversation. “You’ve already seen mine.”

“I have these from the bounds,” Jen admits showing her wrists with lines that were hardly visible now.

“Look at this,” Lilia shows the side of her neck. “It’s from a vampire… right before I knocked out his other tooth.”

That gets everyone laughing and you must chuckle a little. What a weird group, and yet you kinda did click together. Maybe the choosing wasn’t completely random after all. All covenless witches, renegades who didn’t fit into the society of the outside world. You hear Agatha’s steps before she sits down by the fire, an opportunity they can’t pass on.

“Do you have any battle scars Agatha?” Alice asks lightly.

“Check this out,” she unbuttons her sleeve rolling it up. “Knitting needle right to the elbow.”

“Wow,” Jennifer admires. “What about you Y/n?”

You slowly look up at her, being a little lost in your own thoughts to follow the conversation too closely. You debate yourself for a minute with a loud inhale and exhale, deciding to also share a little piece of your troubled past. So you open the first few buttons of your shirt. There, in the middle of your chest, lies a deep pink scar.

“Oh my god, where did you get that?” Jen asks surprised.

“Well… a long time ago, I had this… person. And I wasn’t able to protect someone very dear to them… so she promised to cut out my heart and never forgive me,” you admit, your eyes glossing over as you remember the painful memory.

“Wow that’s cruel,” Alice whispers taken back by your dark story.

“I guess I deserved it,” you shrug, suddenly feeling colder.

The other women shake their heads clearly disagreeing but it’s not their place to argue with you on your self-esteem and worth. Agatha stays quiet, remembering the day she almost cut your heart out for the loss of her son. Even now, decades later she couldn’t understand how you could fail the one time she really needed you, and it only strengthened her decision that she can’t trust anybody when it comes to important stuff.

You get up after a minute, too lost in your own mind to entertain the ladies. You walk through the forest, immediately missing the warmth of the fire. Were you a good person? Reliable? The people in your life now would surely say yes, the witches on the road didn’t know you enough to judge, and Agatha would definitely have a different opinion. So what’s the right answer? Could you even believe in yourself? If not, how could you ask others to?

Your mind travels back to earlier today when Agatha forbade you from helping, rather entrusting Teen’s life in the hands of a stranger than yours. Did she really think so little of you? That you’d hurt the kid? The answer came walking behind you, subtle rustling of leaves revealing her presence. With a spiteful feeling you think she came to make sure you didn’t poison the boy or something.

“You know, this road is like Switzerland…” Agatha waits for you to turn around and look at her. “So I won’t attack you here… If I don’t have to.”

“Oh what a relief…” you scoff, folding your hands over your chest.

“But don’t expect the same courtesy when we’re outta here,” she warns you. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

“Wouldn’t imagine anything else,” you sigh.

“You were right you know?” she adds, already on her walk away from you. “You deserve much worse than just a scar.”

[himegureisu]

The Gift

Summary: Out of nowhere, your husband receives a gift from you.

A/N: This came to me last night after thinking of what type of mail people receive. Here's one I hope you enjoy.

------------------------------

The Owl Postal Service in Hogwarts was, if not, consistent in their delivery time.

This time being, the hour after breakfast started for everyone to ensure that no disruptions, except important missives, were to be received during class hours.

Your tawny barn owl sailed through the Great Hall, over the heads of students and staff, and landed on the High Table in front of its’ intended recipient, your husband, their dark and grumpy Potions Professor, Severus Snape.

It was uncommon for the Potions’ Professor to receive anything but Potions’ ingredients, his usual Potions’ Journal subscription, or official mail either from the Ministry or the Order so the package, a neatly wrapped gift in royal green paper, silver ribbon, and a tag attached, accompanied by a letter in your distinct handwriting was bound to attract attention.

“Is there a special occasion?” the Headmaster’s eyes twinkled upon the sight of the young Potions’ Master quite confused,

“No,” Severus answered, “Not that I know of,”

His thoughts a mile a minute through his brain, slowly, internally panicking. His eyes locked at the present in front of him. Did he forget YOUR birthday? God no, you’d thoroughly celebrated every time the day came around. Did he forget his birthday? Did he forget an anniversary? Did he forget a muggle holiday that you loved to celebrate? No, so what was this doing here?

“It’s wrapped beautifully,” Minerva remarked, from across Dumbledore, “Will you open it?”

He does. First, the letter.

“Sev,” your voice echoed through his brain, “I know you’re probably trying to think of any reason why I would send a gift to you on a normal day.”

You know him far too well.

“Just stop. Do I need a reason to send a gift to the one I love when I feel like it?” a soft smile slowly formed on his lips as he read that line, his colleagues’ interest piqued at the change, “It’s from our holiday and other events, I hope you like it. I know I did. I love you, I’ll see you when I get home,”

Your letter was swiftly tucked in his robes after then taking the package from your owl. Severus proffered a treat for them, and they happily ate before it perched itself on his shoulder. His hands gently tugged on the silver to unwrap the gift.

His initials and yours, on the cover of a leather-bound enchanted photo album.

On the first page of your story, the title page, if the album was a muggle document, was a candid photo from your most recent vacation. Your arms wrapped around his. His figure was behind yours in a hug. Your faces were engulfed in laughter after a guide failed to land a joke against him.

“Oh,” Severus whispered, Your gift was amazing. How did he get so lucky to deserve you?

“That’s a rare sight,” Filius said, by his right, “Severus smiling and speechless,”

“She’s beautiful, Severus,” Albus complimented,

“We look forward to meeting her,” Minerva said,

Their words fell on deaf ears.

Beneath the photo album, in a frame, there was another photo of the both of you from afar. This moment was captured by a charmed camera that you didn’t even know was there until after it happened. In the wilds of Wizarding Britain, on your first date, underneath the stars, he’d kissed the back of your hand, admitted his affections, and asked if he could kiss you. To which you shyly agreed, and received the sweetest kiss you’d ever experienced.

This he could place on his desk. The others were not up for public consumption.

“If you’ll excuse me, Professors, I must send a response,”