#The sky is unusually clear

[leafatlaw]

I think rolan should have gotten to die in Rands arms

it would have been good for them

[fish-the-conqueror]

I have seen a shooting star every day for 7 days now. If I count any "maybe shooting stars", ones in the corner of your eye that last mere moments. And any extras I saw in a night. I have seen 13 shooting stars total. I am simply built different, and the stars love me

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

warning: cockwarming, oviposition, breeding, mommy kink

Mother’s Day at the bee hybrid hive was… eventful.

The night before your special day, the hive was abuzz with activity. You had been in the hive for an entire year now and had already given birth to two clutches of eggs.

This meant you were a mother, and they had to celebrate all you had done for the hive and its future!

As you laid down with one of your attendants cocks inside of you as the others huddled up in your bed, the rest of your hive prepared for the upcoming day.

You awoke on your own. That was unusual, most days your attendants woke you up with their tongues playing with your cunt.

When you glanced out the window, you realized it was much later than you thought. The sun was in the sky, meaning you overslept!

Where was everyone, and why hadn’t they woken you up as per usual?

Before you could hurry out of bed, the door opened to the cutest sight you had ever seen. Your first clutch of baby bees toddled in, wearing little aprons as they walked carefully towards you.

In their fluffy hands were trays of food and your breakfast tea. They seemed absolutely determined to bring you breakfast in bed!

“Mama, happy mama day!”

Your eyes lit up with adoration as they held out the tray to you. The baby bees climbed into bed, burying their fluffy faces into your body and letting out little purrs and buzzes as you ate.

You spent most of the morning in bed, resting with your sweet babies. They took turns reading you out of their story books and patting you, trying to imitate the way you took care of them.

“Mama, comfy?” one asked, crawling up onto you and letting you bury your face into his fluffy chest. You blew raspberries there, making him giggle and squeal as he kicked his little legs.

“Very comfy, thank you. I’ve raised such sweet boys…”

You napped for a bit, and when you woke up your babies were gone. Before you could panic, you were soothed by the bee hybrids crawling into bed with you.

“Don’t worry, my queen. They’re all safe in the nursery,” one said, nibbling at your neck.

“It’s Mother’s Day, so we’re going to make you a mama all over again!”

The bee hybrids only barely understood the meaning of Mother’s Day. They knew it was a time to appreciate and spoil mothers, but also thought you needed to be bred and fucked.

You had no qualms with that.

Your legs were pried open gently, two bee hybrids taking turns devouring your sweet pussy. Another kissed you, his long tongue swirling around yours as his antennae tickled you.

“Mama…” they muttered, pussy drunk. Of course, on Mother’s Day your bee hybrid lovers would be horny and kinky.

A pair of lips latched onto your nipple while one of them began to fuck into you. Soft moans and whimpers filled the air along the smell of sex.

“M-mama, lemme fill you with eggs…”

You bit your lip, feeling your womb stretch and struggle to fit eggs from each bee hybrid. They were in a frenzy, humping you desperately to make sure they got to impregnate you as well.

In the evening, you relaxed on the couch, a hand over your swollen belly. Now, you had some alone time, and planned on catching up on that show you wanted to watch.

Mother’s Day may have been eventful, but it was clear they all loved you in their own ways. Even though they all yearned to always have your attention on them, the bee hybrids gave you the night to yourself.

Tomorrow you’d be the queen of the hive, but tonight you were a tired mother that needed some beauty rest.

———————

Note: baby bee sticker sheets available in my kofi shop, check my pinned post ^^

I have more bee hybrid fics on my Patreon and Kofi, including smut and fluff!

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[theunfairfolk]

Four rabbis are debating scripture out in the garden, and one of them notices he's continuously outvoted by the other three even though he's absolutely certain he's right. At a certain point, his frustration gets the best of him and he stands up, raises his hands and and says "My Lord, you must know that this is the right way, gives us a sign to let us know!"

As soon as he has spoken, a cloud materializes out of nowhere, moves in front of the sun and dissolves again.

The other three look at him, at each other, go "Well... That was certainly unusual, but the weather's been acting up a bit lately, so this does not really mean anything", and just continue with the discussion unmoved.

The fourth rabbi, increasingly desperate, again stands up and calls out "My Lord, they continue to defy your word, please send another sign to help them see the error of their ways!"

This time, it's not just one cloud, but the entire sky darkens, a thunderclap sounds and a bolt of lightning hits just next to the other three rabbis. They're startled, but after catching their breath conclude that no, you don't see that every day, but it's late summer, thunderstorms can come in surprisingly quickly, we're out in an open garden, there's no lightning rod on top of the synagogue even though there really should be, etc. So this still doesn't mean anything, we'll stick with our viewpoints thank you very much.

Now absolutely livid and still outvoted, the fourth rabbi gets up one final time, stamps his feet, raises his hands and shouts "Oh Lord, you who created all, for the love of your people and the ways of the world, make your will known, so that it must be clear even to these stubborn mules!"

And a booming voice fills the sky, "HE IS CORRECT"

The other three rabbis look up, look down to their colleague, and finally one says:

"That's still three against two"

[dksfml]

TAKE A CHANCE WITH ME - YJW

pairing: school president!jungwon x club president!reader genre: secret dating, highschool, jungwon is jealous with club vice president!sunghoon, FLUFF!! en-drama typa jungwon word count: 2.3k summary: jungwon and you knew it's for the best that you keep your relationship hidden for now, however, things have been hard for jungwon ever since the whole campus started thinking that sunghoon and you make a great pair.

His laugh you'd die for, his laugh you'd die for The kind that colors the sky...

every first monday of the month brought a unique buzz to the broadcasting club. it wasn’t just about club projects or the regular announcements—there was something else in the air, something that made your heart race a little faster. it was the day jungwon, the school body president, would step through the door for his monthly broadcast. to everyone else, it was just routine—an official duty where the admired campus figure would deliver school updates. but to you, it was more than that. it was the one time you could be near him without arousing suspicion.

you, the disciplined and respected president of the broadcasting club, known for your flawless grades and no-nonsense attitude, and jungwon, the school’s golden boy, adored by every girl who passed him in the hallway. on the surface, you were nothing more than polite acquaintances—just two student leaders crossing paths for official business. but beneath that carefully crafted facade, there was so much more that the rest of the school didn’t know.

today, like clockwork, you heard that familiar knock at the door. straightening up, you cleared your throat, trying to act as composed as ever.

“come in,” you called out, keeping your voice steady.

jungwon stepped inside, and the usual chatter of the club quieted down. he smiled politely, his gaze quickly scanning the room until it landed on you. but as usual, you pretended not to notice, staying focused on the papers in front of you.

“here’s the announcement script,” you said, handing it to him without so much as a second glance. your heart pounded, but you maintained your distant, professional facade.

as he took the script from you, his fingers brushed yours—just for a second—and it sent a wave of warmth rushing through you. he didn’t meet your eyes, but you knew what that touch meant. behind the polite smile he wore in front of your club members, there was something more. and you wanted to believe no one noticed the way his fingers lingered, even if just for a heartbeat.

sunghoon, your vice president, leaned back in his chair, completely unaware of the tension. “i’ll review the schedule with y/n before we finalize it. right, president?” he asked, smiling at you like always.

“right,” you replied, forcing a smile back, though your mind was elsewhere. you caught jungwon’s jaw clench slightly, something only you could notice. he had heard the rumors—the whispers around school that you and sunghoon looked like the “perfect couple.” people shipped you two together, even though sunghoon was just a good friend who had no interest in relationships. jungwon never mentioned it, but you could tell it bothered him more than he let on.

as jungwon left the room, a small part of you wondered if that would be your last interaction for the day, but you knew better.

to everyone else, it was official business as usual: the president visiting the broadcasting club to announce the school’s plans and upcoming events. but to you and jungwon, there was an unspoken connection woven into these formalities, hidden beneath the surface of your perfectly poised exteriors. and then there was sunghoon—your broadcasting club’s vice president—always by your side, unaware of the subtle, electric tension that hung between you and jungwon during these monthly meetings.

today, as you navigated the bustling hallways of your school, you could feel eyes on you. it wasn’t unusual; as the strict, organized, and admired president of the broadcasting club, people often looked up to you. but the whispers and glances lately were different, especially when sunghoon walked beside you.

“they look so good together.”

“i swear, they must be secretly dating.”

“she’s always with him. it’s just like one of those romance novels.”

you heard the whispers and pretended not to care. you and sunghoon had always been close friends, working seamlessly together, and despite what people said, you knew there was nothing romantic between you. but there was someone else who wasn’t as indifferent to those rumors.

as you entered your classroom later that morning, your gaze drifted down the hallway, half-expecting to see jungwon pass by on his way to class. your heart skipped a beat when you spotted him. he walked with that calm, composed air, surrounded by a group of his friends. the girls nearby were in full swoon mode, whispering excitedly the moment he appeared. jungwon was the definition of the campus crush—handsome, charming, and utterly out of reach for most.

you quickly looked down, busying yourself with your notes. jungwon couldn’t approach you, not here, not with so many eyes on him. but as his footsteps drew nearer, you froze. was he really coming over? the air around you tensed, your fingers tightening around your pen. please don’t. not in front of everyone…

and then, he walked straight toward your desk—but not to you. instead, he leaned over to your classmate, the one seated directly in front of you.

“hey,” jungwon said casually, flashing that easygoing smile that made every girl’s heart flutter. “can i borrow that biology book you mentioned last week?”

your heart sank and surged all at once. he wasn’t here for you—but then again, maybe he was. his left hand rested on your desk as he spoke to your classmate, his fingers so close you could feel the warmth radiating from them. you glanced down, glaring at his hand as though it had betrayed you. did he really have to lean on your desk?

your classmate handed him the book, completely oblivious to the silent turmoil you were in. jungwon didn’t look at you, but you could sense the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

“thanks,” he said smoothly, turning to leave. but before he walked away, his hand brushed over your desk once more, as if to remove something he’d forgotten. you glanced down after he left and saw it—wrapped candy with a crumpled note tucked beneath.

your fingers trembled as you carefully unfolded the note, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. the message inside was simple, but it made your heart race:

“hi gorgeous, i miss u :( just want to tell you how much i want to hold your hand right now. CU l8r <3”

a smile tugged at your lips despite your best efforts to remain composed. you crumpled the note back into your palm, hiding it away before anyone noticed. that brief interaction had felt like an eternity, and your heart still raced from the near disaster of him actually talking to you. but now, all you could think about was the note, and the secret rendezvous waiting after school.

the day crawled by, and soon enough, the afternoon bell signaled the time for jungwon’s monthly broadcast. the familiar hum of equipment filled the broadcasting room as you and sunghoon prepared for the transmission. you kept things professional as always, though you could sense the mounting tension.

when jungwon arrived, the atmosphere shifted instantly. his usual calm demeanor was in place, but you saw the slight flicker in his eyes when he glanced at you standing next to sunghoon. it was subtle—just a brief tightening of his jaw, a flicker of something unspoken—but you knew what it meant.

you handed him the microphone, nodding as you spoke in your most official voice. “the floor is yours, president.”

“thank you,” jungwon replied, taking the mic with practiced ease.

as jungwon spoke into the mic, laying out the plans for the month, you kept your eyes on the monitor, pretending to focus on the broadcast. his voice was smooth and steady, but you couldn’t ignore the way it made your heart skip.

“...and as we move into the second semester, we look forward to increased collaboration between our students and the research institute,” jungwon announced, his voice echoing through every classroom.

you felt a tug, something beyond the words, and against your better judgment, you glanced at him. to your surprise, he was already looking at you. just for a second, his eyes held yours before he turned back to the camera. it was quick—barely noticeable—but it sent a flutter through your chest.

in that tiny moment, you knew. even with the whole school listening, it felt like the words were just for you.

meanwhile, sunghoon remained oblivious, casually checking the sound levels as jungwon spoke. he leaned back in his chair, totally unaware of the silent storm brewing between you and jungwon.

the broadcast ended without a hitch, and jungwon handed the mic back to you. “good job,” you said, keeping your voice professional.

“thanks,” jungwon replied. he was all business now, but as he walked past you toward the door, his fingers brushed your hand, a fleeting touch meant only for you.

sunghoon, who was packing up the equipment, didn’t notice a thing. you wished you could feel the same ease, but every time sunghoon stood close to you, or when he smiled too casually, you felt the weight of jungwon’s gaze, the jealousy simmering beneath his calm surface.

after school, you took your usual route, heading in the opposite direction from jungwon as always. the two of you were careful—no one could suspect that the broadcasting club president and the school body president were secretly dating. but as you turned down the familiar alleyway behind the school, there he was, leaning against the brick wall, waiting for you with that familiar mischievous smile. the moment your eyes met, you felt the weight of the day melt away.

“hey,” he said softly, his voice no longer the cool, composed tone of the school president, but warm and affectionate—just for you.

“hey,” you replied, your smile growing as you walked toward him.

without saying a word, he slipped your backpack off your shoulders and pulled you into his arms, his fingers intertwining with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. in that moment, the tension of the day—the whispers, the teasing, the rumors—melted away. everything faded the instant you were alone with him, the world outside forgotten.

“you have no idea how hard it was to keep a straight face during that broadcast,” he murmured against your hair. “standing there, talking to the entire school, while you were right there next to sunghoon.”

you smiled into his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace. “sunghoon? really? you know he doesn’t care about the rumors. he’s just doing his job.”

jungwon sighed, resting his chin on your head. “i know. but still… i hate that people keep pairing you two together.”

“i don’t care what they think,” you replied softly. “i only care about you.”

jungwon smiled down at you, his eyes filled with affection as he laced his fingers through yours. “i know. and that’s all that matters.” he gently tugged you closer, his forehead resting against yours. “but sometimes i wish i could just—”

“just what?” you teased, smiling at how cute he looked when he was flustered.

he hesitated for a moment, before breaking into a mischievous grin. “sometimes i just want to make it obvious to everyone that you’re mine. forget all the secrecy.”

you laughed softly, your heart fluttering at his words. “we can’t, remember? the school would lose its mind.”

jungwon groaned, his hand tightening around yours. “i know. but i miss you so much during the day. all those girls swooning over me in the hallway… it’s hard not to tell them i’m already taken.”

“well,” you said, leaning in closer, your lips brushing his cheek, “you don’t have to worry. i’m the only one who gets to hold your hand after school.”

he chuckled softly, squeezing your hand. “and i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“i missed you,” jungwon murmured softly, his thumb gently brushing against your hand. “it felt like forever since i last saw you.”

his voice, low and tender, sent a warmth through you that rivaled the sunlight, and you couldn’t help but smile at how much those simple words made your heart flutter.

you laughed softly, squeezing his hand. “you saw me at lunch. in fact, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

he smirked, clearly proud of himself. “what? borrowing a book from your classmate isn’t allowed anymore?” he teased, though his eyes sparkled with something more.

“you know exactly what you were doing,” you shot back, playfully nudging him. “leaving a note like that? what if someone had seen it?”

“no one did,” jungwon replied smoothly, pulling you closer to him. “besides, i like the thrill of almost getting caught.”

you rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. “you’re impossible.”

“but you love me anyway,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. there was a gentleness in his voice, one that only came out when it was just the two of you.

you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder as the world around you grew quieter. in the dim light of the alley, away from prying eyes, the two of you could finally be yourselves—no rumors, no pretenses. just you and jungwon, hand in hand, hearts racing in sync.

“i do,” you whispered, closing your eyes as you let yourself sink into the comfort of his presence. “i love you.”

the words felt like a promise, a secret meant only for the two of you. and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

[zhelin-thames]

Since the majority of the ppl Chose "Danny as Ra's overpowered ex that Ra's still simps over" I give youuuuuuu

The Ghost King and the Demon’s Heart

The League of Assassins’ base was unusually quiet. Too quiet, considering the Batfamily was storming the place. Batman led the charge, followed closely by Nightwing, Red Hood, Robin, and Batgirl. Their mission was clear: stop Ra’s al Ghul from completing yet another dangerous ritual.

“Move!” Batman barked as they pushed deeper into the stone fortress, their shadows flickering under the dim torchlight.

They burst into a grand chamber, its walls etched with ancient carvings. At its center stood Ra’s al Ghul, bathed in an eerie green glow, his arms raised as he chanted in a language no one could understand. Around him, a circle of glowing runes pulsed with power.

“Stop him!” Batman ordered, and the team sprang into action.

Robin threw a smoke bomb to disorient the guards while Red Hood and Nightwing engaged the assassins. Batgirl worked on disabling the defensive mechanisms surrounding the circle. But despite their efforts, Ra’s’ loyalists held them off long enough. The ritual reached its climax.

The glowing circle erupted in a flash of green light, forcing everyone to shield their eyes. When the light subsided, they saw him.

Standing in the center of the circle was a figure unlike anything they had expected. A man, tall and imposing, radiated an aura of raw power. His eyes glowed a vibrant green, and a faint mist swirled around his form. A silver crown rested atop his head, and a dark cloak shimmered like the night sky.

The room fell silent. Even the League’s assassins froze, uncertain whether to attack or flee.

Ra’s al Ghul’s stoic expression melted into something uncharacteristically human—pure adoration.

“Beloved,” Ra’s whispered, taking a step toward the man.

The figure raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Ra’s,” he replied flatly, his tone laced with annoyance. “Still messing with forces you barely understand, huh?”

Nightwing leaned toward Red Hood. “Did he just call Ra’s ‘Ra’s’ like it’s his nickname?”

“Forget that,” Red Hood muttered. “Did Ra’s just call this guy ‘beloved’? What the hell is going on?”

Ra’s ignored them, his focus solely on the glowing figure. “It has been centuries, my king. You are as radiant as ever. Surely you feel it too—the pull of destiny that binds us still.”

The man—Danny—rolled his glowing eyes. “Ra’s, we dated for three months, centuries ago. It wasn’t destiny; it was boredom. Get over it.”

Ra’s clutched his chest dramatically, as though Danny’s words had physically wounded him. “You wound me, my love. No one has ever compared to you. Not in power, nor in beauty.”

The Batfamily collectively recoiled.

“Wait,” Nightwing whispered, wide-eyed. “Did we just crash a lover’s spat?”

“Focus,” Batman growled, though even he looked taken aback.

Before Danny could retort, a voice broke through the tension.

“Father,” Talia al Ghul stepped into the room, her expression a mix of awe and frustration. “You summoned the High King of the Infinite Realms? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Danny’s glowing gaze shifted to her and then to Damian, who stood rigidly beside Batman. Danny’s expression softened.

“And who’s this?” Danny asked, crouching slightly to meet Damian’s eyes.

Damian hesitated, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Batman stepped forward. “That’s my son.”

Danny blinked, his gaze darting between Damian and Batman. A slow, amused smile spread across his face.

“Your son?” Danny chuckled. “Ra’s has a grandson now? Oh, this just got interesting.”

Damian scowled. “Are you implying—”

“I like you already,” Danny interrupted with a grin.

Nightwing snickered. “I think Damian just found his favorite relative.”

Ra’s, however, bristled. “Beloved, surely you do not wish to lower yourself to mingle with mortals.”

Danny turned to him, unimpressed. “Mortals? Ra’s, your ‘immortality’ is a cheap parlor trick compared to what I deal with daily. Honestly, it’s cute you think you’re still relevant.”

Ra’s faltered, his usual composure cracking under the weight of Danny’s words.

Danny turned back to Batman. “So, why are you all here? Stopping one of Ra’s’ schemes, I assume?”

Batman nodded. “We weren’t expecting… you.”

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He glanced at Ra’s. “Do me a favor. Stick to your League and leave the realms out of your drama. The last thing I need is another cosmic mess because you’re lonely.”

“Beloved—” Ra’s started, but Danny raised a glowing hand, silencing him.

“Nope. We’re done here.”

Danny turned to Damian. “Seriously, kid, if you ever need advice about Ra’s, hit me up. I’ve got centuries’ worth of stories.” He paused, looking at the Batfamily. “And Bats? Keep doing what you’re doing. Lady Gotham’s lucky to have you.”

Before anyone could respond, Danny waved his hand, opening a swirling green portal. He stepped through, leaving behind stunned silence.

Ra’s stared longingly at the spot where Danny had vanished. “One day, my Beloved,” he murmured. “One day, we shall reunite.”

Nightwing broke the silence with a laugh. “Well, that was… something. Can’t wait to tell Alfred.”

Red Hood smirked. “I’m never letting Ra’s live this down.”

Damian crossed his arms, glaring at his family. “I don’t see what’s so amusing.”

Batman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not now.”

And with that, the Batfamily left the chamber, leaving Ra’s al Ghul alone with his heartache and the faint green glow of the fading ritual.

Masterpost

[mariasont]

House Rules - A.H

summary: bimbo!asssitant!reader hasn't been answering her phone all day, hotch needs her to clarify something about a case report, or at least that's what he tells himself when he shows up at her house

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: reader wearing some skimpy pjs, pre-relationship pining, hotch trying to act like he's not madly in love with reader

wc: 3.3k

Hotch wasn't sure why he'd expected your house to be normal. He chalked up his misjudgment on the haze of old injuries, the kind of logic that gets muddled when you've bled out on too many occasions. Because standing on your porch, staring at the pale pink door with a glittering  Home Sweet Home sign dangling from the handle, he realized how spectacularly wrong he'd been.

It suited you, he realized. He could almost picture you hanging it there, humming to yourself and adjusting it three times before deciding it was just right.

It wasn't a social call. At least, that's what Hotch told himself repeatedly, as though the words might drown out the irrational knot of worry in his stomach. You hadn't answered your phone all day, and that was strange for you.

It was your day off, yes, but normally you were over-communicative to a fault, texting emojis when a simple yes would have sufficed, or leaving voicemail messages that somehow turned into tangents about your neighbor's cat, your favorite polish color, or the iced coffee you'd spilled that morning.

But today there was Nothing. No texts. No calls. Nothing.

His rational mind told him you were fine. Phones die, phones get left behind, people turn them off to take a break. But when it came to you, the rational part of him always seemed to lose ground to the side of him he didn't care to admit existed — the side that careful just a little bit more than he should have.

He knocked.

After a second, he heard the unmistakable sound of your voice yelling a muffled coming!

The door opened, and there you stood, wearing something that could only be called pajamas by the loosest of definitions, shorts that left far too much skin exposed and a matching top that hugged your chest like it was afraid to let go. Your hair was loose and slightly messy, framing your face, and your bare feet peeked out from under the door.

"Oh!" You froze and looked at him like he had fallen from the sky. "Hotch! What are you doing here?"

Hotch cleared his throat and he tried, tried, to keep his eyes glued to your face. It was harder than it should have been — his brain wasn't helping, already memorizing every detail of your appearance that he knew he shouldn't have noticed.

"Do you always answer the door like this?"

"Like what?"

"Dressed like..." He hesitated, jaw clenching as he searched his vocabulary for a word that wouldn't sound entirely inappropriate. "Dressing like that. Without knowing who is on the other side."

"Hotch," you said, smiling slightly. "I could tell it wasn't a stranger."

"How?" he asked flatly, raising a brow. "Because if you tell me it was a feeling, I'm going to be very disappointed in you."

"So what are you doing here?"

You ignored him, smiling innocently as though he hadn't spoken at all.

He almost started to lecture you — about answering doors, about caution, about everything �� but the words died before they reached his tongue. You were fine. Perfectly fine. Not injured, not in danger, not lying in a hospital bed or worse. Just standing there, unharmed, while he tried to shake off the residual tension of imaging all of the worst-case scenarios he'd been wrestling with the past hour.

"You weren't answering your phone." His voice came out sharper than he meant, but he didn't correct it.

You stared at him before letting out an incredulous laugh. "Okay, but like... that's usually not cause for a wellness check."

"It's unusual for you."

His own voice sounded defensive in his ears, and he winced inwardly.

"Aw, were you worried about me, bossman?"

His response didn't come as quickly as it usually did, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to decipher something.

"I needed to confirm something about the case report."

"Sure, you did." You tilted your head, smile widening as you let the words linger. "Well, since you're already here, might as well come in. I'd hate for you to leave empty-handed."

Hotch hesitated. The professional part of him, the one that lived and breathed protocol, told him to stay outside, finish his excuse, and leave. Normally, he wouldn't have thought twice about saying yes to an invitation like this. He'd done it for Morgan, for Emily, even Spencer without a second thought. But this wasn't them. This was you. But then you gave him that look — raised eyebrows, half a grin, daring him to prove you wrong — and against better judgment, he stepped inside.

The inside of your house was... well, it was you.

It wasn't messy, but it wasn't neat either. It was softer than he expected. Fluffy throw blankets over the couch with heart shaped pillows. On the coffee table, a collection of framed photos — pictures of you with friends, family, and even what looked to be an embarrassing prom photo.

"So?" You moved across the room, draping yourself onto the arm of the couch like a cat in the sun, one leg swinging lazily. "What's the big emergency, Hotchner?"

"I told you," he replied, squinting his eyes at you as if that would somehow change your attitude. It wouldn't. He knew from experience. "The case report. You stapled the wrong attachment to it. I need to know where the correct file is."

"Uh-huh," you said, squinting your own eyes back as if to mock him. "And this couldn't just wait until the morning? You sure you didn't just miss me?"

His brow furrowed. "Why would I —"

You were on your feet in an instant, wagging a finger at him like he'd crossed a sacred line.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Hotchner!"

He blinked, staring at you like you'd just started reciting Shakespeare for no reason.

"You'll hurt my feelings," you said matter-of-factly. "And then I'll have no choice to pout. You'll feel guilty, you always do. And to make it up to me, you'll bring coffee tomorrow. So honestly, let's just skip all that and pretend you never wanted to finish that sentence."

He exhaled through his nose. "I was going to say, why would I miss you when I see you nearly every day?"

"Good." The smile was back on your face in a way that, annoyingly, made him feel better. "Because it's my day off, and you're forbidden from being mean to me on my day off."

"Are you implying I'm mean to you on your regular days?"

You tapped your chin as if seriously considering it. "Not mean, exactly... maybe a little grumpy sometimes."

Hotch huffed. "I'm grumpy with you?"

"Sometimes," you said with a shrug. "But it's okay. I like all your sides, even the grumpy one."

"I'm not grumpy with you," he replied, shaking his head. "If anything, I'm nicer to you than I should be."

"You big softie."

Hotch felt his lips twitch, and he hated how much effort it took to keep from smiling. He was not a soft person. He wasn't the type to let people get under his skin, and yet here you were managing to do it with a single sentence.

Worse, he didn't exactly dislike it. In fact, it felt... oddly welcome.

It was different from how you were at work, though, in fairness, you weren't exactly buttoned-up in the office, either.

"Did you make those?" He glanced briefly at the tray of cookies in the kitchen.

Your face lit up and you practically bounded over to the counter, grabbing the tray and holding it up like a trophy.

"Yep! Chocolate chip. Want one?"

Hotch hesitated for a second, then followed you into the kitchen, his gaze sweeping over the space despite himself. He didn't mean to do it, it wasn't intentional, but the part of him trained to notice every detail, every inconsistency, was already at work. Old habits die hard, or something like that.

The kitchen suited you. Soft pastel hues and floral details everywhere. Pink pots and pans hung along the wall, a lace-trimmed over mitt dangling from a hook shaped like a star. Fresh flowers, peonies or roses, he wasn't sure, sat in a vase on the counter.

He shook his head, trying to shut off that instinct to analyze. But it was almost automatic, his mind piecing things together, like the organization of the baking tools and the open cookbook, pages slightly smudged.

"Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna grab one?"

He looked at you, then at the cookies, and finally took one with a small nod of thanks. "You bake often?"

He didn't really need to ask, you felt far too comfortable in this space for the answer to be anything but yes.

"Oh, all the time," you said, turning to put the tray back down. "It's, like, my stress reliever. Plus, it makes the house smell amazing. Not that I'm, like, stressed or anything, just saying. It's a hobby. A cute hobby."

He bit into the cookie, ignoring the sweetness for a second as he glanced around again. The pink gingham tablecloth on the island, the mugs arranged by color.

"Anything else you need? Or can I get back to my cookies and reality TV?"

He glanced toward the TV, where some kind of dramatic argument was unfolding on screen, and then back to you. "You should charge your phone."

"Yes, Daddy," you said, before going stiff. "No! I didn’t mean, like, not that Daddy. Just… regular Dad."

His body went rigid, his jaw tightening as he forced himself not to react, shoving the thought out of his mind before it could take hold.

"Right," he said finally, voice rougher than usual. "Charge your phone."

Hotch stepped toward the door, his hand already reaching for the handle when your voice stopped him.

"No, Hotch's don't leave!"  you said, your voice dipping into a whine that should've been annoying. "I'm bored!"

Key word, should.

He turned back, brows lifted. "Bored?"

"Yes, bored," you said, flopping back onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. "I've already watched two hours of reality TV, ate like, five cookies, and had an entire conversation with myself while I folded laundry. And now you're here, and I haven't had company in forever, and you're just gonna leave me all alone?"

“Forever,” he repeated dryly. “So the 24 hours since I saw you at work?”

"That doesn't count. Work doesn't count as, like, real social interaction. It's work."

He gave you a look, one of those deadpan, unreadable stares that was meant to shut down further argument. That obviously didn't work.

"You're really going to leave me all alone? In my time of need? I thought you cared about me, Hotch."

"You're not in your time of need."

"Emotionally, I am," you said, crossing your arms and leaning back like you’d just made the world’s most convincing argument. "Please, Aaron? Just hang out with me for a little bit. One show. It'll make my whole day."

The way you said his name, Aaron, hit him in a way that felt decidedly too intimate, too casual, too... something. He clenched his jaw briefly, trying to shake off the sensation as he shot you another look.

"Since when do you call me that?"

"Since now," you replied with a shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It suits you."

His brows furrowed. "It's my name."

"Exactly," you said, leaning forward. "We're not at work. You came into my house. It's all casual here. You're Aaron now. Just go with it."

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” he replied, though his voice lacked conviction.

"It does now," you said, patting the couch beside you. "So, Aaron, are you gonna sit down? Just ten minutes."

With a reluctant sigh, he lowered himself onto the couch, his posture still stiff.

"Wow," you said, scooting so close that your thigh pressed against his. "I didn't think that was actually going to work."

You leaned across the coffee table to grab a blanket, shorts riding up with the motion. Hotch's eyes darted away immediately, landing on the far corner of the room as though it held something deeply fascinating.

His hand clenched into a fist on his thigh, nails pressing into his palm. His knuckles whitened slightly as he tried to force his thoughts back into neutral territory, focusing on his breathing instead of the shape of your ass.

By the time you turned back, oblivious, and tossed the blanket over both of you, he'd managed to school his face into its usual unreadable expression, though he couldn't quite fix the pressure building in his chest.

"So," you began, holding up the remote, "what's it gonna be? Reality TV? A baking show? Or, oh, those ones where they renovate houses, but everything goes horribly wrong."

"You pick." He shifted, trying to put even an inch more space between you, but you didn't seem to notice, too preoccupied with tucking the blanket around you both.

"Okay, but don't blame me if you get hooked. I'm just saying, this stuff is addictive."

He leaned back shaking his, but his focus never really landed on the TV. Instead, it stayed on you, laughing at the wrong moments, gasping dramatically at plot twists, and making snarky commentary under your breath.

"You know," you said suddenly, glancing over at him with a sly smile, "you're kind of cute when you're pretending to relax."

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asked, though the lack of bite in his tone made it sound almost too fond.

"Nope," you said cheerfully, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “Consider it part of the package.”

Hotch didn't respond, his attention shifting back to the screen, or at least, that's what he told himself. But as the minutes stretched into fifteen, then twenty, he realized he wasn't in any hurry to leave.

You fell asleep thirty minutes later.

Hotch wasn't surprised. Between the pile of blankets, you'd wrapped yourself in and the way you'd curled up on the couch like it was your safe haven, it was a miracle you'd lasted that long. He'd noticed your eyelids drooping about five minutes earlier, your commentary fading into soft hums of acknowledgment as you sank deeper into the cushions.

The room was quiet now except for the sound of the TV. He shifted in his seat, glancing over at you. You were entirely still, your breathing slow. Your hair had fallen across your face, and the blanket had slipped off your shoulder, leaving your tank top askew.

It was weird, seeing you like this. You, who were always moving and talking and saying things he never really knew how to respond to. Now you looked so soft, completely oblivious to how much space you were taking up in his head. 

He told himself to leave. Just slip out, lock the door, and let you sleep. That would’ve been the smart thing. The right thing. But he didn’t. Maybe it was the thought of you waking up, groggy and alone, wondering where he’d gone. Or maybe it was the realization that you were still his responsibility, even outside of work.

He leaned forward reluctantly, one hand brushing the blanket back over your shoulder. He told himself it was just a gentlemanly gesture, the kind anyone would do, but the second his fingers grazed you, he froze.

You murmured something under your breath, unintelligible really, your head shifting as you face turned toward him. He snatched his hand back like he'd touched something scalding. 

"Come on," he muttered under his breath. He slid one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, lifting you easily.

Your head fell against his shoulder the second he straightened. He swallowed. Your bedroom. Where was it? He glanced down the hall. Left or right? The door slightly ajar felt like the most obvious choice, and sure enough, when he nudged it open with his foot, he found himself standing right where he anticipated.

Pinks, florals, lace-trimmed, well, everything. The bed was covered in more pillows than he could count in every possible shade of pastel. It smelled like you, roses and vanilla, with something sweeter lingering underneath, like sugar from a bakery.

But then his eyes snagged on the rack of nightgowns against the far wall, like it wasn't about to cause an existential crisis. 

Lace. Sheer. Satin.

He shouldn't be looking at them. He knew he shouldn't be looking at them, and yet... he couldn't stop. The imagine of you wearing one slipped into his mind before he could stop it. That was a problem—he could see you in them, and now he had to wrestle with that mental image while pretending to be a gentleman.

He bit down on the inside of his check, hard enough to sting, and forced himself to look back at the bed. This wasn’t the time, or the place, for thoughts like that. Hell, there wasn’t ever a time for them. 

He eased you onto the mattress, his hands far softer than he thought himself capable of. He straightened, watching as you instinctively curled into the covers, your hair fanning across the pillow like some picture-perfect cliché.

Then you stirred, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet his. 

"Hotch?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

"It's okay," he said softly. "Go back to sleep."

You blinked slowly, gaze still hazy. "You're still here?"

"I didn't want to leave you on the couch. You looked too uncomfortable."

Your lips curved into a small, sleepy smile as you sank back into the pillows. "That's... sweet. I didn't think you did stuff like that."

He huffed softly, shaking his head. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

Your smile widened lazily, your half-lidded eyes sparkling with amusement. "Mysterious and chivalrous. You’re gonna ruin my whole perception of you.”

"Sleep," he said firmly, though there was no real heat behind the command.

Your gaze shifted past him, landing on the rack against the wall.

"Did you see those?" you asked. He hesitated, too long for it to go unnoticed, and your grin turned sly. "You did see them, didn't you?"

"They're hard to miss," he admitted, his voice carefully neutral.

"Bet you weren't expecting that, huh?" you teased, leaning your head against the pillow. “So? Thoughts?”

"I think," he said evenly, "you ask too many questions when you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

You laughed softly, the sound trailing off like a dream. “You’re dodging, Aaron. I didn’t know you could dodge.”

He sighed, stepping back as though the distance might save him. "You're good at this."

"Good at what?"

"Pushing buttons," he replied. “You’re a natural.”

"And yet, you're still here."

He didn't have the words for that. Because you were right, and he didn't know what to do about that.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your body slackening into the bed, and he thought you were asleep.

Then you spoke again, quieter this time, as if testing the words before committing to them. “Why’d you really come here?”

He stilled. "I told you. You weren't answering your phone. The case report."

The explanation felt flimsy, even to him, and he hated how obvious it sounded.

"That's not it," you whispered, your eyes still closed. "You could've just waited until tomorrow. You didn't have to check on me. But you did."

Hotch didn’t move, his breath catching as he studied you. Your face, relaxed and peaceful, gave no indication whether you knew what kind of mess you were making of him in that moment.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, the faintest hint of a smile brushing your lips. "I think I like it when you worry about me. Feels nice."

You didn’t say anything else, your breathing softening as sleep took over again.

Hotch stayed where he was, rooted to the spot. Your words replayed like a deadly loop in his head.

He finally tore his gaze away, stepping back and slipping out of the room with careful movements. He closed the door behind him as softly as he could, but even then, the sound felt too loud.

For a second, he lingered in the hallway, staring at door like it might offer him some form of an answer. He'd drawn a line with you a thousand times in his head, a boundary he vowed not to cross. And yet, like you said, he was still here, standing in your home.

He shook his head and turned toward the front door. He wouldn't cross the line, but gods help him, staying on the right side of it felt harder every time.

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[byhuenii]

The prince with the metal arm

Pairing Girl Dad!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Synopsis your daughter asked for a bedtime, not unusual. But she asked for yours and buckys story

Word Count 2.7k

Themes + Warnings nothing but fluff and chaos

— The prince with the metal arm a bedtime story that is based of true events

The lights in your daughter’s room were dim, her favorite star projector twinkling softly on the ceiling as Bucky tucked her in. Her tiny fists clutched her Steve Rogers plushie like it was the most important mission she’d ever had.

Bucky’s voice was low and gentle, a quiet rhythm in the glow of the projector stars spinning lazily above. Your daughter snuggled deeper into her blanket, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other wrapped tight around her Steve Rogers plushie.

“All tucked in, doll,” Bucky said with a warm smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face and leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“Story?” she whispered, eyes wide and hopeful.

He chuckled. “Of course. Want me to read Goodnight Moon again or—”

“Tell me a story,” she interrupted, “about you and Mommy.”

Bucky blinked. “Wha—Me and Mommy?”

You were leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and lips curved in a knowing smile. His eyes flicked to you, slightly panicked.

“Maybe… a different story, sweetheart,” he offered, almost pleading.

But she was your daughter—stubborn, determined, and so clearly yours. “No. That one. Now, please.”

You bit back a laugh, and Bucky gave you a mock glare before sighing in surrender. “Alright, alright. Settle in.”

He adjusted himself on the edge of her bed and cleared his throat.

“Once upon a time,” he began, his voice deep but gentle, “there was a prince.”

“A brave prince?” she asked, eyes wide.

“The bravest,” he said with a wink. “He was strong and kind, and he had the biggest heart. But one day… a wicked wizard took him away.”

You saw his jaw twitch slightly. But he continued, voice steady for her sake.

“This wizard… he cast a curse on the prince. Gave him a metal arm and locked him far, far away where no one could find him. The prince’s friends looked everywhere—Sir Steve, Lady Natasha, Sir Sam—they never gave up. But the spell was strong.”

Your daughter’s brows furrowed. “Was he scared?”

He paused. “Yeah. He was. And sad. And alone for a long, long time.”

You stepped into the room slowly, sitting on the other side of the bed. Your daughter reached for your hand without looking away from Bucky.

“So the prince sat alone in the dark tower. He didn’t know what day it was or how long he’d been there. The wizard’s curse had made him forget things—his name, his friends, even what it felt like to laugh.”

“Was he sad?” your daughter asked, voice small.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Very sad. He didn’t smile for a long, long time. And the metal arm the wizard gave him? It was heavy. Not just here—” He tapped his shoulder. “But here too.” He tapped over his chest, heart steady under his hand.

“But one night,” he said, glancing at you, his voice softening, “he heard a voice. A soft one. On the other side of the stone wall. The princess had wandered into the forest near the tower, and she didn’t know anyone was there. She was just… talking to herself. Or so she thought.”

You smiled, squeezing your daughter’s hand. You remember how you met him for real. You hadn’t known who he was back then. Just a man with sad eyes and heavy silences.

“The prince didn’t say anything at first. He just listened. Night after night, the princess came back. She talked about the birds she saw, the sun setting over her castle, the way flowers always knew how to bloom again even after winter.”

“She sounds like Mommy,” your daughter mumbled, already halfway to sleep.

Bucky smiled at you, his voice softer now.

“She didn’t know what he looked like or what he’d been through. But every night, she’d talk. About her day. About the sky. About her dreams. And it made the prince feel a little less alone.”

“She didn’t know it, but every time she spoke, she chipped away at the wall around the prince’s heart. She made him feel again. Until finally, one day, the prince found the courage to answer.”

Your daughter blinked slowly. “What did he say?”

He leaned down and whispered, “He said, ‘Are you real?’”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. That had been almost word for word what he said the first night he’d really opened up to you. Like he didn’t think someone could love him past all he’d been through.

“And the princess said yes,” Bucky went on, brushing your daughter’s hand. “She said, ‘I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.’ And she didn’t.”

Bucky shifted “one day, the princess found a crack in the wall. And she saw him. Not the prince he once was—his hair was longer, his eyes were tired. He looked like he’d forgotten how to smile. But you know what the princess did?”

Your daughter shook her head.

He glanced at you. “She stayed. Even when he told her about the curse. Even when she saw his arm.”

“She wasn’t scared?” your daughter asked.

Bucky shook his head slowly. “No. She told him the arm was part of his story. Not something to hide. And when he tried to push her away, she just… loved him harder.”

You reached across the bed and took Bucky’s hand, your fingers curling around his metal one. He gave you a look that made your heart twist—the kind of look only a man who truly believed he’d never deserve love could give.

“She smiled. Big and bright. And opened her arms and told the prince he didn’t have to be alone anymore. So… they fought the wizard together. The princess was brave, too.”

“She fought him?” her voice was filled with awe.

“She sure did. And when the battle was over… the prince’s friends found him again. They cried happy tears because they had missed him so much.”

He looked up at you again, and for a second, it was like it wasn’t just a story.

“And when the prince was alone with the princess,” he said, brushing your daughter’s cheek, “he told her he loved her. He was scared she didn’t feel the same, that maybe she was just being kind. But then…”

“I love you too,” your daughter whispered dreamily, finishing the line.

You both smiled.

“She said it back,” Bucky said. “And the curse? It didn’t matter anymore. Because the princess didn’t care about the metal arm. She loved him for who he was. And they lived happily ever after—with a little firecracker of a princess who kept them both on their toes.”

“And the prince?” Bucky murmured. “He started to believe he wasn’t cursed anymore. Not really. Because the princess showed him he wasn’t broken. Just… healing.”

Your daughter blinked sleepily. “They get married?” She asked again to make sure

Bucky chuckled softly. “Eventually. After they fought the wicked wizard together—side by side. The princess wasn’t just loving. She was strong. Fierce. The prince wasn’t used to people fighting with him, but she did. Every battle. Every fear. She was there.”

You leaned down and kissed your daughter’s forehead. “And they lived happily ever after, right?”

Bucky nodded, his voice like velvet. “Happily ever after. With a beautiful little girl who had the princess’ fire and the prince’s heart.”

Your daughter gave a tiny yawn, blinking up at the ceiling stars. “That’s me?”

“That’s you,” you both said together.

Your daughter giggled sleepily and pulled her blanket up to her chin. “That’s the best story ever,” she mumbled.

“I think so too,” you said softly, brushing her hair as her eyes fluttered closed.

Bucky leaned down and kissed her forehead again before you both tiptoed out, gently closing the door behind you.

In the hallway, you turned to him with tear-glassy eyes and a smile.

“That was beautiful, Buck.”

He gave you a soft smirk, voice thick with emotion. “Well, she asked for a fairytale.”

You leaned up and kissed him gently, hand brushing the side of his face. “You’ll always be my brave prince.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing his forehead to yours. “And you’ll always be the reason I made it back.”

You and Bucky stood in the hallway, the door cracked just enough to watch her sleep. Her little face was peaceful, mouth slightly open, lashes resting on her cheeks.

“She really wanted our story,” you whispered, your head resting against his shoulder.

He nodded, still watching her, his voice full of awe. “She’s gonna grow up knowing the truth. But for now… I like that she hears it like that. A fairytale.”

You turned to look up at him. “It kind of was, wasn’t it? A little messy. A little dark. But still… magic.”

He looked at you the way he always did in quiet moments—like you’d saved him a thousand times and didn’t even realize it.

He raised your joined hands, pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “You were the magic, sweetheart.”

You smiled, heart aching in the best way.

The two of you walked quietly down the hall, your hand in his. And somewhere behind you, under a blanket of stars and soft breathing, your daughter dreamed of brave princes, fierce princesses, and a love strong enough to break any curse.

BONUS :

It’s a perfect summer evening—blue skies, golden sunlight filtering through the trees, laughter echoing across the backyard. Smoke wafts from the grill where Sam is dramatically flipping burgers like it’s a cooking show. Bucky is nearby, tongs in one hand, beer in the other, absolutely pretending he’s in charge when everyone knows Sam banned him from the grill years ago.

Wanda and Sharon are on the patio, glasses of lemonade in hand, deep in gossip. Yelena is teaching your daughter how to throw a totally unnecessary but cool dramatic knife pose with a plastic fork.

Steve? Steve is sitting peacefully on a lawn chair under a big umbrella, probably feeling like he’s finally relaxing for the first time in 80 years.

And then she stomps up to him.

Your daughter.

Five years old.

Pink shorts. Sparkly sandals. Face serious.

Plush Steve Rogers in one hand. Juice pouch in the other. Full of righteous toddler rage.

“Uncle Steve.”

Steve looks up, smiling. “Hey sweetheart. What’s up?”

She narrows her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a knight?!”

The entire backyard freezes.

Sam stops mid-burger flip. Bucky chokes on his drink. Yelena mutters “oh no” under her breath like it’s a Cold War flashback.

Steve blinks. “A knight?”

She glares. “Sir Steve! From the story! You were the knight who was trying to find the Prince! My daddy!”

And then, as if that’s not enough—she gasps.

“You didn’t save him!”

Steve’s mouth opens and closes like Windows 98 trying to reboot.

You’re across the yard, hand over your mouth, desperately trying not to fall apart laughing. Bucky is already doubled over, pointing at Steve like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” Steve says, panic rising, hands up in surrender. “I tried! I looked everywhere! There was… Hydra! And ice! And—”

“BUT YOU’RE CAPTAIN AMERICA!” she yells, arms flailing. “You were supposed to go in and SLICE the wizard and get my daddy back!!”

Wanda’s cackling into her drink. Nat’s wiping tears from her eyes. Yelena is whispering, “This child has taste.”

Steve rubs a hand down his face. “Technically, your mommy helped save him—”

“BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T!” she shouts.

Bucky, nearly crying from laughter, finally scoops her up. “Alright, alright, doll. Ease up on Uncle Steve. He tried. The story just had… delays.”

She folds her arms over her chest dramatically. “He better be lucky the princess was braver than him.”

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Sam yells from the grill. “SHE SAID WHAT SHE SAID!”

Steve is just sitting there, face in hands, muttering, “I fought Nazis for this…”

Bucky kisses your daughter’s cheek and looks up at Steve with a smirk. “Tough crowd, huh?”

“Your daughter just revoked my knighthood,” Steve groans.

“She’s not wrong,” you say, finally walking over with a plate of chips.

“Not you too,” Steve grumbles.

Your daughter, now smug and safe in Bucky’s arms, reaches out and boops Steve’s nose.

“I still love you. You just have to be braver next time.”

Everyone loses it.

Later that night, when the stars are out and everyone’s mellow and full of food, Steve sits next to your daughter with a juice box in one hand and a marshmallow stick in the other.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “Just so you know… I really did try. I missed your daddy every day he was gone.”

She looks up at him, thoughtful. “It’s okay. But next time, just call the princess. She fixes everything.”

Steve smiles, eyes a little glassy now. “Yeah. She really does.”

From across the yard, Bucky wraps his arm around you and watches the two of them—his best friend and his tiny firecracker of a daughter—knowing somehow, against all odds, the story had the happiest ending of all.

The party is winding down, marshmallows have been roasted, and Steve has just barely recovered from being verbally knight-stripped by your child.

You’re curled up next to Bucky on a blanket under the fairy lights, sipping your drink, absolutely enjoying the chaos you’ve married into. Bucky is watching his daughter with the smuggest, softest expression like he still can’t believe she’s real.

Cue: your daughter, now on her second juice box and high on sugar, absolutely not done with her mission of justice.

She marches up to Natasha Romanoff, who’s lounging in a lawn chair next to Sharon, Wanda, and Yelena.

“Lady Natasha.”

Nat looks up, sunglasses on even though the sun is long gone, already smirking. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Why didn’t you turn into a dragon to save Prince Bucky?”

Everyone freezes.

Sharon immediately chokes on her drink.

Wanda gasps theatrically. “Oh no.”

Yelena is full on grinning. “This is the best party I’ve ever been to.”

Nat leans forward slowly, like she’s preparing to give a press statement. “Well, I was going to. But I was told not to…”

She dramatically tilts her head toward Steve and Sam across the yard.

“…by Sir Steve and Sir Sam.”

“EXCUSE ME?” Sam shouts, spinning around from the grill. “I’m sorry, what now?”

“Don’t drag me into this!” Steve says, already done with this conversation.

Nat looks back down at your daughter and shrugs. “I wanted to. I had wings and everything. But Sir Steve said ‘stand down,’ and Sir Sam said I was being extra.”

Sam stomps over, flipping the spatula in his hand like a sword. “Extra?! Girl, I was the one flying around with a literal wingsuit—I was the dragon!”

“Nope,” Yelena says, popping a chip in her mouth. “You were the comedic relief.”

“EXCUSE ME?” Sam gasps, clutching his chest like he’s been mortally wounded.

Wanda’s laughing so hard she nearly drops her drink. Sharon’s already filming with her phone like it’s a reality show.

Your daughter’s eyes narrow at Sam. “You could have helped Lady Natasha become a dragon. You have wings.”

Sam throws up his hands. “I am the wings!”

“Then why didn’t you BREATHE FIRE?!” she demands, like that’s a normal question.

“Because I’m not a real dragon, baby, I’m a—wait, why am I explaining myself to a toddler??”

“You let the wizard KEEP MY DADDY!” she accuses, dramatically pointing her finger.

“I was IN THE SKY! I was—!” Sam’s sputtering now, deeply betrayed. “I FOUGHT FOR THAT MAN!”

Natasha is calmly sipping her drink now, sunglasses still on. “Mmm. Not hard enough, apparently.”

Bucky’s wheezing into your shoulder. “I’m gonna pass out. She’s grilling them harder than Hydra ever did me.”

“She’s a menace,” you whisper through your laughter, eyes shining. “Our little, justice-seeking menace.”

Your daughter crosses her arms and glares up at Sam. “You’re on probation.”

Sam gasps again. “PROBATION?! I let you steal my sunglasses! I cut the crusts off your grilled cheese!”

“And yet,” she says, voice cold, “no dragon fire.”

Yelena claps slowly. “I love her.”

Nat leans over and fist bumps your daughter. “Vengeance. I approve.”

Steve, from across the yard, to Bucky: “So… are all your family barbecues like this now?”

Bucky, proudly watching his daughter sass grown Avengers into submission: “Yeah. And it’s perfect.”

Later that night, as your daughter lays half-asleep in your lap under a blanket, she sleepily whispers:

“…next time, Lady Natasha should absolutely turn into a dragon. With red fire. And a big tail.”

Bucky runs his fingers through her hair. “You think that’d scare the wizard?”

She hums. “No. But it’d be so cool.”

(You’ve got mail!) I don’t know I had an idea it reminded me of all the bedtime stories my mommy would read to me, and I thought how cute it’d be for Bucky to read his daughter a story like this

Tag List (For Mr. James Buchanan Barnes is open)

@bbsbrina @herejustforbuckybarnes @barnesandbouquets @winchestert101 @totallyanxiousart @lovinqbella @starstruckfirecat @beestarsuck

[starsforxavi]

the only exception

·······•✦ description: Being called over in the middle of the night by your friend Rafayel wasn't an unusual occurrence. It was unusual, however, when he asked you to be his model for a painting, letting you use his wardrobe to dress up for him, especially considering he never painted people. He insisted, though, and who were you to say no to his pleading gaze? But something was off about him; he wasn't acting like himself...

·······•✦ pairing: virgin!rafayel x afab!reader ·······•✦ word count: 9.6k ·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff ·······•✦ general tags: Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Virgin!Rafayel, Light Angst, It's very subtle angst, Slight Lore and Spoilers for Rafayel's story, Yearning, Masturbation, Scent Kink, Body Worship, big dick, First Time, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Rafayel calls you 'princess', Soft sex, Nostalgia, stealing clothes, getting caught, Creampie, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cockwarming, Reader-Insert, Inexperienced Rafayel, Loss of Virginity

·······•✦ posted on: ao3

The loud doorbell rang through the night sky, echoing through the tall trees and across the city skyline. The drive up to Rafayel’s house was quiet and secluded; you couldn’t help but wonder how lonely it got. So far away from the rest of the city, sitting right on the water and overlooking the vast ocean. At times, he assured you that he liked the privacy, and his connection to the water and nature generally spurred his artistic inspirations. Other times, he had a far-off look in his eye, saying that while it did get lonely, he felt better when you came to visit him.

Waking up to your phone ringing and Rafayel’s voice insisting that he needed his bodyguard over to his house immediately wasn’t what you expected of a Friday night. Still, it was Rafayel, and you couldn’t really say no. His insistent and whiny voice made your heart clench, your buried feelings for him doing nothing but forcing you to oblige to his asks.

It was a moment of you standing outside in the cold, pajama pants and baggy shirt doing little to help shield you from the biting wind. After the second ring of the doorbell, you heard footsteps through his house, and eventually, the door opened to reveal a disheveled Rafayel. Your breath stopped momentarily as you took in his messy hair and flushed cheeks. In one hand, he held a paintbrush covered in multiple mixes of colors. The other hand grabbed your wrist, gently ushering you inside.

“Wow, that was quick, miss bodyguard.” His voice came out in a huff, and Rafayel had to stop himself from staring at your lips. It happened every time you were near him, his eyes wandering across your body but constantly fixating on your lips…. Or your neck… Or your hands… He snapped out of it, sending a smirk your way as he started walking back towards the large living room. “I didn’t know you missed me that much.”

“Oh please,” You rolled your eyes, laughter echoing through the room. “Wasn’t it you who texted me four times asking me to come over and ‘protect you from the wind’?”

The only pieces of furniture were a small white couch and a coffee table. One of the walls was made of windows and clear glass leading to the vast ocean at the end of the small strip of sand. Trees swayed as the wind whipped outside, light rain staining the windows. Darkness stretched out over the ocean, the only light being from the moon. It streaked across the water, piercing deep and greeting the ecosystems that thrived.

“It’s getting crazy out there!” Rafayel’s cheeks blushed pink, his arms crossing. He gestured outside, trying to come up with a better excuse. “Plus, I just wanted you to keep me company as I paint.”

As you looked around, you took notice of the easel and canvas. Paint splashed across the corners, colors blending into beautiful sunrises and sunsets. Fireworks of golden yellow and dark blue contrasted and made a painting that caused your heart to race. It wasn’t often that art would elicit such a reaction from you, but Rafayel’s art always seemed to do something to you. It stole the breath from your lungs and made your heart pause in astonishment.

“That’s beautiful, Raf.” As you stared at the canvas, you didn’t notice how Rafayel’s ears turned bright red. His gaze fixated on you as you walked forward. Masterfully placed blank spaces broke up the colors, and you weren’t sure why, but a sense of nostalgia washed over you.

“Thanks, it’s supposed to be a little alcove in the middle of the ocean, secluded from everyone.” When he explains, you can almost feel yourself sitting on the small patch of sand in the middle of nowhere. The sunset in the distance of the painting felt so real as if you’d reached your hand out for it before.

“It looks so realistic.” You wanted to reach out and touch it, the sand falling between your fingertips like sand in an hourglass. The moon's light came through the windows, casting a bright light on the art. Looking back at Rafayel, you smiled at him, your heart beating faster when you noticed he was already looking at you. “No wonder you’re the world's most famous artist.”

A light blush covered his cheeks as he listened to your praise. He was used to people waxing poetic about his art, calling it ‘timeless’ and ‘alive.’ Nothing was like hearing the words from your lips, though. His eyebrows raised as he walked forward, setting his paintbrush down on the color palette. 

“That’s high praise coming from you, miss bodyguard.” As he stepped closer, your eyes drifted to the ocean. Somewhere in the distance, it felt like that little alcove was waiting. It beckoned you to it like a long-lost treasure. You rolled your eyes gently, shaking your head. 

He always seemed to favor you over others under the guise of needing his bodyguard, but no matter how often he called you, you would always come to his aid. Every time you saw him, it seemed your heart called out to him. It was a strange feeling, only made more complicated by your growing crush on the painter. 

“I don’t know why my words are more special than everyone else's that compliment your art.” Rafayel felt his stomach clench. He remembered the times spent in that alcove, the past rushing back to him in waves when he finished one of his paintings.

Rafayel shrugged, putting his hands on his hips. “You’re always one of the first to see my finished and unfinished art.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t let just anyone see my art before I’m ready.” 

You’re special to me . His thoughts passed through his head as he took in your expression. Shadows stretched across the walls from his lamp, your body outlined against his large mural wall. It was like you were a part of the scene, and Rafayel had to snap himself out of his stupor.

“I’m honored.” You laughed, your voice spreading through the room. “But it looks like you’re finished with this one. Were you just going to paint the night away?”

Sitting down on his stool, you crossed your arms over your chest, a cold breeze coming from one of the open windows. There was a silence in the air that was only interrupted by the soft knock of branches on the wall and the crashing of the waves on the beach. Your eyes met, his body swaying as he followed the ebb and flow of the ocean.

“I thought about it.” He backed up just a step, head tilting as he took your position on his stool. You looked stunning , and although he usually didn’t paint people, you were an exception. You were the only exception. “But seeing you right now, I want you to be my model.”

You were slightly taken aback by the suggestion, shying away from his eyes as he trailed them down your body. He never did that, never looked at you like you were an ancient statue that was worshipped for millennia. At least you never caught him looking at you like that.

“I don’t think I’m a very good model. I can barely sit still.” You didn’t think about the fact that Rafayel’s eyes would be fixated on you, every inch of you, as he painted. The salty air wafted in from the ocean, and you shivered at the cold once more.

“I think you’ll be a perfect model.” He turned to look at his room, an idea washing over him. “In fact, I think you should dress up.” Rafayel began walking towards his room, beckoning you to follow him. 

Once you stepped inside, you took in just how spacious his room was. One of the walls was all windows, his bed in the middle of the room facing the ocean. Bookcases and supplies littered the other walls, and a door sat in the corner. You had been in Rafayel’s room before, but with the moon casting pure light over almost everything, it was like you were in another world.

Rafayel clearing his throat brought you back to reality, and you looked around, finding him standing in front of the door. He wore a mischievous smirk as he turned the handle, revealing rows and rows of clothes. In a grandeur swing of his arms, he looked back at you.

“You have free reign.” He announced, watching you walk up and peer in. The way your jaw slightly dropped as you took in all the beautiful outfits. Some were made for women, some for men, and others to fit anybody. “Pick whatever you want and become my model, please.” The last syllable drew slowly from his lips, his eyes begging you to do this for him. 

Just like most things, you were too caught up in his eyes, finding yourself nodding in reluctance. “Okay, fine.” When you walked in, you were overwhelmed by colors and patterns, so you turned back to Rafayel. “Give me a second to choose; there are so many options.”

“Take all the time you need, miss bodyguard.” He stepped out, his shoes clicking on the tile floor as he made his way to the living room. You could hear rustling as he began cleaning up something, probably getting a new canvas and preparing the area. 

Taking a deep breath, you perused the clothes, finding almost anything you could think of, from warm coats with gold accents to tight-fitting dresses with streaks of blue and purple. Nothing jumped out at you as you looked through almost all the racks. 

It wasn’t until you reached the last little corner that you saw a beautiful pair of sandals like the ancient gods would wear. They looked like they tied together just below your knee, the strings made of an iridescent blue. Right above it hung a gown, long and flowing. If it weren’t adorned with matching iridescent hues, you would think it was a nightgown. It was pure white, a beautiful shining blue string wrapped around the waist and collar. You were drawn to it, your hand instantly shooting out and pulling it from the hanger.

You wondered if anyone else had worn this or if Rafayel had invited anyone else to do this exact thing. A hint of jealousy appeared before you shook it away; he wasn’t yours . Immediately, you started undressing, folding your clothes, and preparing to set them on his bed. When you finished the last knot on the sandals, you walked out, setting your clothes on Rafayel’s bed. 

Peeking into the living room, you see Rafayel standing at the clear wall, looking out over the ocean. His solemn expression is reflected in him, and you can see his eyes following the tides. The hands in his pockets flexed as he rocked on his heels again. 

Not wanting to eavesdrop on him any longer, you cleared your throat, leaning against the door frame. When Rafayel turned around, he had to keep his face a bit neutral, not wanting to let slip just how much he was amazed by your beauty. As his eyes scanned your outfit, you felt your skin heat up.

“Do you let every woman wear this when you paint them?” You joked, knowing he said he didn’t paint people. But who knows? Maybe a past lover had been in your exact position, except this time you weren’t lovers. Walking forward just a bit, you cross your arms over your chest, feeling the sheer cover over the silk gown itch your skin.

“Of course not! I told you I don’t paint people. But you’re an exception.” Rafayel scoffed, rolling his eyes and letting his hand come to rest on his chest. He pretended to be hurt, his thoughts clouded by the sight of you in the gown. It brought back memories, things he wished you would remember but knew were impossible. You wouldn’t remember; you couldn’t remember.

He walked over to the easel, his paints already mixed and ready to go. Looking back at you, his breath caught in his throat, his words coming out as a sigh before he steeled his expression into one of impatience. “That was a piece given to me by a very famous designer. No one has worn it, just you. And I think it was meant for you, miss bodyguard.”

Instead of adding another quip to the duel, you relented, walking over to his stool that sat a few feet from the mural wall. Awkwardly standing there, you looked at Rafayel before sitting on the stool. You tried to do precisely what you did before, one of your feet sitting on the footrest and the other gently pressing into the floor. Giving him a look, you watched as he picked up his brush. “How’s this?”

Rafayel had to clench his jaw to stop the endless compliments that would fall from his lips. Instead, he nodded his head, focusing back on the paint he haphazardly stroked onto the canvas. “Great, keep still for me, princess.”

He didn’t notice the slip of his tongue, but you did. The nickname came so effortlessly from him that you had to bite your lip. Another rush of nostalgia hit you in the chest, and your heartbeat sped up just slightly. In an effort to calm your thoughts, you took a few deep breaths, not knowing why it sounded so familiar and alien at the same time.

There was a clear picture in his head, the beige and yellow colors mixing to make a beautiful piece of art. When he was finished, he would hang it in his room for his eyes only. It was like he could still remember that day, the hot sun beating down on his skin as he stood on the dunes. The light almost blinded him when he saw you, and he began to stroke white paint on your outline. 

Silence fell between you, and you remained still, your gaze swinging from the beautiful deep blue ocean in the distance. There was also the concentrated look on Rafayel’s face as he scribbled on the canvas. He usually sat on the stool, the same one you were currently occupying, but he didn’t mind having to stand, his long legs bending slightly to get a better look at the painting head-on.

The waves crashing provided good background noise as you felt his eyes on you once more. The tension in the air snapped tight each time you made eye contact, a small smile blooming on Rafayel’s face. He tried to ease some of your nerves, his gaze traveling to your hips and legs, poking out just slightly from the bottom of the gown. The blue strings of the sandals hugged your calves tight, making a slight indent in your skin. 

His resolve wasn’t fairing, and he realized he didn’t think it through when he asked you to model for him. He began imagining pushing the gown up your body, exposing every inch of you to him. The thoughts that came to him sometimes at night began to slip in, and he had to shake his head lightly, pulling his hand back before he totally ruined the painting with the wrong shade of orange.

“How’s it coming along?” Your voice cut through the silence, watching as Rafayel paused for a moment. The way your eyes met was quick, an energy surrounding you that caused the hair on your arms to stand on end. If you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed the way the tips of his ears blushed, his shoulder twitching as he shrugged.

“It’s coming along well; just make sure not to move. I don’t want you to mess it up, miss bodyguard.” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you. Though his voice was light, his throat clenched as a breeze tumbled in, your gown fluttering around your legs.

The fragrance you always wore seemed enhanced by the salty smell of the ocean flowing around the room and surrounding Rafayel. He took a deep breath, your scent intoxicating to him. Whenever you were around, he couldn’t help but be intrinsically drawn to you, your natural smell causing his brain to go fuzzy.

Rafayel took notice of the way you shivered, his hand stuttering as he created the wind in his painting, the edge of the gown making a rippling effect in his art. When he looked at you again, you were still, eyes gazing at the ocean. He wondered if you felt drawn to the sea just as he did. Although curious, he never pushed the boundary, not wanting to dig up the tragic past that he was cursed to remember.

“Cold?” His question hung in the air for a second before you nodded. Instead of teasing you, his brow softened, and he tilted his head. “Not too much longer, I promise.”

When you nodded again, Rafayel turned his attention back to the painting. It was amazing how quickly he could switch into the creator mindset. His dedication to everything he did was admirable, and despite how dramatic he could be at times, it was almost always for good reason.

While he was preoccupied, you let your eyes admire him. His eyes squinted slightly, flicking over the canvas. One of his hands held his paintbrush, while in the other sat the color palette. There were many beiges and yellows, along with white and blue. Curiosity ate at you, and you wondered what exactly he was doing in the background. 

His black pants slid over his legs and hung on his hips. The waistband tightly held his tucked button shirt, smoothing his shoulders. The muscles in his arms flexed as he twisted his wrist, making frantic lines on the canvas.

Caught up checking him out, you didn’t notice how Rafayel smirked. He didn’t think he would catch you staring at him so openly, and he couldn’t help the chuckle that fell from his lips as he straightened up. 

As you met eyes, he stopped, lips curled into a smirk. The distance between you seemed like it stretched on, and worlds and timelines separated you. The beating of your heart quickened, skin pebbling as another ghost of cool air wafted in. Rafayel’s eyes softened, caught in your trance. 

Extending a hand, he beckoned you over to him with a proud smile as he gestured towards the painting. “Come have a look at this masterpiece.”

Hopping off the stool, you walked over. Rafayel’s eyes pierced through you as you took in the painting. He was right; it was a masterpiece . Rising dunes stretched into the distance, and dark shadows and bright highlights gave depth to the two-dimensional picture. It wasn’t until you noticed yourself that you gasped.

The white gown you were wearing stood out amongst the blue sky and beige sand but somehow still blended in perfectly. Your shadow was long behind you, the light of the sun in your face. It was amazing how he made it feel like wind brushed across your features, making the gown flow behind you. The blue accents of your sandals and the dress were small, light brushstrokes that flitted across your body and skin. 

Once again, the familiar rush of longing flooded your senses, and you wanted nothing more than to reach your hand out and feel the sand fall through the gaps in your fingers. It felt so real , like a memory that was lost in time. You were in a trance, analyzing the background details: the small squares in the distance resembling a village, the shadows on your gown making it look like it was actually moving…

“You’re too silent, it’s worrying me.” Rafayel’s playful voice wrenched you back to reality. His head tilted in impatience, trying to read your expression. If he looked closer, he would have seen the scene reflected in your eyes, the longing you felt mirroring his own. However, he stayed in his spot, arms crossed over his chest, and awaited your words.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” For once, you were speechless, your throat incapable of putting together what you felt at that moment. “I can’t say anything except it’s stunning… Nothing like your other paintings…” You stared at him in amazement, your hands lying at your sides. “This one is special.” 

Looking at Rafayel, you saw his Adam’s apple bob, his fingers gripping his arms. To anybody glancing at him, they would think he was perfectly normal, but you weren’t just anybody. It was a look you hadn’t seen from him like he was holding something back. He noticed the furrow in your brow, the smell of your perfume wafting towards him as you tried taking a step forward.

Rafayel met each step you took with a step back. A look of hurt and confusion passed over your face, and Rafayel had to clench his fists, jaw tightening. Every nerve in his body was on edge. His own restraint began to wear thin as he took in your appearance—as beautiful as ever—and the intoxicating scent that seemed to smother him even more than usual.

“Yeah.” He choked out, nodding his head frantically. “Yeah, it’s really special.” His lips twisted into a wry smile, his eyes trailing down your body to rest on your feet, the intricate laces drifting up your calves. It looked like he was restraining himself, his usual playful and light personality darkened by the night. 

“Raf,” You said his name, and Rafayel had to stop himself. He didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him. The simple utterance of his name echoed through his head. The way you looked at him caused his throat to close; words stuck there forever, wanting to be released. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah,” With a light shake of his head, he was snapped back. His usual playful disposition faded a bit as he stared at you. The colors in his eyes mixed together, and even from where you stood, you could see the moonlight reflected in his pupils. “Yeah, I’m good.”

As if something snapped in him, Rafayel looked around, a low hum vibrating his throat as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. His fists clenched, blood rushing down and causing him to clear his throat. He wasn’t sure where to run to, knowing that if you just looked closer, he would be caught red-handed.

“I’m going to grab the supplies to preserve this and use the bathroom.” He pointed back towards his bedroom, breaking eye contact with you as he rocked on his heels. “Just relax on the couch for a minute… I’ll be right back.” 

Rafayel trailed off, giving you almost no time to answer him as he turned and walked into his room. It was weird how he shut the door when he was always so open and inviting towards you, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. 

As you were blanketed in silence, you went to sit on the couch, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips. Thinking back to all the times you sat there, listening to Rafayel rant and pace through the room, it brought back memories, and you smiled, seeing how different it was bathed in night.

Your eyes trailed back to the painting, entranced by its image. It looked even more real from farther away, like a picture taken by a professional camera and displayed. Sounds echoed in your mind, men laughing and shouting in the distance. The heat of the sun burned your skin, and you almost raised your hand to block the rays. 

The beating in your heart increased, feeling the silk of the gown against your legs. Your bottom lip trembled, and emotions that you didn’t think were yours suddenly rushed over you. A slight tremble shook your hands, and you had to grip the dress and anchor yourself to this reality. This reality . Yes, what you felt was real; Rafayel was real, the ocean outside was real, and the city skyline and people sleeping were real. The painting wasn’t real.

You weren’t sure how long you sat on the couch, listening to the ocean waves and smelling the salt in the air. Your eyes flicked around the room, refusing to sit on the painting again. The thoughts in your head faded away as you focused on the ocean, your brain immediately landing back on Rafayel. Where was he? 

Curiosity got the better of you, and you stood up, the heels of your sandals lightly clicking on the tile floor as you approached his room. From behind the door, there was rustling, and although you didn’t want to invade his privacy, you leaned in, pressing your ear against the door.

“Fuck,” Rafayel’s low voice was very faint, almost inaudible if it weren’t for the deafening silence in the living room. You bit your lip, unsure of what exactly he was doing. Thoughts raced through your head, and your face burned as you explored all the possibilities…

Rafayel’s throat closed, his brain running a million miles a minute as he tried to make it brief. Ripping his clothes off in haste, his breath came out in pants. Quiet . He tried to urge himself, his cock already throbbing and leaking precum onto the sheets.

Your scent … He had to stop the groan from his lips as he closed his eyes. The clothes that you changed out of lay perfectly on his bed, greeting him and begging to be used. Your bra… Rafayel felt so dirty. His chest flushed red as he remembered you were just one room away, waiting on him. You were waiting on him, and eventually, you would become impatient. It was only a matter of time unless he hurried up .

In contrast to his hasty thoughts, he slowly grabbed your bra, trying to convince his mind that this was okay. He could get away with it and return to where you sat on the couch. He just needed to get it out . There weren’t many people who could cause him that much turmoil. In fact, no one could, except for one person: you . No matter what, when, or where, you were the only exception.

Another low breath stuttered out as Rafayel wrapped his hand around his cock, the other hand taking hold of your bra. Your scent already washed over him, more intense than before. Your natural perfume was like an aphrodisiac, immediately causing blood to pool to his lower half. It was already hard enough to control himself around you usually, his heart aching for you just to remember , but as he glanced at your clothes on his bed, he couldn’t help himself.

“Fuck.” The word slipped out once more, his jaw clenching as he quickly tried to finish himself off. His thumb glided over his tip, precum dripping down his length. As he sniffed your bra, he thought about you, on top of him or under him, whatever it was. He pictured his face buried between your tits just as he was buried in your bra. Vivid pictures in his mind that he wanted to put onto a canvas. Display in his room so he can always see you lost in pleasure.

His hand sped up, grip tight and bruising as he bit down on his hand. He had to stay quiet; if you found him, then he would surely dive into the ocean and never return. The embarrassment almost had him stopping, but it was too late. He was already fully naked, his cock standing long and aching. He couldn’t just hide his hips from you the rest of the night, no. He had to finish. A small bead of sweat ran down his forehead, pooling into his collarbone as his fingers clenched around his throbbing cock.

Your heart rate quickened, your hand glancing over the doorknob, and you thought about it for a moment. The cold metal stung your skin, and you felt electricity run through you. You heard another expletive from the other side of the door. 

With a breath, you turned the knob, opening the door and peeking your head in. While you had thoughts about what exactly he was doing, you would never have guessed what you saw. 

At first, your eyes met Rafayel’s, taking in his flushed cheeks and chest. His nipples looked hard, straining in the moonlight that washed over his skin. Your jaw dropped slightly, seeing one of his hands gripping his leaking cock. And the other… 

Rafayel heard your gasp; his own jaw slack as his eyes met yours. The hand on his cock stopped, his fingers twitching. He was so close , the need building in his stomach and to have it cut off like that. Dropping your bra onto the bed, he sat up, his throat closing as he tried to speak.

“I… I’m…” His voice failed him, eyes searching yours. He expected to see disgust, disappointment, or even - his worst nightmare - hatred.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long.” Your hands sat at your sides, fingers moving against the flowy fabric. Arousal pooled in your underwear, your steps light as you walked to the edge of the bed. 

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Rafayel whimpered, his lower lip pouting slightly. The sight of him, so lewd and dirty yet looking at you so hungrily and apologetically, made your heart race. Standing there, your knees brushing against the edge of the bed, you paused. The man that lay on the bed sighed, the hand that previously held your bra hanging in the air. 

Silence fell between you, and you knew you had two options: indulge in him, your feelings for the artist finally being put out in the open… Or walk away and almost surely ruin the friendship and possible relationship that might have developed. Your eyes flitted around his body, seeing his abdomen tighten with each breath he took. His cock still twitched in his grasp, his tip poking out from his fist, leaking precum and begging to be finished off.

“Do you…” You trailed off, slowly walking around to the side of the bed and sitting down. Rafayel groaned, your skin giving off a delicious scent, different than the bra that he had previously buried his face in. He hung on your every word, his eyes wide as he silently begged for you to say something. “Do you want me to help?”

The question drifted into the air, surrounding him and taking his breath right out of his lungs. As if given the green light, Rafayel sat up further, extending his hand towards you. His eyes changed from desperate to dark. 

“Yes, I need you.” His voice deepened, the sincerity going far beyond pure lust and sinking into yearning. Every inch of him yearned for you; every single time he was given life, he searched for you to the ends of the earth. The gown you wore brought back memories of a different time, and Rafayel was reminded of just how deep his devotion was to you. “Please?”

Your hand rested in his, feeling how moist his palm was as he guided you to sit on his lap. Rafayel’s hands moved to your hips, bunching your gown up so your thighs were exposed to the cold air. His hard cock pressed against your underwear, the silk fabric of your dress brushing against his lower abdomen. 

The way he looked at you, a wonder in his eyes like he had watched a goddess descending from the sky, was addicting. In truth, he had always looked at you that way, yet as soon as you would glance over at him, he was looking elsewhere. Rafayel never wanted to force anything on you, hoping that your bond would naturally bring you to him. After all, there were lifetimes where he couldn’t find you, where he was stuck in a world that wasn’t brightened up by your presence.

Rafayel stared at you, his lower lip pulled into his mouth as his hands awkwardly caressed your thighs. His touch was tentative, his fingers not quite sure exactly what he was doing or what he wanted to do. The desire he felt was only extended to you; the only pleasure he ever sought out was by his own hand on very few occasions. Although he could remember the past, those specific instances never popped up and unfortunately, he didn’t really retain the muscle memories.

Your hands rested on his bare chest as you leaned forward. Before you could speak, Rafayel wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you flush against him. A low growl vibrated through you both as he buried his face in your neck. A soft kiss was pressed to your pulse point, his nose brushing against your skin.

“Fuck, princess.” His voice was nearly silent, more for himself than for you. Your touch on his skin was electric, like a shock by an eel. Every single thought in his head was erased, his focus solely on you. Your scent, your touch, your face, your voice, and fuck the way you tasted. 

His tongue darted out, licking a stripe from your shoulder to under your ear. Cold air brushed across the trail, your eyes closing and your body reacting to the drastic change in temperature. You tasted divine, the salty sweat and unexplainable sweetness of your skin making his cock twitch under you.

“Tell me if it’s too much, princess,” Rafayel warned, listening to your sharp breaths and soft moans as his hands ran along your back. Slowly you ground your hips down onto him, only the thin fabric of your panties separating your pussy from his cock. It was gentle, giving you small glimpses of the pleasure he could bring you, but you weren’t in any rush. You wanted to indulge in the man below you.

As soon as he spoke, his teeth grazed your neck. With each slight nip at your skin, another gasp fell from your lips. A small drip of spit fell from your open mouth, searing Rafayel’s skin, and he had to clench his jaw, biting down a little harder. You drove him crazy , his heart always following your siren song no matter the consequences…

Rafayel’s nips turned into bites, which then turned to the soothing warmth of his tongue. He couldn’t wait to see what they bloomed into, the memories of the night lasting for days after. It wasn’t until your hands moved to his hair, tugging at the strands in an attempt to pull him off your neck, that he moved. He was a puppet under your strings; wherever you pulled him, he would go.

“Raf…” Fuck , Rafayel sucked in a breath when he heard you say his name like that, breathless and wanting. 

“Yes, princess?” You stole the breath from his lungs, keeping it locked in your heart. “What do you need? Tell me.” His thoughts became nonsensical babbling, hands drifting back down to your hips. 

“Want you, Raf.” Your brain was muddled with thoughts, not fully believing that you weren’t dreaming. Rafayel was - in fact - underneath you, his chest flushed and hands gripping your hips with a ferocity that you didn’t know if you could handle. 

“You have me.” He teased, his thumbs stroking your hips through your gown. Even between layers of fabric, you could feel his searing touch.

“I want all of you.” You sat up, grinding your clothed pussy against his cock. By now, your panties were soaked with a mixture of his precum and your arousal, the tip of his cock poking out from between your legs. Reaching down, you ran your thumb across his slit, listening to the sharp gasp from the man below you. “Want your hands, your mouth, your cock. All of you.”

Rafayel’s hands cupped your cheeks, bringing you closer so your nose brushed against his. Taking a deep breath, he collected himself, his thumbs running along your cheekbones. His words fanned across your face, digging deep into your soul and planting itself there.

“You have all of me, princess.” It was the first kiss you shared, his lips slowly pressing against yours in a tentative dance. Giving you plenty of time to push him away, he relaxed when he felt you pull him in. Your hands moved from his hair to the back of his neck. His heart rate rocketed against your thumb as you rubbed along his pulse point.

It was initially slightly awkward, Rafayel’s closed lips cold against yours. Smiling, you pulled away, seeing a brush of red across his nose. Your hand moved to cup his jaw, your thumb pressing on his chin.

“Just relax, Raf.” You whispered, your breath being swallowed by his slightly opened lips. When you leaned in, his shoulders relaxed. The second time was better, his eyes following your every movement, and as you kissed him, he leaned into it. Your tongue poked out, parting Rafayel’s lips even further, and his grip on your waist tightened, slowly pushing and pulling your clothed pussy across his cock.

As your tongues met, you swallowed one of his moans, his lips chasing yours in desperation. Once again, your lips tasted delicious, and Rafayel did not want the kiss to end. Your thumb moved along his jaw, caressing his skin as the man below you panted, his breath hot as he had to pull himself away.

It was everything he ever dreamed of and more, all the restless nights he spent awake, thinking of you. The slow, languid drag of your tongues had Rafayel bucking his hips, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit. Low groans were exchanged as you pulled back.

The blush on Rafayel’s cheeks deepened, his eyes darkening as he leaned forward, his hands gripping at the hem of your gown. In a silent plea, he tugged, pulling up enough to look at your panties. If he didn’t know any better, he would have bit through his lip, his knuckles almost turning as white as your dress.

“Can I take it off?” He asked finally, his nose brushing your cheek. Your combined breaths were deep, his chest stuttering as you nodded, helping him remove the gown. It came with padding, so cold air struck your nipples. A gasp came from you, and you closed your eyes.

Words couldn’t describe the way Rafayel looked at you, his jaw slack and eyes unfocused. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face as he took in your appearance. As beautiful as he remembered.

“You’re absolutely stunning, princess.” His words were carried by the ocean breeze, sailing across the seas. The hands on your hips stopped for a moment, slowly inching up your waist. He wanted nothing more than to touch you and feel your plush skin under his fingertips. There was no way in hell he would let you go. You wouldn’t slip through his fingers again.

“Thank you.” You smiled down at the man below you, your hips slightly twitching as cold air rushed in again. Taking notice of his hesitance, you hold his hands, leading them to your warm breasts. “You can touch me, Raf. I want you to touch me.”

His fingers tested the waters, kneading your tits. Rafayel was very good about teasing you without actually knowing he was; the way he was massaging you without touching the most sensitive part had you whining. Your pussy rode the wave of his cock, languidly grinding as you tried to get some form of pleasure.

Before you could ask - beg - for him to touch you properly, he was leaning forward. His tongue brushed against your nipple, eyes shadowed by his lashes as he stared up at you. Rafayel was testing the waters, revering in your reactions even to his small actions. Your skin tasted divine, his lips immediately wrapping around the pebbled bud. 

“Fuck, Rafayel.” One of your hands buried itself in his hair, fingers gripping the locks like it was the only thing you could hold onto in the rough waves. While he indulged in one of your breasts, the other was occupied by his hand, his fingers tweaking your nipple. The way your moans hung over him, your mouth so close to his ear. He could feel the vibrations of each noise you made, your heartbeat thrumming beneath his fingertips, and he had to remind himself you were alive, sitting on his lap. This was real ; it wasn’t just a fleeting fantasy.

“There you go, princess.” His breath hit your wet skin, your nipple hardening almost painfully as he blew cold air. The grip he had was rough with desperation instead of dominance. Even though he was below you, you still felt at his mercy, just like he felt he was at yours. “You’re so warm.”

The hand on your hip ran along your back, his fingers mapping every muscle and bone he could touch. Your skin was so warm under him, whether from the situation or your natural state; Rafayel didn’t know but wanted to find out. 

A small pool of precum sat on his lower stomach, evidence of his previous alone time and a reminder that he wasn’t quick enough. You caught him, hook, line, and sinker. Maybe he liked being caught…

Darkness flooded you as you closed your eyes, one of your hands anchoring yourself on Rafayel’s bare shoulder while the other on the back of his head. Holding him against you, it felt as though your heartbeats were one. Completely in sync like it was meant to be for ages and ages. 

Underneath you, Rafayel desperately thrusted his hips, wanting and needing any sort of movement on his throbbing cock. He needed to be buried in you, feel your warmth from inside. Fleeting touches were pressed to your back, pulling you into him while also causing your folds to trail along his cock.

“Can we… Can I go further?” Although he so desperately needed it, he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. A slight nervousness flooded through him, and he looked up to gauge your reaction. “I- I’ve never done this before, but p-please.” His eyebrows furrowed, shadows dancing across his face as you cupped his jaw.

“Yes, please.” You whimpered, lips crashing onto his once more to drink in his presence. As impatient as you both were, the thought of it being his first time had you slowing it down. Need wasn’t a good word for it, no. There was a yearning in his eyes, swimming and inviting you into the depths with him. “Please fuck me, Rafayel.”

A yelp echoed through the room as Rafayel quickly sat up. His arms supported your waist as he flipped you over, your bare back resting against his soft sheets. From the new angle and the lack of his hips pressed against yours, cold air hit your clothed pussy.

“You’re so beautiful.” Goosebumps appeared on your arms, Rafayel’s hands sitting on your hips and moving up your torso. Half of him was entranced by your tits, and the other half was anxious about finally seeing you - all of you. 

“Rafayel, please.” Tiny twitches of your hips brought Rafayel back to the present, his eyes drifting to yours. The soft, pleading look you gave him had his back flexing. Leaning over you, he pressed his long cock against your pussy. His tip brushed against your clothed clit, and he bit his lip, his nose brushing yours as he hovered over you.

“Do you remember what I was doing while touching myself?” The embarrassment he previously felt at being caught was out the window. In an attempt to prevent himself from losing control, he took the reigns, watching your eyes widen. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your collarbone, then your shoulder, a few on your neck until, eventually, his nose pressed against the same spot as before, right below your ear. He could feel your thrumming heart through your veins, sucking on the spot before burying his face there. 

With your hands now more accessible to roam, your nails lightly scratched along his back and shoulders, moving down to his waist and across his abdomen. A sharp breath came from the man above you, his nose nuzzling your skin. 

“Tell me, princess.” His whisper was pressed into your skin, thrumming through your veins. Silence suffocated you as he waited for an answer, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs lightly flicking your nipples. “What was I doing when you caught me?”

Frantic touches turned deeper as you held his waist against you. Every sense was full of Rafayel, your nails digging into his flesh and threatening to draw blood. You tried to remember the moment of catching him, feeling like it was so far away as if it had happened centuries ago. The mental file cabinet that stored your memories was being wiped clean; even thinking back to the previous minute was impossible.

“You were… F-fuck…” Whimpering, you bit your lip, the image coming back to you. You held his waist tighter, your core throbbing as you thought about it. “Y-you were holding my… My bra.” 

A low hum came from Rafayel, the memory of it still fresh in his mind. His cock twitched, resting across your folds. Pinching both of your nipples, Rafayel took a deep breath. He felt drunk, his head spinning with thoughts of holding you like this again for the rest of his life and all the lives that would follow.

“Your scent…” His voice morphed into an animalistic growl, every atom in his body vibrating. A carnal urge filled him, and he hooked his fingers in your underwear. You felt a puff of air on your neck; his words strained in his throat. “Can I take these off?”

“Y-yes.” You nodded along with your words; a moan ripped from your throat as he quickly ripped your panties down your legs. There wasn’t but a moment of his hands not being on you before he was roughly holding your thighs open. Your slick pussy clenched around nothing, folds spreading to expose you to him.

With much reluctance, Rafayel lifted his head from your neck, trailing kisses down until he was in front of your leaking hole. The fragrance… Fuck … His throat closed, heart hammering as he blew air over your pussy. Your cunt throbbed, thighs wanting so badly to close around his head, but he held you open.

He was transfixed, everything about your pussy was beautiful. As he pressed kisses along your thigh, he paused, kissing your folds and looking up to read your expression. You ran your fingers through his hair, nodding and encouraging him to continue. 

“Fuck.” He cursed, his teeth nipping at your thigh. Something snapped in him, his hands digging into your flesh as he moved forward. His nose brushed your clit, a gasp coming from your lips at the sudden jolt. Inhaling your scent, he moaned, his tongue coming to collect some of your juices from your hole. He traced around your entrance, not yet dipping inside. Your taste was better than any alcohol he ever drank.

“Delicious.” The words were spoken into your pussy, his tongue drawing circles around your folds while his nose rubbed your clit. He was so caught up in you that he didn’t notice the way you tugged his hair.

“Raf,” You whined, pulling your hips away just enough to make him look up at you. Though there was a drunken stupor to his gaze, he was attentive, his thumbs caressing the junction between your thigh and hip. “Your nose… Feels so good on my clit… More…” 

You tried to guide him, seeing his glazed-over eyes and smiling at him. When he dove back in, his tongue flicked your clit, and a louder moan was ripped from your lungs. A near scream echoed when Rafayel’s lips suctioned over your sensitive bud, his tongue causing you to clench your eyes shut.

“Oh fuck!” You screamed, feeling his finger simultaneously press into you. It was slow and methodical, sinking deeper. Your velvet walls enveloped him, the warmth from your body filling him to the brim. His hips stuttered on the sheets, his own pleasure rocketing through him at your screams.

After a few thrusts, Rafayel’s middle finger teased your hole, gently joining the other one. Nothing could have prepared him for how warm you felt, his fingers twisting and turning inside you as he explored. Biting your lip, you felt his long fingers brush your walls, the tips eventually passing over a particularly sensitive spot.

“Oh my- right there.” Bucking your hips, you ground into his fingers. His tongue teased your clit as he slowly fucked you, each press forward gliding against your g-spot and causing a burst of fireworks in your vision. “Rafayel.”

Rafayel was overwhelmed. The sight of your heaving chest, the sound of your moans, the smell of your leaking pussy, the feeling of your warm walls, and the taste of your juices. He couldn’t take it anymore, ripping his fingers from your cunt, leaving you whining and clenching around nothing.

“I’m sorry, princess…” He moved up the bed so he could look into your eyes. As he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his tongue, his thumb still playing with your throbbing clit. His hard cock rubbed against your pussy, his tip joining his thumb as waves of pleasure prickled your skin. “I have to be inside you now .”

Rafayel gripped his cock, squeezing the base. For a moment, time froze, his chest heaving as he looked down at your entrance, your hole pulsing and waiting to be filled. He had to pause, collecting his thoughts. The fear of finishing as soon as he was buried inside you was a possibility. His pent-up emotions trickled over the edge of the dam, ready to burst with any little crack.

As he guided himself into you, he sighed. Centuries and centuries of finding you, loving you, losing you . It all culminated in that moment. His hands seared as he pushed all the way, his cock fitting perfectly in your walls. You shared a low moan, both of your bodies reacting the same way as he bottomed out.

The feelings you harbored for Rafayel were intense, and they only grew with each day you met him. But as he looked down at you, his cock fully nestled against your g-spot, you felt your heart jump. Your legs wrapped around his waist, trying with useless abandon to get him deeper, fill every inch of you with him. 

“Fuck.” Rafayel breathed through his nose, trying to keep himself calm as his eyes traveled around your body. The heels of your sandals dug into his back, a slow circling of your hips giving way to the low growls from the man above you. “Hold on, princess…” He stilled your hips, his abs clenching as he prolonged his orgasm. “Don’t wanna cum yet.”

You obeyed his plea, your head laying on the pillow as you both caught your breath. His cock twitched inside you, skin burning with desire as he skimmed his fingers over your thighs. As you looked up at him, that same sense of nostalgia suffocated you. Like with the paintings, it was as if you were looking at a picture, a fleeting memory in your mind's eye. But he was real; this was real.

“Okay, gonna move now.” The thrusts started slow and shallow, only pulling out halfway before pressing back in. Your pussy was so wet, the noises doing nothing to hide that fact. Bending down, Rafayel nuzzled his nose into your cheek, his lips ghosting over yours. 

An instinct fell between you, his hands cupping your cheeks while yours rested on his waist. His muscles contracted with each breath and beat of his heart. It was natural… As if you had held each other in this position before.

The kiss you shared was soft, Rafayel holding you like you would disappear… Again … You were sand between his fingertips, and he didn’t want you to be washed away by his tides. As he kissed you, he pulled out all the way, thrusting forward harshly. The sound of his balls slapping on your ass and the sharp gasp that he swallowed with his own mouth had Rafayel taking control.

He pulled away from your lips just enough to look into your eyes. The thrusts that were once soft and exploratory, learning the inside of your body, turned into an insatiable hunger. Now that he had you, he didn’t want to let you go. People in his life came and went, and he never cared that much… You were the only exception; you were always the only exception. As long as his soul was on the planet, he would always find you. He swore on his people.

Wet noises and slaps bounced off the walls as Rafayel frantically chased your orgasms. One of his hands remained on your jaw, thumb running along your cheekbone. The other snaked down to where you were connected. First, he rubbed along your entrance, feeling the way you sucked his cock back in when he pulled out. Then, he pressed on your clit, finger quickly flicking. His hips stuttered every time you clenched around him, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Fuck, Rafayel.” His name ripped out of your throat, your eyes blinking rapidly to clear the tears that were beginning to fall. Everything was too much; your whole body ignited in flames as you clung to Rafayel’s back. “I- I’m close.” 

Your whimper went straight to Rafayel’s cock, his abdomen flexing as he felt himself so close. So very close . Just a little longer, a little more. Electricity sparked when you met eyes, the colors fading and blending into a beautiful hue as Rafayel panted, his tongue licking at your open mouth.

“M- me too, p-prin-cess.” His words stuttered just as his hips did, chasing and chasing and chasing. It wasn’t until he heard your scream right next to his ear that he let himself fuck into you harder. 

Your orgasm crashed into you, your whole body convulsing as your legs locked around Rafayel’s waist. Fire washed across your skin as your hole pulsed around the cock that was still spearing in you. Low whimpers fell from your lips, overstimulation and exhaustion settling into your muscles while Rafayel chased his own orgasm with reckless abandon.

As he looked at you, his beautiful princess, he ground his hips into yours. Holding himself still, he panted, warm breath fanning across your face as spurts of warm cum flooded your walls. There was so much. It didn’t stop, his seed pushing out from around his cock as he slowly fucked you through your orgasms.

A slow, passionate kiss was pressed to your lips, Rafayel’s fingers lightly wiping the few stray tears that fell. His cock softened inside you, yet he stayed still, the feeling of being wrapped up in you something he ached for. 

“Wow,” Your chest heaved as Rafayel’s weight nearly fell on top of you, your legs dropping to either side of his waist. Your hands sat on his shoulders, fingers pressing into the muscles. 

The man above you chuckled, kissing your nose. There wasn’t anything he could say that could showcase how deep his feelings were for you. How much he yearned for you. How his heart almost stopped when he saw you for the first time. How his soul needed to be right next to yours or he felt incomplete.

“Yeah… Wow…” Was all he could say, agreeing with your sigh of wonder. He searched your eyes for any sign of hesitance, hoping and praying that your heart would remember his. That’s all he ever wanted, and it was for you to remember . “I’m… Sorry about what you walked in on.” 

The thought of being caught sniffing your bra and jerking off caused Rafayel to shiver, his eyes dropping your gaze for a moment. Sometimes, he could be overwhelming, especially when you weren’t officially together, and something like that would scare some people away.

“Oh.” Being brought back to earlier, seeing the flush in his cheeks almost exactly mimicking the flush that was present now, a shy smile crossed your features. “I- I didn’t mind it. Why else would I offer to help… If I didn’t find it hot?”

Your words paused, letting Rafayel drink in the feeling of you in his arms. Gently, he turned back over, his back hitting the bed. His cock was still snug inside you, even though his cum was starting to leak down his balls and onto the sheets. Pulling you into his embrace, he caressed your back, kissing your temple.

“Good… I thought I scared you away.” The fear of you leaving him yet again was a cloud that lifted from his mind as soon as you laughed, snuggling into his arms and kissing his collarbone.

“Can we stay just like this for a minute?” Your muscles began relaxing, eyes closing as you listened to his heartbeat mirroring your own. “I feel… complete.”

As you uttered those words, Rafayel fought back tears. He gripped you so hard, no longer afraid of you floating away. Now, all he wanted to do was hold you close and never let you go. People came into his life, and they left. He never cared much, but when faced with the realization that you were here , you were so close, you were the only exception.

“We can stay like this forever, cutie.” He whispered in your hair, eyes closing as he relived the past, holding you close like that once again after centuries.

© starsforxavi

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

OP: The dragon is controlling weather again.

Several days ago on May 2, 2025, Xi’an experienced a rare storm with heavy rain and lightning at night. Multiple people filmed 龙Long, unidentified creature moving through the sky—its motion and speed matched exactly how chinese dragons (Chinese Long ≠ Western dragons. Same word, different beings, 'dragon' is just for convenience.) are described in legends and myths. Then, in the early hours of May 5, Chengdu also had an unusually strong storm with wild winds and lightning. Locals there caught the same 'dragon' on video too.

The discussion is super active on Xiaohongshu and Douyin. If you're interested, try searching these chinese keywords: ‘西安 见龙’ (Xi'an Long sighting), ‘成都 见龙’ (Chengdu Long sighting), ‘女生宿舍 龙’ (girls' dorm Long video), or ‘高邮龙吸水’ (Gaoyou waterspout). The Xi'an one has multiple angles, so there's no way it's fake. I didn’t include the Xi'an one in the compilation video because there’s just too much footage.

People online compiled past Long sightings, and these are all highly credible (the clips were checked no Photoshop). The most convincing ones are still the Gaoyou waterspout livestream and the college girls’ dorm footage. Check the earlier post about 龙Long for reference.

Personally, the most mind-blowing one is that girls' dorm footage. The original’s on Bilibili—actually super clear and intense. You see a girl filming a storm from her balcony when she spots the Long, freaks out, and yells for her roommate (who chickens out). Then the Long seems to notice her—there’s this creepy staring moment—and she bolts inside. The Long’s eyes glow, and its head, mouth, and claws match ancient paintings and texts perfectly. Zero chance it’s fake. Even today’s tech or AI couldn’t pull that off, let alone a crappy non-smartphone back then.

[deathbxnny]

Loved your writing of arcane characters saying things they regret during an argument. Would you be willing to do a version with Jayce, Viktor and Silco? I apologize if you don't prefer to write about these characters, you can ignore this

Arcane men saying things they'll regret during an argument. | Viktor, Jayce, Silco x Gn!Reader

Oh, I absolutely am willing to do that, Anon!! These are going to be pretty irredeemable, though, so there is not going to be a part two to this... anyways, enjoy!!<3

Content: Season 2 spoilers!!, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, break ups, swearing, gaslighting, toxic behavior, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

"This... isn't you anymore, Viktor. A-And I refuse to keep lying to myself like this either!" You hissed out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. You were losing your mind in this compound of his, unable to understand how seemingly no one was able to recognize how wrong everything was. People who were "healed" by him weren't the same after. They turned into robotic and uncanny husks of their old selves.

A terrifying sight that unnerved you deeply. And only you here.

The nail in the coffin was perhaps the skeptical appearance of Councilor Salo. Never in your life had you ever seen him give a damn about anyone but himself. He lived a life of riches and materialism, far from the selfless and minimalistic lifestyle found here. But after your boyfriend healed him of his inability to walk, he suddenly preached the same ideals that everyone else did.

Peace, love, and community.

Those were the important pillars of this idyllic place Viktor had created, and yet you couldn't see past the clear red flags that weaved themselves in their white attire. You were never much of a genius like he was, but it didn't take much brainpower to understand that this was not a great place to be in. No matter how hard he attempted to convince you of that.

"... I'm sorry you feel that way. But I'm afraid I can not follow your reasoning for this claim. I am myself... just someone greater. More meaningful. Isn't that beautiful?" His voice was so gentle and patient in comparison to yours. Something that wasn't unusual to him. But the way he used that tone now made you sick. "Terrifying is a better word, actually... Why can't you see that this is just wrong? You're not healing anyone-" "-But I am. Look around you. Is that not enough for you to finally believe me, my love? I want to create a better world... one in which we can live freely together." Your mind spun, his words ringing in your head dangerously. And you hated every second of it.

This isn't the man you loved anymore. He must have died that fateful day when the sky fell from above, and he covered you with his body to save you. His last act of kindness as your boyfriend and lover before he perished and left behind whoever he was. And you'd be damned if the last good memory got tainted too.

"No. I will not let you play with my mind anymore. I've had enough." You pushed past him, wanting to finally escape this borderline cult. Originally, you had only followed after him because you couldn't bear being without him. Jayce was right, though. He really was different now.

"Hm... it seems like I was right about you after all." You stopped in your tracks yet didn't dare face him. "You truly are not worth saving... you can't grasp the beauty of what I have made. I suppose everyone's claims for your low intelligence were, unfortunately, right. What a shame." How could a devil have such a soothing, loving voice? Why did the monster that now lurked in your shadow have to have your lovers face? The cruelty was too much to bear.

Who would have thought that you'd finally leave him for good after all the years you've taken care of him? This moment felt so surreal and yet ironically freeing as well. The end was near. "Did you... ever even love me?" You asked aimlessly, but didn't wait to hear his answer.

Perhaps if you had, however, you would've seen that sudden spark of surprise in his eyes, as you slipped out of his fingers for good at last.

》JAYCE

You had looked everywhere for him. And after also asking everyone under the sun if they had seen your boyfriend, you had eventually determined that he must've somehow gone missing. Worried sick, it pained you knowing that there wasn't much you could do either, considering that everyone was too busy getting ready for a borderline war and Caitlyn became unreachable as a result. Yet just as you began to lose hope, your dear lover finally returned... but he wasn't the same.

He didn't look the same, nor did he act the same, in fact. He looked so different that it even visibly startled you when you found him rummaging through his once shared laboratory. You had just returned from another wrap around the building in hopes of finding it, and whilst you'd consider yourself lucky this time around, all you now felt was genuine dread.

"Jayce...? What happened to you? I looked for you everywhere and-" You stilled at the intense look he gave you, his face flinching for a moment, as though his mind couldn't comprehend your image. Glancing over at his peculiar weapon of choice, you felt unnerved at how even that looked uncanny. The entire situation was unnerving you deeply, to say the least. "You... You shouldn't be here." He finally muttered, his voice deeper and colder than it ever was. Jayce always had such a fun and warm voice. If you didn't know any better, you would've questioned who he was a while ago.

"Hey... tell me where you were, okay?" You said, trying a more gentle approach as you neared him, eyes focused on his clearly injured leg. Had he been kidnapped? You doubted it. So what made him end up like this? Nothing you could come with explained his appearance. His hair and beard were way longer than they should have gotten in the short span of time he was gone, too.

Reaching down carefully, you tried to inspect his leg, but he seemed less receptive to the idea. Or so you assumed, after he shoved you away roughly and held the hammer to your face at impressive speed. His eyes were glossy, as though he wasn't entirely all there. He was reliving a terrifying moment in his mind, unaware of the horror you were going through. Never could you have ever thought of ending up in this position with him. "Jayce! What the hell are you doing-?" "-Get away! I know what you are... you've been sent by him too, weren't you?" You let out a shriek when he swung the hammer at you, only giving you a fraction of a second to jump out of the way.

Falling onto your behind, you quickly crawled backward and away from him, tears welling up in your eyes. Your scream seemed to at least wake him up, though, as he finally lowered his weapon and blinked at you in surprise. "Fucks sake! What is wrong with you?" You yelled out, yet as fast as his face softened, it hardened again. "... Sorry... I need to leave." Quickly making his way past you, he only barely escaped your presence before you grabbed onto the fabric of his pants. "Why? Where are you going? Why can't you tell me anything?"

The look in his eyes made you shrink away. This wasn't your Jayce anymore. "... The future of everyone in Piltover hinges on me being there on time. Now, make yourself useful for once and get out of my way." Shaking you off harshly, he left you crying on the cold floor of the once lively laboratory, not once looking back.

》SILCO

When you first met Silco, you were both still leading simple lives in the last drop with his brother and all of your other friends in Zaun. The lanes were harsh and, at times, cruel, yet you fought through the agony of it all together. Years down the line later, you find yourself still reminiscing on those heavenly days, particularly those of your lover who had turned for the worst in the time being. And the question of why you didn't listen to Vander's warnings came to mind again then. Perhaps you were just too used to excusing everything his brother did, especially after he had attempted to drown him so horrifically, which left him permanently injured.

But even so... why didn't you just listen? Why did it take so many years for you to finally throw the towel and leave for good? Finally realise that the man you loved was a monster? A disgusting and evil monster who was willing to use the plight of others for his own gain. And for what? Money? Fame? Power? It was all an ego trip you had far more than enough of. Zaun was his playground, and an escape was impossible. You'd be, however damned if you didn't at least try to anyways. Even if just in Vander's honor as a long-awaited apology.

Pushing past the crowd in the stuffy, full Last drop, you finally reached his office upstairs. Not caring about formalities anymore, you knocked and opened the door without awaiting a reply. If death met you behind it, then so be it. "Ah, darling, in a hurry today, aren't you?" "We need to talk. Alone." Short and straight to the point. Raising a brow, he shared a look with Jinx, who was just done giving him his daily "medicine". Oh, how you hated your lover's dearest creation. Shimmer. The exact thing that had ruined your lives for good. But you pushed away your disdain for the task at hand.

Giving Jinx a dismissive wave of his hand, you waited for her to be gone for good before taking a breath to speak. But Silco beat you to it. Always so painfully perceptive. "The answer is no, if you're here asking to leave. I refuse to let you go, dear. You have no one else but me after all. You wouldn't survive on your own." He always underestimated you, so this wasn't an all to surprising response. And if you were just a couple of months younger, you would have maybe agreed and backed off. But you were sick of his games.

"I didn't come here to ask for permission, Silco. I'm here to say goodbye." The slightest, softest crack at the last word gave you away horribly. You certainly didn't expect your feelings for the man to betray you, but even that won't stop you now. Said man just hummed in response as he stood up to face the window. His hands calmly lit a cigar, very much unbothered. But you knew that your sentence had gotten to him anyway with how his hand shook ever so slightly. Out of anger, most likely.

"So you think you can do whatever you want? Leave after you've spent so many years at my side? Your hands aren't as clean as you think they are, darling. Even yours are a bright violet." A reference to the shimmer vials on his desk. He knew how much you hated it, so this felt like a jab. A jab at the deep guilt you felt every day for enabling the death of all of your friends indirectly. If only you had stopped him from the start... then maybe you wouldn't have to feel the dread that ruined you from the inside anymore.

"I've accepted my flaws and sins a long time ago. I may not be better than you... but sometimes, in order to end the cycle, you have to walk away and leave some things behind." You suddenly felt so content, his cold and terrible words not reaching you anymore. You were so close to leaving. So close to leaving Zaun and Piltover like you've always dreamed. But Silco just scoffed in disbelief.

"Hah, don't give me that self-righteous shit... I've been there for you for so many years, dear. I've taken care of you, fed you, and loved you to my best ability for so long. The least you could do is be grateful for my kindness." "So you think I'm a burden?" The silence was deafening, but it was enough to confirm your long-standing suspicions. He had lost his love for you a long time ago. Perhaps the side that loved you so purely drowned in the river with him.

"... Goodbye. I hope one day you can walk away too." You turned and began walking out then, suddenly realising that it's finally over. Shoving your hands into the pocket of your coat, you felt the ticket for the skyship you had to take. "Don't you dare leave. Don't you dare it-" All bark and no bite as usual. There was no stopping you now, and he knew it. He was letting you go after all. You could just hope that one day he'd listen to your words and end the cycle, too.

What a shame that you won't be there at his side to see it, however... maybe in another life then.

[starmaidengarden]

HI HI!!! I am new here but your fics are so good and I just had to request something!! I liked the blog especially where the S/o is neutral but when her interest shows up she is exited and rants about it but rn what I am requesting is a fic with Houswarden +Jamil where s/o has funny personality I think, they laugh when something fun happens and they get all blushy and red when they laugh too much or the houswardens do something affectionate!! I requested it bcs I get red whenever something embarrassing happens to me, that's for doing my request!!!

—Housewardens + Jamil x gn!reader. no cw/tw. established relationship. dividers: uzmacchiato.

note: sorry this took several days to finish I been busy as a bee! but I hope you like it!!

Riddle Rosehearts ༉⋆｡˚

Riddle prided himself on order and composure—until he met you. Just five minutes into tea time, you were laughing so hard that you nearly spilled your cup. “Oh no—! I’m sorry, it’s just—! The way Cater described you losing your temper with the flamingos—!” Your laughter came in hiccups. Riddle sighed, trying to mask his annoyance, though the pink tint in his ears told a different story. “There’s nothing funny about those disobedient creatures,” he huffed, stirring his tea with feigned seriousness.

You attempted to stifle your giggles, but when you caught the barest hint of a smile on Riddle’s lips, your cheeks flushed bright red. “What?” he asked, clearly amused now. “I—I just really like it when you smile,” you stammered, your embarrassment more evident than ever. Riddle froze for a moment. “O-Oh.” Clearing his throat, he rose with an overly formal air and offered you a napkin with trembling hands. “You’re a mess,” he said, his voice quaking. “But… you’re my mess.”

Leona Kingscholar ༉⋆｡˚

Leona pretends to be perpetually annoyed by your antics—your snorting laughter, your playful teasing, and the way you turn red in the face whenever he drapes himself across your lap as if it’s nothing. He grumbles when you laugh so hard you nearly fall over, muttering “What’s so damn funny?” but there’s a barely-hidden smirk tugging at his lips. He teases you relentlessly for the way you blush every time he ruffles your hair or kisses your cheek out of nowhere.

Once, when you’re both lying in the grass during a quiet afternoon, you laugh so hard you accidentally spill lemonade all over him. You're mortified—red as Riddle’s roses, trying to blot his shirt with your sleeves and apologizing in squeaky, stammered words. Grabbing your wrist and pulling you down, forehead-to-forehead. “Relax, herbivore. If I didn’t like seeing you act like a little tomato, I’d have kicked you out ages ago.” His tail flicks lazily behind him. He always acts like he’s the one indulging you—but really, he’d do anything to hear that laugh again.

Azul Ashengrotto ༉⋆｡˚

The Mostro Lounge was uncharacteristically loud, but it wasn’t due to the usual clinking of glasses or bustling servers. No, tonight’s unusual sounds came from you, sitting at the VIP table with your face flushed red, a hand over your mouth, giggling uncontrollably as Jade recounted a story from Azul’s childhood. Azul stood nearby, arms crossed, trying (and failing) to maintain his composure. “Jade,” Azul said through clenched teeth, “I don’t recall giving you permission to share that particular memory.” Jade’s smile was as smooth as ever. “You didn’t, Azul. But the expression on your dears face is worth it, wouldn’t you agree?” You tried to speak through your laughter, failing miserably as you managed a breathless, “I can’t believe you got stuck in a jar—!” Azul groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Kalim Al-Asim ༉⋆｡˚

It started with the silliest magic carpet ride ever. Kalim had taken you out for a sunset glide—bright sky, warm breeze, and him grinning like always. You were telling some absurd story about Grim getting his head stuck in a jelly jar, complete with dramatic impressions. Kalim was laughing, almost rolling off the carpet from laughing. When he looked over at you—eyes crinkled, nose scrunched, your face bright red and giggly—he melted. “Ahaha—wait, wait—pfft!” you wheezed, hiccupping from how hard you laughed. “I can’t—Grim sounded like a duck!” You buried your face in your hands, shaking and flushed.

Kalim blinked. “You’re red!” He leaned in with wide eyes. “Are you okay?" You peeked at him between your fingers, still pink and giggling. “I’m fine! Just—you’re laughing too, don’t blame me!” Kalim clutched his chest with dramatic flair. “You're so cute when you laugh like that, Habibi! Your face goes all warm and soft and boom—like fireworks!” He poked your cheek gently. “You light up everything!” “Stop it,” you whined, voice trembling with another laugh, “You’re gonna make me blush even more!”

Jamil Viper ༉⋆｡˚

Jamil prided himself on discipline. Composure. But none of that prepared him for the way you burst into Scarabia’s kitchen wearing sunglasses at night and wielding a baguette like a sword. “I challenge thee, noble chef, to a duel! You’ve stolen my heart, and I demand repayment in the form of food!” He stared. Blinking slowly. “Did… Did you inhale too much spice again?" “Maybe. But also, on guard!” He deflected your attack with a spatula, sighing with exasperated amusement. “You’re impossible.” And then came that moment: your laughter caught in your throat, your eyes twinkling, and your face turned the color of a tomato.

“You make me so happy it’s unfair,” you mumbled. Something in Jamil's heart cracked wide open. It wasn’t immediate, but over time, he found himself waiting for your antics. Secretly hoping you'd pull him into your nonsense. You once convinced him to dance in socks across Scarabia’s marble halls while blasting cheesy disco music. When he spun you mid-twirl, you giggled so hard you collapsed, and Jamil couldn’t stop the real laugh that escaped him. He helped you up, brushing a lock of hair from your heated face. “You’re ridiculous,” he said softly. “And…you’re mine.”

Vil Schoenheit ༉⋆｡˚

Vil was always poised, always polished. But you? You were a whirlwind of funny faces, dramatic impressions, and—his favorite—your laughter that got all squeaky when you were truly losing it. “You’re doing it again,” he’d say, sitting in his makeup chair, one brow raised, watching you wheeze after trying (and failing) to mimic his posture. “You’re mocking me.” “I’m honoring you!” you gasped through your grin. “I’m capturing your… majestic aura!” “Oh really?” he purred, strolling over.

“Does this look ‘majestic’ to you?” He leaned in close—so close that your face lit up red in seconds. “Vil—!” you whined, completely flustered now, hiding behind your hands. He loved that you didn’t shrink in his presence—not out of fear. You matched him, teased him, and brought levity to his carefully curated world. When he was tired or doubting himself, you’d burst into his dressing room with a bouquet of wildflowers. One night, he caught you alone in the garden, practicing a silly song about him under your breath. “You’re unbelievable.”

Idia Shroud ༉⋆｡˚

Idia didn’t know what to do with you at first. You were so expressive. Loud in the most lovable way. You were playing an old co-op game in his room together—one with chaotic physics and silly cartoon avatars that made both of you laugh way too much. Idia was surprisingly good at the game, but you? You had a unique talent for getting launched off cliffs in increasingly hilarious ways. “I—I didn’t mean to jump! I was trying to grab the sword!” you cried as your character rag-dolled off a tower dramatically. “Oh my—pffff—” Idia snorted, doubling over as your avatar flew off the screen.

“You were so sure about that move too!” You laughed as well, breathless. “I had a plan! I had a—!” But you were giggling too hard to finish, wiping tears from your eyes. Idia turned to look at you, noticing his flaming hair flickering a soft pink. “You’re—uh—you okay?” he asked. “You’re… really red.” “I—hahaha—I can���t stop laughing,” you hiccupped, trying to catch your breath. “My face feels like it’s melting.” He realized your cheeks were glowing bright red; you were laughing so much that your smile was wide and your eyes squinty. he covered his face, mumbling, “You’re going to be the death of me…” But he couldn’t stop smiling.

Malleus Draconia ༉⋆｡˚

Malleus wasn’t used to laughter—anything other than polite laughter, really. So when you burst into deep belly laughter at his story about Sebek’s overzealous training, he faltered. “You should have seen him trying to spar with Lilia and ending up in a tree,” he said dryly. Your response was always joyful “No way! A TREE?” Malleus raised an eyebrow. “You’re easily entertained, dear.” “You make it easy,” you giggled, cheeks glowing. “Your delivery is so deadpan.” He tilted his head. “You are red. Have I embarrassed you?” “Nooo,” you murmured, curling in on yourself. “Just… you. It’s too much.” For a moment, time seemed to pause. “I like you a lot,” you mumbled, face turning even redder. A soft smile spread across his face. “I believe I like you just as much.” He brushed his finger against your cheek, captivated by your warmth. “So vivid. Like Dragonfire.” Your laughter made him feel he'd gladly hear it a thousand times more.

[woniefication]

I WAS HANGING WITH YOU AND THEN I REALIZED𓈒𓈒𓈒 P.SH

𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨﹔𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘜-𝘗𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘺!

𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘹𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳,𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 @withanushka32,𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘳𝑠・・・Fluff,𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 angst› 𝑽ulnerability﹔ Mlist.﹔ Reblogs and Likes appreciated

Sunghoon always picked up your calls on the first ring. It was a running joke between you two now how he somehow answered before the first buzz even finished.

“Thought you’d be asleep,” you said.

“Can’t sleep.”

“What’s keeping you up?”

He paused. “Nothing important.”

You didn’t push. With Sunghoon, silence was safe. Comfortable. You’d known each other too long to fill it with things that didn’t matter.

“Want to meet?” you asked, almost without thinking.

“Yeah,” he said immediately. “Same spot?”

Fifteen minutes later, you were perched on the same old bench, sharing a tub of chocolate chip ice cream in the middle of an unusually quiet night. The sky was clear, stars faint against the city’s haze.

Sunghoon nudged you with his shoulder. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

You smiled. “You’ve said that before.”

He smiled too, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because it’s true.”

A long silence settled. Then-

“I liked you once,” you said, suddenly.

He blinked. “What?”

You didn’t look at him. “Back in our second year of uni. Remember when I cut my hair short and you said I looked ‘kind of like a walnut’?”

He laughed softly. “Yeah. You didn’t talk to me for three days.”

“I was mad because I liked you.”

The laughter faded.

“You what?”

“I thought you knew,” you said, now finally glancing his way. “You didn’t, did you?”

Sunghoon stared at you, stunned silent.

“I got over it,” you said quickly. “It’s ancient history. I just felt like saying it. It’s funny now, right?”

But it wasn’t funny. Not to him.

Because for the last two years, Sunghoon had convinced himself he was the one hiding something quietly loving someone who never looked back. He had no idea he was late to the story.

“You liked me,” he repeated, like he was trying to understand. “And you just… got over it?”

You shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do?”

And suddenly, it all made sense to him. why you pulled back a little that year, why you never quite looked him in the eye when he mentioned other people. He thought you were just tired. He never realized you were protecting yourself.

“Im an idiot,” he said, shaking his head.

You chuckled. “Not new information.”

But then he turned toward you, expression unreadable. “Do you still feel it?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it. “Why are you asking me that now?”

He hesitated. Then, softly: “Because I don’t think I ever stopped.”

And just like that, the past wasn’t past anymore. It had just been waiting. Quietly, patiently: like Sunghoon always had.

Perm.Taglist: @orimuraa @douqhnxtss @chrrific @liwinly @fleuryns @leaderwon

[agreeewrites]

CONGRATS ON HITTING 1K, you deserve all the love you're getting and more <3333 for your celebration could i get a thousand stitches with bill? Your writing of him has been completely brilliant, i love the way you characterise him <333

hi my darling!!! thank you much!! I'm so grateful you're here and I hope you enjoy 🫶

1000 stitches | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x reader

cw: MDNI 18+, injuries and blood, near-death experience, early stages of werewolf!Bill , love confessions

masterlist

The sun crested the horizon, shades of violet, clementine, and rose, and still, Bill and the others hadn't returned from Hogwarts.

The full moon lingered at the edge of the sky, obstinate in its refusal to dip below the trees. You'd begged Bill not to go out while the moon hung bloated in the sky, an unusual, ominous shade of red.

But he'd gone anyways. Which was fair, you supposed; he wasn't yours to order about. You weren't a couple, despite the simmering tension between you, heightened by the deep connection you’d forged through over a decade of friendship and work and suffering and joy.

You'd loved him all your life, and he wouldn't be Bill Weasley, the man that held your heart hostage, if he didn't plunge headlong into danger, especially where his family was concerned.

Always eager for the hunt.

It was Harry, Lupin, and Tonks that arrived back first, bloodied and beaten, singed by the glancing blow of curses.

Molly ran out to them, screaming for her children, but Remus was quick to assuage her.

“They're right behind us—Molly, you must—Molly listen to me,” Remus snapped, shaking her gently. “Ron and Ginny are fine, but Bill—Greyback got a hold of him.”

You clutched the rusted porch railing of the safe house, limbs going numb as the blood drained from your brain.

“He's alive, but barely,” Remus continued, keeping Molly upright by sheer force of will. “And we don't know if he was—”

“Bitten,” you finished, your voice little more than a whimper. Remus looked up at you, nodding solemnly.

He looked like he was going to say something further, when the others suddenly apparated into the clearing. Ginny ran straight into the house, shouting for the medic assigned to the safe house. Ron and Neville held a body between them, the figure limp as a freshly killed stag and twice as bloody.

Bill.

Your ears began to ring, a monotonous, consuming sound, drowning out all of the shouting. You couldn't breathe.

Was he breathing?

You took a sip of air, lungs burning. You'd breathe for him.

Remus grabbed hold of Molly, keeping her out of the way as they carried Bill into the house. Up the stairs and towards you, five steps away, three, one—Ron caught your eye as they passed, looking for too guilty for a boy of only 18, but he quickly looked away, struggling under the weight of his much larger brother.

More members of the Order ran out to help carry him, relieving the boys of the burden, and you could only stand there, staring down at the twin smears of blood where Bill's feet had dragged across the threshold. Staining the stone forever.

Tonks was speaking to you, her hands on your shoulders, but you couldn't hear her, could only stare at the red, red, so much red. Too much red. How could he have anything left?

“We need more hands!” You heard someone call, the words filtering in through the din in your mind.

Hands, hands. You had hands, you could help.

“Tonks—”

“I don't think that's a good idea—”

“We don't have a choice,” Remus said, gently nudging Tonks aside and cupping your face. You forced your eyes to focus on his forehead, his crooked nose, his scars, his eyes. “Can you do this?” Remus asked.

“I-I can,” you affirmed, your voice sounding far away. Like someone else had spoken through your mouth.

“Good, let's go.”

It took more than five hours to stitch all of Bill's wounds. He'd been savaged, butchered, by Greyback. Almost unrecognizable under the swelling and bruising and gore.

The fact that he survived was nothing short of a miracle.

No one was sure if he'd been bitten. There was one wound on his right thigh that looked suspicious to Remus, but Bill was in too fragile a state for them to test anything.

So you waited, and waited, and waited. Four days of burning fever. Four days of changing head-to-toe bandages. Four days of ladling broth between his chapped lips. Four days of praying to anyone that would listen to spare him. To bring him back to you.

You knew he'd be different, no one suffered an attack like that and remained the same, but you knew that you'd love him anyways. The scars on his skin would pale in comparison to the scars left on his psyche, and you would find whatever strength you needed to help him through it.

You'd stitch him together with your own muscle and bone if you needed to.

On the fifth day, many of his wounds had finally healed down to pearlescent, puffy scars thanks to the medics magic. Deep gauges littered his torso and arms, creating new dips and valleys along the lean muscles of his body, a topographical map you could study for eons. The slashes across his face was healing better than anyone dared hoped, and he finally was beginning to look like Bill again.

But the wound on his thigh remained stubborn, pulpy as rotten fruit and refusing to knit together, growing more putrid the more magic that was thrown at it.

An uneasyness settled over the house. No longer a question of will he wake up, but what will wake up.

On the seventh day, Bill woke up screaming.

You were in the kitchen, helping Neville prepare the evening meal, when a roar shook the cedar bones of the old house.

You dropped the dish in your hands with a crash, roast and root vegetables exploding all over the grubby tile floor, and leapt over it, flying up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Tonks caught you at the end of the hall, grabbing you by the arms. “He's asking for you, but you have to—y/n, listen to me,” she snapped, and you stilled, coiled and ready to flee. “You have to be careful—that kind of trauma…he might not be the Bill you love.”

“I don't care.” You yanked free from her hold and dashed down the hallway. You burst into the room Bill was being kept in, a white-washed guest room on the quieter, darker end of the house, and found Ron, Arthur, and Remus desperately trying to restrain a frantic Bill on the bed.

“Where is she?” He bellowed.

You shoved Ron aside and flung your arms around Bill's neck, throwing your weight on him in the hopes of keeping him down.

“I'm here, I'm right here,” you soothed, not bothering to hold back the tears of relief streaming down your face and into his ruddy hair.

He groaned low in his chest, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and heaving a deep breath. His knotted muscles immediately went lax, and he looped an arm around your waist, hauling you into the bed with him. You were shocked at how much strength he still had after a week of bed rest.

“There you are,” he whispered, a throaty purr against your pulse. He drew another deep inhale, nose pressed against your jugular, and you suppressed a shiver.

“Are you alright? You didn't tear anything open—”

“Don't care,” he said, his lips charting a scalding path up your neck, days of stubble scratching mercilessly against the tender skin.

“Bill,” you argued, a fire sparking in your lower belly. You tried to push back a bit from his hold so you could inspect his bandages, could escape the intoxicating effect of his newfound affection. His grip tightened, bordering on painful, and a rumble resounded from the barrel of his chest. Something carnal, possessive, and you immediately dissolved back into his arms. Helpless to resist him.

“A ripped stitch isn't going to kill me,” he mumbled into the downy space behind your ear, his voice so much softer than whatever beast had been roused moments ago.

“Bill, we really need to do a full examination,” Remus interrupted gently. “What you've gone through—”

“It can wait,” Bill snarled, glaring at Remus over your shoulder. “Now get the fuck out.”

You gasped, shocked by his crude language, the aggressive edge to his voice. Bill was hardly the delicate sort, but you'd never seen him be outright hostile. Especially not towards his friends and family.

“Bill,” Remus said, hardening his voice.

“Please, just let them check you,” you whispered, stroking his cheek. “It'll give me and your family peace of mind.”

His eyes fluttered closed as you soothed him, his breathing leveling out. From bestial to docile in the span of a few heartbeats. “Only if you stay,” he answered finally, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I'm not going anywhere,” you assured, and he finally let you untangle yourself.

The medic came in first, checking all of his stitches and his vitals. Besides the wound on his leg, he was mostly healed, just some soreness and a slightly elevated temperature and heart rate.

His hand only left your body when the doctor needed it for something, otherwise he maintained contact through the entire examination.

You weren't sure what it meant, this sudden clinginess. If it was the trauma of almost dying, a head injury making him forget you weren't actually together, or something…else.

His family came in next, a cacophonous, emotional ordeal that made your heart ache with relief. With them, he seemed more like himself; the good-natured, charismatic man you'd fallen in love with, and some of your uncertainty ebbed.

You hadn't hated the intensity from earlier though, quite the opposite, actually. You just wished you knew what caused it, and why you.

Eventually, Bill declared that he wanted to properly shower, and everyone filed out to give him some privacy. When you stood to leave though, his hand tightened around your wrist.

“Don't go,” he said, drawing you back towards him. He was standing, propped against the bedframe for support.

“But you said you wanted to shower?” You blinked up at him, completely perplexed by this dramatic shift in his demeanor. Bill had never been very physical with you, besides platonic hugs and shoulder bumps.

“Help me,” he murmured, tilting your chin up.

Your heart stopped. “W-what?”

“Are you going to make me beg?” His breath fanned across your lips, balmy and disorienting. Headier than any hit you'd taken from a roll or a pipe.

“Bill, we aren't…together,” you argued weakly, a rabbit negotiating the terms of its release from the jaws of a catamount.

“Something I'd like to remedy, if you'll have me.” His other hand ensnared your waist, pulling your body flush to his.

“I'm not sure you're thinking clearly—” you tried to take a step back, but his grip turned to iron.

“Oh, I am. For probably the first fucking time,” he growled, patience wearing thin. “I’ve loved you for ten fucking years, and I almost lost you. So forgive me, darling, I will not be letting you go again.”

You liquified, muscles and bone turning to simpering goo in his arms. You didn't care if it was the pain medicine, or a head injury, or lycanthropy. All you'd ever wanted was to hear those three little words.

“I love you too,” you breathed, and he smiled, bumping his nose against yours before dragging it down your cheek, his hair tickling your lips.

“I know,” he hummed, the hot muscle of his tongue laving over the pulse point beneath your ear. “I can smell it on you.”

You gasped, arousal hitting you like a clap of thunder, your thighs squeezing together against your blooming cunt.

He chuckled, the sound low and viscerally pleased. “Can smell that too, baby. Little heart’s racin’ like a rabbit.”

Oh, fuck. You swallowed thickly, throat closing as fear pumped through your blood, mixing into a strange ichor with the ever-present desire for him.

“You're trembling again,” he said, softening a bit as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Are you afraid of me?”

You shook your head. “Should I be?”

“No, love. Of course not. I'm still me.” He smoothed the hair from your forehead, palming the side of your skull with his long-fingered hand. “But Remus should be if he tries to get between us again.”

A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it, inundated with both dread and delight.

He leaned down, catching your laughter with a lissome press of his lips. The last of your reservation dissipated, dripping out between your thighs as the kiss deepened. His lips were pillowy, tongue tinged with iron and herbs, you leaned into his embrace, content to let him devour you whole.

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[sugarhog05]

Sun usually loves parties. He used to not think it was possible for there to be a bad party. And then Eclipse started taking him to political parties. By the stars did he loathe political parties. He’s yet to find another animatronic royal that didn’t bore him to absolute death.

So when Sun made his way to the balcony outside instead of mingling like he usually did, you grew concerned. You desperately followed behind him in the split of the crowd he made as he walked. You ignored the judging stares of the guests, knowing that they disapproved of a human being amongst them. You sighed as you stepped outside, the immediate relief of getting out from the crowded space was immense. Sun was unusually quiet as he leaned onto the marble railing.

“Prince Sun?” You waited, and each passing moment made your chest tighten with worry. “My Prince, is everything alright?”

You jump as Sun lets out a loud groan, “I hate these stupid parties! All everyone talks about is trade routes and territories and, and… arranged marriages! It’s maddening!” You take a deep breath before joining him at the railing. It was almost comical how tall the railing was in comparison to you, as it came up to your shoulders. You opt for leaning your back against it instead of looking out over the castle grounds like Sun currently was. He glances over at you, and does an incredibly poor job of hiding his amusement at this fact.

You give him a glare, “Oh, quit it. It’s not my fault you animatronics are so tall.” He laughs before giving you a blinding grin, “I didn’t say anything!” You side eye him, but say nothing. The two of you sit in silence for a while, the only sound to accompany you is the muffled music and chatter from inside. You sigh in contentment at his side, him glancing at you a moment. The midsummer air was slightly humid, and the sky was completely clear. A peaceful night to be sure.

“So… not a fan of politics? Must be difficult considering you’re a Prince and all.” You want to comfort him, but it had never been a strength of yours. You curse yourself, as you’d never felt it necessary to learn social skills. Opting instead for your sword to do most of the talking. After a bit of silence you glance over at him, and you’re surprised to see him staring back. He quickly averts his gaze, going back to looking over the grounds. His cheeks a slightly warmer color.

“N-no, not really. It’s something that’s never really interested me. Trade and relations with other nations have always been more of Eclipse and Moons thing. If I had the choice I probably wouldn’t be here at all.” He sighs before continuing, “But! We must keep up appearances.” He gives you a strained smile, and you wish for nothing more than to bring back that wonderful grin he wore moments prior.

“Well… no one’s around right now. You don’t have to wear a mask right now… if you’re comfortable with that, of course. I don’t mean to overstep, my Prince.” You quickly add on that last part, realizing how unprofessional you had sounded. You look over at him, hoping that you don’t see an offended Prince in front of you. You’re taken off guard however, as his expression is one of complete surprise.

“You… you didn’t overstep. I am just… surprised to see you care so much. I truly appreciate that, my Swordsman.” He leans down, hands folded neatly behind his back. You still have to crane your neck to look at him, and your chest feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest. You hope with how close he is he can’t see your face through your helmet, because you can physically feel your face being scorched by a blush. You gulp, “…Your Swordsman?” He shoots up and his hands start to wave wildly.

“W-well, that is to say- I mean…” You cut him off, “Shh… My Prince, be quiet a moment.” He instantly shuts up, his eyes widening as you draw your beloved sword from its sheath. The air is still, before suddenly erupting into chaos. Metal against metal clangs loudly in your ears, but you are unrelenting in your defense of your Prince. There are three of them you note as the red and blue one, their leader you assumed, barked orders in a language you could not understand. The green animatronic and the pink and blue one form a pincer maneuver, and you curse under your breath. The green one is slightly faster than the pink and blue one, so you side step around Sun and slice at wires that were exposed at the knee joints. It instantly buckles as the connection to its central processor is cut.

You pivot and duck behind Sun just as the pink and blue one reaches him. They put up a bit more of a fight but you quickly disarm them. As they stagger backwards you seize the opportunity and cleave straight through where their head meets their shoulders. You usher Sun back towards the doors, making sure to keep your body between him and the third assassin. This third assassin looks to his fallen comrades and a rage that hadn’t been there before overtakes his face. He comes at you with a strength and vigor only an animatronic could possess, and he begins to over whelm you. He takes the opportunity to make a move for Sun, and you have to make a decision. You raise your sword defensively to protect Sun, knowing you would leave yourself open. The assassin takes the opportunity to slash at your side, but you are able to drive your sword in between where his chest plate and stomach meet. Effectively piercing directly into his fuel line, the equivalent of a heart for animatronics. He staggers back, your sword still in his grasp. You watch him as he falls backwards, dead.

You stalk over to the green animatronic, who falls back and desperately attempts to scoot away from you. You kick him in the chest causing him to lay flat on his back. As you stand over him he pleads for you not to kill him. At least, you’re 90% sure that’s what he was saying. You’d seen it many times before, even if you couldn’t understand exactly what he was saying. You kneel down, one foot on his forearm and your gloved hand roughly grasping his circuitry.

“Do you understand me?” You ask monotonously, and when he doesn’t answer you lean into the foot on his forearm. The plating starts to warp under the pressure and his face twists in pain. “Yes! Yes, I understand.” He breaks disappointingly quickly. “Who sent you?” He looks around frantically before becoming deathly still as your grip tightens on the vital circuitry that runs along his neck. “Who. Sent. You.” He starts to cry oily tears, mumbling pathetically. “Can’t say… can’t. Kill me if I do.” You put your full weight onto his forearm and there’s a sickening crack as it breaks in half. He cries in agony.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t.” You say coldly as he writhes beneath you. He feels uncomfortably hot as his fans work on overdrive to cool him due to his panic. “Rabbit… rabbit! All I can say!” You narrow your eyes. “Good enough.” There’s a look of hope in his eyes that is quickly replaced by a blank stare as you violently rip out the wires that made him, him. You turn to the red and blue one and kneel before him. You grasp the handle of your sword and rip it from him, a viscous oil spurts out as you do, getting all over the front of your shirt. You curse, and turn your head towards Sun.

“Are you okay my Prince?” …Your Prince does not respond.

[wonubby]

"WE WANT TO DATE YOU!" - k! bakugou

you saw the way he looked at him. how he stared at his best friend like he had hung the stars up in the sky, longing to hold him. your boyfriend liked, no, loved, his best friend, and it was as clear as day.

the small glances of adornment, the simple acts that felt normal but meant more than they did, blowing you off to help him...

it was all too obvious. like he wanted to be caught. yet, he never stopped caring about you too. he had the same look in his eyes, the one filled with so much love and care; he'd still guide you in a crowd full of people and still tell you he loved you every day.

that's why you needed to talk to him. so, you invited him to your dorm room, which rarely raised any suspicions.

knock! knock!

letting out a breath, you walked towards the door, opening it for the tall blond boy to enter. "hey baby, what'd you call me for?" he asked, tired and gruff.

"we need to talk." the minute those four words left your mouth, his back straightened and worry swarmed through his eyes. fuck.

he hesitated a bit, walking towards your desk and sitting on the chair, unintentionally balling his hands into fists. "is everything alright?" he asked, calmly. too calmly.

"uhh, it could be better," you laughed dryly. how could you bring this up with him? it's been driving you crazy; you just needed to rip the bandaid off.

he tilted his head slightly, confusion flickering in those tired eyes. “what do you mean?”

you swallowed hard. the words felt heavy on your tongue. just say it.

“i’ve noticed the way you look at him,” you said softly, almost like you were afraid of your own voice. “kirishima, i mean.”

his entire body stilled. a sharp inhale. the faintest twitch in his jaw.

"fuck, listen, baby, it's not—" he stumbled, eyes wide and scared.

"nonono, katsu," you were immediately cut off by his voice, loud and afraid.

"no, you need to listen. i'm not going to deny it, but im sorry. fuck, im so fucking sorry; i should've told you the minute i felt it, fuck," he let out a soft sob, his hands covering his eyes.

this was an unusual characteristic for katsuki. you've never seen him this... upset? he continued to ramble about how sorry he was and that if you wanted to leave him, you could — wait... what? he thought you wanted to leave him? oh for gods sake.

"oh, katsuki, you've got it all wrong," you moved towards him, grabbing his face in your hands. a small smile graced your lips as you take the sight of him in. "i'm not leaving you... i'd never leave you. it's just, i," a sigh escaped your lips. "i feel the same. i've also, sort of gained a crush towards eijirou."

confusion etched on his face. did his girlfriend really just tell him that she liked his best friend too...

".... what the fuck," he whispered, voice hoarse.

you laughed, grabbing his hand, "we really suffered over this in quiet for no reason."

"ya fuckin' think? i thought i was cheating on you," his voice broke at the end, tears slowly growing in his eyes.

"aw, katsuki," you whispered, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

he deepened the kiss, pushing your body flush against his as your hands played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. he stood from the chair, tall and muscular, as his body radiated heat.

knock!

the sudden sound caused the two of you to pull apart, and that's when you finally remembered that you had asked a certain someone to come meet the two of you.

the door creaked open slowly, and in stepped kirishima, all bright eyes and clueless energy.

“hey guys! Sorry I’m late, I—”

he stopped mid-sentence, blinking as he took in the red eyes, flushed cheeks, and the way you and bakugou were still basically tangled together.

“…did I interrupt something?”

clearing your throat and sharing a small glance with your boyfriend, you looked towards the other boy. "no- erm, you're okay! why... why don't you take a seat?" there was sweat building up in your palms, and you suddenly felt nervous.

"okay," he said, still embarrassed and slightly confused.

silence filled the room fast, causing an excruciatingly awkward atmosphere. your eyes couldn't help but dart towards katsuki, holding a silent conversation as you took turns looking towards kirishima.

"okay, well katsuki and i sort of have something to tell you, but we don't want to freak you out, so you're welcome to get up and leave randomly if you'd like to." you said, watching him grow even more confused.

katsuki got up, walking towards the boy, placing a hand on the back of his head. "to get it out in the open, we both fucking like you and want to date you," he said, nonchalantly.

"katsuki! you can't just-"

"WHAT," kirishima yelled. "i'm sorry, what the fuck? are you being serious right now?"

"i knew we'd freak him out kats-"

"oh shut up; you would've taken a million years to get it out."

"that doesn't mean you can just spring it on him, asshat!"

kirishima sat there, in shock and relief, as the two of you fought; he even let out a small chuckle, causing you and katsuki to turn your attention to him in confusion.

"thank fuck, i was going crazy... i sort of like you guys too," he said, suddenly blushing, "...i just didn't wanna ruin anything between you guys." he bashfully rubbed his neck with a sheepish smile on his face.

you stared at him. mouth slightly open. brain short-circuiting.

bakugou blinked slowly, as if Kirishima had just spoken in a different language.

“…you what?” katsuki finally said, voice dry and disbelieving.

“i like you guys?” kirishima repeated, brows raised like duh. “both of you.”

“since when?!” you nearly shrieked, a giant smile creeping onto your face.

kirishima blinked. “since… a while? like, months?”

bakugou covered his face with one hand, groaning loud and miserable. “you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

"this is perfect! katsu, he doesn't think we're a bunch of freaks!" you were overjoyed, wrapping your arms around katsuki's neck, causing him to let out a grunt.

katsuki groaned, his eyes sparkling in joy while his face was stuck in a scowl. "get over here, shitty hair," he grumbled.

kirishima immediately walked over and joined the hug, sharing a small glance with katsuki before smiling down at you. "so, how do we do this? should we just tell everyone?" his question was immediately met with a bunch of 'nononono' and a huge 'fuck no'

you gulped a bit before speaking, "i'm a bit afraid of what people would say... so i think it'd be best if we hung out as a trio and did the couple stuff in private."

katsuki agreed while kirishima was slightly embarrassed that he hadn't thought of that before.

"sounds like a good idea, as long as im not being treated as a third wheel." he joked.

"ya' think we're bitchy people, ei?" katsuki pushed him a bit, ruffling his hair.

"shut up," he grumbled, as you giggled.

you were glad this worked out, the three of you together. like it was almost natural and meant to be this way. looking up, you grabbed eijirou's jaw, pressing a light chaste kiss on his lips before doing the same with katsuki.

"i'll head to bed, you're both welcome to stay." at your offer, the two boys immediately grinned.

"hey katsuki," eijirou whispered.

"yeah?" the blond questioned.

their eyes met, katsuki's wide and bold and kirishima's hesitant and warm. "can i... y'know."

"tch," katsuki grabbed the boys face, pushing their lips together in a fiery yet cold kiss.

kirishima blinked, dazed, lips still tingling.

“…okay,” he whispered breathlessly. “yeah. i really like this.”

you giggled, sliding under the covers as you reached for them both. “then get in here, dumbasses.”

bakugou rolled his eyes but climbed in beside you, muttering something about how “this better not become a cuddle pile.”

it absolutely did.

and none of you complained.