#this is to sooth my soul after the last fic that left me a little too raw

[gffa]

Did you know I’ve probably cried like a dozen times from BATFAMILY fic over the last two weeks? I’m not a big cryer, so that’s saying something for me, by which I mean, I realize I have some incredibly intense feelings about fictional characters, but also fandom is phenomenal about hitting those feelings dead on in exactly the way they mean to do. And it’s great, hell yeah make me cry buckets in emotional catharsis!! And then balance it out with comfort or humor because my soul needs soothing, too! I have been reading so many comics lately (so many good comics, what is this, I’m not used to having comics I actually think are good) and I love the canon so very much, but part of the draw towards this fandom has always been the enthusiastic fic response, the willingness to explore things the comics themselves don’t always have time for, whether aftermath of events or psychological effects that aren’t necessarily intended but are fascinating to consider or just straight up downtime that’s not about a case because fic doesn’t need to make people punch things in every issue. The two go hand in hand for me and getting fun comics to read and fun fic to read has been really meaningful to me in a time when I’ve really needed that in my life. I hope that I can return the favor even a little by shoving a bunch of fics at you and only making you scroll a little to get through my Dick Grayson Problem. BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I’M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ May Our Memories Light The Way by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce, time travel, 1.9k      Bruce travels into the past and serves up an apology long over-due. ✦ Late Spring by halyordan, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.5k      Dick gets in his first ‘fight’ at school. Luckily, Bruce was an angry boy once. He knows how to deal with it. ✦ the color violet by TheResurrectionist, dick & bruce & cast, 2.6k      The address – 1007 Mountain Drive – told Alex two things: one, their patient was either going to be someone unreasonably wealthy or an unlucky service worker, and two, getting to the actual patient was going to be a bitch. ✦ as i was walkin’ by oh_fudgecakes, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.6k      Bored and chased out of the kitchen by an irate Alfred, a young Dick Grayson falls through a loose floorboard while exploring the attic and ends up in an locked storeroom housing an interesting set of journals. ✦ help me fill this hole in my soul by renecdote, dick & bruce & cast, 5.9k      Dick nearly drowns on patrol one night. He’s fine, except that he really isn’t. Alfred and Bruce take care of him when he gets sick and let him know that even though his parents are gone he isn’t alone. ✦ medio by newsical, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.1k      Loss, again. This loss was by his hand, by his own tongue, with words so sharply edged that they tore apart his mouth and left his lips bloody. The manor was silent, and he was alone. And Alfred’s half birthday was in three days. ✦ My Little Bird (is a Troublemaker) by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & clark & cast, 10.9k      No, not good enough, thought Bruce as he gripped the boy’s shoulders in his hands. Dick still didn’t move and the man had to resist the violent urge to shake the answer out of him. This wasn’t his little bird. This wasn’t his Robin, he would never do something like this. Dick gets caught drunk, Bruce loses it. ✦ things kept hidden by emavee, dick & bruce & cast, 9.7k      “Better hope the Batman doesn’t catch wind of you. Batman hates metas. He’ll make you disappear. That’s what he does.” “But I’d never hurt anyone,” Dick stammers. He doesn’t know very much about Batman, but he’s a hero, right? He fought crime, like Superman, and Superman was a hero. Right? ✦ (Not) Enough by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.3k      After the training simulation goes wrong, Bruce takes his kid home. ✦ i can’t promise (it’s not written in the stars) by konan_konan, dick & bruce & alfred & cast, 7.3k      Batman is following him, surely, but he’s smaller and faster and he’s not going to let someone take him and lock him up again. Wayne Manor, he’s learned, is just another kind of prison. It may be big and fancy but it is also empty and cold and he’s not going back. Tony Zucco dies tonight, he tells himself. It is the only thing that matters. ✦ what’s needed most by dizarys, dick & bruce & alfred, 1k      Dick wants to fly. Bruce would like that to not involve giving him a heart attack for once. ✦ two sheep counted, but not enough to sleep by batofgoodintent (crownedcrusader), dick & bruce, 1.8k      Dick hasn’t been sleeping. It’s a problem Bruce should have addressed by now. BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ (At the Very Least), I Can by sElkieNight60, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian, 3k      “… something is wrong.” That was Bruce’s voice, he would know it anywhere. OR, Dick Grayson + Full Body Paralysis ✦ Catch by sElkieNight60, bruce & dick, 2k      Raptor has Bruce in dire straits. Nightwing catches Bruce as he falls. Then it turns out Bruce never fell at all, he jumped. “Dick. I didn’t fall. I jumped. I jumped because I knew you’d catch me.” Childhood trauma never truly goes away, it seems. OR, the emotional aftermath of “Better than Batman.” ✦ Call Me if You Need Me by LiterallyThePresident, bruce & dick & alfred, 1.1k      “Master Bruce is rather distraught, you see.” and now Alfred sounded pained, “The dose he received was not enough to render him immobile, but it is causing some paranoia and unpleasant hallucinations. He… Well, he appears to be rather convinced that something has happened to you.” BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ Sons and Fathers by FabulaRasa, dick & bruce & jefferson & dick/babs, 4.9k     Dick has three conversations that needed to be had, at the end of season three. This is blatantly a “there I fixed it” fic. ✦ The Best Medicine by JpegDotJpeg, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cass, 2.2k      “I’m dying.” “You are not dying.” “This is it. It’s the end for me. I bet I have some exotic viral disease with no known cure and now I’m going to waste away into nothingness.” “I highly doubt that, Master Richard.” ✦ Look to the Stars by Zephyrra, dick & bruce & jason & hal & alfred & cast, lantern!dick, 8.3k      After Batman fires Robin for the last time, Dick becomes a Flying Grayson in an entirely new way: by becoming a Green Lantern. But no matter what kind of mask he dons, Dick Grayson has a way of (accidentally) changing history irrevocably. This is only the beginning. ✦ the courage of stars by theragingstorm, dick & clark/lois & jon & cast, 1.8k      When he really needs somebody, Dick goes to Metropolis. ✦ a great honour (to hold you up) by dizarys, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke, 2.6k      “For the last time, I’m not getting sick!” Jason and Tim exchanged skeptical looks behind Dick’s back. “You’re pale, shivering, and wince every time your bare skin touches the cold metal desk.” Jason ticked off on grease smeared fingers, “Sounds sick to me.” “Wonderful observations, Holmes.” Dick muttered, still looking through the microscope. “What does Watson have to add?” “That first of all, I’m Sherlock.” said Tim, “And my associate is correct. You should go get some rest.” ✦ i am tired of all these motherfuckin’ bombs on these motherfuckin’ spaceships by konan_konan, dick & bruce & damian & titans & background dick/kory & justice league, 4.5k      “Those generators won’t last long,” barks Batman. “We’re losing our window. What other plan do you propose, Nightwing?” He huffs. “I’m gonna blow up the ship.” or: when the justice league gets stranded in space, the teen titans come to the rescue. it doesn’t exactly go to plan. BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I’M GONNA THROW HIM AT HIS SIBLINGS BECAUSE IT’S FUNNY: ✦ abyssal plain by glassofwater, dick & jason, 3.5k      “What did you do?” “Exactly what he said. I killed him.” ✦ Bang, bang by Ididloveyou_once, tim & jason & cast, 5.5k      ‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’ Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then- ‘Don’t tell Bruce.’ ✦ Break the Ice by dizarys, dick & jason, 1.5k      He felt the blades pierce his body. It was at the height of his leap, back arched as he sprang backwards over the car. A bolt of searing hot pain shot through his side then thigh. But Nightwing still landed with grace and flung his escrima sticks straight into two gang members’ heads. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I’M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Not Quite Saudade by Wisptheraccoon, dick & damian & bruce & jason & tim & alfred & jon, 3.1k      Aka. The reason Dick is no longer allowed to leave on long missions without Damian. ✦ Scorpion-grass by Ididloveyou_once, dick & damian & bruce & tim, 2.9k      Damian gets hit with fear toxin and is forced to relive Dick losing his memories… Dick could’ve gone without knowing how the kid reacted to his amnesia. ✦ what’s waited till tomorrow starts tonight by theragingstorm, dick & damian & john/mary & cast, time travel, 63.4k wip      After an argument with his Batman, Dick Grayson, Damian finds himself in Dick’s past, with one of his greatest tragedies fast approaching and no easy route forward for either. As long as he risks being stuck seventeen years in the past, all he can do is live at the circus, with a family he never knew — and just maybe learn from it all. BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY’RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ When Wisdom Must Go by AnicomicQueen, bruce & dick & tim, 5.1k      Bruce experiences taking his children to get their wisdom teeth removed. Chapter 1: Dick (Age: 17) Chapter 2: Tim (Age: 16) ✦ So you’ll know where I’ve been by victoria_p (musesfool), jason & steph, 2.1k      “I just noticed your scars.” “We all have—Oh.” Jason drops his gaze again, runs his fingers along the faded incision on the left side of his chest. “No one else has one of these.” ✦ and when you’re in the trenches by dizarys, jason & tim & dick, 4.3k      When Jason stumbles across a shocking discovery, he’s forced to decide how much he truly cares about the people he used to call family. ✦ The Kids Are All Right by Browniesarethebest, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred, 11.4k      Dick and Tim are de-aged. It goes about as well as anyone would expect. ✦ World’s Saddest Breakfast Club by motleyfam, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & cass & steph & duke & cast, 7k      Following a couple of Very Bad Weeks™ (which may or may not have involved being kidnapped and mildly tortured), Jason decides the best way to cheer himself up is to break into the Manor for a 3 a.m. snack. Turns out he isn’t the only one awake. BATFAM FIC RECS - I CUT MY TEETH ON DICK & TIM AS CLOSE BROTHERS AND NOT EVEN CANON WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME: ✦ Not So Large but Definitely In Charge by dottie_dc (dottie_wan_kenobi), dick & tim & bruce & alfred, 6.7k      Alternate universes suck so much. Tim has always known that, but he’s never really grasped it, not until he and Dick were forcibly thrown into one a week ago. ✦ there’ll always be a few things, maybe several things by incogneat_oh, dick & tim, ~1k      Tim breaks the silence, half-glancing over his shoulder to murmur, “Pop-culture has taught me that you’re supposed to seek out your parent in the middle of the night. Not your sibling.” “Pop-culture isn’t a perfect teacher, Timmy.” ✦ will we ever get to the other side? by dizarys, dick & tim, 4.8k      Blockbuster is dead and Dick is lost. Haunted by that night and no longer Nightwing, he flees Gotham only to find himself back in Bludhaven on mob business. Now Robin is the city’s new protector and Dick is determined to avoid Tim & his old life. That is, until he finds Tim bleeding in an alley. ✦ World Gone MAD by Havendance, dick & tim & justice league, 5.5k      Ask the GCPD about the Joker’s death, and they’ll tell you he died of natural causes. Ask the Justice League, and they’ll tell you that it’s a matter that’s been resolved internally. Ask Batman and he won’t give you an answer, because he’s Batman. The truth of the matter, however, is this: Dick Grayson beat the Joker to death. ✦ Wake Me Up Before You Go Go by incogneat_oh, dick & tim, ~1k      He’s already halfway up the stairs, towards the window on the second floor landing, when Dick says, “Tim.” He turns back, says wide-eyed and guilty, “Mhm? Can I– I’ll get you a blanket? If you want?” – Or, Tim visits Dick in Bludhaven. ✦ unleash the beast (with a kiss on the cheek) by InkpotSprite, dick & tim & bruce & jason & stephanie, 1.3k      Dick’s chest tightened as his lips parted to say something that he’d truly regret. Before a soft pair of lips pressed against his cheek, then disappeared so quickly that Dick was almost sure he’d imagined it. If it weren’t for Bruce’s fractionally wide eyes, Dick would think he had. Slowly, he turned his head to the side. Tim smiled back at him. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE’S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ cat tactic of healing by CarrionCarnival, tim/kon, 2.1k      Kon finds a moderately sick Tim, and decides that it’s his problem to solve. feline style ✦ In the Corner Taking up Space by Louis_the_Snake, tim/kon & cast, NSFW, 5.1k      Tim gets roped into doing a simple modeling gig for Wayne Fashion with some of his siblings and realizes that everyone he knows is way hotter than he is. And the hottest thing about him is his ass. Which ends up plastered in every major city in the U.S. ✦ Thief by rotasha, tim/kon, NSFW, 1.8k      Kon walks in on Tim wearing his leather jacket. ✦ only touched you once by distracted_dragon, tim/kon, NSFW, 1.8k      Kon decides to tease Tim a little with his TTK. ✦ Missing Words by Violet_Witch, tim/kon & cassie, 6.9k      It takes Tim years to realize what’s always been there. ✦ What’s Real and What Isn’t by JpegDotJpeg, tim/kon & bart, 2.3k      Kon’s eyes almost glow in the dark, a luminescent blue so vivid Tim almost can’t stand looking at them, though he has a harder time trying to look away from them. “I thought you were having a nightmare or something. Your heart was beating so hard it woke me up.” Tim feels himself a flush. He can’t even sleep without bothering someone else. “Oh,” He replies, voice small. “Sorry. I’m fine, you can go back to sleep.” “You’re shaking,” Kon points out and Tim curses internally. ✦ you taught me the courage of stars before you left by popsunner, tim & kon & bruce & damian & lois & jon & cassie & cast, 6k      “He loved you, you know,” She says wistfully, meeting his eyes. Tim looks away. “I loved him too.” “Love.” “What?” “Love,” she repeats. “Not loved. He might be gone, but we don’t love him any less.“ BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR: ✦ Arguments with the Recently Deceased by JackHawksmoor, dick & bruce & clark & tim & cast, 7.9k      Dick just got back from a lousy, week-long adventure traveling in time. When his ride drops him off at the cave the morning after he left, Dick isn’t expecting to find Bruce in the middle of a complete meltdown. Dick realizes there’s been a mistake- Dick hasn’t been gone six hours, he’s been gone six months, and everyone thinks he’s dead. ✦ Solar Flares by glassofwater, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cast, 46.1k wip      Personhood, noun: the quality or condition of being an individual person. Son, noun: a man regarded as the product of a particular person, influence, or environment. Dick Grayson, noun: oldest son of Bruce Wayne, first son of Batman (i.e., a sum of parts, not a whole) ✦ Starlings in Winter by FromStarstuff, dick & bruce & clark & alfred & cast, 14.3k wip      When Dick was eleven years old he ran away from Gotham. No one could quite figure out why. Take your pick; there was a fight at school, a circus in town, and a song he can’t remember the melody of. Eleven-year-old Dick Grayson was flooded with grief, swimming in it, perpetually drowning. One day it was too much. ✦ Going Nuclear by wrsttballplayer, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cass & steph & alfred, time travel, 15.3k wip      Dick looked at his younger self; the way his brow twisted up in so much anger and his was chest heaving with pure vitriol. Dick remembered what fury like that felt like. He remembered the way it burnt in his throat. He used to spew that poison at Bruce all the time, hell even the Titans had gotten the bad end of his temper more than once. And yet, Dick couldn’t place the last time he had been mad like that. Nowadays, all his anger died into withering flames of resignation and compromise more often than not. ✦ Why Is Tim the Only One With Any Tact? by CamsthiSky, dick & tim & wally, 4.1k      In which Tim tries to mediate an argument between Dick and Wally. Things don’t go so well. ✦ You Won’t Wake Up Alone by DawnsEternalLight, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian, 5.2k      Dick’s captured and drugged and probably about to die. The last thing he wants to do is die in front of his family, especially not his baby brothers, all he wants is to be with Bruce and feel safe again. ✦ Hold Me Dear and Close to Your Heart by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & cast, 3.8k      Dick Grayson leaves his whole life behind when Bruce Wayne kicks him out. ✦ the flute of your whole existence by LovesFrogs, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & alfred, 4.2k     He could voice his greatest fears, weaknesses, or most secret dreams at the drop of a hat; all the things he’s never put into words before and keeps tucked close between his ribs. What kind of ammunition is his son going to ask for? What will he make Bruce admit, knowing he is incapable of a lie? ✦ The Kids Are(n’t?) Alright by avengemyheart, dick & bruce & tim & alfred & cast, rape aftermath, 3k      Dick saves a young rape victim from his babysitter and in the process reveals his own trauma. The problem? Dick is Batman at the time, and kids are blabber mouths. ✦ Cursed Silence by TheSilencer, dick & bruce & jason & tim & steph & cast, 3.4k      Dick Grayson is given a gift - to seal away his emotions. No one has a good time. ✦ Peeking Through the Tunnel Beyond by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & cast, read the tags, 2.4k      Or, Dick Grayson just can’t seem to free himself from his past. And this time, Bruce is there. ✦ soft clocks by dustorange, dick & bruce & damian & jason & tim & alfred & tiger & cast, 35.2k      Dick has amnesia during his time at Spyral. The family grapples with finding out he’s alive. Dick grapples with finding out he has a family. ✦ Never Say That by JackHawksmoor, bruce & dick & jason & damian & cast, 9.6k      "Calm down, I’m not aiming for anything vital,” Jason said irritably. Batman turned away from the man he’d just floored. “We agreed-” he began sharply. “I didn’t promise anything,” Jason snapped. He lifted his gun, muttering under his breath. “You ought to be grateful, it could be worse-” Or: the Bats have an extremely bad night in Gotham City BATFAM FIC RECS - SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED TO TAKE ALL THE SERIOUSNESS OUT OF THE ROOM AND STAY SILLY FOR AWHILE: ✦ there but for the grace of god by TheResurrectionist, hal & dinah & ollie & flash & j'onn & bat-kids & young justice & justice league, 3.7k      A Justice League fic where everyone argues about who’s the most beautiful and intimidating sexy from the Big Three and everyone has valid points. ✦ The One With The Bat’s Son by Maximum_Quinn, bruce & dick & wally & hal & billy, 3.4k      “Batman has seven kids.” Wally blinked. “You’re shitting me.” “Not even a little, I just overheard him and Supes talking.” “Oh my god,” he breathed, staring at Hal incredulously. “You don’t think -?” Hal nodded, slowly and seriously. “Batman could be Captain Marvel’s dad.”

[sleepyfan-blog]

Netted

Author’s Note:this is mer-nadesir’s debut! I hope you enjoy the fic :D

Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel 

Warnings: injuries, blood mention, poor fishing practices

Summary: You find an astartes caught up in a hooked fishing net, and help him get free.

You hear a low, warning hiss from the tangled mass of netting and hooks that washed up on your favorite beach. Something large and upset struggled within the taut metal cording and was bleeding red blood, the hissing intensifying as the wickedly sharp hooks bit into midnight blue flesh. Was it smart for you to approach this frantic, injured creature as it struggled? Probably not, but there was something very human sounding in the pained sounds that left the being.

“Woah… Hey… Just stay still and I'll get you out of this.” You call out to the being, hoping that your soothing tone of voice would help convey your intentions, if whatever this is didn't understand English.

A large eye the color of a moonless and starless night glares at you suspiciously from a gap in the netting as dagger-sharp teeth gnawed at of the entangling knots as his large head whipped sharply from one side to the other, desperately trying to get himself free “Why help? Strangers.” the astartes growled out.

“Because you need help and are in pain. Will you let me come closer to help you out of the net? Or is there someone I can contact who you do trust to get you out of this?” You asked, keeping your voice even and calm, making sure not to make any sudden movements, so as to not further distress the trapped astartes.

The large mer struggled in the net as a low and pained growl rumbled in his chest. “... My shiver is far from here. I am… Was scouting when this happened.” He stares hard at you, midnight black eyes trying to pierce through your soul. “... If you deliberately hurt me, I will come for you. There is nowhere in this world, or in any other, that I won't be able to track you down and bring you to swift and bloody vengeance.”

This was far from the first time you’d been threatened by an injured and likely anxious astartes, and it was unlikely to be the last, considering the fact that you worked in emergency medicine. “I will do my best not to hurt you on purpose without warning. If I am moving something that is likely to cause you pain, like removing the hooks imbedded into your skin and muscle, I will warn you beforehand. Deal?” You knew better than to say so that he could brace for pain - nor did you have any pain reliever on hand that would work fast enough that wouldn’t be flushed from the Astartes’ system before it could hope to have any effect on him. You’d intended on going for a moonlit stroll down your favorite beach and hadn’t anticipated meeting an astartes in physical and medical distress.

The large, midnight blue astartes stared at you for several long moments before accepting with a rough “Reasonable. I agree.”

You nod, making careful and deliberate movements toward him, telegraphing what you were doing, so as to reduce the likelihood of accidentally startling the mer. Once you reach his side you look up at him, knife in hand, waiting for his agreement for you to start cutting through the netting.

“... Begin.” He huffed after several seconds, though there was a tiny smile lifting the corners of his lips. He seemed to be grateful that you were being so careful of his potential boundaries.

You nod and carefully begin to cut away at the netting binding him in place. Every so often you give him a moment or two of warning before carefully unhooking and pulling out the metal hooks imbedded into his flesh.Once you have his arms free, you offer the knife to him hilt first, silently offering to let him continue to free himself. 

To your surprise the midnight blue astartes shakes his head and says “Continue. Your hands smaller. Better able to get hooks and knots… Doing well.”

You smile a little at his praise and continue to work on freeing the trapped astartes. All told it took you a couple of hours to ensure that every bit of rope and hook was out. You’re grateful for your medical training, which allows you to switch off the part of your brain that is absolutely delighted at the thought of being able to touch an astartes this much. Many of them large, well-muscled and handsome, and this midnight blue and dark red astartes is strikingly handsome, even bloodied and clearly exhausted. “Do you feel any lingering pain anywhere?” You ask as you resist the temptation to run your hands along his chest and tail - for purely professional reasons - some of the hooks were small. 

“Some, but I am healing… Thank you, for helping me.” The Night lord rumbled, cupping you chin with one of his large hands, pitch black eyes shining with mischief. He tilts your chin up and kisses you, his lips chapped but warm.

[hoeforhao]

Rusted Away 🍂|| Kwon Soonyoung ||

🍁pairing : ex!soonyoung × fem!reader

🍁genre : exes to lovers, bakery shop au sort of, mostly angst, fluff towards the end, mild smut, mutual pining, slow build up.

🍁warnings : none for this part. will be added in the later ones!

🍁summary : you and soonyoung broke up almost two years ago because according to him sharing a common interest point with each other, to talk about at the end of the day was a necessity. How will things turn out for the spiriting away lovers now that their friend group has assigned them both the common job of baking muffins for the fall party!

🍁part : 1/3 [for fall-ing for u collab ]

🍁word count : 0.8k

🍁author's note : this is my first ever collab and am so excited!!! also i'm posting a full blown fic after a long break for writer's block and i don't know how this has turned out. please let me know your views ♡ last but not the least thanks to @playmetheclassics for beta-reading this for me! ily <3

"Y'all can't be serious right now" you sounded quite disgruntled with your two minions on other side of the conference call, plotting against your sanity, for universe knows how long!

"Well I mean you two quite literally run the two most loved bakeries of our neighborhood. It shouldn't come as a surprise that we will team you up." Steph's plain and unbothered voice echoes right into your ears, specially the 'team up part'.

"Yeah it shouldn't have been surprising or disappointing if it was someone else Steph. But it's with him. With Soonyoung. The Kwon Soonyoung. Out of all the people out there, you two would at least know best about what he did" your voice started shaking with each word it got closer to mentioning his name ; again ; after 2 whole years.

You still were in disbelief that your two most close ones did this to you. After being with you all those nights you cried till you couldn't breathe anymore, holding your trembling body whenever you had the worst breakdowns to seeing you slowly heal from the scabs and stabs left by him, Steph and Niall were with you the whole time. Them now setting you up with him again, for a silly little fall party felt nothing but seriously insensitive to you.

Pressing down on the side button of the phone, you were now sitting on the bed, all covered up in your comfort blankie with a blacked out screen laying on your lap ; the glass of which reflected the browns and caramels of the backdrop outside the misty windows, onto your own ones.

Fall was finally around the corner, which meant that the roads will now be iced all rusty, drizzled with honey leaves and sprinkled on by dark wine twigs. Fall also meant one more thing...the one very thing that was like the warm covering on your wounds, that meant the most to you above anyone and everyone. Your sycamore tree!

Pushing away the fluffy blanket on your legs, you quickly pulled down your pyajams to get dressed into something more appropriate for the weather outside, something more comfy and something that made you feel like you're back home once again a.k.a soonyoung's brown hoodie. While havocing through your entire wardrobe to take out all his belongings and leave back not a single essence of him around you and on you, the idiot missed out on that one brown hoodie he owned...rather the one he loved the most and the one he gave to you on your first date - under the sycamore tree.

You knew that the only thing, the only friend that could soothe the burns on you right now was that tree, the one true buddy that has stood by your side through the pains even your best friends couldn't heal, the big brother that shadowed you whenever the world's bright rays tried to scorch on your skin. So without wasting any more seconds, you hurriedly ran down the stairs leading to the hall. Upon reaching the main door of your small apartment you twist on the knob to pull open the door, and quite instantly a gust of cinnamon flavored wind engulfs all your senses.

Fall was truly your soul season. No matter how much turmoil your life was going through, or how much clogged your brain was to come up with new ideas, a walk down the leaf stained path of your favorite garden while the season's cool breeze flowed through your hair, definitely helped the caged Robin in you fly free finally.

Since the day Soonyoung broke your heart and left you all alone amidst the rusted haze, you've been visiting this sycamore tree every fall, to reminisce all the warm happy moment spent under its shade. To feel the same happiness as the day you planted the tree with your best friend, when you both were only 8 year olds, with the person who held you like the softest cotton bud dispersing away in the breeze all these years only to tear you off the stem at one go now.

You were consumed in your thoughts about how crazy love was, about how the twigs that have seen two people be in love for so long, hang around it for years, the branches that have been painted with countless giggles and soft kisses, now had its leaves shedding themselves from the agony of seeing its spiriting away child standing beneath it to shelter herself from the bleeding marks left by its other child.

Just as you were about to sit down on the dewy grass covering the entire ground below, your phone notification sound blew up suddenly. Drawing the device out from your tote, your eyes fell onto the lit up screen to see the name you've been running away from all this time.

[specialinterestshows]

Damian Priest’s girlfriend, Lucia, helps you recover from your abusive girlfriend Rhea Ripley’s brutality in the latest chapter of my reader x OC fic, Left To Face This Together (based on my amazing boyfriend @domripley ‘s fic Left To Face This Alone.)

Warnings for this section: Domestic violence/abusive relationship mention, bruising, swelling, pain, hurt/comfort, pining

-

Left To Face This Alone Together (Part 3 of ?): Healing Spell

“Oh honey,” Lucia tenderly held your bruised hand in hers, gently wiping the tears that ran from your poorly-concealed swollen eye.

“It’s n-not as bad as it looks,” you said, stifling a sob.

The two of you had been thrown together in Damian’s apartment while the Judgment Day celebrated a victory over some enemy or other. Rhea had decided to keep you out of the public eye after what she’d done to your face last night - after shutting a door on your hand, no less. You’d been thinking about it since it happened, but tears hadn’t sprung forth until you saw Lucia’s genuine concern over your condition.

“One moment,” she said as she stood, carefully letting go of your hand.

After disappearing into the kitchen, Lucia came back with two cold packs that looked fresh out of the freezer and a pair of kitchen towels. Sitting back down by your side, she wrapped the packs in the towels and handed you one that you immediately brought up to your eye. Lucia placed the other gingerly on your injured hand as she held it again. The pressure made you wince for a second and she removed the cold pack immediately, setting your hand down on her knee. Before you could pull away, she set the towel-wrapped pack against the bruise again with one hand and trailed her fingertips along your arm with the other, saying:

“Sana, sana, colita de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.”

It was oddly soothing and felt almost like a spell, given how soon the pain began to recede - but that could also be because this was the most tender and loving way you had been touched in months. It was almost too much; you weren’t quite sure how to respond. So you simply sat quietly, letting Lucia’s melodic voice wash over you as she hummed a tune you didn’t recognize and continued caressing your arm.

Still, the feeling tugged at you that you were doing something wrong by allowing someone to be kind to you. Or, maybe, the feeling was because your face had warmed since the moment Lucia put your hand on her leg, even with the cold pack over your eye. You couldn’t stop glancing over at her, taking in her soulful, perfectly-lined brown eyes, the curve of her nose - adorned by a little silver ring in one nostril - and her plump lips, shiny with some sort of gloss.

Lucia looked up after a while, noticing the way you looked at her and looking back down immediately, shifting on the couch as her cheeks flushed and her hand stopped moving. Your gaze suddenly felt unintentionally predatory because of her response, and you wished you hadn’t been staring.

“Sorry,” you muttered quickly, regret souring your stomach.

“No, no… it’s fine,” she replied, smiling but still a bit flustered, “I’m just… not used to being looked at… like that.”

“Like what?” you asked.

“With a… softness. Like you… actually care about me,” she gave a nervous chuckle.

“I do care about you,” you admitted.

A split-second of happiness passed over Lucia’s face, quickly chased away by a panic that made her pull away from you. You felt another wave of regret, realizing you hadn’t been speaking as the characters the two of you used as your proxies.

“The care of a knight is nothing to fear, my lady,” you said as calmly as you could, trying to amend your mistake, “Care is in our nature, as it is in yours. Adventurer though you may be, it seems you studied under an apothecary, correct?”

Lucia visibly relaxed at the question, peeking out at you again from a curtain of dark hair.

“Studied to be one, yes,” she nodded after a moment of thought, shifting to face you again.

“Lucky for me,” you replied, looking down at your hand with your uninjured eye. “The incantation earlier helped as well.”

“That’s just a… beginner’s healing spell,” Lucia replied, “The apothecaries didn’t teach me much before-“

Her phone suddenly chimed on the table nearby and she picked it up as if failing to do so might end the world, stress tensing her body as she read the message.

“Time to cook,” Lucia sighed, standing up quickly.

“Can I help?” you asked, momentarily forgetting about your condition; the confused look you received reminded you.

“Right, uh, nevermind,” you mumbled, embarrassed as you shifted the ice pack on your eye.

“You can help with… the flavor?” Lucia offered, elaborating as she mentally translated her thoughts, “I can give you a bite… and you tell me if it’s good?”

“Sure,” you replied with a smile, “I can taste-test.”

She pointed emphatically, a gleam in her eye as her knit brow relaxed and she smiled wider than you’d ever seen, “Yes! Taste-test!”

Lucia muttered the term to herself a few more times as she tied up her long hair, continuing her walk to the kitchen and leaving you with butterflies as you thought over and over again about the way she looked when her face lit up with excitement.

[end chapter three]

-

Tag list (thank you!)

@domripley , @falloutboy-lover , @sinderellanightshade

[alexanderlightweight]

How's it going? I saw the huge amount of prompts you got last week, and while the reader inside of me feels ecstatic to be able to read so much of your work, please let us know if it ever gets to be too much?

The prompt I had in mind (if it doesn't work for you no biggie, just ignore this ask) would actually fit in a lot of the 'verses you already made before.

I would love to read about Jace and Izzy suddenly realizing what their malicious callousness has cost them. No more big brother/parabatai to spoil them, to protect them, to take on the repercussions of their actions. Then, when that has truly sunk in, let them have a look at Clary and doubly realize that that is what they gave him up for.

Again, if this prompt doesn't feel up your alley, just let me know. I have a one-word backup prompt if need be 😉💜🖤💜🖤

your concern and worry is so sweet and i appreciate it! it's actually going very well, I am definitely going to take care of myself because I'd much rather enjoy myself and have continued writing wednesday's for a very long time rather than burnout and close prompts so I'm taking it carefully. Today because there are so many prompts and tumblr keeps shuffling the order, I'm also changing the way I answer prompts to random which makes it easier!

hahaha no i loved it. i absolutely loved the complexity of figuring out where to go with this prompt it and i really enjoyed writing it. because you're right, it could be a lot of different fics but i think the one that sinks into the hilt, is Izzy coming to that realization in the deruned fic after Maryse' leaves.

(also in Jace's defense he had a piece of his soul torn out, he's very much still in partial shock and not processing stuff very well)

thank you <3

lumine

-

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Clary croaks and she sounds small and hurt in a way that Izzy knows Jace normally rushes to soothe. Izzy normally tries too, but they’re both too numb.

“What?” Izzy finds herself asking, confused as she finally turns from the direction her mother left. “Sorry, Clary. What?”

“You should be sorry! She’s your mother and you just let her hold me and threaten me? Threaten my mother? What is wrong with you people that you’re all like this? Of course it runs in the family. God, you and Jace are the only normal ones. Shadowhunters are psychos.”

Izzy hears the crack of bone against bone before she even realizes she’s struck. Clary is on the floor, holding her cheek in shock and staring up at Izzy in horror. 

“My brother was right.” Izzy finds herself saying helplessly, “you’re nothing but trouble. We should never have helped you. Never have listened to you, by the Angel, we should never have trusted you.” Izzy can feel the tears she’s been holding back threaten to fall and she’s trying to hang onto her composure but in the face of her mother’s rage-fueled devastation, she can’t. “You even admitted you didn’t care if any of us died to find your mother. I told myself it was grief, that it was just being new.”

Izzy shakes her head and hears a cracked laugh, it’s from her own throat, “you don’t care about the dangers the cup represent. You only care about yourself and your mother. You’d probably would have actually  given it to him, if it had been the only way to get her. Traded the lives of hundreds for someone who is a traitor and we let you right in, we protected you against our own. I defended you, to him, from him, when it was Alec who needed protection from you.” Izzy runs a hand over her face, not carrying that it’s going to smear her makeup. “I can’t do this anymore. Jace— don’t you dare look at me like that. You know it’s true. That Alec was right all along and you tore him down for it.” Shame enters her voice, “we both did and for what. Do you think it’s worth it, Jace?”

Jace looks devastated from where he’s knelt next to Clary’s hunched form, holding her tightly like he’ll break if he lets go. Like he’ll realize it’s all real, that his parabatai is gone and all for a little girl who doesn’t even care.

“I don’t. I don’t think a single thing that causes Alec pain will ever be worth any of this. Especially 

“Izzy Alec’s probably fine! But my mother is under a spell—”

“Raziel! Your mother took a potion personally tailored for her! She’s fine and no, I’m not helping you figure out how to wake her up. That’s on you.

“Gods, my mother was right. Your mother is facing the consequences of her actions. It’s no loss to anyone but you, if she dies. But my brother is a loss for this Institute, for our family, for entire generations of current and future shadowhunters and he was punished for your wrongs. So let me tell you, Clarissa Morgenstern.” Because Clary has to be an enemy or Izzy might fall right back into the trap of her sweetly poisoned words and demands and accusations. “You are no friend to us, to any of us. You expect us to listen and die for you and yet you act above us, better than us except for when you need us. You mean nothing to us. You are the daughter of our greatest enemy and while you were an innocent when you came to us, you aren’t any longer.” 

“The next time you break the rules.” Izzy says and she holds herself as tall as she can, like Alec did, “I will personally ensure that you are held accountable. No one else will be punished in your stead ever again.” Izzy walks off, to her rooms and stares at herself in the mirror. She wonders what Alec saw when he looked at her. 

He never judged her, even when he was exasperated. Alec would sneak her out for shopping even though he hated mundane crowds and helped her design the outfits she wanted in a way that would help her fight. Spent hours with her as she tripped and tripped over him, learning to fight in heels. He’d learned the whip first, so just she had someone to spar with and Izzy lost that because she was selfish and stupid and she cared more about the excitement of something new. Because she’d felt in the right, because everyone knew Alec was boring, but now she wonders if it was boring, or just mature.

Her father has always praised her, calling her his princess, his elegant hunter, his mature little warrior but Izzy feels like a child now, playing dress-up. Slowly, she cleans off her makeup and then takes a shower. The water is hotter than usual and she feels faint when she’s done, as she slowly assembles the pieces of her new armor.

Her boots, four inches but stabilized with a core that will never let her wobble, a present from Alec on her last birthday that Izzy thought was a dig at her balance but now she thinks must have just been him trying to please her while protecting her. Tight pants that cover her skin because there’s no Alec to wipe away the ichor when it splatters on her and burns, or to soothe it away with potions and iraztes. No Alec to untangle her hair from her increasingly elaborate designs so she puts it into a high ponytail and braids in one strand of white silk ribbon into a single braid and she adds a peridot beads to it.

The beads she thought she’d never ever have to wear.

Izzy considers her body, only half dressed and she sighs, something wistful as she holds up her stele and carves a rune of remembrance above her heart and next to her angelic rune, to honor someone lost to you, by death or other means.  She wears a shirt of deep green that shows off her cleavage and her new rune and then she carefully applies the same red shade that her mother prefers. The one Alec got her when she was fifteen and that Izzy always wanted but was always afraid to wear, because she didn’t want to be compared to her mother and found lacking.

“I miss you, hermano.” She admits into the silence as she slides on a jacket one size too big. It’s the last jacket Alec ever gave her before he became too tall and broad for her to do anything but swim in his clothes. “I’m sorry.”

She straps on her weapons and watches as her face turns to something cold, something harder. It makes her look more like her mother, more like Alec and it’s with tears stinging the corners of her eyes that she opens her door and leaves.

The Lightwood’s will not fall from this blow.

Izzy will push herself until she can stand strong and protect what should have been Alec’s Institute and it’s people, the way Alec always protected her. 

[sharkpupsblog]

🤤 Christmas Cookies 😋

A Katja x GN! Soul rider Reader Fanfic!

Wooo!!!! Another silly Katja fic 🗣🗣🗣‼️‼️‼️ hope u guys are enjoying all the silly katja fics!! A jay one will be coming soon and then another Katja fic so you get a little pause in between Katja fics! I gotta write more stuff for Jay and Sabine 😭 anyways Ty @ mistfalldruid for another awesome req you keep me goin and you keep Katja fans fed 🗣‼️ i don’t have much to say so!!! Enjoy!!! :D

Summary: You and Katja bake cookies.

Warnings: none

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Katja asked you and you nodded as you put icing on cookies you had baked for a Christmas party. Katja watched as you decorated them surprised by how pretty your work was, she hummed “I didn’t know you knew how to decorate cookies?” you looked up at her smiling smugly you were about to say something to her, but she was quicker “I never said it was good wipe that smile off your face.” She was playing with you she thought the work you were doing was better than good you knew she was playing so you played along pretending to be hurt. You put a hand over your heart giving her a sad look “you’re evil” you told her, and she smiled “it’s my job” she walked over to you hugging your waist from behind “and unlike you I’m good at my job.” She rests her chin on your shoulder and you roll your eyes telling her to “fuck off” before continuing to decorate. She let out a small laugh when you told her to ‘fuck off’ and she kissed the spot where your shoulder and neck met. You spent a few minutes decorating, and she watched you and told you about her day which you listened to as you decorated. You loved hearing about your girlfriend’s day because her voice was soothing, and her stories were interesting. It seemed like there was never a boring moment on the oil rig or on Jorvik for her. When you finished decorating the last cookie you smiled “done!” You looked to her “you want try one?” Katja shook her head “I’m fine” she was not a fan of cookies…she was not a fan of anything sweet really which you knew but still you offered her a cookie just to be polite. The woman moved off of you and a shiver went down your spine from the loss of warmth. You shook it off she didn’t see it she was looking at the cookie tray “what are they for?” you never told her you completely forgot to. You looked for something to put the cookies in as you talked “they’re for a Christmas party my friends are doing!” you found a nice little Christmas bowl and you grabbed it putting it on the counter you put all the cookies in the bowl being careful so they wouldn’t break. Katja smiled “am I invited?” she was playing again she did not want to hang with or see your loser friends you shook your head “you and I both know that if you were the party would end in flames” you huffed “literally.” Katja rubbed your back and she laughed “you know me so well” she looked into the bowl, and she pursed her lips a bit in thought. You saw the look on her face, and you worried “what?” you looked into the bowl and at the cookies “is there something wrong with them?” Katja looked to you, and she told you the reason for her look. “It seems like very little to me” she leaned against the counter “maybe you should make more?” you sighed you had felt like they weren’t enough, but you were sadly running out of time the party was soon and there was no way you could finish another batch quick enough for the party. Katja must have read your mind because she said, “if you need it I can help you” she looked at the little digital clock on your oven “together we can get them done in a few minutes” she looked back at you and you nodded “that would be wonderful thank you Katja.” you both got to work in making more cookies but after finishing one tray shit started to go wrong. You and Katja put the tray in the oven and while you waited you played with the left-over flour throwing it at each other. While playing you both completely forgot about the cookies and when you remembered them you ran to the oven opening it to find burnt cookies. Katja told you it was fine you still had a ton of cookie dough and time left so you could just make more cookies with the cookie dough that you had so that’s what you did. With the cookie dough you had left you got to work trying to keep yourselves on task but after a few minutes you got back to playing. You laughed when Katja put icing on the tip of your nose, and you told her to stop playing and to keep helping you but you both kept playing and by the time you were done making the cookies you were covered in icing.

You both watched and waited as the oven baked the second batch of cookies you made and while you did you told Katja about how yesterday Mortifa and your horse were playing in muddy snow. You told her about how your horse had accidentally bucked snow onto Mortifa causing the mare to squeal loudly which scared both you and your horse. Katja laughed and she told you that Mortifa had told her the story as well and that the poor mare had gotten spooked by the random splash on her fur. You frowned and asked Katja to please apologize to the mare for you and she said she would. Five seconds after that the oven dinged and you walked over to it carefully opening it to find that the cookies had flattened and now you had what looked like a cookie cake. You groaned and Katja laughed telling you that you both could just try again. So you did you tried again. This time you both talked and made the cookies, but you did not play you were too tired and scared to. When you finished the cookie dough you had a full tray of cookies and you looked to Katja “I’m so scared” you looked at the oven “do you think they’ll come out this time?” Katja looked at the oven as well and she hummed “let’s hope so.” You put the tray in, and you started praying that these cookies would come out. Katja handed you a towel and you took it cleaning yourself up she did the same. You and Katja sat on the floor of your kitchen leaning against the kitchen counter. you were both extremely tired it had been a long day of baking and playing. You were seated a few feet away from the oven watching it bake the cookies. The heat coming from it was nice and so was the smell of what was currently being baked. You heard Katja huff, and you looked to her seeing her wipe her face with a wet towel she was covered in flour. You leaned against her also wiping your face you were covered in icing. When you leaned against her, she put the towel down on her lap and she held you close to her kissing the top of your head. You smiled at her, and she gave you a tired smile back. You sat on the floor for a while enjoying each other’s company in silence. You closed your eyes after deciding to take a nap as you waited for the oven to finish its baking. While you slept Katja wiped your face clean of frosting being careful not to wake you. You had slept for about twenty minutes before you were being shaken awake by Katja. Your eyes slowly opened, and you yawned “is it done?” you asked Katja, and she kissed your cheek “it’s done” she looked at the oven “it has been for a while I let it cool before I woke you.” You kissed Katja thanking her for waking you and then you stretched trying to wake yourself up you were still sleepy. Once you were awake enough to move you stood up walking over to the oven you grabbed the handle, and you stopped before pulling the oven door open. You looked to Katja, and you crossed your fingers she did the same. You turned back to the oven, and you opened it gasping as you saw the contents of the oven. You gasped as you saw the perfect cookies on the tray. You looked to Katja smiling and she smiled back at you glad that the cookies came out. You checked the clock seeing that you still had a few minutes before the party, so you quickly got the tray out of the oven and you put it on the counter grabbing the icing “want to help me decorate?” you laughed when Katja groaned and she nodded “we have to be quick your lame party is in a few minutes” she stood up “no more playing” she narrowed her eyes at you “I mean it!” You crossed your heart “I promise!” your promise was not kept because as soon as Katja stood by your side you put icing on the tip of her nose which started a game…your friends could wait for you…you would only be a few minutes late they could wait…right?

TY FOR READING! ❤️❤️❤️🐴🐴🐴

[zanniscaramouche]

I’ve been thinking about nothing but narry since receiving an ask from @nonsensly​ about my favourite fics containing the two youngest directioners. Considering the very first fic I wrote in this fandom was a narry fic I knew I had to put together something to share with everyone! I’m sure I’ve left out hundreds of fics I’ve loved over the years, but here’s what I could throw together with the little amount of time I have.

💚 consider this by peerpressure // @horansheroes - 82k

Harry has not read the rule book of parenting, but he’s pretty sure it has a paragraph dedicated to not flirting with strippers. Not even if they’re very hot and also very charming. In which Harry is a single father to five year old Hugo and Niall is a stripper who makes it very hard for Harry to remember his priorities.

zannithinks: MY ALL TIME FAVOURITE FIC! Not just Narry, but in the one direction fandom as a whole. I love love love this story with the passion of a thousand suns. A sweet, heartwarming and absolutely charming story so nuanced with the mundane struggles of reality.

💚 i forget where we were by torielle - 70k

"You,” he says thickly, swallowing. “You don’t - you don’t remember.” “Not the last three years,” Harry tells him simply. “Sorry. What was your name?” “Niall,” he mutters, face suddenly dark. “I’m Niall, I’m Liam’s assistant." Harry wakes up to find he has retrograde amnesia and a perfect life - seemingly.

zannithinks: absolutely heartbreaking with a string of hope through it all

💚 the tale of the sun by peerpressure // @horansheroes - 53k

A modern royal AU in which Crown Prince Harry unexpectedly sets eyes on the sun.

zannithinks: This author has several other fics on this list not by accident, and several more to check out on their ao3! This one is perfect for royal au (and rwrb)  lovers!

💚 take a look at the stars in your head by pallomharry - 35k

Niall fills all the blanks in his life, he strengthens him as a person, and most importantly, he completes him. He can’t imagine a life without him, and it all makes sense, that in one way or another, they will always find each other. Because they’re soulmates, after all.

Harry wakes up in several parallel universes and in each of them they all come back to one thing; Niall.

zannithinks: I haven’t read this one yet, but this author has several fics on my tbr and I can’t wait to sink into them. A first glance at the starting lines and this looks wonderfully written and intriguing.

💚 run away with my heart by storhan - 28k

Niall’s a con artist who was only after Harry’s money, but he left with something much more valuable: his heart.

zannithinks: I couldn’t take the suspense in this one! I was pacing the floors, sweating, literally pulling my hair out. Talk about a wild ride.

💚 the beautiful ones by orphan account - 27k

Harry pulls away sharply, chest rising and falling, eyes searching Niall’s face, almost as if he's expecting him to curse him out. “Is this okay?” He asks so quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

And no. It’s not, but it feels okay, and that's more than enough to get Niall to duck back in to continue kissing him before he can change his mind.

It's 1984 and Harry Styles wants Niall Horan to help him write his new album

zannithinks: yet to read this one, but it’s summary alludes to something right up my alley and I have a suspicion it’s gonna be a keeper.

💚 from way up there by andfollowthesun // @andfollowthesun - 18k

Harry’s thirty-one now, and he’d like to think that he’s a little more street-smart on what it takes to make a relationship work. More than just texting each other, or great sex, or the fact that Niall will guffaw at all of Harry’s jokes, even the really, really shitty ones.

(Harry and Niall and eventually, a lavender farm.)

zannithinks: oh! my heart! this is a little squeeze and tug on the heartstrings that gently soothes the soul.

💚 hold me closer by peerpressure // @horansheroes - 15k

"D’you wanna join us?” He whispers in Niall’s ear. Niall pulls his head back in surprise. Harry stays frozen, close, and smiles at him - a kind, small smile and Niall realises that Harry is serious. He flicks his gaze to Emily, who smiles at him, too. Niall takes her in, properly. Her cleavage, the hint of round, soft breasts underneath her top. Her hips and her thighs, hidden under her jeans. He moves his gaze to Harry’s hand on his wrist where his thumb rubs soothingly on Niall’s skin. Alright.

zannithink: talk about a 180 from the fic above this. This fic is gritty, smoking hot, and packs an emotional punch you don’t see coming until you’re already bruising. The narration in this, the characters... wow. Definitely a gem.

💚 controlling the curve by cordensangels131 - 12k

Harry Styles is baseball's hottest phenom, signed first in the draft and ready to light up the big leagues. The team, however, decides he needs a little seasonsing first and sends him down to play for their Tripple A team in Florida.

Niall Horan is a minor league catcher, a player’s player, bouncing around from team to team, trying to hang on for a few more years. Now he's charged with preparing Harry for his big league debut by teaching him control on the field.

Their dislike is mutual and instantaneous. Harry thinks he knows all he needs to know about baseball and Niall thinks Harry is a spoiled pretty boy who doesn’t respect the game or his teammates.

zannithinks: smoking hot and immersive in the world of baseball, this fic is clearly well researched with a side of spice.

💚 a little tenderness by @disgruntledkittenface - 10k

"Listen, my alpha and I broke up and it turns out that all of our friends were really his friends and I need someone to help me through–”

“No,” Harry practically shouts, the word bursting out of him unbidden. He cringes when he sees the shock on Niall’s face, his pale skin flushing lightly. “I’m sorry, but my answer has to be no. I don’t help omegas through heats. I’m really sorry, Liam knows that, so I don’t know why he would give you the idea–”

“It’s not heat, Harry,” Niall interrupts. “It’s depri.”

“Oh. Fuck."

zannithinks: this left me in a pile of goo! the softness of it all :0

💚 out of the woods by countthestars // @moondoggiestyle - 9k

"Hi,” the boy says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the counter, body language open in invitation. Niall half expects him to tip his chin up and bare his throat, but instead his smile grows wider, pulling crookedly at his mouth.

zannithinks: I reread this often! Like WOW talk about writing talent and GOALS. Immersive doesn’t even begin to explain just how this fic wraps you up in such a detailed world. I could easily read 100k more of these characters.

💚 make a mess of me by anonymous - 3k (nourry 3some)

Harry wants to be full to the brim. First he manages by himself, but then Niall and Louis help him out.

zannithinks: we all need that one outrageously absurd and smoking hot fic we keep in our back pocket as a dirty secret. Read the tags and suspend disbelief for this one!

💚 slow hands by hellolovers13 // @hellolovers13 - 3k (nourry 3some)

"Wait. So when you say you’re genderfluid, that means sometimes you’re a girl, right?” “Uh, yeah.” “So when I asked what you’d do if you were a girl and you said ‘Niall’. Does that apply now?”

zannithinks: woo! The temperature raises several degrees with this one. An interesting dynamic and nuanced characters wrapped up in fun smut.

[bigbadripley]

Chapter 7 - Nobody Gets Me

Marc Spector/Steven Grant x Female!OC

Summary: Marc never expected to see his childhood friend Simone ever again. To Simone, Marc may as well have been dead. However, when Simone met Steven 15 years after Marc disappeared, she couldn’t help but notice how familiar he was.

18+ | 4kish Words | Third-person omniscient | Dark?fic/Angst | AU/AT |

Warnings: Heavy language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Mention of *childhood sexual and emotional abuse* and the effects of this in adulthood, lots of angst, death/murder mention, heavy sexual tension, mention of violence, unresolved feelings, breakdown of OC

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. I wrote this entirely as a trauma dump.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter list

"How am I supposed to tell ya? I don't wanna see you with anyone but me Nobody gets me like you How am I supposed to let you go? Only like myself when I'm with you Nobody gets me, you do" -"Nobody Gets Me" by SZA

 Marc sat in the same dining chair as he did the other night while Simone paced in front of him nervously, chewing her cuticles. 

"You wanted to talk. Talk to me." Marc spoke up with a soft tone and even softer eyes, breaking her racing thoughts. She knew she needed to watch her words, or Marc would just run off again, even if she wanted to lay into him. She took a deep breath,

"Why'd you leave without saying something to me?" She asked, realizing the breath did nothing to soothe her nerves when her voice cracked on the word "something." That crack and her glassy eyes shook something in Marc's soul that had felt dormant. It felt like he could get enough air into his lungs, but he spoke anyway.

"You had so much going for you. I knew if I said something, you'd try to come with." He explained, hoping that would suffice. 

This answer didn't satisfy her. She was sympathetic to Marc's situation and knew he needed to get out of his parents’ house, but to leave his best friend in the dark after all they had been through? After what happened before he left? 

Simone realized what she was about to do was selfish and nothing short of trauma-dumping, but she knew everything she went through would have been easier to deal with if she had him. She resented him for the longest time because she didn't have him. 

"Do you know what happened after you left?" She said softly, just barely above a whisper. 

Marc shrugged, "Given that-"

"Aside from me becoming a fucking doctor." Simone cut him off promptly, knowing he was about to bring up her recent success. 

Marc knew he needed to listen to her now, so he swallowed harshly before saying he didn't know but the words were trapped in his throat and translated only through his lip movements. 

"I thought you left because of me. I knew that wasn't the whole reason, but I thought..." She voice was growing weak as she choked on thick saliva. 

Marc knew where she was going with it. How they hadn't spoken at all the week before he skipped town. Why they didn't talk. He thought she hated him all this time when she was just as confused as he was.

She decided not to finish the thought and cleared her throat, trying not to study Marc's face too closely before she continued. "I started getting into more trouble because the last person that gave a damn about me was gone. My mom sent me to live with my tío; may he rest in piss." She finished with a disgusted tone. 

Hearing this triggered something violent in Marc, like a violin string snapping, and caused him to stand abruptly. "Are you fucking kidding me? I thought you told your mo-"

"I did. She thought I just wanted attention, remember?" Simone cut him off again, knowing where he was going with it. "Said the same shit when I got caught with a little bit of weed and when she found out I had been forging doctor's notes to skip school, even when I fought Danny Smith..." She trailed off, seeming to have an endless list but afraid to get too far away from the topic. 

Marc wanted to ask about what happened with Danny, a kid they went to school with who loved to talk about how prudish Moni was but decided to save it. Simone clearly wasn't done. "The point is that she thought living with good ol' tío would reform me. I think she just wanted me as far away from her as possible if anything." 

Simone was visibly shaking now, still fighting the urge to wail. Not because of the memories; she's learned to live with those. It was the fact that she was recanting them to someone she thought was as good as gone forever. 

Marc felt sick thinking about that deranged fucker. He wanted to ask if her uncle touched her but realized the question would be foolish.

Of course, he did. You both knew he would.

The thought caused Marc to spike a notebook off of the dining table he was just sitting at without a second thought. He didn't know what else to do with his hands; he just wanted to hit something.

"And he's dead?" Marc asked with a crazed look in his eyes, preferring to her statement about her uncle resting in piss. If he had the chance, he would resort to Khonshu's methods to take care of the bastard. Simone's big brown eyes met his as she admitted something she hadn't uttered to another soul.

"I took care of that already." She spoke. Her voice didn't crack that time. She was completely content with this. Marc was about to ask what she meant when she continued. "I had had enough. He was a sad old fuck, so they ruled it an accident. Cut and dry, no implication that his 17-year-old niece had anything to do with it."

"Holy fuck, Moni." Marc said with a sigh and a head scratch. He didn't expect to hear that she could do such a thing, even if he had done such things himself. He wanted to ask how she did it and got away with it but chose to let her finish. 

"But, you know, I'm a hot-shot psychiatrist now. I won, right? Did all those great things you said I would do." She said spitefully. Not only was this a dig at Marc's earlier statement, but it was also a statement of pride for having gotten out. Marc sat back down, calmer now.

"He deserved what he got, and you deserved to move on." 

"But was it my call to make? I don't regret it, which makes me feel like a freak, but I could have let the universe deal with him." Simone said, followed by a sarcastic cackle. "What would you know about any of that? You were always a good boy." She finished, seeming to take a much more playful tone than she had just moments ago. 

Marc couldn't help but tick the corner of his mouth upward at how she said it. "If only you knew." he hinted, finding it interesting that she assumed he stayed the same all these years when she clearly didn't.

Simone suddenly found it easier to breathe upon seeing that sneak peek of a smile. She took advantage, taking in as much air as possible before keeping the banter going.

"'Only time you ever got in trouble was when Mr. Arlington caught you touching my boob at that football game." Simone said, recalling a memory that Marc thought he had lost. Upon hearing it, he remembered it as clear as day.

"Shit, 9th-grade truth or dare? Your mom didn't let me come over for, like, a month after that."

"She only changed her mind because she realized you were a good influence on me. I, on the other hand, corrupted the shit outta you." Simone howled, finally finding a moment to really laugh. She wanted to add that her mother felt that way until their Junior year, but she let that one slide. Her chuckle amused Marc as well. More than that, he wished he could keep her laughing like that. 

"So, you just have a thing for corruptible men, eh? What's your Ph.D. say about that?" He asked, teasing. Simone's nerves were finally settled enough to take the dining chair next to him, and her spirits felt higher suddenly, so she decided to keep the joke going. 

"That I'm probably a terrible person, and you should keep Steven as far away from me as possible." 

Marc rolled his eyes, "Yeah, right. I'm shocked he's let me talk to you for this long. He's probably watching you laugh and give me those eyes like you do, and he'll probably hate me later."

It took a moment for Simone to realize she was giving him the eyes that so famously gave away her flirtation. She wanted to talk to Steven but didn't want to stop catching up with Marc. 

Simone also feared if she kept this up, she would be in Marc's lap before she could consider the damage that might do. Even then, she noticed Steven was every bit of the sweetheart Marc used to be. The kind boy that she never stopped loving. She felt like she was a teen again laughing in the woods.

In the same breath, she saw the man himself in a completely different light. 

The kind of different that made her want him to bend her over the table they sat at. 

The fuck is wrong with me? She thought to herself. Besides the obvious but this man really looks good enough to eat.

She shook the thought free before it could engulf her and changed the subject to the one thing that had been eating at her besides his absence: how he and Steven worked. 

Marc explained it to her the best he could and watched as the eyes she gave him before stared intently as she listened with fascination. She asked questions and dug into the science of it all. 

She was the brilliant, curious girl he had known so long ago again as he described that they could see everything that goes on and trade places as quickly as blinking. 

"It's wild, though. Your eyes change too." She pointed out. Marc cocked his head,

"How?"

"I've gotten used to seeing Steven, so I know his eyes. It's not too noticeable to someone who isn't paying attention. When Steven's here, his eyes are bright and wide, full of life and hope, and you just wanna kiss him all over his face. Boyish, sweetheart eyes." Simone explained. Marc didn't fully understand it, but he let Simone continue. 

"Right, I'll take your word for it. What's so different about mine?"

"Yours are dark and low. They proceed with wiseness and experience, intimidation and courage. They make you look a bit rougher around the edges and give away that you take what you want."  

"So, they're like your fuck me eyes?" He asked, seeming completely serious about the question while trying to get under her skin. 

He was good at that, but she was better.

"Even with all that ruggedness, you're still handsome." She said, calling back to the old and simple compliment that drove Marc nuts, but not for the reasons she thinks. It got under his skin the same way her fuck me eyes did. He held back the best he could, knowing she liked control, and for a good reason. 

Marc did, as well, and feared it would be too much for her.

They stared at it each other for a moment. The raw energy was unmistakable, and they heard the beat of their hearts in the silence that blanketed the room. Marc thought Steven would return, but the Englishman was still radio silent. 

Steven stayed back and let them catch up, just as Marc stayed back while he got to know Simone. It did make him jealous to see her talk to Marc the same way she did with him, but the added inside jokes and reminiscing stung like hell.

Though it felt like Steven had known Simone his entire life, Marc was the real deal. He only wished he had known her sooner, but he knew with everything in him that he and Simone had something great, even if it wasn't the same as what she had with Marc. 

That was enough for Steven to make him okay with what he was watching. 

Marc brought up Danny Smith again to break the tension, and Simone explained that she knocked him senseless because he kept trying to feel her up. They agreed it was well deserved, and given Simone's sensitivity to unwanted touching back then, it was unsurprising. This still begged the question on Marc's mind, but he didn't feel she wouldn't be comfortable answering it. 

He wanted to know who broke her out of her shell. 

Who was responsible for turning the girl who would be mistaken for both a prude and a slut all through high school into a sexually confident woman? God, why does it matter to me? Because it wasn't me? Fuck, I guess I'm no better than those assholes who thought of her virginity as a goddamn trophy they could win.

Marc kept his thoughts inside, not wanting to pry open a can of whoop ass for himself. He stood up and started looking around the place aimlessly. It didn't seem like her style: decorative lacey shit everywhere, floral patterns. Even her room had antique-looking furniture and beige walls. She didn't live here alone.

"So, your roommate's an old lady?"

Simone chuckled, "Joyce is 40 and has been kind enough to let me stay in her spare room for this long. She's an airline pilot, so she's not here much."

"I see, so I'm guessing you don't have men over very often," Marc asked as he entered her bedroom and poked fun at the decorating choices. Simone stood and followed at a distance,

"Before Steven, I hadn't had a man over in-" She stopped for a moment, counting silently on her fingers. "-Nine months."

Marc felt their banter ramping up again, but he kept it going this time. "Sheesh, no wonder you targeted poor innocent Steven." He joked. 

Simone cocked her head, realizing it made sense that Steven would indeed be sexually innocent if he only became his own person recently.

"Steven just happened to be attached to a vessel that didn't strike me as poor or innocent. Though I know from my patients that the experience of the body doesn't matter to the system. Each with a unique experience, normally. They feel their own pain, sickness, attraction..."

"Speaking of, if you find him attractive, it only makes sense that I'm attractive, right?" Marc said with a pivot around to face her. Simone rolled her eyes,

"Whatever, Spector."

He knew he could have stopped, but it was just too excellent to see how red her face was getting. 

Under her skin, he was. 

"It makes perfect sense. You find me physically attractive enough that you were dying to fuck me just the other night. Am I wrong? And don't lie. You've always been terrible at it." He said with a raised brow. 

Simone couldn't help but gravitate closer to him as she noticed his eyes grow darker than before. She didn't think they could stare any deeper into her soul, yet they somehow did. 

I mean, I sorta did fuck him, or his body, at least... and a fantastic body it is, and I can't un-fuck it, right?

She wanted to tread lightly and stay on top of this before it got to a point where they couldn't go back. 

She also wanted to see him beg.

"Don't do that to me. Your ego might not like what comes next." She told him through a poker face that was uncrackable now. She knew she could knock him down a peg and watched with delight as his adam's apple bobbed at the comment.

This man's just too goddamn pretty. Indeed not the sweetheart I know.

Marc wasn't as convinced, and though his apprehensions from earlier lingered, he saw in her eyes that she might enjoy being thrown around.

I bet she couldn't keep that face with my hand around her throat.

Then Marc remembered the Englishman in his brain that was absolutely infatuated with Moni. He didn't want to stop, and he almost couldn't help himself from thinking with his dick, but he knew how it felt to be inside watching this go down. He took a breath before speaking up again,

"I'd say try me, but your boyfriend might not like that."

Simultaneously, Simone blinked and realized she was nearly chest-to-chest with Marc. Marc, not Steven. Her sweet Steven was the one she expected to speak to today before she got carried away. She felt dirty having not asked for him. 

"No, you're right." She said, clearing her throat of the dryness that overtook it. "Is he there?"

Steven had been watching, waiting as Marc had the past few weeks. He realized how Marc had felt seeing him kiss and interact with Simone in ways he wanted to. Steven was happy she was asking for him now, though.

"I'm here," Steven said. Marc almost felt relieved that he had come back, sexual tension aside. Simone was also relieved but felt equally mortified at everything that had transpired, not just today with Marc but the other night with the opposite situation. 

The whole thing still confused her, but aside from the accent change, the eyes told her she had Steven in front of her. She was calm. 

"I'm sorry about what happened the other night, sweetheart." She apologized, referring to the excellent time that turned into a trainwreck.

"Oh, no, all's good, love. I should be the one apologizing. It was my fault."

"I don't think there's any fault here, but I did put a gun in your face and act like a nutcase." 

"If I could be truthful since we're all putting our cards on the table, it seems," He started, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and referring to the gravitational pull between her and Marc. Simone joined him and slid his left hand into her right, interlocking their fingers. This brought great comfort to Steven. "I meant to tell you, you know? Instead, I told you I hadn't done that before.." 

"Honey, it's okay."

"No, it's not." He admitted. "And I'm sorry for not... helping you out. Marc told me that would happen." Simone took a moment to replay the events of that night, shaking her head.

"Sweetheart, I appreciate your wanting to make me feel good, but you should never be expected to be perfect during your first time or anytime," Simone said, caressing his cheek with her free hand. "And I'm disappointed in you, Marc, for not telling him that." She snapped, doubting he was any kind of sexpert himself and trying to find a smidge of that man in Steven's face. 

She didn't have to look for long. Marc's eyes fixed on her right after she finished her sentence. 

"All that stuff about being a dominatrix made me think you might expect something." He said with an eye roll. Simone dropped the hand that was on his cheek before she explained.

"The only person who got me off when I was doing that stuff was Mistress Ignatia, also known as me. I told you they couldn't touch me." Simone said in a matter-of-fact tone. 

Marc's eyes widened at this. This Simone was a different Simone from who she used to be, without a doubt, just like he was a different Marc. It drove him crazy. "Who are you, and what have you done with my Moni?"

Simone wasn't sure how she felt about his use of her old nickname. His Moni? Maybe I could have been his Moni at one point, but that was too long ago. She thought to herself, trying to find something to be mad about in the comment but only finding herself melting. 

Marc's Moni died a long time ago. Something tells me that Moni's Marc did, also.

"I grew up and became who I wanted Simone Fredrick to be. Part of that was realizing nobody was gonna protect me better than me." She said as she realized she was still holding his hand. She didn't remove it, only loosened her fingers slightly. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't wig out when I'm touched anymore. I'm okay with being seen naked. I own a few self-defense weapons, hands not included, and I take control when I want and relinquish it when I feel it seems suitable. That is Dr. Simone Fredrick, not the traumatized little girl from high sch-"

Marc cut her off by slamming his lips into hers. He didn't give it a second thought. It was a dumbass move, but it was all Marc could think to do as he watched her lips speak to him about being a new woman. He wanted her.

Simone's mind teleported her back to the woods between their houses. To the day when she used her walkie-talkie to tell him to meet her there. The day they sat together in the same clearing they always did. He consoled her as she cried over her mom's insistence on inspecting her. 

She kissed him that day. It was the first time, and she couldn't think of why she went for it, but it felt overdue, and she felt fantastic. 

Just as she did after kissing him back then, she pulled away. 

"This is... weird." She said, almost exactly the same way she did when they were teens. 

"Yeah, it is," Marc repeated his words from that time, as well. 

As if they were reliving that moment, they started to kiss again. This time, her mouth felt scruff instead of peach fuzz. This time, he felt positivity instead of fear. 

Back then, Simone's mind raced and battled itself. She wanted him and still feared becoming the thing everyone swore she was: a harlot.

Now, she kissed him back, heavy in an overdue passion and ferocity that let her cravings be known.

Back then, Marc's hands wandered a bit too much. He didn't think about the damage that would do. He just did it. 

Marc's hands wandered still, touching her waist and back, and Simone's mind seemed made up. 

And still, all these years later, like they were reenacting it-

Whore! Puta! Her mother's voice screamed in her head, accent and all. Nothing but a jezebel! 

Simone pulled away abruptly.

Though she and Marc were older, more experienced, and have nothing to fear, she knew that Steven was in there. She felt she was betraying him in the worst way. She felt like an untamed sexual deviant. Selfish. Stupid. She hyperventilated like before.

Marc began to panic, just as he did back when she ripped herself away as teens. He remembered what she had said before:

Don't touch me! I don't want to!

This time, she yelled something different.

"This is insane!"

Back then, Simone punched Marc square in the jaw in a fit of hysteria. Now, he watched as she balled her fist to do just that. She raised that fist, ready to unload, but just as Simone knew, this Marc wasn't the same Marc she knew. He caught her fist before it could connect.

"Moni, it's okay. I'm not gonna touch you." He spoke softly, doing what he felt he should have done back then. Her eyes were red and glossy already as her fist shook in his palm. She flicked her eyes to it, remembering when she hit him before. 

"Steven." She whispered. Like a summoning spell, the man himself came forward. 

"Hey, Simone, love. You're alright." He said to her, noticing her tremble like a small dog. He slowly guided her hand back down, unwrapping it from the fist and taking it, clasping their fingers together. "It's alright." He repeated. Simone's eyes finally blinked, causing two fresh teardrops to roll down her face. 

"I just don't want you to hurt because of me." She croaked. "This is nuts."

"It's new to all of us, darling. Really, I'm not upset." 

"How the fuck is any of this supposed to work?" She asked, voice still wobbly. Everything was new with Steven, but she didn't want to stop building their relationship. Meanwhile, she has an old, unexplored love for Marc that she can't escape now. 

She wanted to make a choice like a normal person, but how the hell are you to do that when you can't have one without the other? She felt overwhelmed, awkward, and angry. She wanted to be alone to consider if all of this was even worth it.

Then she remembered that she had almost hit him. Again.

"I'm sorry." She said, voice still shuddering. Steven gave her a concerned look, 

"Like I said, I'm not upset." 

Steven pulled her into his arms and held her, feeling the hitching in her breath tone down from the cuddle. He couldn't even imagine what might have caused her to feel this way, but he knew Marc might know. 

Marc knew, indeed. He hated it for her, and though she's clearly shown progress in healing, some things seem to have stuck around with her.

Simone shook her head against him. She wanted to stay there, warm and comfortable but knew that wouldn't help her rationalize anything. 

"No. I just need to be alone right now." She told him. Steven put on the same face he did the last time she said this. He was afraid this might just be the last time, but he couldn't stand to see her like this. 

Neither could Marc. Even if this Moni wasn't his Moni, she cried the same.

[tavyliasin]

Reblogging again to add this~ a little short Haarlep x GN Reader 😈

Oh, and naturally, this reader is an artist 😉

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“Still sleeping, are you?” The voice carried across the short distance to your ears as you resisted the urge to move. You could feel their weight on the end of the bed as they were already beginning to join you again. Even with your eyes closed you could see their smile, the blaze of the fire in their eyes, the hunger in their look.

You couldn't remember when Haarlep had left the bed last night, you were far too exhausted from the relentless pleasure that had left your entire body and soul feeling as if it were made of jelly. 

They had comforted you, at first. Holding you close, soothing muscles that still quivered in the afterglow, waves of overstimulated bliss still intruding every time your mind turned over the events of the hour that felt like an eternity of ecstasy.

The incubus had run their claws over your scalp delicately, waiting for your eyes to flutter closed in sleep rather than the another of countless orgasms, soothing you with the lightest touch that made your mind feel like it could float away as you curled in close to their warmth. They had wrapped their wing around you like a blanket, surrounding you with them and only them, every sense permitted only to know them - the scent of Haarlep's distinct cinnamon blended with Raphael's perfume, the taste of their kiss still fresh on your lips, the heat of their touch sinking through your muscles, the sight of crimson skin just beyond your eyelids, and the musical sound of their voice-

“You cannot sleep all day, Little Thief, I have indulged you enough.” They were sat on the end of the bed still, their voice carrying over to you with a blend of seduction and the edge of threat. “Come, now, do you not have more portraits to paint?”

You groaned slightly, dropping the ruse enough to roll over and pull the covers closer, relishing the feeling of silk sheets yet feeling a slight emptiness that they lacked the warmth of the fiend that had held you softly as your dreams took over.

“That might fool a lesser being, painter, but it will not fool me.” The sound of their wings spreading behind them almost distracted you from the tail that crept under the sheets, curling around your ankle to squeeze it. “So, are we doing this the easy way? Or the hard way?” 

Your mind turned over the clear intent in their words. You weren't sure you could handle more of Haarlep's “hard way”, and yet the idea was still as enticing as the suggestion to join them had been the night before.

Perhaps you'd regret the words that fell from your lips almost unbidden, although the incubus never planned to leave you space in your mind for any thought but “Haarlep”. 

The easel on the balcony remained undisturbed by your brush until late in the afternoon.

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Happy New Year, darling~

Thank you for the endless inspiration of your beautiful works, I very much look forward to seeing more as I always do. Ever the loud and delighted fan of every piece, though my favourites might be a little obvious~

If ever you wish a full fic written to your personal preferences, you need only ask and I shall add it to my list. I have a few in my backlog, but I will get to each one eventually. You see, I did promise a little something when I awoke, and here we are~ I do take a contract seriously after all 😈

Still sleeping, are you ?

You see, I can also draw something that's not smut......

I was going to practice Raphael. And this one took over my vision 😂

I like cropping pictures for no reason.

[putseraphinaonthaphone]

She said 'I love you' and my dick got hard | Group Chat AU HCs pt. I

cw// recreational drug use, high sex, poly dynamics, queer reader who uses multiple sets of pronouns and female descriptors, d/s dynamics, CGL, sexual age play, soft breeding kink, group sex, possessiveness

It was a Saturday, so you and the rest of the lazy fuckers you smoked with were pregaming the pregame with a wake and bake sesh at Dabi and Shoto's place. Their housemates were rarely home because Dabi was an asshole of a roommate, which worked out great for y'all.

You passed the blunt to Bakugou on your left, your legs in his lap and your head in Shinsou's lap as he traced random patterns on your shaved head.

Dabi and Shoto were laying on the couch adjacent to the one you three were on, their legs tangled together as they bitched about the merit of actually going to the party.

"We always end up back here anyway, why not just stay here?" Dabi argued, taking the blunt from Bakugou without even turning his head, the motion practiced many times over the months since y'all started hanging out and then dating.

"I vote we stay in." Shinsou added to no one's surprise.

"Because I want to show her off while she dances on me," Sho responded bluntly.

"Really?" You rolled your eyes, this had been going on since y'all started.. being together? You weren't sure what to call the relationship you all had.

"And who said if we went she'd be dancing on you? I'm her boyfriend." Bakugou growled, his grip on your thigh turning possessive and hard.

Your gaze snapped to the blond, your heart doing a funny thing in your chest from his words.

"So? I'm her boyfriend too. We all are." Sho glared at Bakugou as he scoffed and took the blunt from Dabi, who's only contribution to the argument was a raspy,

"Duh."

You looked at each of them in turn a small hopeful smile on your lips, one that made every single male in the room achingly hard for some reason, and then your eyes crept up to Shinsou's purple gaze. When you found him already staring at you, and noticed that everyone had fallen quiet as if waiting for you to speak..

"Did you really doubt that we were serious when we said you're ours?" Was all he asked, and suddenly you felt the need to set the record straight because while you doubted yourself often- you'd never doubt your boys.

"I just.. didn't think you guys would love me like I love y'all, so I just always assumed this was like a friends with benefits type thing-"

You were cut off by Bakugou reaching out to grab your jaw firmly, his red eyes burning into you (and damn this was good weed if Bakugou was saying this in front of others), "You don't get to look away when you tell us you love us."

It's unanimously agreed to stay in that weekend so each of them could fuck your love confession out of you.

Bakugou

was the first to drag you to Dabi and Sho's room (the only room in the house you'd let them fuck you in because Dabi might be an asshole roommate but you weren't enabling him)

no one argued even if they glared at him for getting to you quicker, because no one wanted to deal with him going apeshit on them

they all respected how Bakugou showed his love for you in explosive bouts of competitiveness because he respected their traumatized forms of showing love as well. it was weird, that the four of them worked as co-partners without killing each other, barely (/s), but it worked.

he carried you to bed once the door was locked behind you both, and you squirmed because fuck if it wasn't hot that he could manhandle you so easily, but surprisingly he sat you down and.. your clothes stayed on?

"Say it again"

Oh. Right. You had to spill your heart guts to Bakugou of all people.

But no, that wasn't right

You were telling Kacchan you loved him, and yeah it was terrifying but it was him

"I love you."

Just three words, but still, the sincerity in your voice made those three words all it took to make him cry

This time when your clothes finally do come off, you experience another first with him

Making love

This time it's less about getting off from the most erotic dirty talk and teasing pretenses, and you find yourself just wanting to feel him close to you while the pleasure of the way you fit together as always washes over you both

Kissing his tears away, tasting the salt of them on your tongue, and laughing wetly when he does the same and realize that at some point you started crying too

Wrapping yourself around him while he moved slowly, deeply, inside you so that you were only separated for the briefest moments before he slid home into you once more

Trying to memorize every soft groan of "love you" and "won't ever let go" at the same time that you whimper your own promises into his shoulder, "need you, I'll always need you"

You're both too raw emotionally to move even after he's already made you cum around him as he filled you, so you lay together- his head on your chest as you play with his hair and savor being crushed by his weight

And you feel like you're taken apart and put back together in a new way, a way that lets it not seem cliche to say that you and your boyfriend made love. It feels right, because you can't bring yourself to cheapen what occurred between the two of you by calling it a 'fuck'

"You're stuck with me now. I can't.. I can't go back after this." He didn't meet your gaze, and if you hadn't tuned every sense towards him, to experience as much of his closeness as possible, you would've missed his words spoken into the room when it finally grew dark

"I don't want to go back." You kiss the top of his head and even though you both know eventually you'll have to get up to move rooms or tell Dabi and Shoto to find another place to sleep, you stay entwined together for just a few minutes longer

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 || dark!Bucky Barnes & dark!Steve Rogers x reader

summary: a little fresh air never hurt anyone, right?

word count: 10.3k (yes, OVER TEN THOUSAND WORDS OF FILTH what is wrong with me)

warnings: noncon smut (incl. anal, oral m and f receiving, dp, and spitroasting), bondage/restraint (and a gag), some mild violence, lots of slapping, pussy spanking, forced orgasms, degradation/derogatory language, kinda kidnapping, a touch of stockholm syndrome?, very brief breeding kink, period-typical sexism (this is set in the late 60s but you wouldn't really be able to tell aside from that and the lack of technology)

a/n: the song that plays on the radio, and the song that just so happens to be the title of the fic, is by john lee hooker in case anyone wants the proverbial vibes

You needed a chance to clear your head every once in a while, that's what camping in the woods was for.  It was the perfect time of year for it, too; the leaves were changing, the woodland animals were beginning to prepare for hibernation, and the weather was almost warm with a refreshing breeze that promised to bring the winter chill soon enough.

It was far from your first time in these woods, you knew the drive like the back of your hand by now, just as well as you knew how to hike down to the best places to set up camp.  

You set down your pack and took in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air.  No sounds except for the wind in the trees, the trickle of the creek, and your own thoughts which you found pleasantly blank.  You'd chosen a spot by the creek, where you could spearfish on evenings that you felt especially adventurous, with a nice dirt patch perfect for a fire.  The most dangerous thing about camping in the fall was that the dry leaves could catch flame so easily, so one of the key stages of setting up camp was raking away any foliage from your firepit, lest it become unintentional kindling.

The next order of business was finding a few dozen smooth stones to surround the fire, along with some logs and sticks to burn.  

A knife and flint was just enough to speed up your firebuilding so that you had something solid going by nightfall, shedding your jacket to better feel the warmth as the flames grew and the sun set.

Sure, the woods could feel a little… creepy, at night, for lack of a better word, but it was more tranquil than anything.  Most of the wildlife that was so active during the day stilled and silenced, bar the occasional owl’s hoot, so the loudest sounds were the crackling of your fire and the ever-present trickle of the creek.  You heated your kettle for a cup of chamomile tea, something to help you get to sleep on the admittedly uncomfortable sleeping bag in your canvas tent.

The mug warmed your fingers as you filled and held it, and the steam warmed your face as you took a sip; but the contents warmed your chest, and your soul, as you contemplated the flavors; is it possible that tea tastes better when enjoyed in the quiet woods, mid-autumn?

You were already yawning by the time the mug was finished, so you set it aside and crawled into your tent, shedding the excessive layers and slipping between the fluffy down-stuffed layers of your bedroll.  It was chilly at first but you knew your body heat would make it toasty all too soon, so you ignored the way you shivered as you fluffed your pillow and laid it under your head.

It was dark with only the fading light of your fire seeping in through the thick-weave canvas; and it was quiet, being the middle of the forest and all.  One sound you didn’t expect were distant sirens, barely audible, which made you wonder if something had happened, but you couldn't know what so you didn't pay it much mind as you drifted to sleep.

The next morning came early, of course; as early as the sun rose, warm sunlight flooding through the canvas of your tent.

You enjoyed staying in the bed for a while, not so much because it was very comfortable (it wasn’t) but just because you wanted to relish having no need to get up yet.  No job, no cleaning, no chores… though you were pretty hungry so that inspired you to get up and see about breakfast.

Slipping on a few more layers to protect yourself from the morning breeze, you opened your tent and stepped out into the woods, finding your fire had been reduced to a pile of embers meaning that you would need to find more wood to get it going for breakfast-cooking purposes.  And that’s what you were about to do when you heard a snapping of twigs echo through the woods, making you glance up to the source of the noise.

Your back straightened instantly at the sight of two men, one with short blonde hair and the other’s dark and nearly to his shoulders, walking down the hill nearby just across the creek.  They were still pretty distant, and yet they were much too close for comfort; close enough to see that these were not men one would want to encounter while alone in the woods.

They had new clothes— baggy and loose, almost certainly stolen— but it wasn’t enough to hide where they must’ve come from.  They might as well have still been in jumpsuits with numbers on their chests.

The prison, just over five miles away.  Had they really hiked this far?  You kicked yourself now for ignoring the sirens last night.

You froze as they turned and caught your gaze, the three of you locked in a stare for a brief moment before one of them took a step forward: that was all the cause you needed to run like hell, turning on your heel and starting so fast you nearly slipped on the leaves beneath you.  You heard them call out, chasing after you, but you focused on staring ahead and trying to remember the path back home, or at least to the road where someone might drive by to help you.

A root nearly caught your foot but you kept running, hating that you could hear them gaining on you since it didn’t actually seem to help you run any faster.  You looked back and saw them much too close for comfort, but when you looked back ahead it was too late to avoid the tree right in front of you; you swerved but it still made you slip and almost fall.

But you didn’t fall.  Someone caught you, and grabbed you, and pulled you into his oppressive form.

His arms held you painfully tight as his hand covered your mouth.  "Gotcha," the man growled against your ear, licking the shell of it as you struggled against his grip.  

Everything everyone had told you about why a lady shouldn’t camp alone in the woods suddenly flashed in your mind, your eyes squinting shut as you wished you had listened.  All you could do now was kick wildly, swinging your legs in the air which didn't even do anything.

"Pretty little thing, aren't ya?” he purred as you saw the second man come into view— the blonde one, so you knew it was the one with long, dark hair that must’ve been holding you, giving you such a twisted compliment.  “Just beggin' to be fucked right."

"Don't look so scared, sweetheart, we're not gonna hurt you…” the blonde man explained, “just play nice and we will too."

"Speak for yourself, Rogers," the man holding you snarled.  "Been a long time since I got to feel a pussy, I wanna tear this little bitch up."

You sobbed and writhed as the one apparently called Rogers hushed you soothingly, trying to calm you.  "Hey, just do what we say and it won't hurt alright?  Just take it easy."

He stepped closer, reaching out towards you while you grunted and whined with every kick, smiling in a way that would’ve been soothing in nearly any other situation.  He motioned to his partner who slowly lowered his hand from your mouth, and though your instinct was to scream you just heard yourself panting and whimpering instead.

“Did you hear me?  We’re not gonna hurt you.  We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet… I’m Steve, and this here is my cellmate— uh, friend— Barnes.”

“But you can call me Bucky, dollface,” the man behind you added with a little smile that you could hear and feel with him pressing up so close to your face.

“See, he and I just came from an awful, terrible place—”

“I know where you came from,” you cut him off with a snarl.  “You’re criminals!  You’re scum!”

Bucky just laughed and held you tighter until your arms started to ache from struggling against him.  

���Hey now, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve corrected firmly— not angry, but stern.  “I was framed, I served seven years for something I didn’t do.  You’re innocent, too, right Barnes?”

“No,” he instantly answered, making Steve look disappointed.  “Oh, uh, sure.  Yeah, I was framed.  Real sob story,” he suddenly decided, not sounding like he was trying that hard to convince you.

“Point is, we were all alone for a long, long time, and we thought maybe you’d wanna be nice and take care of us, huh?” Steve offered.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“That’s sort of the idea,” Bucky whispered playfully.

“Let me go,” you demanded as Steve’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared, anger finally coming out when he suddenly grabbed your chin and held your face to look up at him.

“Let me make one thing very fucking clear,” he explained, nearly whispering so you were forced to stay still and quiet to hear him.  “You don’t get to pick what you want.  But you get to pick if you’re gonna make this easy, or difficult.”

You spat in his face; he slapped you for that, so hard that your ears rang for a moment while he grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve.

“Difficult it is,” he announced with ill-restrained loathing, coming even closer as Bucky covered your mouth again to muffle your screams of protest.  “Buck, I’m goin’ first.”

“Fuck you, pal, I was in longer and I saw her first,” Bucky replied frustratedly.  “I’m not gonna take long anyway, you can go after me.”

“I just got spit in my face!” Steve reminded him.  “And the breakout was my idea!”

“Your idea?!” Bucky repeated incredulously.  “What, you think you’re the first guy to think ‘hey, what if we just left prison?’ because trust me, if it wasn’t for my screwdriver—”

Their argument caused Bucky’s focus to slip, that must have been why the hand on your mouth loosened and you could speak again.

"You won't get away with this, my father's a sheriff!" you yelped, interrupting their negotiation.

They both laughed darkly and you instantly regretted saying it.

"Oh, sweetheart, your old man's a cop?  That's too bad,” Steve sighed.  “You know what they say: sins of the father…"

"Fuck the daughter,” Bucky finished with a cold, hollow laugh as he suddenly bit down on your ear making you wince and shudder, tears streaming down your cheeks already.

He tossed you down and pinned you to the ground, his strong, heavy body on top of yours knocking the wind out of you as he began to tear at your clothes and, annoyingly, not seeming to find them much trouble at all.  You whimpered when you felt your pants torn down your legs, hating how exposed and vulnerable you felt, hating the undeniable fact that you couldn’t stop this.

You tried to get up when he reached down to open his belt and jeans, but Steve’s boot came down on your shoulder and held you still again.  Bucky was rushed and brutal as he pushed his pants down and pressed his cock against your ass, guiding it between your legs as you hissed and tried not to think about what was about to happen.

He pulled back briefly to spit on your hole, spreading the forced wetness with the head of his cock before suddenly pushing into you as you gasped and choked on a sob.

"Oh, that's it baby,” he groaned, “scream if you want, nobody can hear you but us."

Already he was thrusting with wild abandon, his hips slapping into your ass as his hot breath came down against your ear and neck, his face pressing yours into the cold ground.

"Fuuuuuck,” he moaned lowly, “so tight, Jesus Christ… fuckin' missed this, went almost ten years without burying my cock in a wet little cunt like this.  Shit, it's even better than I remember."

You just cried and bit down on nothing, pain making violent shivers run up your spine as the width of him split you open, pushing deeper than you’d known anything could go.

Each thrust seemed somehow rougher and deeper than the last, pushing you further past your limits, making your toes curl inside your boots.  He was unabashedly using your body, treating you with less care than some men might a blow-up doll, moaning loudly as he split you open with every moment.

So why did it almost begin to feel good, now that the worst of the pain had faded?  Why was the ridge of his cock brushing over your g-spot just right each time he moved?

He pinned more of his weight on you as he changed his angle slightly, enough to add just that much more brutality to every stroke, the loud slapping of skin echoing through the desolate trees.  You could tell he wasn’t lying about how long he’d been celibate in prison, because he fucked you with every ounce of pent-up frustration, hissing through his teeth and holding you tight enough to bruise.

Everything he did, he did enough to bruise.

“Yeah, take it, bitch,” he moaned when you made a particularly pained noise.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna take long,” Steve remembered, staring down at the two of you from where he was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.  

“I’m almost done, you waited this long you can wait five more minutes,” Bucky dismissed, voice a little strained as he kept fucking you.

“Just stop and give me a turn and then you can get back to it,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, no fuckin’ way,” Bucky laughed, “feels way too good to stop.  Trust me, Stevie, this pussy’s worth the wait.”

“Get her on her knees then,” Steve instructed as he came closer to you and kneeled in front of your face; Bucky manhandled your hips into place while Steve pulled your hair until you yelped and brought your head up.  “I wanna fuck this pretty little throat.”

He cut off your protests with another hard slap to your cheek, tugging your hair again as you struggled to hold yourself up on shaking arms.

“Gonna teach this mouthy bitch a lesson,” he explained as he hit you again before using one hand to open his belt and jeans.  “You know what’s gonna happen if you try to bite me, right?  I’ll just knock you out and fuck your throat anyways.  So you’d better make it good if you wanna breathe.”

You tried your best to nod with his fist tugging your hair, gasping slightly when he pulled his cock out and stroked it right in front of your face.  

“Come on, baby, open up— this is the most you’ve kept your mouth shut all day,” he laughed, tapping the swollen head of his cock on your lips until you finally opened them.  The flavor of his skin on your tongue made your lips curl in disgust but he held your jaw and pushed deeper, quickly hitting the back of your throat.  “Fuck, so warm… come on, suck it, make it good for me.”

“She’s gettin’ wet,” Bucky informed Steve with a chuckle.  “She likes it— don’t you, little whore?” he prompted as he slapped your ass suddenly, making you cry out around Steve’s length.  “You like choking on a cock like you deserve?”

You made some sort of gurgling sound, and apparently they took it as a ‘yes.’

"Aw yeah, fuck, gonna fill up this little cunt,” Bucky promised.  Funny thing is, you weren't sure if "this little cunt" meant your hole, or you.

“You’d better not, m’supposed to go after you,” Steve reminded him.

“Fuck, I dunno if I have the heart to pull out,” Bucky admitted with a laugh, slapping you on the ass to make your walls suddenly clench around him.  “I know a sweet body like this just needs to be bred.”

Your sob was louder around where Steve’s girth stretched your lips, making Bucky laugh darkly.

"Oh shit honey, what would Daddy Sherriff say if he found out you got knocked up by a couple'a criminals, huh?  By murderers?"

Steve pulled his cock out just enough to let you sob weakly before shoving back in and penetrating your throat.

"Yeah, you like it don't you?” Bucky continued to taunt you.  “You like being bred by some strangers who caught you in the woods… dirty bitch."

Steve's head fell back as he started to thrust into your mouth faster and harder, the base of his cock flexing against your tongue.  You assumed it was a sign that he was close and it made you hopeful that this would be over soon, but he suddenly pulled out with an exhausted laugh.

"Oh no you don't," he breathed, "not gonna come yet, still need to feel that tight little pussy of yours… if Bucky would hurry the fuck up."

"Fuck, I'm close, I'm close," Bucky rasped.  "Shit, babydoll, this wet cunt is gonna make me come, aren't you so proud?"

Steve held your mouth open and rubbed his cock on your tongue, occasionally shoving two fingers in with it which were salty with his sweat. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," Bucky hissed, "oh god, fuck, I'm—!"

He pulled out suddenly, rubbing his cock against your clit as his seed shot onto the ground beneath you.  You sighed with relief although you hated the way your body was actually disappointed, craving more and clenching around nothing in protest.

Bucky was hardly even finished when Steve reached under your arms to pull you up and flip you onto your back, groaning as he settled between your legs and rubbed his cock over your folds.  He didn't waste any time pushing into you, and apparently being fucked by Bucky wasn't enough to warm you up for Steve because you hissed at the sting as he filled you.

"Fuck," Steve mumbled as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them down beside your head.  Already he had begun to pull back only to spear into you again, reaching deeper inside you than Bucky had until you were gasping and choking on nothing.

Bucky stood up and stepped back, pulling his jeans up as he watched you two on the ground.

"You got any cigarettes back at camp, sweetheart?" Bucky asked you, and it was hard to focus on his question but you shook your head.  "Damn," he breathed, pondering for a moment before coming up with his next question.  "You got any candy bars?"

"Do you mind?" Steve hissed, still thrusting into you— a bit slower than Bucky but not exactly more gentle.  "We're kind of busy here."

"No, I don't particularly mind," Bucky smirked.

"Can't you just entertain yourself for a few minutes while I finish this?"

"Why should I entertain myself when I've got this pretty little thing to entertain me?" Bucky smirked, kneeling down beside you as Steve buried his face in the crook of your neck.  "Wanna help me out here, dollface?  I'm still hard…"

He freed one hand from Steve's grip and brought it up to the front of his jeans so you could feel the hard bulge there.  He opened them for you, reaching in and pulling his hard cock out to wrap your hand around it.

Feeling the thickness of it in your palm now, you couldn't imagine how it ever fit inside you.

"Yeah, that's it, I'll teach you how to stroke it right…" he groaned.  "You know how many times I had to do this to myself, just imagining claiming a little slut like you?  Your hands are so much softer, sweetheart…"

His hand tightened around yours and guided every movement, which was good because you had no chance of focusing on anything while Steve was slamming into you and moaning right by your ear.

"So wet," he whispered to you, "so warm.  All mine…"

You felt your insides grip him harder and he smiled, lips tickling your sensitive skin.

"Yeah, you like bein' mine.  You like being owned, I can feel it.  I can feel that this is exactly what you needed.  Is that what you were hoping for when you came out to these woods all by yourself?  That a big strong man would show up and stretch out this pussy?  Well I'm here now, angel, and I'm just about ready to fill you up real good."

A few more thrusts, faster and harder than ever, were enough to send Steve over the edge as you felt each pulse warm you from the inside out.  Steve groaned loudly and buried himself as deep as he could possibly go, painting his come right onto your cervix while you gasped at the sensation.

Bucky stopped moving your hand and looked down at Steve.  "Are you fucking serious— did you just come inside?"

Steve took a moment to catch his breath before answering: "duh."

"How come you get to come inside but I don't, huh?"

"Cause I went second!"

"Yeah, that's some bullshit," Bucky scoffed.

"Will you just leave now, please?" you whimpered weakly from the ground.  "You got what you wanted, now just go."

"Oh, sweetheart, we are nowhere near done with you," Steve promised, sighing as he pulled out of you slowly.

You wanted to try to get up, but your limbs were weak and numb, and your head heavy with confusion.  It made it easy for Bucky to scoop you up and carry you back the way you'd run, your tent quickly coming into view which made you realize how pitifully short your chase had been.

“Looks big enough for the three of us,” Steve noted as he tilted his head to look at your camp.

“We’re not going in yet, I think somebody needs a little creek bath first,” Bucky smiled as he started to set you down on your shaky legs.  “Go ahead and strip, doll.”

You shivered, considering resistance but deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble as you started to peel off your shirt and jacket, then your boots and slightly torn leggings.

They both smiled and watched you, Bucky snorted a little when he saw how hard your nipples were.  “It’s chilly,” you defended meekly.

“Sure it is,” he nodded, “don’t stop, get in the water when you’re done.”

You nodded slightly as you tossed the clothes aside, trying to cover yourself with your arms as you slowly walked into the stony creek, wishing the water weren’t so clear so it would cover you better.

You made a weak attempt to clean yourself, watching goosebumps cover your skin from the cool water.

"Wash yourself up good,” Bucky instructed firmly.  “I don't want any of Rogers' jizz still in you when I take that pussy again."

With a grimace, you washed between your legs and winced when your touch reawakened the sting of soreness there.

“You’re gonna have to push it out, honey, it’s real deep,” Steve grinned pridefully.

You did your best to clean up, not for Bucky’s benefit but for your own, because you hated how it felt to have Steve’s spend still within you.

“How am I supposed to dry off?” you asked nervously as you looked around, knowing you hadn’t brought a towel as you hadn’t really planned on a full creek bath during your trip.  You hadn’t planned on any of this during your trip, shockingly enough.

“You can drip dry,” Steve suggested.

“So you want me to stand naked in the cold for an hour while I dry?” you realized, irritated but still scared.

“Something like that,” Bucky confirmed.  “Unless you want us to keep you warm…”

“I’ll freeze,” you decided, stepping out of the water as Bucky snatched your clothes away to make sure you couldn’t dress.  “Gimme those!”

“Come and get ‘em,” he challenged, leaving you to huff and cross your arms, teeth chattering as the wind picked up.

You couldn’t imagine why they cared so much about testing your will when they’d already proven that they could take you however they wanted.  Perhaps it was just that they wanted to know you’d accepted that.  Better yet, they probably hoped you would participate willingly if you understood that you never had a choice.

Closing your eyes didn’t help, you could still feel their hungry gaze on you; rubbing yourself with your hands didn’t help because it just spread the cold water around on your skin, rather than actually warming you up.

It was probably less than a minute but it felt like half an hour before you relented, walking up to Bucky and looking down to avoid his stare as you meekly requested, “can I have my clothes, please?”

“But I can think of so many better ways to keep you warm,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, Steve moving behind you to press his chest against your back.  You sighed with relief because even this was already making you feel better,  the warmth of their bodies taking out some of the chill while their size blocked you from the wind.  You mewled, ever so quietly, when you felt Bucky’s lips on your neck, your eyes falling shut as your head fell back onto Steve’s chest.  

They showered you in gentle touches and teasing kisses as they picked you up and carried you into your tent, the small space beginning to warm quickly with the heat of three people inside— or was it just you that was getting hot from what they were doing to you.

Steve was groping your tits and pinching your hardened nipples, while Bucky focused most on sucking your neck or biting just beneath your ear.  It was overwhelming, and impossible to ignore though you wanted so desperately not to be aroused.  There were only four hands exploring your body but it might as well have been a hundred because you couldn’t tell the difference, they were touching you everywhere all at once.

"Now, are you gonna behave or do we need to tie you up?" Steve asked quietly.

You shook your head wildly, tensing up just imagining that.  "Then say it," he instructed.

"I-I'll be good," you promised weakly.

Bucky grinned and slid his hand up your thigh, and though you didn’t mean to, when Bucky reached between your legs you tried to shut them and squirm away, it was instinct.

"Ah ah ah," Steve tutted.  "You said you'd be good."

"Think we oughta tie her up," Bucky nodded, feigning disappointment.

"No, please, I'm sorry—"

"Too late for sorry, dollface," Bucky smirked, grabbing a shirt from your pack and tearing it into strips like it was no effort at all.  

Steve held your wrists together for Bucky to tie, and they even tied your legs up bent and spread wide, finishing it off with a gag in your mouth.

Now you were helpless to Bucky pinching your clit, circling it with his thick and calloused finger, applying pressure to it until your eyes watered.  At first it was exploratory, delicate, but once he’d found the most sensitive places he began to rub your clit hard and fast, laughing every time you moaned and flicking the sensitive bud to make your body jolt.

"Yeah, this little cunt's getting all wet, y'like having your pussy played with?" he smirked.

He accentuated his question with a few sudden spanks to your clit that made you jerk and yelp.  The worst thing was that each slap made a wet sound that made you sure you were soaking by now.

“I know you want it so bad, don’t worry doll, I’m not gonna make you wait anymore…”

He caged you in and opened his jeans one more time, the process going much more quickly since he didn’t have to hold you down— you could squirm and cry, but that was about it.  

With a little grunt, he pushed into you, and with how wet you were it actually went it much more easily.  It was by no means painless though, especially since he was already moving and giving you no time to adjust.

"Yeah, that's better," he sighed, grinning as he watched you whine into the gag.  "Now I can really take my time with you, show you how good I can make you feel."

He was certainly more relaxed than the first time, his pace measured and calculated as he made sure his hips met with yours fully at the end of each stroke.  His width wasn’t as challenging in this position but his length certainly was, bumping into your sore and delicate cervix until you were forced to bite down onto the gag to cope.

But, in spite of the pain, or perhaps because of it, something deep and strong was forming inside you, tightening and twisting until it took all your effort not to let it spill forth.

He reached down and roughly rubbed your clit again, forcing a muffled scream from your throat as he grinned down at you.  “Close already, huh?  Good to know I haven’t lost my touch after all these years.”

You almost heard Steve scoff beside you, but it was hard to hear anything when your ears felt like they were full of cotton, only your own echoing heartbeat ringing louder than anything else.

"Yeah, I wanna feel you fuckin' come,” Bucky growled.  “Bet you get even tighter every time."

As much as you wished not to, you fell over the edge, back arching until your chest bumped into Bucky’s where he hovered above you.  He coaxed you along in his words and movements, your walls clenching in a nonsensical rhythm.  More than anything you just wished he would stop moving so you could catch your breath, but his pace never faltered and it felt like you’d never stop coming if he never stopped fucking you.

“That’s it, good fucking girl,” he groaned, “makin’ you feel so good, aren’t I?  Answer me.”

You hesitated, and sniffled, but finally nodded.

Even worse, your clit was so swollen now that he didn’t even need to rub it with his thumb anymore; his cock rubbed against it with each movement, the ridges of his shaft massaging you there until it felt like every part of your body had become the most sensitive place possible.  You shook violently beneath him, each wave of pleasure stronger than the last until you felt like you had lost all sense of time, and space, and really anything that wasn’t being fucked in this tent like the fate of the world depended on it.

"Get outta the tent, Steve,” Bucky instructed suddenly.

"Why?" Steve protested with a scoff.

"I can't come with you starin' at me!"

"I'm not looking at you, dumbass,” he sneered, “I'm lookin’ at her.  So pretty when she cries…"

"Whatever, either way, just go outside please?" 

Clearly irritated but relenting anyways, Steve grunted under his breath as he got up, stepping unceremoniously over both of you.  Bucky sighed with relief when Steve zipped the tent flap shut behind him, turning his attention back to you.  “That’s better, isn’t it?  Just me and you… way it oughta be.”

“I heard that!” Steve called from outside.

“Then stop listening!” Bucky suggested through his teeth before leaning down to whisper in your ear, holding your hips tight so he could fuck you harder than ever.  "I don't give a fuck what he says, I'm coming in you this time.  Not pulling out until I know every drop is in you, wanna see this pussy stuffed to the brim with my come… you want it too, huh?”

Another electrifying pulse inside you made your channel flutter around him, and how cruel that the moan he made actually turned you on more.

"Fuck, that's it, squeeze my fuckin' dick, honey.  Wanna milk all the come outta my cock, don't you?"

You nodded again, hearing him moan in that perfect way one more time before you started to feel him pulse and swell within you, streams of hot come pouring into you.  The amount was pretty impressive since he’d already come once, although you didn’t exactly feel ‘impressed,’ so much as horrified and confused.  And numb, from coming so many times.

Bucky smiled down at you with an exhausted sigh, smacking you lightly on the face a few times to try to rouse you from your blissed-out state, but all you could do was hum sleepily into the gag.

“M’gonna untie you now, you’re too out of it to try anything,” he explained, releasing the gag first before working on your wrists and your legs.  A rush of warm come oozed out of your abused hole when he pulled back, making your face heat up as he smiled and held your legs up to see it better.  “Yeah, filled you up real nice,” he informed you.  He gave a reassuring pat to your thigh before getting up and getting out of the tent, leaving you to stare blankly into nothingness for a while.

Eventually, you knew you had to face the world again, though you were more sure than ever that you weren’t prepared for it.  Grabbing a blanket from the floor of the tent and covering yourself with it, you took a slow breath to try to stabilize yourself.

For how slow time seemed to have passed so far, you were surprised to see the sun setting when you opened the tent flap and stepped outside.  You realized, with a sick feeling in your chest, that they had been using you nearly all day now.  And considering they were waiting for you around the fire, giving you a glance up and down as you emerged from the tent, they still might not stop for a while.

In fact, they’d made themselves very comfortable from the looks of it.  The fire was burning stronger than ever, three logs positioned around the sides of the firepit to sit on; a pot was over the fire, and you recognized the contents as some of the food supplies from your pack.  Best of all, Steve had found your battery radio and adjusted the station, blues quietly playing from the speaker as he used your hunting knife to whittle a stick.

Serves you right to suffer, the smooth voice crooned from the broadcast, serves you right to be alone...

For a moment, the three of you sat in silence as you took in the scene.  But when the wind changed and the heat of the fire no longer reached you, you remembered you had business to attend to.  

“C-Can I have my clothes back now?” you asked Bucky quietly, seeing them draped over the side of one of the logs.

“I think if you get dressed you’ll try to run again,” Steve mumbled, not even looking up at you.

“No, I won’t, I’m too tired,” you explained.  “I just don’t want to be cold.”

“Fire’s hot enough,” Bucky dismissed.  “Why don’t you just lay down a while, hm?  Get some rest.  You earned it.”

You weren’t just tired physically, but mentally, which is partly why you didn’t put up more of a fight before going over to the log and laying beside it, the blanket around you protecting you from the cold ground while you used your clothes as a sort of pillow on the log.

It couldn’t have been that you were asleep, because you could still hear the fire and the radio and Steve’s whittling (a constant reminder that he had a knife), but with your eyes closed and the darkness getting darker it was almost like sleep.  A draining, restless sleep that did nothing to shelter you from the memories of what you’d become.

So, you opened your eyes, staring into the flames instead and venturing the occasional glance at Bucky or Steve; the former always met your stare, the latter would only look up if a sound got his attention.

“You gonna take a turn?” Bucky asked Steve casually, motioning to you by cocking his head.

“Not yet, need a while to... you know, build up some energy,” Steve explained.

“Mind if I have another go then?”

“She’s all yours,” Steve approved, making Bucky grin as he got up and circled the log you were slumped over.  

“Y’hear that, dollface?  All mine,” he cooed, picking you up and adjusting you until you were bent over the log, facing Steve and the fire.  Your clothes kept your naked torso from rubbing against the bark, thankfully, but nothing could spare you from Bucky’s incessant touch, running up your back, over your butt which he spanked a few times for good measure, and finally to your entrance which he pushed two fingers into first.  “Mm, we stretched you out pretty good… you’ll be back in shape by the mornin’, but until then, I just slide right in…”

And he proved himself right with one long stroke that pushed his cock to the deepest parts of you, pushing your hips forward into the log as you tried your best to keep your breathing steady.

He was uniquely quiet this time, still moaning and grunting occasionally but otherwise sparing you from the constant taunts and filthy whispers.  Steve, meanwhile, was doing his best to look unaffected, but the subtle adjustment of his legs along with the increased vigor of his carving made it clear he was distracted by the sight in front of him.

Bucky’s strong hands on your hips were sure to leave marks, fingertips digging into your curves and pulling you back onto him, spearing you on his length.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he sighed, “gonna come.”

And it was actually a relief because this was going to end (for now), which was definitely the only reason you moaned in response.  He got more talkative after that, smacking you on the ass a few more times as he chuckled darkly behind you. 

“Fuck, take it, doll… take all my fuckin’ come.”

It was sort of a meaningless instruction, since you had to, but he seemed to enjoy reminding you that he was about to take his pleasure from your body one more time.  He made a weak little moaning noise, almost pained, as he filled you once again, slumping down on top of you and for the first time really showing signs of exhaustion after coming three times in a day.  You were so out of it that you hardly noticed his weight on you, or the little kisses he gave to your ear, whispering praises that tried your best not to hear.  

He pulled out and came back around to look at your face again, pulling you up slightly by your hair so you looked up at him.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned.  “Open your mouth sweetheart,” he instructed, spitting onto your tongue as soon as you’d done it, then lifting your jaw to make you close your mouth and swallow.

He tugged your hair harder before he kissed you, more possessive than affectionate, but unexpected regardless.  His tongue tangled with yours as he reached down to circle his hand around your neck, feeling your pulse but not going so far as to choke you.

A little groan from Steve caught both his attention and yours.  "You wanna fuck her, Stevie?"

"Oh god, I want that ass, I want that fuckin ass," he answered through his teeth, making you gulp as Bucky laughed.

"Go for it, man," he encouraged, and only a second after he stood up you both heard and felt Steve appear behind you, one calloused hand spreading your cheeks; you whimpered from embarrassment when you felt a finger circle your tight rim, before slowly pushing in.

"Fuck," you whispered, and it sounded much more like a curse of pleasure than you intended.

"Yeah, you want it don't you?" he asked through his teeth, giving you a hard spank that made you cry out.  Bucky slapped you when you didn't answer, grabbing your jaw roughly.

"He asked you a question," he reminded you firmly, the sound of Steve spitting into his hand and coating your hole and his length distracting you slightly.

"Yes, yes, I want it!" you sobbed.

"Where?"

"In my ass!"

Your body put up significant resistance against his swollen head, but it was no match for his rough thrust forward, the tip of him popping inside and stretching you painfully.  You bit your lip but it was impossible to stay quiet when he slid the rest of the way in.

You cried out as he moaned with satisfaction, already moving so much faster than you could handle (which, to be fair, was a low bar).

"Oh my god," he breathed.  "So fuckin' tight…"

The pain was sharp, and it felt like the base of his cock was impossibly thicker than the rest of him since you whined every time he pushed in.

"Aw, does it hurt baby?  That's my cock ruining your little hole, sweetheart…"

"Stop," you rasped, "please… please stop…"

"Nah, I think you like it… I think what you really needed was just to be put in your place, fucked in every hole so you know exactly what you're meant for."

Bucky appeared in front of you again, stroking himself in front of your face, still slick from behind inside you.

"See what a mess you made on my cock, dollface?  I think you need to help me clean it up," he groaned, holding your jaw open to stuff his cock into your mouth and stifle your sobs.  The taste of your and his come was potent and musky on your tongue, his head pushing right into your open throat when you tried to gag.

Steve held you tighter as he thrusted a bit more vigorously, Bucky simultaneously using your throat as he stroked your hair and cheek.  

You couldn’t remember how to do anything but just take it now.  At times their paces synchronized and you felt like you were being filled to the brim at both ends.  Other times they were in a syncopation where one pushed in just as the other pulled out, meaning you had no real breaks at all.

Bucky was too weak to come again, that much was obvious, but he was happy to choke you anyways; and Steve, well, Steve was moaning more now than he had from your mouth or pussy, apparently trying to hold himself back even though he had no reason to try to prolong this— unless he actually wanted to see you in pain more than he wanted to finish?

“You want me to come in your ass?” Steve interrogated you with a spank to your thigh.  “Beg for it.”

You shook your head around the length in your mouth.

“It doesn’t stop until you beg me for it, isn’t that what you want?  You want it to stop, right?”

Had you really fallen into his trap that easily?  

Bucky pulled back to give you the opportunity to meet Steve’s request, and you sucked in a lungful of air before finally whimpering: “Please, Steve… please come…”

“Where?” he pressed, ever-determined to make you remind him where he was fucking you.

“Please come in my ass…”

“If you say so, sweetheart,” he snickered before starting to thrust faster and more erratically, chasing his peak which you prayed was close.  It was, thankfully, though never close enough, and you forgot that the swell of his pulsating cock would stretch your tired hole even wider.

And, you forgot that he had no reason to pull out just because he’d come.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “that was good.”

You tried to kick him away but it was impossible with how hard he’d pinned you down to the log.

“Just stay still and keep my cock warm in this pretty ass of yours, alright?” he instructed, all the while Bucky stared down at you with a satisfied smirk on his face, combing your hair a bit with his fingers.

“You’re tired, huh?” he noticed.  “We’ll get you to bed soon.”

“Will you leave?” you instantly returned.

“We need somewhere to make camp for the night, too.  And since there’s already a perfectly good camp right here…”

“No,” you whined, “no, you’re never gonna leave me alone, are you?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, alright?” he offered.

//

It was truly a testament to how physically exhausted you were that you managed to fall asleep squished between your two personal monsters.

Bucky was behind you, essentially spooning you while Steve had an arm draped over your chest.  And even with the heavy weight on you, physical and metaphysical, you would’ve slept through the night easily if it weren’t for the feeling of Steve running his hands over your body, groping you wherever he could reach.

You opened your eyes but it was still pitch darkness, giving you no distraction from the physical sensations of Steve's fingers delicately grazing over your skin.  Behind you, the quiet stability of Bucky’s breathing made it clear he was still asleep and unaware.

“Steve,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Shh,” he soothed below his breath, right by your ear.  “He sleeps like a rock, we’re not gonna wake him up with a little fooling around.”  

Amazingly enough, that wasn’t exactly what you were worried about.  But you discontinued your dissent as he lightly suckled the lobe of your ear, fingers tracing abstract shapes over your hip.  You heard your own breath catch, and he must have too because he smiled and nibbled on your neck.

You shivered when he started to pull you closer, laying you back to reach between your legs and toy with your overly-sensitive folds.  His fingers found your clit and rubbed it in slow circles, making you writhe and jolt as shocks of pleasure shot through you.

“So sensitive,” he praised darkly, pushing against you harder.  “Gettin’ wet, honey?  Want you dripping before I put my cock in you.”

Bucky stirred beside you, pulling you closer in his sleep though Steve kept a strong hold on your lower half.  It was nearly claustrophobic being sandwiched between them like this, made even worse when Steve adjusted your hips and you felt his cock rub against you.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered in your ear, cradling your face in his large, rough hands.

“I— I want it,” you whispered back, biting your lip to stay quiet when he pushed in.  You were still sore, but the wetness helped ease his way as he filled you to the brim, groaning softly and thrusting much more gently than you expected.  It was all very relaxed, and languid, and… sleepy.  It was so much easier to pretend that you wanted this when it was gentle and patient like this, when you couldn’t see his face

“You two got started without me?” Bucky interjected, making you both gasp.   

"You seemed pretty busy snoring over there," Steve explained with an unamused tone.  “You know, Barnes, I actually broke out of prison so I wouldn’t have to sleep in the same room as you for the rest of my life.”

“Leave if you want, Rogers, I’ll keep the girl and you can take her battery radio, ya limpdick.”

“Limpdick?  Were you not here for the past twenty-four hours?” 

“Yeah, I was fucking this sweet little thing while you were out there by the fire doing your arts and crafts.”

And just like that, your sweet and gentle sex was gone; Steve was determined to claim you now, fucking you harder and faster until you couldn’t hold back your broken moans.  "Yeah, you like that?" he growled against your ear.  "You like gettin' fucked?  Say it."

"Y-yes, I like it," you gasped.

"We're gonna be on the run for a while…" Bucky mumbled against your skin as he kissed your shoulder, "sure wouldn't mind takin' you with us, keeping our own little pet to fuck whenever we want."

You tried not to stop breathing entirely when he said that, distracted by Steve slowing down slightly, offering some reprieve.

"Been so long without touchin' a woman," Steve added huskily, "I don't know if one day is enough."

"Yeah, plus we've already got you obedient, trained, fucked braindead and full of come," Bucky replied, biting down on your skin to make you whimper and he chuckled happily.

"Are you sure you can share, Barnes?" Steve pressed.  "I know if you had it your way she'd be ripped to shreds by now."

"Whatever man, you're the one who tore her ass up."

Steve scoffed slightly, while Bucky continued.

"You wanna come with us sweetheart?  We'll be real good to you, keep your holes wet and full for a couple months straight at least.  You won't have to worry about a thing, won't have to lift a finger, just keep your legs spread and you'll be peachy."

"Hey, that's what we'll call you: Peach," Steve decided.  "It's perfect, isn't it?  'Cause you're sweet… and soft… and I could just eat you up," he purred.

"Wanna be our girl, Peach?" Bucky prompted.

"No, please…"

You expected anger, you expected them to hurt you, but you didn't expect them to laugh.  "Looks like our sweet little Peach hasn't had a chance to realize how good it's gonna be with us," Steve announced.  

"Yeah, let's show her how much she wants to be our girl," Bucky snickered, holding your hips as Steve started to move inside you again.

Bucky, meanwhile, was grabbing handfuls of your ass and groaning as he rubbed his cock against you.  One finger explored your rim and slowly pushed in.

"Looks like you're still a little loosened up from when Stevie here gave it to you, huh?  He was real mean, wasn't he?"

You nodded, clutching harder into Steve's chest as he fucked you faster.

"Then taking me should be a breeze."

Truly, you had no idea how this was possible.  I'm the dark it all felt like a fever dream, but when Bucky pushed into your available opening while Steve was still fucking you… it was definitely real, the feeling was too overwhelming not to be.

'A breeze' was definitely an exaggeration but it was undeniably easier, especially since being half-asleep made your body so much more relaxed.  You still hissed when Bucky's hips met your ass, you still choked on a breath at the feeling of two cocks buried all the way inside you, but it wasn't from pain as much as being full beyond your wildest dreams

"You were right about this ass, Rogers, goddamn…" Bucky moaned, holding your hips tight and beginning to thrust.

"Fuck, can hardly believe you're takin' both of us," Steve sighed against your ear.  "I know you love it, Peach, I know you love bein' so full…"

Your lips fumbled with the desire to moan a name but not sure whose to say; so instead you just babbled mindlessly, sounded just as dumbfounded as you felt.

But they weren't having any problems speaking, in fact they were more talkative than ever, each whispering in a different ear and making shivers crawl up your spine with every word.

"You're making us feel so good, such a good girl, aren't you Peachy baby?"

"Such a perfect fucking whore, so wet already just from being used."

"Want us to come inside, huh Peach?  Wanna be full of come?”

Each time you arched your back, it only somehow pushed them both deeper, so deep you couldn’t think about anything else anymore.  Bucky was moving at a much slower pace than Steve, such that they would only occasionally thrust all the way in at exactly the same time— and when they did, you heard yourself moan but refused to believe it was you making the sound because it sounded nothing like you, it didn’t even seem like something you would do; enjoying this that much, that is.

“You’re close, huh?  Gonna come for both of us?”

You found yourself nodding, even though they couldn’t see it, but Bucky must have felt it against his shoulder because he laughed a little, grabbing your face and turning you back to kiss you hungrily.  When he moved his kiss down to the back of your neck, Steve captured your lips instead, less dominating than Bucky’s but no less intense.  The moan that undeniably signalled your orgasm was nearly lost against Steve’s tongue, but they both heard it and began to pump into you faster, keeping you suspended in your pleasure.

Steve lost it first, spilling into you with a choked groan and a tight grip on your arms that was sure to bruise.  Bucky was close behind, panting with each hurried thrust until he finally moaned and filled your ass with ropes of hot come, a sensation you never could’ve imagined, let alone predicted you would experience twice in one day.

Bucky rubbed your thighs while he caught his breath while Steve peppered your face in tender kisses, both of them showering you in affection you had no idea how to handle.

“Whaddaya say, dollface?” Bucky prompted as he kissed just beneath your ear.  “Y’like bein’ our little Peach, don’t you?”

You stammered over a few different responses, none of them very good, until Steve finally instructed you: “say yes.”

“Yes,” you repeated instantly.

“I can tell you do, you soaked my cock real good,” Steve praised with a grin you could feel against your cheek and hear in his gravelly voice.  “We’ll head out in the morning, alright?  Soon we’ll be somewhere where nobody knows who we are, what we’ve done… doesn’t that sound nice, Peach?  A chance to start over?”

A fresh start never hurt anyone, right?

//

Months on the run made the night all blend together, you didn’t even know what state you were in anymore and you couldn’t find the energy to care.

It was definitely harder to hitchhike with three people, and a disturbing amount of truckers offered to take you alone but not your companions— and obviously they would never allow such a thing.  At this point, you were better off with the devils you knew, anyways.  At least with them you knew what to expect.

Specifically, you could expect Steve to be aloof and brooding until he occasionally snapped and became possessive over you again, asserting his dominance over you and Bucky however he could manage— usually by covering your body in his marks and every once in a while by covering your face with his come.  You could expect Bucky to taunt and mock you, cornering you into consenting to his relentless barrage of pleasure and pain, over and over again watching you struggle to maintain your sense of denial and disgust, reminding you that you loved being fucked just how he wanted.

In fact, today was a pretty typical day while the three of you crashed in a motel, Steve staying silent and distant while Bucky kissed his way down your stomach that rose and fell shakily with each breath.

“Bucky, p-please,” you whispered, closing your eyes so you could more easily pretend it wasn’t you begging him for more.

"What's that, Peach?  Want me to lick up your juice?" he grinned.

You shuddered and he chuckled as he knelt down between your legs to give a long, slow lick over your sex.  Your entire body jolted when his rough tongue slid over your swollen clit, so he focused there until your legs were quivering and your head fell back.  

"Mm, so sweet…” he cooed.  “Come getta taste a’this, Steve.”

“I’m busy,” Steve refused, turning the page of his newspaper.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Bucky sighed, standing up straighter and leaving your pussy ignored; you whined a little, but it fell on deaf ears.  “I’d love to see what you’re reading that could possibly be more interesting than this.”

“There’s an article about us,” Steve answered sternly, looking up from the paper to meet Bucky’s gaze, before glancing to look at you.  “All three of us.”

Bucky huffed and stood up, leaving you naked on the bed as he crossed the room to tear the paper from Steve’s hands.  His eyes scanned the page until he landed on the part Steve must have been referring to.  “Holy shit,” he breathed.  “Look, Peach, you made the papers!”

He brought over the article for you to read, and you sat up straighter when you saw that a photo of yourself had been included alongside the mugshots of Steve and Bucky.

Two escaped prisoners, one missing woman, spotted in woods near Schenectady, NY...

“When is this from?” you asked nervously.

“The paper’s from today, but we were in Schenectady two weeks ago,” Steve explained.  “They aren’t anywhere near us.”

It brought back memories of TV broadcasts you’d seen in hotels, radio news Steve had turned off before you heard too much.  Phrases like ‘statewide manhunt,’ ‘federal investigation,’ and ‘trafficked woman,’ which had once been foreign to you, now represented your deepest anxieties.

Bucky saw the fear on your face and knelt down on the bed beside you, stroking your face gently.  “Aw, Peach, don’t be scared… they’re not gonna find us, I promise.”

“If they did… what would happen to me?” you asked weakly.  You truly had no idea if you’d be returned home and treated as the victim of a crime, or if you’d be arrested and charged as a perpetrator, as a collaborator who aided in the escape and continued flee of two violent criminals.  They’d already gotten you in on a few robberies, even one bank— could you defend yourself by saying that you were forced to do it?  

“Nobody’s gonna take you away from us,” Bucky assured sternly, not quite answering your question but making it clear that was all you were gonna get.  You reached up to rest your hand atop his where it held your cheek, letting your watery eyes fall shut before you looked back up into his enrapturing gaze again.

“Kiss me, Bucky, please,” you whispered, making him laugh and shake his head.

“No, Peachy, I would but I know where that mouth has been.  Steve woke you up in the middle of the night to choke on his cock, thought I wouldn’t hear, huh?”

You gasped a little and Steve crossed his arms where he sat in the chair.  Bucky turned his attention back to Steve with a look of challenge on his face.  “She’s scared, Stevie, won’t you come over here and make her feel better?”

Steve sighed but relented and stood up, crossing the room to stand beside the bed and stare down at you.  For a moment you didn’t know what he intended to do, until he knelt down and grabbed your hips, pulled your spread legs closer to the edge of the bed where he latched his lips onto your slick and swollen folds.

“Oh god,” you moaned, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his hair, his tongue pushing inside you right away, twisting and thrusting and licking right over your g-spot until your eyes rolled back in your head and your back arched up off the faded quilt.  Bucky grinned as he watched you, leaning down to kiss your neck, then suckle on a hardened nipple, then lick over your hips until finally he bit down on the inside of your thigh.  You yelped a little and felt him smile against your delicate skin.

“I told you we’d take care of you, babydoll,” he mumbled, voice all deep and throaty like it got when he was about to spend an hour reminding you who you belonged to.

Sometimes you dreamed of the life you had before this, of the person you were when you only belonged to yourself, but that life was gone forever and it wasn’t coming back.  Each day you mourned it in a different way.  At first it was just the loss of dignity, then it was the loss at any chance of gaining that dignity back.  You missed your friends and family, but you realized they wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms after this long.

You realized it was well and truly over the first time a man on the news called you an accomplice to the ‘rampant crime spree’ of Bucky and Steve.  Just a few weeks later, the stories changed from two prisoners and their kidnapping victim, to three prisoners.  And yes, you were a prisoner, but the police didn’t see a difference between you and them anymore.  You had no reason to run, no motive for escape.  They were the only thing keeping you alive and free now, even if this freedom wasn’t exactly overflowing with liberties.

So, you accepted as quickly as you could that this was your new life; every morning you banished the memories of who you used to be, and every night you prayed that your lovers wouldn’t be caught.  And it wasn’t so bad of a life to have, even if it wasn’t the life you would’ve chosen for yourself— there was something nice about it, really, never very calm but still having its moments of peace and domesticity.  Like falling asleep in the backseat of a stolen truck while Steve played blues on the radio.  Like sitting in Bucky’s lap as he told you all about the beautiful tropical islands they’d take you to someday.  Like when Steve robbed a jewelry store and told you he’d picked that one because they had the ring he’d seen in a magazine ad, the ring he decided he wanted you to wear from now on.  Like being Mrs. Barnes when Bucky introduced you to his criminal connections, and being Mrs. Rogers when Steve did the same the next night.

Maybe you’d forgotten how to be anything else but their sweet, quiet, obedient Peach, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad wrap after all.

[oonajaeadira]

If You Will Let My Heaven Touch Your Stars (Ezra x f!reader)

Rating: Mature. 

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: FLUFFY SMUT. INSPIRED BY THIS. Non-explicit oral (m and f receiving). Formatting may be strange in certain Tumblr themes due to paragraph spacing with the poetry.

A/N: Okay, y’all. I was looking for another reason to write some Ezra. I got inspired by this naughty confessional post and felt the need to rise to the challenge, but make it a bit soft. You know I’m allergic to writing physical doings without some emotional yearnings. So it has come to this. And I’m not sorry.

Summary: Ezra runs his mouth over some poetry. You run your mouth over some Ezra.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

_______________________________

You know that sigh. It will be shortly followed by a gravelly, dissatisfied “hm.”

“Hm.” 

Next will come the impatient flipping of pages as Ezra learns that the book he’s chosen from the stack he got in trade on the Pug is…”less than literary and more than malignant.”

“What’cha reading, Ez.” The main node on the electropulse generator blew during the last harvest and you’ve been doing your best to repair it for the better part of the scaling period. Better to keep eyes on the electrics than let them wander over to his bedroll where he’s stripped to his skivvies, propped up against a crate, reading.

The rotation of Ranakh-4 is almost sixty hours, and in the north hemisphere there’s always light. Should be perfect for prospectors to take shifts and get things done, but instead, it creates a scaling period--a good fifteen-hour window of intense heat and sunlight that’s too dangerous to be exposed to for long, causing lots of nasty side effects. Including skin scaling. Hence the name. So during that period you and Ezra hide in the cooled tent, sleeping, polishing gems, maintaining equipment, wasting time, and generally trying not to annoy each other too much.

That’s a joke between you. In the years you’ve known him, Ez has yet to get under your skin. Ezra’s usually up for a game of dice or five-stand during scaling period, and if you’ve got gear to clean or inventory to count, he’s good for a story. Or ten.

But after the third rotation he stopped playing games of chance with you and his stories got gradually less... crusty. He still had a lot to say, but he stuck mostly to mining anecdotes, weaving around salacious details and editing himself in the moment.

And you’re pretty sure you know why.

This isn’t the first posting you’ve had with Ezra.

There was the assignment on Phintreas. The job on TG-19. The second assignment on Phintreas--that one it was just the two of you. Just like this one. 

There was a moment near the end of that run when you took a break from digging to stretch, arching your back in the dappled sunlight and pulling your arms up and back toward the thick foliage tops. There were singing insectoid creatures on Phintreas and you’d dropped your wrists to your head to listen to their song a little, closing your eyes and hearing in their hum the chords of a song you used to love.

It was just a few seconds, the warm air on your bare shoulders, the long thin trees--actually large grass--rising and swaying above. A pleasant stretch in your lower back. But there was something off. Your ears were full of insect song but there was something missing. 

The sound of Ezra’s digging had stopped.

You turned to find him taking a break, leaning on his shovel, jumpsuit open and pulled down to a knot at his waist like yours. Dirt-streaked arms and undershirt, looking at you, staring with sad eyes, the long slopes of his mustache running into his patchy beard making him look like he was pouting more than he was. Probably. Totally lost in thought, his eyes slid down your torso. When he woke to the fact that you caught him using you as a backdrop for reverie, he didn’t even have the balls to be embarrassed. Just realigned his focus on his shovel and went back to digging, the veins straining out on his big hands.

“You okay, Ez?”

“As well as one can be, sweetheart. I feel we’re close. It is a fine day full of wonderments.”

You’d thought about that look in the days afterward. Didn’t really know what it meant for you. Until the final sleep cycle on that grass planet, the wind traveling through the fields making the grasses sing hollow and low in the night. 

“What’cha reading, Ez?” You’d come to learn that it was a magic question, one that not only got you an explanation, but perhaps a chapter or two in his baritone twang.

And that night, as you packed your final bag, he swung the spine around to read out, “Papas Cordel, Love Verses.”

He didn’t ask you if you wanted to hear any. He just started to read.

Softly. Slowly. The words were innocuous on their own but their combination was sinful, his voice melting at the back of your brain, lifting the fine hairs of your neck, slithering down your spine before making an orbit to press upon your core and vibrate there. 

He never said goodnight. Just read you a few poems full of worship and yearning in that sonorous voice of his, then rolled over and went to sleep. It left you in a panic, trying to control your breathing, in full understanding of what that look from a few days ago had really meant.

And for the duration of your next couple of jobs you spent some time in regret, wishing you’d decoded your feelings sooner or that he’d made his own clearer. You’d vowed that if you ever had the chance to go back and live that night again you wouldn’t hesitate to….what? To do what? You never got that far. Didn’t matter. Time doesn’t go backwards. After a while, it was easy enough to convince yourself that you’d just read too much into it, that you didn’t really feel anything and neither did Ez. He had just been tired and staring into space that day. And he’d just been aesthetically moved by the song of the grasses in the night wind. It was a trick of the light, and the more you rationalized it, the further the memory slipped into the realm of silly fantasy.

So when this assignment came, you’d had time enough to leave the fantasy behind and met Ezra as you always had--as a friend and a damn talented prospector you were happy to dig with. The man always got his haul and getting paired with him always meant profit.

It only took one scaling period to make you realize you were lying to yourself. 

Scaling period means getting somewhere shaded and cooled and making yourself as comfortable as possible. Which means stripping down to essentials. All those dice games trying not to look at Ezra’s broad, bared chest, looking up from a hand of cards to find his eyes quickly darting away from you…. By the third rotation you’d noticed that neither of you could make eye contact with the other anymore and after that, Ezra generally spent his downtime during scaling periods laying on his bedroll in his skivvs, reading one of the dozen books he’d scavenged back on the station.

You weren’t sure if you were flattered or embarrassed or even injured that he wouldn’t move on whatever he was tense about. But, ultimately, this arrangement was easier.

Or so you lied to yourself.

A “what’cha reading, Ez” got you a few chapters of an old time-travel adventure or a philosophical treatise on the life of some forgotten pioneer while you mended a garment or recounted the supply of viable drill bits or tried to fix the damn faulty electropulse generator for the millionth time. Something rollicking and full of resonance to keep your ears busy and your mind distracted while you focused your eyes on anything but Ezra’s bronze skin and sable eyes and full lips and big hands and thick thighs and--

This time he clicks his tongue and runs a hand through his hair, humming a high note in a kind of frustrated laugh. “I won’t devastate your ears on this one, sweetheart. Not much of interest here but some poor soul ruttin’ and scraping for talent that eludes them. How this found its way into a thing to be bought and sold I will never understand.”

And yet, he keeps reading. Silently.

After a few minutes and another wire successfully cleaned and reconnected, you repeat yourself, taunting him.

“What’cha reading, Ez.”

“Mm.” He just flips through a few more pages, refusing to answer.

“Hey.” You chuckle into your work. “What’cha reading.” 

You hear a huge intake of breath before a hold and a forced release.

“Wow,” you laugh. “Fine. Don’t waste breath on it. Just tell me which one it is so I can avoid it later.”

“Love and other Stars by Aeon Aido Raja.”

“I see. What’s it about?”

“Sadly, it is about a poet who cannot seem to make the match between words and sentiment; a volume of supposed amorous verse.”

“Amorous verse,” your hands stop working on their own. “Love...poetry?” There’s a sudden flashback to the sound of hollow reeds and soothing verses in the night. The words are a program in your brain, overwriting your inhibition and professionalism, pushing you to a deeply-coded goal to calm the flutter in your chest.

“So it claims. Although I fear it lacks full understanding of both--” His voice cuts out as he realizes you’ve stood and you’re moving toward him and his wide eyes lock to yours as you sit beside him on the bedroll. “Now what has gotten into you, sweetheart?”

You know exactly what’s gotten into you. The triggered wish of returning to that night, the built-up tension of dancing around each other in your underwear, trying to deny what’s going on, watching him purposefully respect you when you know he feels something, when he knows you do too--

What was it you were going to do if you had a chance to go back to that last night on the grass planet? Time to find out.

“Read to me.”

Ezra hesitates, unsure. “This?”

“Read it.”

His eyes flick down to follow the quick fold of your lips as you wet them with your tongue, unconsciously mimicking you, before fumbling his gaze back to the book and, with a regretful sigh, begins.

“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--

“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

When he looks for your reaction, you’re not sure if he’s pleading with you for permission to stop or continue.

Shit. He’s right. It isn’t great. But you’re here now, you’re going to make the most of it.

“That’s not...so bad.” And then you find out what you would have done that night--or at least how you’d start--by showing him your raised palm, lowering it slowly toward him. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Your hand travels down through the air, just to the inch above his skivvs, waiting a moment in the aura of radiated heat there, before settling lightly over him. He never says no, never takes his eyes from yours, the only reaction coming from a small lift in his chest, the corner of his mouth curling just a fraction, and the fabric beneath your hand quickly becoming the only thing there to qualify as soft.

“Sweetheart, what you’re beginning here--”

“The only words I want from you are that poem. I want to hear you read. You stop, I stop.”

The heat hangs heavy between you, burns beneath your hand. And with a huffed exhale, Ezra starts again.

“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--

“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

Supporting him from underneath, you’ve begun running your thumb up and down him, and his breath hitches, bringing him to a stop. So you stop.

“You stop, I stop, Ez.”

“Believe me, gentle one, I do not wish the impediment of your affections--”

“Then don’t stop.”

In a beautiful panic, Ezra looks back to the poem. “You sure you want this one?”

You nod. “I don’t care how good it is. That’s the poem I want. Keep going. I've always liked your voice. I know you can make it pretty.”

He stares at the page a moment, and you push him--literally--gasping into a start.

“If ever I could tell you When my heaven touched your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”

You stop palming him when he stops to breathe, and it’s only when you trace his waistband with your fingertips that he swallows and continues, willing you to keep going--

“Waking in the night to the aching void of your embrace-- Can you forgive me if I plead your name? If I summon you to my body from wherever you are?”

Whether it’s the want in his voice or just getting further into the words, the poem is already getting better. His eyebrows begin to push together and arch, as you stretch the top of his underwear down, wrapping your hand around him. His words start riding the occasional groan which just resonate with you more and you rock yourself against the bedroll in time with your gentle, yearning pulls--

“You hold me adroitly With accurate proximity To keep your breath and my breath Two founts and one pool. To swim a in star-reflective stream of our holy recreation--”

He’s doing so well, the words wandering out deep and breathy, so beautifully controlled...until you lower your mouth to him.

Then there’s a strangled staccato grunt as he adjusts, takes a couple of quick breaths and continues--

“But your body is a.....wildfire Your lips a destruction And I give my everything over to your….cleansing devastation.”

Oh, his struggle is glorious. You can feel him trying not to buck, needing to blow out a breath between pursed lips here and there to concentrate on the print. He reads with intent, leaning into context and feeling, making a gift to you of every word.

“I have yearned for you to find me worthy of a spark An ignition... The rebirth of your combustible attentions.”

He pauses again to breathe, and while you allow him a small reprieve, he’s stopped a little too long and you abruptly halt. When you pull back to look up in reprimand, he gives you a soft smile through his panting, shaking his head in wonder. You know he’ll have plenty of praises when this is over, but he doesn’t seem to want to break the spell to say them now. When you return his little smile, he looks back to the page and continues, prompting you to return to your own administrations.

“How you draw from me each sweet effusion-- Every secret vein untapped-- Now yours in expert execution, Now open to your burning maw.”

He pushes through the poetry rather than into you, allowing you to hear him and match him. Your body begins to counter-react as you feel him brimming, turning on more need in you than you’ve felt in a while, and you show him just how well he’s doing by doing well by him. 

There’s a shift in his voice as more breath enters in and nonverbal noises begin to punctuate the words; a shift in his body as his fingers tangle in your hair and grip tightly, suggesting a final rhythm-- 

“But within the fire An aperture of...divine precipitation Where those of us who live untouched Can go to drown To die To howl…..! To see the blessed face of eternity Or the….busting open….of a thousand….wretched….stars-- You-call-me-to-sinful-prayer You-invoke-my-abject-soul I find myself in debt…!...and thrall…!... to your superior…!...divinity--”

When he stops reading this round, you show mercy as he pounds his fist into the bedroll and makes his own additions to the poem, exclamations made up of your name and curses and calls to higher powers. You can only expect a man to expel from himself wondrously one method at a time, and Ezra’s earned his reward so beautifully.

Damn his opinion. The poem was perfect. You chose correctly. Either that, or Ez’s tongue really can spin any old refuse into gold.

But the book is still held high, and as you lift from him and guide him through his aftershocks with your hand, he breathes heavy though the final verse--

“This is how I love you from afar With agony and forlorn words While you hover forever in my purview A shaft of dazzling incandescence Shining down from your sun/star Through the glass of my desire Starts and restarts an everlasting blaze”

Then, setting the book reverently on the bedroll, he takes your face in his hands, dragging his thumbs across your lips, no longer needing the page for the last lines.

“If ever I could tell you And if you will let my heaven touch your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”

Ezra’s kiss is achingly grateful. He tries to put into one kiss the loving equivalent of everything you’ve just done for him.

When he pulls back, he gives you the tiniest rough shake, a punctuation of his playful consternation. “Mmm,” he grunts. “While I am glad to know you find my recitals pleasing, you’re about to find out that my talent for oral ministrations do not stop at mere recitation.” With a miner’s strong arms he flips you over him onto the bedroll, making short work of your underwear and pinning your legs around his shoulders in a matter of seconds. “Now, I will not be so cruel as to make you put words to my reciprocation, unless you’d like to fill the silence to direct me to your will. Or say what you please. I will not be able to add to the conversation as I will be otherwise occupied.”

You don’t know if it’s years of running his mouth or wagging his tongue or yapping his jaw, but he’s well practiced in using allllll the muscles therein to help finish what poetry couldn’t quite accomplish.

At one point you think of surprising him and trying your own hand at reading while being entertained. But when you fumble for the book, it opens to the same poem.

But not the same poem.

The opening lines are there: “I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--Walking through the light of a moon in decline--Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

And that’s it.

That’s where it ends. The whole published poem--a mere seven lines.

Oh, Kevva. That’s...that means….

Damn, Ezra. The mouth on you.

The book drops to the bedroll.

And you break into pieces as his heaven masterfully consumes your stars.

________________

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[duskholland]

The Box || Tom Holland

summary ↠ you feel a mysterious object in tom’s pocket... word count ↠ 4.2k. warnings ↠ mildly suggestive, but this is just some very easy domestic fluff :’) a/n ↠ this is a rewrite of a fic I wrote back in 2018! I sat down just to edit it, but I ended up adding 2.5k and changing most of it. lmao. it’s very cute though. very gentle. I was in a proper state after watching cherry, and working on this soothed my soul <3 hope you like it!

if you want to read the original version of this fic, you can find the link for it here <3

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wake up to an empty bed and immediately get the suspicion that something is amiss. The sheets are pulled down, the duvet crumpled, and the mattress cool. As you draw your tired fingers over the space beside you, a soft pout finds your lips.

Tom’s away so often that he rarely skips out on the opportunity to cuddle you in the morning, and if he does, he’s always attentive in the way he pulls the duvet to your chin and tucks you in. He knows you hate to be cold, so he’d never usually jump out of bed so recklessly, leaving behind his uncovered side and your leg sticking out the duvet.

Perplexed, you yawn as you sit up. A quick glance at your phone confirms that it’s still early, and you find your confusion about your boyfriend’s disappearance quickly turning into concern. With a furrow to your brow, you slowly get out of bed, groaning softly as your tired limbs stretch and click. There’s an ache between your legs that makes you bite your lip, memories of the night before flittering through your mind like polaroids. You see flashes of a rose-tinted Tom, kissing up your thighs, panting into your shoulder, moaning sweet words of praise against your lips. He’d made you dinner, then laid you down, and you’d felt like the only person in the world as he’d cupped your cheeks and shown how much he loved you.

After pulling on a pair of leggings and a jumper, you find your curious feet taking you off in the direction of the living room. You hear Tom before you see him—the sounds of socks dragging over plush carpet filling the air. He’s pacing, half-naked, thick arms crossed over his bare chest as a few fingers stroke his chin. He’s in a thick pair of fuzzy purple socks, and rounding off the ensemble are some simple grey sweats.

When your boyfriend reaches the other side of the living room, he pivots and starts to walk back towards you, gaze vacant and fixed on the floor. There’s a tenseness to his jaw that you haven’t seen in a while, the valley between his brows pronounced and deep. Stress is obvious in every single part of his person, and it makes you so concerned that you decide to shatter his reverie.

With a gentle clear of your throat, you step forwards.

“Tom?” you say, voice soft. Your eyes widen as he startles, head snapping up, loose brown curls springing through the air. “Baby, are you okay?”

He blinks at you for a few moments, seeming to shake off the daydream as his lips pull into an instinctive smile. When he meets your eyes, the nerves on Tom’s face start to melt. He gives you a tight nod as he walks towards you, folding into your outstretched arms and immediately burying his face in the crook of your neck.  

“I’m fine,” he vibrates, voice dark and husky like it always is in the morning. “Are you?”

You cup the back of his head with your palm, dragging your fingers through his curls in a way that soothes him. He’s so warm, his arms strong as they wind around your waist and hold you in a tight hug. Your heart beats a little faster at his question. He’s always been so attentive, even in times like these where it’s clear that he’s significantly worse off than you.

“I’m okay,” you respond. You press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he releases a quiet sound of approval, snuggling closer. “You weren’t there when I woke up.” You pause for a few moments, hesitating. “Is something wrong? Is this about last night?”

You know that Tom loves you. He shows you every single day that he adores you. He leaves your special mug out by the kettle, brings home your favourite snacks from the shops, does your dreaded household tasks unprompted. He looks after you when you’re ill, has all the names of your extended family memorised, and always does his best to coax a smile onto your face. His love for you is as obvious as the stars that twinkle in the sky.

Yet, he left you alone, and he’s stressed, and even as you’re voicing your concerns, you can feel him tug himself free from your embrace. It’s hard not to focus on the loosening of his arms and think about his odd behaviour from the last few days. Tom’s been on his phone more, acting scatter-brained and nervous. You don’t doubt his love, but with his life as hectic as it is, you worry about him.

“Last night?” Tom says. He pulls back, warm hands falling to your waist as he peers at you, shaking his head. “Darling.” He frowns. “Last night was amazing.” His lips pull into a slight smirk as he squeezes your hips, eyes glinting a shade darker. “I had fun. Didn’t you?”

You press a light kiss to his cheek, shifting both of your hands to cup his face. His skin is so soft beneath your fingertips. “I had a nice time,” you agree, pushing back the memories before you can get too lost in them. “You’ve been stressed recently,” you observe, treading gently. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

Tom closes his eyes, inhaling a quick breath. “Yeah... I know. I… Yeah. I’m fine.”

You play with a few strands of his hair, trying not to frown too much. “Are you sure?”

He pries open an eye, the honeyed hues of brown bringing you a sense of comfort. “I’m a little stressed at the moment. I have to do something today, and I… I’ve been thinking about it a lot, love… A lot.” He breaks into a breathless chuckle, swallowing nervously. “It’ll be fine. I know it will, but I… I can’t stop thinking about it.” Tom’s gaze shadows a little, and he swallows. “You do… You do love me, don’t you?”

“You have to know how much of a silly question that is.”

Tom bites at his lip as he sheepishly averts his gaze. “Yeah…” He’s sly as he gently pushes forwards to kiss your cheek. “‘Know you really loved me last night,” he rasps into your ear.

You roll your eyes, but you’re glad to see there’s some colour coming back to his cheeks. “What are you doing that’s got you so nervous?”

“Oh… Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Tom looks a little perkier now as he glances at you. “Nothing,” he repeats. “Well, a secret,” he clarifies. “I can’t tell you yet.”

Immediately you pout. “But why?” you whine, pulling your hands away from his face. “You can’t say all that and then not tell me what you’re doing.”

“Yes, I can.” He grins as he steps back, only leaving you once he’s kissed your lips. He hesitates for a moment before adding, “I love you. So much, darling.”

“I know,” you respond, tilting your head to the side as you look at him curiously. “I love you too.”

“Good. Good…” Tom steps back, briefly glancing behind you to the living room wall. His eyes widen as he looks at the clock. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I need to go.”

Tom runs away before you have a chance to catch him, stumbling back into the bedroom as he mutters something about finding some clothes. You decide to leave him to it, a yawn reminding you of how early it still is. You wonder for a moment why he hadn’t mentioned he had an early call time last night, but he’s been so all over the place recently that it doesn’t surprise you.

As you wait for Tom to re-emerge, you walk over into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle. You can hear him whistling to himself through all the open doors, and the melody mixes with the sound of your teaspoon bumping against the ceramic of your mug. It’s your favourite one—Tom had brought it back from Paris for you.

You’ve just settled at the kitchen table when Tom bursts back into the room, properly clothed and considerably more at ease. His hair is a little wild, but he’s in a pair of jeans and a lilac hoodie, and he wears his smile with confidence.

“Did I tell you that you look gorgeous this morning, darling?” Tom murmurs. He springs across to you, grabbing his keys from the bowl on the counter as he goes. When he reaches you, he tightly cups your cheeks and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Because you are, y’know? The most beautiful woman in the world.”

You chuckle as you sit back in your chair, cheeks aching from your dopey smile. “Thank you,” you respond. “You’re looking very handsome yourself.”

Tom pulls on his jacket and then reaches down, stealing your mug of tea and taking a long sip before you have time to warn him about how hot it still is. You watch as he splutters, cheeks burning red as he releases a yelp of pain.

“Fucking hell!” he yells, cursing a little more as he puts the mug back down. Tom sticks out his tongue, tenderly reaching up to poke at the tip as he winces. “Ow,” he whines, the word garbled around his open mouth. “It hurts.”

He looks very sweet standing there, and for a moment, you wonder how it’s possible to love someone so much. Your affections smother your chest, and you almost choke up as you’re briefly overcome with a sensation of utter adoration. It’s so intense that it almost hurts, but it aches in the most wonderful way.

You stand quickly and press a soft kiss to the tip of Tom’s tongue. He smiles and retracts it, chasing after your lips until he’s able to kiss you.

“It’s Harrison’s birthday party tonight,” Tom says as he steps back, shoving his phone into his pocket. “I’ll be back from set at 9, then we can go. Is that still okay?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you reply. “Have a good day doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

He smirks elusively, then presses a final peck to your cheek before turning towards the porch. “Bye!” Tom pauses in the doorway to look back and send you a few air kisses, and you pucker your lips and send a couple back. The front door closes with a gentle click, and your smile lingers on.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You think about Tom’s behaviour all day, flipping between confusion and adoration as easily as the wind changes its mind. When 5pm rolls around, you find your way back home, and you spend a few hours milling around before you get ready for the event.

With your dress on and your bag slung over your shoulder, you wait in the porch for Tom to pull up, scrolling through your phone with a crease between your brows. Time is ticking, and with every second your boyfriend fails to show, the nearer you get to being late for the party.

When there’s a bright burst of light and the crunching of gravel, you glance up to see Tom’s headlights douse the driveway to your house. You’re surprised when he clambers from the car instead of jauntily honking the horn as he’s taken such an irritating liking to doing. You watch him mess around with his jeans before hurrying along the front path, pushing open the front door a moment later and startling when he sees you waiting.

“Oh!” he exclaims wide-eyed. His hand drifts down to rest over the left pocket of his jeans. “You’re here?”

You pull a face. “Yes? Hello to you too.”

Tom grunts as he moves forward to kiss you hastily, jumping back when you try to pull at his waist and bring him nearer. As you’re left baffled by his behaviour again, he seems to swallow down a lump in his throat.

“Hi,” he corrects, smiling nervously. “I, uh… I’m going to go and change.”

You wince. “We don’t have time,” you point out, reaching out to gently tug on his sleeve. You turn around, reaching back to pluck one of Tom’s stylish jackets from a peg. You offer it to him with a smile. “Try this,” you suggest. “We really need to go, though, Tom. Haz won’t let us live it down if we’re late to another one of his parties.”

Tom hesitates. You watch as he digs his hand into his left pocket, clucking his tongue. “I… Yeah. Okay. You’re right.” His eyes flutter back to the main body of your house, but his reluctance fades when you nod and peck him on the cheek. He easily pulls off his hoodie before replacing it with the jacket, the red of the smart coat complementing his black t-shirt.

“C’mon,” you urge. “Do you want me to drive?”

He begrudgingly follows you out of the house, locking up behind you both before slipping into the passenger seat. As you navigate the roads, Tom keeps you company, nurturing a constant dialogue as he chats to you. He avoids all of your questions about his day and his mysterious engagement, redirecting everything you say into a comment about you and your activities. It’s cute how much he cares, but you get a distinct feeling that he’s trying to distract you.

Harrison’s birthday party is being held in a bar in central London, and you find him easily amongst the throes of people. Tom’s holding onto your hand, standing back, quieter, as you pass over your gift to his best friend with a smile on your face.

“Happy birthday, Haz!” you exclaim, beaming at the man. Harrison kisses your cheek as he grins, cheeks flushed from the booze and warm atmosphere. When Tom is noticeably quiet beside you, you squeeze his hand and glance back at him, raising a brow.

“Oh,” Tom mutters, blinking a few times. “Sorry,” he adds. “Happy birthday, Harrison.”

Harrison rolls his eyes. “‘S alright, mate. You already passed on your congratulations earlier. Thanks, though.”

Your friend is pulled away by his sister a few moments later, leaving you with a confused furrow to your brow. You turn around to look at Tom, tilting your head to the side.

“Wait, when did you see Harrison?” you ask. “Weren’t you at work today?”

Tom reels you in by the hands, knocking his lips up against yours and disrupting your words. “Doesn’t matter,” he soothes, rolling his fingers gently across the sides of your face. “Let’s just have a good party, yeah?”

You melt into him with ease. “Okay,” you agree. His lips are warm and seductive as he kisses you again, deeper, harder, stronger.

Something is in the air. As a pair, you make a few rounds of the party, but somehow, you always end up huddled in a back corner together. As the alcohol flows and your friends around you get less and less observant, it happens more often. It isn’t long until Tom’s tugging you down onto a secluded armchair in the corner of the artsy bar. Your lips find home in his, slotting together as they always do.

As you shift in his lap, part of you feels guilty for blowing off Harrison’s birthday, but another part—a darker, hungrier part—demands you stay exactly where you are. You’re awfully comfortable with Tom’s hands on your hips and your legs spread over his thighs, content with the shadowy lighting leaving you secluded from the rest of them.

“Oh god,” Tom moans, speaking against your lips as he kisses you between laboured breaths. “Fuckin’ perfect woman, eh?”

You suck on his lower lip, smirking as you feel him whine. He discreetly grinds up into you, and you bite back a whimper. “Tom,” you whisper. You move your mouth to his ear, stroking your fingers through his curls as you brush your lips over his tender skin. “We shouldn’t do this here. We can’t go home just yet.”

He groans, head dropping down to your collarbones. When you expect him to agree and help you up, Tom instead seems to decide that his time would be better spent marking up your neck. Your pulse roars through your ears as he takes time licking and sucking and biting your skin, stretching from the base of your neck all the way up, up, up, soft lips suckling below your ear. By the time he reaches your face, you’re squirming, heat pounding in your body as desire replaces any wish to stay at the party.

“We should just go home,” Tom pants, lips red and inflamed. Your fingers drag over them until he uses his tongue to lick over the pad of your thumb. “I can’t take being here.” His voice drops down to a low grumble as he shifts in the chair, “‘m so hard, sweetheart.”

Wanting to feel for yourself, you shuffle up his lap, eyebrows furrowing together when instead of feeling his hardness, your knee knocks against something firm lodged where his pocket is. Confusion replaces lust as you tilt your head to the side. “Wait, what’s that?” you muse, unable to believe that his arousal has manifested itself in his jean pocket. Intrigued, you poke the object, pressing harder as your brows furrow.

Tom’s eyes widen. “O-Oh, no, that’s something else.” His hands go down to your waist as he tries to gently push you off his lap. “Just ignore it.”

But your curiosity has been piqued, and before you can stop yourself, you’ve reached up and dug your fingers into his tight jean pocket. It’s dim and dark in your secluded corner, and you find yourself squinting as you bring the small object closer. Too focused on your task to hear Tom’s noises of panic, you pull it up into the air. As the first dredges of realisation wash over you, you’ve got it half-open, and it’s too late to stop yourself.

There is a glistening engagement ring embedded inside the silky black box, glinting magnificently.

Your jaw drops.

A few moments pass in silence, the air between you being filled by the songs coming from the bar. Your thumb wanders absently over the edge of the jewel as you peer at it, heart throbbing in the back of your throat. Guilt twists into you, mixing with your excitement and your shock, and you look up at Tom, tears pooling in your eyes.

He’s looking at you, nerves written all over his face. His teeth are bared, and his eyes are wide with shock, every inch of him seized up and tense. When Tom sees your tearful expression, he blinks a few times, clearing his throat as he tenderly reaches up to cup your face in a hand.

“Darling…” he starts, voice softer than before. He drums his index finger over your temple as he manages a tense smile. “What’s going on up here?”

You open and shut your mouth a few times before finally finding the words.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, voice thick. “I…” You take a breath, looking away. Your mind starts to spin, suddenly kicking back to life as you recover yourself. “Wait… Why have you got this in your pocket? Did… Oh. Did you get this today?”

Everything makes sense. His nerves all week, his pacing this morning. The fact he’d left suspiciously early and met up with Harrison without you. Tom’s conflict when you’d pushed him out the door instead of letting him enter your house and stash the little black box before leaving for the party.

“Yeah,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. His chest is rising and falling quickly, his jaw still tense. “What do you think? Do… Do you like it?”

You nod wordlessly before looking up at him, lower lip wobbling. “I ruined it,” you lament. You fall forward, groaning as you rest your forehead on Tom’s shoulder. He chuckles, dusting the top of your head with light kisses as he hums.

“You didn’t,” he assures you. “I’m just a twat and didn’t hide it properly.” He falls silent for a few moments, warm hands wandering your back. “Y/N, darling… You… You would want to get married though, yeah?” His voice is light and high-pitched and full of so much uncertainty it makes you bolt upright.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. You balance the box between you and reach up to take his face in your hands, admiring his handsome features with your fingers. “I would love to marry you,” you whisper. You feel yourself well with emotions again, but you let them build. You don’t mind if he sees you vulnerable.  

Tom releases a deep breath, his own face twitching as relief ripples across his eyes in the form of light tears. He leans closer and kisses you very gently, his mouth soft and tender as if he’s savouring it. When Tom pulls away, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, the tip of his nose cool against yours.

“I love you so much,” he says slowly. “Every day, I wake up beside you, and I wonder what I did right to deserve being loved by someone as wonderful as you. I hate being away from you, and I think about you all the time.” Tom cracks a soft smile, his voice quivering. With trembling fingers, he reaches between you both and picks the box from between you both.

You gasp softly as he pulls back, squeezing your hip softly before holding the box out in front of you. The diamonds sparkle, blurred by your tears.

“Y/N… I didn’t plan to do this tonight, and I know this is sudden, and I know you deserve a proposal a thousand times more romantic than… than at Harrison’s fucking party, but I can’t wait another moment.” He swallows as he pulls the ring from the bed of silk. Tom’s gaze is unwavering as he looks back to you, speaking passionately. “There’s nothing else I want in life apart from you. I promise that I will love you for the rest of my life, darling, if only you’ll let me. So…” Tom’s lips pull into a small smile. “Would you do me the honour of marrying me?”

The world stops, and everything fades until it’s just you and Tom and the ring held between you. Without hesitation, you nod your head, two stray tears dripping down your face.

“Tom… You could ask me to marry you anywhere, and I’d say the same thing.” Your heart pounds in your ears. “Yes. I would love to be your wife.”

Tom releases a strangled sound of relief, and you both look down as he hurries to push the ring down your finger. It’s cool against your skin, but before looking at it, you find yourself leaning in to kiss him. Both of you are smiling, and you think he’s crying too. His hand shakes as he holds yours, and when you pull away to admire the ring, Tom loops both arms around your waist.

“It’s so pretty,” you muse. You roll your thumb across the glittering gem. You feel so warm inside your chest. “Did you pick this out yourself?”

Tom makes a noise of disagreement. He cuddles in closer, burying his face in your neck and leaving a few soft kisses to your skin.

“Haz helped, and so did mum. Thought she’d have better ideas than him.” Tom pauses, and you feel him smirk against your neck. “I was right.”

Your heart softens a little at the revelation. “Do you think he’ll be upset that we’ve upstaged him at his party?”

Tom peels back from your neck, pressing his lips to your jaw as he chuckles. “Let’s...maybe not mention it tonight.”

You run your hand through his hair, eyes catching on the way the diamond cascades with shards of light. “Okay,” you agree. You lean closer to kiss the tip of his nose. “Are you sure you’re not mad I ruined this?”

Tom shakes his head. “Absolutely not, love. If anything, this just makes it more special.” He shoots you a toothy grin. “Don’t know what I’ll do with all the stuff I bought to use in the proposal, though.”

You smirk softly. “Well, who says you can’t do two proposals?” you say, intending for it to be a tease, only to widen your eyes when Tom’s entire face lights up. “Wait— babe, I was kidding, you don’t need to do another—”

“Shhh.” Tom cuts you off with a kiss. “Pretend that this conversation never happened.”  

“What, even the proposal—”

“No.” He’s grinning, eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re marrying me.”

Your lips twitch as you give him a slight nod. “Yeah. And you’re marrying me.” Tom kisses you again, and you fall back into his lap with ease. For a few moments, you make out with him, the temperature in your body rising until you remember what started off the conversation, an eternity ago. “Can we go home now, Tom?”

He’s a little slow to respond as he chases your lips, but the smile you share feels like dawn breaking for the first time.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’ll take you home, fiancé.”

And you like the sound of that. You really like the sound of that.

“Okay, fiancé.”

Judging by the unstoppable grin that finds Tom’s face as he hears you speak, you have a feeling that he likes the sound of it too.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

:’))) im going to be rewriting/reworking a few of my older fics! if there are any in particular you’d like to see refreshed, lmk? 

lmk what you thiiiiink !!! <3<3<3<3

masterlist + taglist through the link in my bio wahey :D

[hnychn]

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 [𝐈𝐈𝐈]

sypnosis : life with your five lovers has been more than fulfilling, but when you're paired with a student from general studies for a project, your quintet seems a little less full

word count : 4000+

warnings : mutual pining, gender neutral reader, relationship insecurities, bakugo tries but. . .it doesn't go as well as he planned, grammar errors and spelling errors, it's . . . a long one, a bit rushed at the end so uhh pls don't mind that :)

parts : [ 𝐈 ] [ 𝐈𝐈 ] [ 𝐈𝐈𝐈 ]

a/n : so sorry for the long wait LMAO- i know i said my bokuto fic would be coming out today but uhhh ahaha my depression hit me full force this weekend and i didn't even look at the dock because i was too busy sleeping, but uhh enjoy this :D

↩︎ back to student masterlist | main mha masterlist

- WELCOME TO PART THREE sorry for the log wait 😭 life has been kicking my ass but we're not here to hear me complain, we're here for the tea

- so, it's a couple months after you joined the bakusquad and their relationship. and let me tell you, it has been nothing but amazing. 😩 your days are never quiet and they're always filled with some sort of excitement and love.

- you kaminari and mina often get into trouble for leaving the dorms late at night because you want snacks and there's nothing in the kitchens. you become kirishima's pillow, don't matter about your size or whatever, you are his pillow and you better not argue 🔫 sero always puts on some type of bachata or reggaeton or some spanish song and dances with you in his dorms. and bakugo is your go to person to cook with and just generally annoy or prank since it's so easy to get a reaction out of him.

- and you couldn't have asked for a better relationship. you all are so communicative and talk about your feelings often and how you're doing. every saturday or sunday, you all go to a dorm (usually it's bakugo's cause it's the cleanest) and have a huge cuddle pile and talk about your mental states, how you're doing, what you have problems with, etc etc.

- like damn ok i see you with the mentally and emotionally stable relationship 🤪🤪

- it's so refreshing too because sometimes you'll have a tough week and you jsut need to let it all out, and you can in the comfort of bakugo's dorm and you know none of them will judge you because they're all so open about their love for you (and vise versa)

- anyways, yeah y'all got the best relationship

- you never thought about anyone else in a romantic sense because the squad took up nearly all of the space in your heart. but when you teacher announced one day the general studies kids would be coming in to have a joint project to create gadgets for the hero course students, you had no idea your life would suddenly be turned upsidedown.

- you were paired with a guy named shinsou. he looked friendly enough and returned the wave you sent him with a little surprise as he made his way to the open seat next to you. he seemed surprised when you started a small conversation but he talked to you in a quiet soothing voice. he seemed nice enough and you figured the project would be a breeze since he seemed so nice and offered to meet up over the weekend to start up some ideas for the project.

- you agreed and the two of you met up that lunch period in the library to pre-draft some ideas and get to know each other more.

"i'm surprised you don't mind being seen with me."

his sudden comment took you by surprise as you looked up from your paper with messily drawn gadgets and chicken scratch writing to look up at him, "what do you mean?"

it was true you had never seen him before or even heard of him, but his hesitance to talk to you and open up to you made you feel as though you should.

shinsou rubbed the back of his neck and looked away shyly, "so you really haven't heard anything about me, have you?"

he looked almost guilty to bring it up, his gaze falling to the table in front of him as be played with a strand of his hair.

you shook your head. you never really payed attention to gossip around school, your head always too high up in the clouds to care about rumors and gossip (bakugo often scolded you for being such an airhead and ignorant to your surroundings, but you knew he was just worried about something happening to you). plus, to you, gossip was nearly never right and more often made up and fictitious.

shinsou refused to look up at you, "well. . .i'm known throughout the school as a. . ." he looked hesitant to continue but before you could reassure him he didn't have to talk about it if he didn't want to, he continued, "well, a villain."

he prised his lips as if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth, and all you could do was tilt your head. shinsou didn't seem like a bad person - or a 'villain' as he had said. on the way to the library he held open doors for you and helped you carry some of your books to your locker and even bought you a drink you wanted buy but were a bit short of change on.

"do you think you are?"

"what?" shinsou looked at you for the first time since he brought up the topic.

"do you think you're a villain?" he shuffled slightly in his seat and looked away again from your intense stare. he felt like you were looking straight into his soul from how strongly you were looking into his eyes, he wasn't sure if you had even blinked in the last minute.

shinsou thought back to all the times he's been called a villain or a criminal. it was always unwarranted, a passing comment that seemed like no big deal to others but shattered his heart into smaller and smaller pieces. but never once had he ever thought he was a villain - a monster.

if anything, he used those comments as encouragement to become a hero, to be better than those who always thought he would turn to a life of crime. so, "no... i don't think i'm a villain."

"well, that's that."

shinsou could only stare at you, your smile brighter than any star he'd ever seen, so full of hope and encouragement shinsou felt like he could take on the world. he looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, a shy smile pulling at his lips and a weird feeling blossoming in his chest. how curious. . .

- so yeah, a new friendship 🤪 the two of you started to spend a lot of free time together for the project. you would often meet up during lunches or free time between classes to work some more on the project, all the while getting to know each other in depth. you learned many things about shinsou and spilled many of your own secrets, you laughed together over old childhood stories, and played animal crossing on the rooftop during lunch, your project discarded and forgotten beside you.

- your sudden absence didn't go unnoticed by your lovers, and they grew curious to your whereabouts when you would blow them off for the fifth time that week to "work on your project". now, don't get me wrong, they had conplete trust in you and knew you would never cheat, but they were just curious as to what - or who - was taking up so much of your time.

- so, they did the smartest thing, and followed you. after blowing them off for the sixth time, they decided to follow you to your destination. mina and kaminari tried to be inconspicuous and wear disguises, but the fake mustache, black glasses (indoors, might i add) and hat weren't all too discreet as they thought.

- they followed you through every turn and weave you took and hid behind a corner when you stopped at a vending machine to get your favourite drink. but what surprised them the most was you also bought a coffee. bakugo was most surprised you even thought about even touching the can of caffine because he remembered you telling him you would get terrible caffine rushes that would make you dizzy if you drank coffee.

- but, as you finally reached the rooftop and made your way to a hunched over figure in the corner, it all made sense.

- they all saw how effortlessly you and shinsou acted around each other. they could see the soft looks he would send you when you weren't looking and the way his hand would hover over yours for a split second too long before snapping away as if you were made of lava. but surprisingly, they didn't feel any sort of jealousy or anger, it felt like a piece of them had returned they didn't even know was missing. the sort of feeling that walks through the door unexpectedly but it's wholesomely welcomed.

- the "oh, there you are, welcome back" type of feeling. they were happy you had found someone that made you feel comfortable, arguably more comfortable than you had been with them so far because truthfully, while you had felt welcomed and appreciated in the relationship, it still felt like you were an outsider. the five of them had inside jokes before you came and didn't get them when they came up, the five of them had habits special to each other that inadvertently excluded you. and while they never meant to hurt you (god knows that's the last thing they ever wanted to do), they had. but you knew that wasn't their intention so you held no malitious feelings towards them (not that you think you'd ever could).

- but the way you and shinsou so effortlessly opened up to each other, shared intimate details and secrets with each other - it warmed their hearts. so, bakugo grabbed them all by the back of their shirts and dragged them away, mumbling about giving the two of you space. there was a fond look in his eyes as he looked at the two of you he would be teased about later but would deny.

- it was undeniable bakugo held the softest spot for you. he tried as best as he could to include you in their inside jokes and habits but he was. . well . . . bakugo 🧍🏽‍♀️

- words aren't necessarily his strong suit and he could only hope his smaller actions let you know you were as loved and cherished as any of them there. and you knew, you caught on a little after bakugo had a little "secret talk" with the group (that wasn't really secret at all, he grabbed them all by their shirts and dragged them to a secluded spot while you distracted on your phone) and they all started to explain their jokes and include you in their habits.

- anyways, back to you and shinsou. 🤪 he was aware you were in a ployamorous relationship with the bakusquad and he's heard the way you talk about them and the soft airy tone of your voice and the starry look in your eyes; and he didn't want to get in between that. the last thing he ever wanted was to ruin your relationship for his own selfish reasons.

- so for the time being, he would be okay with watching you from afar, the sweetness of your love so close for him to taste; yet too far for him to savour.

- as more and more times passed, the bakusquad began to notice the lingering looks you would give shinsou when you passed him in the halls and how he would always be waiting for you outside of your class with your favourite drink before leaving you to go to lunch while he went off and . . . well, you weren't sure what he did during his free time, but he never brought it up so you never figured to ask.

- when you fell asleep the next time you all had a cuddle session in bakugo's room, they all talked about it. talked about your obvious feelings for each other and the possibility of including shinsou in their relationship. they spent hours talking about it and still talked about it even when the moon vanished over the horizon and the sun rose. and, in not very smart fashion, bakugo was tasked to confronting shinsou about their conclusion.

- which - almost as if there were an author behind all of this - didn't go as well as any of them planned.

it was perfect, really. almost as if the universe had been listening to their conversation and aligned itself perfectly for this very moment.

you woke up that morning with a terrible stomach ache and chose to stay back in your dorm after bakugo made you a bowl of soup and threatened you to take your medicine. his classes ended a little earlier than usual and, sending his lover's a nod, made his way over to your class, where, lo and behold, shinsou was standing near the door, the familiar brand of your favourite drink in one hand and his own cold coffee in the other.

bakugo wasn't sure what he was going to say when he reached shinsou. he opted to just speak from the heart over rehearsing lines with the others like they had wanted, besides, what kind of lover would be be if he couldn't even do this for you? but, what he didn't take into consideration, was his emotional constipation and tsundere attidute.

"hey, eye bags!" bakugo called out.

shinsou nearly jumped out of his skin at bakugo's sudden loud voice. he looked over with the same eyes of indifference he normally had, but bakugo could see the slight far in them. not at his brash attitude (shinsou could never be afriad of bakugo and confronting him before the sports fesitval was a perfect example of that) but the fear of ruining your relationship with the bakusquad.

shinsou nodded at bakugo when he got close enough. bakugo stood in front of him, his hands still shoved into the pockets of his pants, "they're sick."

it was a simple enough statement but shinsou blinked, "what?"

"y/n." bakugo stated and rolled his eyes as if the answer had been written on his forehead (and it basically had, shinsou was just a bit shocked at his appearance), "they're sick and mina's staying back with them in their dorm."

shinsou rubbed the back of his neck, "oh."

there was an awkward silence as the two boys stood in the vacant hallway. bakugo didn't know what to say and shinsou wasn't sure if he should leave or go visit you for their lunch break.

"i'll go drop this off to them-"

"no." bakugo practically growled, "i'll drop it off. go get eat your lunch or i'll make your face an eye bag."

shinsou flushed a bit in embarrassment. he was overstepping, of course he was. for a minute, having you all to himself for nearly a week straight made him forget about the relationship you were in and this was a smack of reality. you weren't his. you were in a relationship with others, other people who could give you nearly double what he could - everything he couldn't.

handing bakugo the drink, shinsou stalked away to the cafeteria, his cheeks still a light shade of pink. bakugo sighed and knew he most likely made things worse, and he came there originally to make things right.

but fate will work itself out. and what will be, will be.

- so... maybe sending bakugo wasn't the best idea ... 🧍🏽‍♀️

- because now, shinsou started avoiding you. when the two for you worked on your projects together, he would remain mostly silent and only input his opinion when he thought of an idea or needed help putting something together. you had no idea why and you honestly felt a little hurt that he ignored you as easily as breathing.

- you brought this up to your lovers on your weekly cuddle session, knowing they would have brought up your downpour attitude either way. what you didn't notice as your face was burried in denki's sweater were the glares they all were throwing at bakugo.

- "yeah, i wonder what happened..." sero smiled, though obviously strained, as he pet your head and told you shinsou was probably just going through something.

- and it was obvious you were hurt that shinsou had suddenly stopped talking to you because honestly it was kind of hard for you to make friends. a lot of people assumed you thought you were higher than everyone else because you were dating five students from the top hero course, but that obviously is far from the truth.

- anyways, a long time goes by and the two of you still haven't rekindled anything and the squad is getting a bit frustrated because hello??? join our cult lover circle ?????

- so the squad comes up with another solution and this time they don't send bakugo to collect shinsou

- they learned their mistake last time.

- anyways

- so sero goes and gets shinsou and tells him you need him for a little last touch of the project since it was near the due date and you wanted to make sure it was perfect. and shinsou agrees to meet up with you and follows sero.

- sero takes him into an empty classroom and it's pitch black. the windows have been covered with tape and all the lights are off. before he could ask what the hell was going on, the door slams shut and the lights suddenly turn on and shinsou's blinded for a moment.

- and he's met with a very interesting sight.

- mina, kaminari, and kirishima are standing in front of him with sunglasses and hats on, their arms are crossed and they have a blank look on their faces (though he can tell kaminari is about to burst into laughter and nearly does but kirishima jabs him in his side.)

- "uhh..."

- "shut up, eye bags." bakugo calls from behind him. he's leaning against the door with his arms crossed and an obviously pissed off look on his face.

- sero is just standing next to him with a 'sorry pal' kind of smile.

- "what is-"

- "what are your intentions with, y/n?" kaminari shouted suddenly as he slammed his hand on a nearby desk.

- "denki- no." mina pushed him back lightly, "that's not what-"

- "did you not listen last night, sparky?" bakugo rolled his eyes and scoffed lightly.

- kaminari shyly scratched his cheek, "i might have fellen asleep-"

- "he did." sero confirmed, "he drooled on me and everything.

- "I do not drool!!"

- "yes you do, it was like a waterfall, 'ki. "

- "no i don't, right kiri?"

- "well.. only a few drops.."

- "WHAT?! and none of you told me?!"

- "well, y/n kind of made us promise not to tell..."

- "SPEAKING OF Y/N," mina interjected into the conversation, her fingers rubbing at her temples as she wondered when she became the rational one, that was bakugo's job, "why don't we stick to the script, boys."

- kirishima slung an arm over her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her cheek, "sorry, princess."

- "right." sero turned to shinsou and crossed his arms, "you have feelings for them don't you?"

- shinsou tensed. his mind was still trying to comprehend the conversation that happened just a few seconds ago and processing the fact that kaminari drools in his sleep. he wasn't sure how to respond.

- of course he had feelings for you, any rational person who came into contact with you would catch feelings. it was part of your natural charm that seemed to effortlessly draw people in and never let them go. in a matter of minutes, you had simultaneously become his best friend and his closest confidant. often at night he cursed himself for catching feelings for you when things were perfect just the way they were.

- but shinsou couldn't help it. you had treated him like a normal person and weren't apprehensive about his quirk. you gave him a taste of normalcy in his world of anxieties and judgement, and he craved more and more the more time he spent with you.

- so dispte wanting to desparately scream 'yes, i do love her' at the top of his lungs, he looked down at the ground, "no. . . i . . i don't."

- "liar."

- bakugo seethed behind him.

- shoving himself off the wall he was leaning on, bakugo walked closer and closer to shinsou as he spoke, "don't lie. we all see the way you look at them, the way your stupid face lights up with a small smile when they're with you or the airy chuckle you give when they do one of those stupid dances when they make food and-"

- "OK OK I GET IT!" shinsou snapped. mina jumped slightly in kirishima's arms and shinsou sent her a small apologetic look, "you know! I'm in love with them! i've been. . ." he trailed off before collapsing into a chair behind him, his head hanging back and staring into the bright flourescent lights hanging from the ceiling.

- "i've been trying to distance myself from them, to make getting over them easier."

- "they've been hurting, y'know."

- shinsou groaned and hid his face in his hands, "i know. you think i don't see the looks they give me when i avoid them in the halls? it hurts knowing i'm the reason they're in pain."

- "so why are you doing it?"

- "because they have you guys," shinsou sighed as it if we're the most obvious thing in the world, "you all could love them a lot more than i ever could alone. plus, they're so happy with you, i couldn't be the reason to disturb that."

- "you gotta be fucking kidding me." bakugo growled and pinched the bridge of his nose.

- kaminari snorted, "i think i just got deja vu."

- "you could say that again," mina sighed, "i'm heading back to the dorms, this is giving me a headache."

- with his arm still slung over her shoulder, kirishima agreed, "yeah, not sure how we didn't see this from the beginning. i'll walk you back, princess."

- shinsou only stared blankly as mina and kirishima left the room with kaminari in tow, complaining about getting some math work done. never in his life did he feel as confused as he did now

- lost. mans was lost..

- someone get him a map and help him please

- they acted as if they hadn't been the ones to literally kidnap him

- only to nonchalantly walk out the door?????

- sero's voice snapped him back to the remaining two people in the room, "you two really are a match made in heaven." sero smiled at him and shinsou felt head rise in his cheeks, whether it be from embarassment or something else, he didn't know.

- "i'll see you two around" and then he left, leaving shinsou alone with bakugo, who had yet to realease the bridge of his nose from his pinch.

- "you're both a pair of dumbasses."

- "i'm offended-"

- "y/n said the same fucking thing when we confronted them."

- shinsou stayed silent.

- "they felt like their presence would ruin the routine we had set a long time ago when we first started our relationship. . . sound familiar?"

- shinsou rubbed the back of his neck and opened his mouth to speak, but bakugo interrupted.

- "shut up, eye bags, i'm not finished."

- "i dIdNt eVEn sAy aNyTHiNg"

- "sure there were some things we had to adjust to include them in our schedule and a whole new bundle of emotions to incorporate into our lives; but the while point of a relationship is to open up slowly and learn to trust the ones you love. and eventually, we all learned to trust them the same way they learned to trust us; but trust isn't something you can learn over night. it's gradual."

- bakugo sighed, how in the hell did he get stuck in this situation again. at the very least no one got injured this time, "what I'm trying to say is, if y/n makes you happy, then we're all willing to let you in our relationship and put our trust in you.

- "will you put your trust in us?"

- how dramatic ˙ ͜ʟ˙

- so

- :) shinsou decides, fuck it. i deserve the good things in life, and he puts his trust in the squad the same way they all put their trust in him.

- and they decided it was a good time to surprise you too and kill two birds with one stone :)

- so you walk in to bakugo's dorm after a long day of school. you were returning from turning in your project with shinsou, and while the teacher had given you many compliments and basically secured your A, you still felt a bit sad knowing it would be the last time you would see shinsou since your schedules didn't collide and you had ended on a . . . confusing note.

- so you were just looking to cuddle with your lovers on a Friday night and wallow away in your sadness.

- when you walked in the group had been piled in their natural spots on bakugo's bed. mina was giggling with kaminari as they scrolled through tiktok, bakugo was reading a book you had reccomend to him a while a go, sero and kirishima were softly play fighting as they laughed and chuckled.

- everything was as it should be

- until you got to where your spot usually was, cradled between bakugo's warm and firm chest and mina's plush thighs and stomach, and it was occupied by someone else.

- everyone stopped what they were doing, as they watched a smile pull at your lips when you recognised the disheveled pruple hair lazily sprawled in your spot. everyone watched with bated breath as they waited for your reaction and small smiles of their own shining through as they watched your interaction.

- you lifted your hand and smacked shinsou's knee that had been raised up slightly as one of his arms lay behind his head and the other fiddled with a bracelet around mina's wrist, and his lips pulled into a lazy smirk of his own as he watched you.

- "get up, fat head, you're in my spot."

- his smirk only grew.

- "do something about it, hero."

see my pinned post to join my taglist (^ム^)

[jamaisjoons]

the summer bucketlist | m.list

When the weather sees the return of sunshine and warmth, the joy and exuberance of summer is revived, and everyone rushes to enjoy the season to the fullest. Bonfire nights with your friends, seeing brilliant firework displays or laying under the stars on a humid night and watching the world go by. Learning to surf, or dive or snorkel or simply collecting seashells along the shore. Late nights at the amusement parks, thrilling roller-coaster rides or spectacular views on the Ferris Wheel. Skinny dipping in a lake after dark, attending a film or music festival, or even just visiting the popup street market in your city. Everything you had been dreaming off since the start of autumn, you can do once again. And who better to do it with, than the boys who bring more joy and warmth to our lives than summer itself?

Welcome to ‘The Summer Bucketlist’ - a writing event/author collab hosted by @jamaisjoons​

The Summer Bucketlist: BTS Edition - is an event in which various different authors can sign up to write a story based on traditional Bucketlist Items. Find their stories below!

⟶ song of the sea; knj ⇥ @jamaisjoons​       ➳ fantasy au. little mermaid au.            ↳   ⎡Take a Trip to the Museum⎦

« Captivated by the sight of you, he can’t help but watch you swim around his home. And when you turn to leave, he doesn’t know what overcomes him - but as if spellbound - he finds himself following you back to land. »

⟶ molotov cocktail; jhs ⇥ @yeoldontknow​      ➳ bartender au. arranged marriage au.           ↳   ⎡Take a Cocktail Class⎦

«  You met him January, on a night when you were newly single and newly wanting to break free from your father’s unyielding control. You left him in January, full of regret but full of purpose. You meet him again in July, and now you want nothing more than to run to the ends of the earth with him, to burn down the shape your life has taken in the hope of making something new. »

⟶ luminous; pjm ⇥ @luffles424​     ➳ summer festival au. tentacle monster au.          ↳   ⎡Watch Fireworks⎦

« The Busan summer festival is your favorite event of the year. You like all the food and things to do, but your favorite part is watching the fireworks at the end of the night, gathered with friends and family. It’s fun and joyous. Except this year you’re spending it without them. So you find a secluded spot on the beach to watch alone. Except... you might not be as alone as you thought you were out here.  »

⟶ sticky situation; kth ⇥ @jiminsfault​     ➳ camping au. established relationship au.          ↳   ⎡Go Camping⎦

« You hate camping, but Taehyung is determined on changing your mind on that. »

⟶ pull me in; jhs ⇥ @guccybangtan​     ➳ established relationship au.          ↳   ⎡Go to a Water Park⎦

« In the heat of the summer, there's nothing more relaxing than relaxing than a nice trip to the water park.  »

⟶ a beautiful epiphany; jjk ⇥ @onherwings​     ➳ friends to lovers au.           ↳   ⎡Join an Art Contest⎦

« Who would have thought that falling in love with your muse could either lead to something beautiful or bring you to your own demise? »

⟶ love grows where you go; myg ⇥ @rookiegukie​    ➳ arranged marriage au. pining au.         ↳   ⎡Watch the Sunset on the Beach⎦

« Determined to make you and Yoongi grow closer for your upcoming wedding in two weeks, your parents plan a trip for the both of you that lasts five days long. You know you should be ecstatic about it, considering your longtime crush on your fiancé, but by how you're positive that he secretly despises your whole being, you don't find this mini vacation with him something to look forward to. That is until things take an unexpected turn and suddenly, he makes it apparent he doesn’t hate you at all as you reckoned.  »

⟶ petrichor; pjm ⇥ @taetaewonderland​    ➳ strangers to lovers au. domestic au.         ↳   ⎡Go on a Picnic⎦

« There are smells in the world that can trigger your brain to think of a memory almost in an instant. »

⟶ sun cockblock; myg ⇥ @cremeandsuga​    ➳ best friends to lovers au. summer au.         ↳   ⎡Join a Sandcastle Building Competition⎦

« Cancún was always a trip to remember - sun, beaches, hookups and day drinking, not to mention the annual sand castle competition you entered with your best friend every year. Yoongi smells like Copper Tone sunblock and heaven. Entering a sandcastle competition with one of the least competitive people in the world was pure agony — but it didn’t dawn to you that your best friend wasn’t competitive because he was confident he would win. Upon your loss, he sees you trying to soothe the burn of it (and the sun) with the beach bartender. He may smell like Copper Tone sunblock and heaven, but he’s sure you feel like heaven.  »

⟶ rejuvenation; myg & jhs ⇥ @caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma​    ➳ spa owners au.         ↳   ⎡Treat Yourself to a Spa Day⎦

« You finally get a break from work and you decide to indulge in a little pampering and self-care. During lunch, your friend slips a card into your hand for an exclusive spa with a special referral discount. How can you resist? Let’s hope the Bangtan Blossoms Spa provides the relaxation & rejuvenation experience you desperately seek. »

⟶ just a taste; kth ⇥ @xjoonchildx​   ➳ pwp au.        ↳   ⎡Go Wine Tasting⎦

« He’s hot. he’s considerate. He’s refusing to make a move. weeks of sexual frustration come to a head at a wine tasting and -- this is going to shock NO ONE -- smut ensues. »

⟶ lollipop; myg ⇥ @ironicarmy​   ➳ neighbours to lovers au.        ↳   ⎡Attempt to make Ice Cream⎦

« It’s a hot summer day, he’s desperate, and your ice lollies taste like heaven.  »

⟶ carnival lights; kth ⇥ @taephilia​   ➳ haunted carnival au. horror au.        ↳   ⎡Visit a Carnival⎦

« With half of your friend group graduated and leaving your hometown to move to the city for work, you and your friends decide to have one last adventure together (in the words of hobi even though it’s only may and you see each other like every day). But things are always different in the nighttime and you never know what’s lurking between the funnel cakes. »

⟶ midnight menagerie; knj ⇥ @jooneggs​  ➳ friends to lovers au.       ↳   ⎡Go to a Botanical Garden⎦

« Like water, cradling your fragile soul, Namjoon has held the lily of your heart all your life and you wish you could let him know just how much that means to you. Coincidentally, it just so happens you can: in a week's time when you're stuck in the holiday of your life at Namjoon's father's Botanical gardens. Will you finally get to repay him in a bed of roses or will he be the one to make the bouquet for you? »

⟶ ferris drink; jhs ⇥ @salvejoon​  ➳ pwp au. established relationship au.       ↳   ⎡Ride a Ferris Wheel⎦

« Your boyfriend has a bucket list of places he wants to do the nasty and next up is a Ferris Wheel. »

⟶ hose wars; ksj & myg ⇥ @babybinnyboy​  ➳ neighbour au.       ↳   ⎡Have a Water Fight⎦

« Spending a summer in a little coastal town was supposed to be relaxing. It wasn't supposed to include a broken AC unit, record break heatwave, a hose, 2 ridiculously confident, attractive neighbors with an annoyingly low fence. »

⟶ cut shot; myg ⇥ @kimtaehyunq​  ➳ vacation au. established relationship au.       ↳   ⎡Learn to Volleyball⎦

« He hates the water, he hates the heat, and he hates the Sun. Any form of physical activity is a big no-no, yet Min Yoongi will go out of his way to show that he loves you on your mini vacation. »

⟶ eternal summer; pjm ⇥ @aiimaginesbts​  ➳ childhood friends to lovers au. vacation au.       ↳   ⎡Go Sightseeing on Vacation⎦

« Breaking up with my boyfriend leaves an empty spot on the overseas vacation that I had been looking forward to for a long time. I’m torn between abandoning the trip or going it solo when someone offers to tag along. However, having Jimin, my best friend go with me may not be the best idea — since my crush on him has never gone away. »

⟶ sway with me; knj & jhs ⇥ @minjoonalist​ ➳ established relationship au.      ↳   ⎡Take a Boat Ride⎦

« You love celebrating your anniversary, it was the only special part about summer that you looked forward to every year- But when your husband Is unable to make the availability due to his job- You thought why not make the best of it? »

⟶ ecstatic shock; jhs ⇥ @iluvstrawberry​ ➳ strangers to lovers au. abo au.      ↳   ⎡Host a BBQ⎦

« The garden party your parents throw every year is coming up. Seeing your conservative parents, is something you definitely don’t want to face on your own. But with all your friends being busy, you’ve decided to accept your fate and drown your sorrows at your favourite bar. Enter: Jung Hoseok, bartender, lifesaver and the most gorgeous guy you’ve ever seen. »

⟶ kaleidoscopic; knj ⇥ @boywivlove​ ➳ established relationship au.     ↳   ⎡Go Paintballing⎦

« You and Namjoon decide to blow off some steam and go to a paint balling range, one multicoloured blitzkrieg later; bruised, sweaty and victorious you celebrate your win. »

⟶ undercurrent; jjk ⇥ @jjungkooksthighs ➳ best friends to lovers au. post college au.     ↳   ⎡Go Diving⎦

« After a year and six months of sea fare and many more nights of sunken eyes that had been dotted with the black shadings of sleeplessness that you’d helped to nurse him because of, the fruits of your best friend’s efforts had earned him the completion of his mission to map the entire eastern seaboard. In all his work, though, Jungkook has not gotten the chance to dive at many of the areas scattered around the ocean in the vastness of the seas. You decide to take him to a previously unmarked, unmapped sector of the sea after following his own nautical charts. The catch is this: you’re afraid of the water. What happens when you find yourself following after him and into the arms of the sea after years of pent up sexual frustration that you blame entirely on him? »

a/n: this is incredibly late but onefgeoingoeitng i hope you enjoy reading all of these works! If you participated in the collab but your fic isn’t on here, it’s because it hasn’t appeared in the tags! please feel free to DM with the link to the fic!!

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: saeran choi x reader

♡   —   tags/warnings: spoilers for saeran’s after ending, fix-it fic, hurt/comfort, light angst with a happy ending, nightmares

♡   —   a/n: after so many months it’s finally here! my fix-it fic so i pretend saeran’s after story was nothing but a collective nightmare <3 this will probably also be a part of ‘four seasons’, my take on saeran’s after story. the first couple of lines on this fic are straight from his ae, just in case.

♡   —   length: 1k

♡   —   masterlist

“Once the night is over, you can forget about me.”

“No,” you sobbed. “You’re not doing this to me, Saeran. There has to be a way, I’m not leaving you, not here, not with them.”

“Forget about me and live on. Be happy,” Saeran smiled softly, squeezing your hands gently.

“I can’t live without you.”

“You must,” he insisted. “You must be joyful and happy. Please remember why I’m staying and live free. I know how strong and wise you are. You’re me eternal love, my destiny, my soul and… my first and last love.”

“Saeran, no. No, no, I’m not going.”

“You have to leave. Take Saeyoung, take—”

“No!”

“My love, you—”

“I’m not leaving,” you shook her head. The image of Saeran began to dissolve in front of your eyes. You reached out, your hand only touching cold mist, the face of your lover disappearing. “No— Saeran,” you whispered desperately, grasping the air in front of you, his turquoise eyes filled looking at you full of love as you tried to hold on to him. “Don’t leave. Don’t leave me, please.”

“Love?”

“Don’t leave,” you repeated, tears falling from your eyes as you fell on your knees. “Saeran, don’t leave, don’t leave, please, I’m begging.”

“Angel. Wake up. I’m right here, I’m not leaving.”

The ground under your knees suddenly disappeared, your whole body falling into nothing. You inhaled sharply as you opened her eyes, a pair of turquoise eyes looming over you with worry. Your chest rose up and down, breathing heavily as you looked around.

“It was a nightmare. You’re here. You’re with me, my love.”

Your eyes locked on his, reality starting to draw itself around you. You started recognizing the soft white sheets under your body, the sweet smell of Saeran’s shampoo and his slender fingers carefully holding your hand.

He was really there.

A knot formed in your throat, tears streaming down your cheeks without you being able to do anything to prevent it.

“Saeran,” you whispered, sitting up and wrapping your arms around him. You held onto his lean figure tightly, breath hitching as your hands roamed around his back as if to make sure he was real. “You’re here.”

“I am here. I will always be here,” he assured you, caressing the back of your head and pressing a kiss on your temple.

He kept soothing you in silence, waiting until your breathing regulated, attentive to any sign you may give and glad your body was relaxing more and more into him.

“I had a nightmare,” you said in a small voice. Pulling away from his embrace you wiped the tears off your face with the back of your hand. Saeran’s fingers traced your cheek softly, eyes looking at you intently.

“Want to tell me about it?” he asked. You looked down at your hands, uneasy. “You know what they say. If you tell someone your nightmare it will never come true. At least that’s what Saeyoung used to tell me when we were little.”

A small smile appeared on your lips.

“We were trapped in a house with Rika and Jihyun,” you sniffled, eyes still fixed on your hands as they rubbed against each other. “Saeyoung was there too and he seemed really sick, I don’t know why. We— we were trying to get out but you said I had to leave you behind. I said we had to escape together, the three of us but you said no. And—” your voice broke, eyes filling up with tears once more, “you told me to forget about you, that I would learn how to leave without you and be happy. And I kept telling you not to leave me, that we had to stay but you kept saying over and over that I had to go and—”

“My love,” Saeran interrupted you, holding your hands with his. He squeezed them softly, forcing you to look at him. “I’m never leaving you,” he reassured you, his thumbs caressing the back of your hands. “Rika is away at a mental facility and Jihyun is still on his healing trip,” he reminded you. “They can’t hurt us anymore.”

You nodded, even if the tears weren’t stopping.

“It just seemed so real,” you whispered.

“I know. And I’m sorry you had one of those. Do you want to wait here while I make you some tea? Jumin sent us one with valerian, it’s been helping me.”

You quickly shook your head, tightening your grip on his hands. Saeran nodded in understanding.

“Okay, I’m not leaving your side. Do you want to lay down with me?” he offered. You looked down at your bed and finally let go of his hands as you shifted on the bed, lying down and placing your head on your pillow.

Saeran quickly followed you, lying by your side. You turned your body to him and snuggled closer, knees bent and eyes still with remnants of fear. He wrapped his arms around you, your face against his chest as he places the softest of kisses on your forehead.

“I know we’ve gone through many, many things together and that… a lot of them haven’t been nice,” Saeran said, a small grimace on his face. “I’m sorry for ever putting you through that and that those people still haunt your dreams. But I want you to trust me with this, angel.”

You looked up at him, his kind eyes filling your chest with warmth.

“I will never, ever, leave you behind. The moment I took your hand as we ran away from Mint Eye I swore I would never let go of your hand again. Never,” he accentuated, putting some of your hair away from your face. “You are the love of my life. And yeah, maybe in an extreme situation I would give my life for yours.” He didn’t miss the small whimper that left your lips. “But not in this life. Now it’s our turn to be happy,” he smiled, his hand cupping your cheek tenderly.

“Our turn to be happy,” you repeated, holding him tighter. Saeran smiled and hummed contently, burying his face in your hair and he closed his eyes.

“Our turn to be happy.”