#maybe i’ve just not seen good takes from it..

[heartyluv]

Note: This quite literally came to me in a dream. Like…I WAS THERE. I HAD TO WRITE IT. Genuinely, I am in love with this. No need for me to yap. I hope you enjoy. Love you, beauties!

Warning: Smut, Sylus talks about killing while he’s in you, he pours syrup on them 🍒 and licks it off, he has battle scars, very brief mention of him wanting to claim you in blood (IT’S NOT CRAZY WHEN YOU READ IT, PROMISE!!!), slight breeding kink

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: The Empire’s beloved gladiator has had another day of monumental success and wants you as his victory night cap.

Gladiator!Sylus/Reader

When your name is spoken, your skin prickles with goosebumps from anticipation. After every arena held, this is what you always looked forward to.

“He has called for you.”

You look up from the book you’ve been reading, briefly scanning the dining hall that you were sitting in with several other women and feeling their gaze bore into you. Once you give your attention back to the guard who was usually the one to bring you to your champion, you nod and stand.

“Again?” one scoffs, seemingly believing she’s doing so silently enough for you not to hear.

“Out of all the women in the Empire, of all the women here,” another whispers. “He continues to choose—“

“Mind your tongue, new blood,” her maybe friend interrupts. “Have you gone mad? Should she tell him of your venomous and foolish words, you will suffer the consequences. He’s proven so before.”

The golden jewelry decorating your body clinks and jingles with each movement as you slide on your simple sandals to protect your feet from the dirt and stone floor. All eyes are on you when you make your way out the door, silently following behind the large man who was no feat compared to the one whose bed you’d warm tonight.

Everyone within and out of your grandiose town treated you with respect, even the ones who harbored jealousy for you or for the man your soul belonged to. They had no choice if they valued their life and if they didn’t know better, they were always soon made aware.

So in your short journey to the extravagant halls in which your warrior rested after his wins, each individual along your path nodded their heads or turned away out of respect. None were to even speak to you if it wasn’t by his order.

Your Sylus.

The gladiator who’s never lost a fight. One who is so victorious that he’s not just a staple in your town and several others, but in the entire Empire.

A man whom has never been conquered. At least, not physically.

No, the only thing of his that has been claimed and owned by another was his heart. And it was yours.

“Good night, miss.” The guard offered his farewell once you were right outside the giant wooden doors that led to your beloved beast.

After he has fully departed, you softly knock twice to alert Sylus of your arrival.

“Come in, kitten.” He’s memorized everything that is you. How you talk, smell, walk, knock, breathe—it’s all information and knowledge he has safely tucked in his mind. Even if he hadn’t called for you, he would’ve known those gentle raps against his door to be his lover.

Once you enter, the large warm candlelit room was perfectly illuminated to grant you the glorious sight of a nearly nude Sylus, a thin ivory sheet laying across his hips being the only thing separating your eyes from his thick cock that makes an impressive tent beneath.

“Beautiful,” he grins as he takes you in, one strong muscled arm flexing while he rests a hand behind his neck. The white-silver hair atop his head matches the patch beneath his armpit and the trail that sneaks below his bellybutton and beneath the duvet. His hard and large body is adorned with dozens of scars with stories to tell—most old, a few new.

“Congratulations on your success today, my love,”you note after shutting the door, bowing in the way you’ve seen so many do to him before. “I watched it all.”

“I know you did.” He holds a hand out to you. “And I’ve told you, no need for the formalities. Come. I’ve missed my woman.”

“Have you now?” you tease, kicking off your shoes. “It’s only been a few days.”

“A second without you is a poor existence. Tell me, have you not ached for me to the same degree, sweetie?”

“Perhaps once I’m sitting on your cock, you can let me know if you can feel how badly I’ve craved you.”

His dick throbs at your words, his body shifting as if it would relieve any of the pressure. Beginning to walk barefoot toward him, he puts up a hand to halt you, grinning at the way you meet his gaze head on.

“Get undressed for me. Show me my prize.”

You lick your lips, staring into his mesmerizing rubies as you tug the thin material of your dress down your shoulders. Quickly does it pool at your feel, leaving you in nothing but all your bangles and necklaces that he has gifted you.

He likes when you wear the things he buys you, so you don’t work to remove any of the expensive gold.

Once you’re at the side of his bed, he quickly pulls you in by the waist with strength seemingly inhumane, placing you on top of him. The only thing keeping him from slipping inside of you right now is the dreaded blanket, but you can feel his dick trying to nestle between your pussy lips, making you shiver.

He kisses all over your tits, sucking and nipping at your flesh to mark you in ways only he can. Your hand tangles in his hair as the soft crackle of the fireplace behind you sets the romantic atmosphere.

“I see they’ve fed you well,” you smile, looking at the assortment of fruits, cheese, sweets, and syrups he has on his bedside.

“This was intended to be my dessert after the feast they granted me.” He takes your nipple into his mouth, pulling a sexy moan from you. “But I had a different one in mind. A better one. My only one.”

Your hips try to rock in an effort to feel him more, but he holds you still by your waist. “Don’t rush this, kitten. Let me take my time with you. I like to savor my rewards.”

“Some rewards need to be claimed faster than others.”

“Indeed they do,” he grins into your neck as he peppers kisses down the kiss of your throat. “But greed…it’s a slippery slope. Grab the syrup, since you’re so eager.”

You’re not confused at all by his intentions. In fact, the mere thought of what he’s getting ready to do makes you clench around nothing.

Once you grab the small dish of berry syrup, he takes two generous handfuls of your ass, tilting his head lightly. “Pour some on yourself.”

“You’ll clean me?” you grin, using your other hand to take hold of his throat gently. He looks up at you with need, groaning when you lick his lips.

“Do what I say and we’ll find out, won’t we?”

You two stare into one another’s eyes as you tilt the bowl to let the sweetness stick to your tits. Immediately, Sylus’s hot tongue laps it up. The wet muscle licks down the valley of your breast before he alternates between two of his favorite things to give each of them the attention they deserve.

Your cunt throbs and your whines grow louder the harder he sucks.

“Yes…F—fuck, your mouth…” you cry, pouring more of the delicacy when he runs out. You go until the thing is empty and he’s running on lust and a sugar rush.

The soft pops his mouth sounds when he makes contact with your hot body is enough to have you completely soaked. He can feel your juices wetting the sheet, letting his cock know as it soaks it up, how badly you need him.

“Be good,” he mumbles breathlessly, unable to stop lathering you in kisses. “And let me in.”

Eagerly, you reach behind you to pull the fabric away, hissing when it grazes your clit. His cock sits between you once revealed, waiting for you to put him where he’d get on his knees and beg you to be. Sitting on your knees, Sylus kisses your lips tenderly as you start to sit down on his length, needing nothing but your bodies to guide him to your tight hole.

“Sylus…” you call his name once you’re filled with him. It’s a relic on your tongue, enchanting him how the two syllable spill out of you. You don’t wait for long, letting his strong hands explore your plush body as he guides you up and down his cock.

“I’ve killed men for you,” he declares, your breasts pressing against his hard chest only surging him on. You hold him closely, like he could snake out of your hold at any given moment.

“I’ve felt their blood mark my skin after I cut them down for the taunting words they’d spew in the arena.”

It was rare for anyone to not know that you and Sylus owned each other. It was even more rare for anyone to not know that should they utter your name with anything negative to follow it, Sylus would make them an example. His attentiveness to that has made it so he hasn’t had to make many.

The sound of slapping skin echos in the room, announcing the beauty of your lovemaking. “Their lives were already mine the moment they decided to go against me, but their fates were eternally sealed when your precious name was used in vain of their idiotic words. And you know what?”

“W—what?” You’re nearly drooling as his length moves within you, your wetness and his precum making a delicious mess along your gummy walls.

“I imagined me claiming you in their blood. Letting everyone watch as I show them how mad I can be for you. Would you let me, kitten?”

“Without hesitation…” you answer immediately, clenching tightly around him when you feel his dick pulse like it’s proud of you. Each dribble of his impending load leaking into your womb makes your mind grow infinitely more foggy with bliss.

“You like when I kill for you. I can feel how much harder you squeeze me.” He smirks cockily, but he’s right. He’s so fucking right and you don’t even care.

“I’m going to put my baby in your womb and the ring you deserve on your delicate finger.” His words hold so much promise.

“Please,” you beg. “Give it to m—me…Fuck, Sy…” Your thighs and legs burn, but you won’t stop. You refuse to—not when both of you are so close.

“My cum will take root,” he kisses down your shoulder. “And when you’re barefoot and pregnant with my seed, I’ll kill a thousand more in honor of the both of you.”

You slam your lips onto him, your tongue and his battling for control as you taste him. Naturally he wins, but you like to let him. You like being owned, protected, and loved by him. No matter how much you could hold your own, he has come into your life to show you that he can and will wield all of it so that you don’t have to.

His hands caress your back and you two fit together like perfect puzzle pieces, coming together at the same time. Your moans and mewls are pouring into his mouth just as his cum does inside of your pussy. He holds you down and close, doing everything in his power to make sure not a drop is wasted.

Your needy sounds curate the perfect symphony alongside his manly grunts and shuddering breath.

With the little bit of energy you have left, you grind against him to overstimulate your aching clit. When you can’t take anymore, you rest your chin on him and trace the scars along his arms in comfortable silence. You kiss each one your puffy mouth can reach, cleansing him with your affection.

“I’ll clean you before I have you again.” You giggle at how he says it so matter-of-factly.

“Good.” You pull back, sighing in contentment as he fondly kisses on your breasts once more. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Mhm,” he continues to indulge. “You aren’t.”

A/N: Guys. What are we thinking? Me? Like I said—I LOVE THIS SO FREAKING MUCH!!! Like lowkey Camboy!Caleb level love. I started writing this last night before I fell asleep, and when I woke up this morning, it was like the little story never stopped. My fingers were just flyinggg (pause). LOLLLL!!

Creds to @/strangergraphics for the dividers!

[violet-hady]

I personally have 3 rules I personally use to determine whether or not a remake is, in my opinion, good.

1. The movie needs to be well made. By that I mostly mean that the characters and plot have to be well written. A good negative example is the Mulan remake. Maybe it’s just me, but I just don’t think it’s a good movie. It’s been a while since I watched it, but I remember the characters as boring, the plot riddled with holes, and the themes contradicting. And speaking of themes:

2. The remake shouldn’t contradict the themes of the original. Perfect negative example is the newly released Lilo and Stitch remake. They took the message “Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” And turned it into “Ohana is a nice idea, but it’s not real.”! They not only contradicted the themes of the original, but they also said “The themes of the original are bullshit.”! I know it’s only one of the many crimes that movie committed, but this is one of them.

3. The movie needs to do its own thing. Now, from the way it looks, many of the people making these movies think this one contradicts the second one. Most of the time they make their own thing, they break rule two. And when they try to not break it, we end up with movies like the lion king. Even if we ignore all the other flaws the movie has: The characters are mostly the same, the plot is mostly the same. Sure, there are small alterations to both, but it’s still very much the same movie (we’re still ignoring the other flaws). There is no reason anyone who has seen the original should watch the remake. And I haven’t seen it yet, but from what I heard from the How to Train your Dragon remake, I’m afraid it’ll fail in this category too.

Now, are there examples of movies actually fulfilling these criteria? In fact, yes, there are. They are just pretty rare. Best example I can think of is Maleficent.

- Good movie? ✅ (just watch it)

- Consistent themes? ✅ (true love conquers all vs. true love conquers all. They just replaced romantic for familial.)

- It’s own thing? ✅✅✅ (It’s basically a completely original movie, just using vaguely the same outline of the story.)

I also remember the jungle book to be pretty good at this, but take that with a grain of salt, it’s been very long since I’ve seen the remake, and even longer since I watched the original. I also heard good things about the Cinderella remake, but I haven’t watched it, so I can’t judge that. And that’s all the examples I can think of right now. Like I said, it’s rare. But those who fulfill these criteria are good movies which deserve to exist.

"What do you want from a remake" I DON'T WANT THEM. I DON'T WANT ANOTHER SOULLESS NOSTALGIA-FILLED CASH-GRAB. I DON'T WANT ANY OF THEM. I DON'T WANT ADAPTATIONS THAT KILL THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE OF THE THING THEY WERE BASED UPON NEITHER THE SHOT-BY-SHOT DESATURATED RECREATIONS. I WANT ORIGINAL STORIES!!! NOT REMAKES OF MOVIES THAT AIN'T EVEN 30 YEARS OLD!!!​AAGGGGGHHH

[camficdiner]

hi queen!! i love your fics so much!! could i pls get 1.1, 2.4, 3.6, 4.3??

Cam’s Fic Diner - order 036

🍒 thank you

To the angel who sent in “fake dating at a wedding” — you had no idea what kind of chaos you were about to unleash. This request started as a fun trope and turned into a full-blown summer saga with soft launches, PR contracts, and a very real Jack Hughes confession under silk sheets 😮‍💨

You lit the match — I just followed the fire.

Thank you for trusting Cam’s Fic Diner with your brilliant prompt. You’re always welcome back for another round 💌

💬 “The Golden Hour Contract”

✨ Description and prompts:

Character: Jack Hughes

Prompt: fake dating for PR, athlete!reader 

Word count: ~2.1k

Type: Mixed smut/fluff 

🛼🍒✨🧁

You were used to headlines. But never the good kind.

Tennis’s “dark darling.” The “racket-throwing riot.” Uncoachable. Cold. Impossible to brand. Your last post-match conference ended with a water bottle launched into a camera lens. Your agent nearly quit. Again.

So when you got the call — We’ve got a meeting in Jersey. Pack for two nights. Big opportunity — you assumed it was a last-ditch sponsorship fix. A new racquet deal. Maybe some lifestyle brand willing to gamble on your bite.

You did not expect to be sitting in a conference room at the Prudential Center, staring across the table at Jack Hughes.

He looked… exactly like he did in the media.

Lean, clean-shaven, collared shirt rolled up at the forearms. One chain. One dimple. Arms crossed, smile faint. Like this wasn’t the weirdest meeting of his life.

Your manager cleared his throat.

“So here’s the pitch.”

You blinked. “Pitch?”

“You and Jack,” he said, gesturing vaguely, “are going to date.”

You turned to Jack. His expression didn’t change.

“For… PR,” your manager added.

A beat of silence.

“Excuse me?” you said.

The Devils’ team rep slid a folder toward you. “Public sentiment’s down across both sides. You’re polarizing. Jack’s too clean. This is mutually beneficial. It’s… strategic.”

Jack’s voice was dry. “We take a few pictures. Couple events. Look cozy. Maybe smile at each other once or twice.”

You glared. “You want this?”

“I want the media to get off my ass about not being interesting,” he said. “And apparently, you’re chaos incarnate.”

You stood up. “Absolutely not.”

But your manager didn’t flinch. “You’ve got three fines and zero endorsements this quarter.”

“And you,” the Devils’ rep added, turning to Jack, “keep getting accused of being too soft. Too vanilla.”

Jack raised a brow. “So now I’m supposed to date a girl who threw a racquet at a ref?”

You snorted. “He deserved it.”

Jack’s lips twitched.

“And,” the rep added with venomous calm, “you’ll both be attending a wedding together next month. In Capri.”

You froze.

Jack blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

“A destination wedding,” your agent said, chipper now. “Very photogenic. We’ve already RSVPed.”

You sat back down slowly.

Your fingers tapped the table. You looked at Jack.

He met your eyes.

Smug. Calm. Challenging.

“You game, Hughes?” you asked.

His grin spread. “Always.”

—

The press release dropped two weeks later.

BREAKING: Hockey’s Golden Boy Jack Hughes Spotted Courtside With Tennis’s Baddest Bitch

Jack Hughes’ New Flame? Fans Lose It Over PR Power Couple

Your post? A cryptic Instagram story: a pasta dish, expensive sunglasses on the table.

Caption: you wish you were invited to this dinner.

Jack reposted it.

With a heart emoji.

That’s when Quinn called.

“You’re dating her?”

Jack held the phone away from his ear. “Good to hear from you too, Quinn.”

“Jack. Be serious. You’ve seen what they write about her. She threw a racquet at a judge—”

“She’s not that bad.”

“Jack.”

“I’ve met worse.”

“Jack.”

“She makes it interesting, okay?”

A pause. Then: “This is about Lily, isn’t it?”

Jack’s jaw ticked.

“Jesus,” Quinn muttered. “You’re soft-launching a PR girlfriend to recover from a real breakup?”

Jack hung up.

Luke was worse.

He just sent a screenshot of the article with a voice note: bro… bro. Her? Seriously?

Jack deleted it without opening.

Because here’s the thing — he hadn’t been able to shake the way you looked at him that day in the conference room. Like you didn’t care who he was. Like you were two seconds away from biting his head off.

And maybe… maybe that was the whole point.

Because the media had spent months dissecting his last breakup — saying he wasn’t passionate enough, wasn’t bold, wasn’t interesting.

He was tired of being branded the sweet one. The safe one. The boring one.

So he posted the pasta story. Reposted your story. Let the storm roll in.

Let them all talk.

Let them wonder why Jack Hughes, Mr. Perfect, had suddenly gone rogue.

—

The villa was drenched in sunlight.

Capri looked fake — like someone had turned the saturation too high. Every terrace dripped bougainvillea. Every window was open, catching sea breeze and whispering silk curtains.

You stood on the marble balcony in a lemon-colored dress, sipping something bubbly, sunglasses low on your nose. You didn’t turn when Jack stepped beside you.

“You clean up,” he said slowly, “terrifyingly well.”

You let him look.

Low back. Tiny straps. Bronze skin. Tattoos catching golden hour light.

“You look like you should come with a warning,” he muttered.

“I do,” you said, sipping. “Your brothers read it out loud to you.”

Jack laughed under his breath. “They’re not over it, by the way.”

“Shocker.”

He pulled out his phone. “Quinn sent me: ���please remind your fake girlfriend not to curse out the flower girl.’”

You grinned. “Did you?”

“I told him to worry about his own plus one.”

You turned. “He didn’t bring one.”

He met your eyes. “Exactly.”

Your heart stuttered.

It’s fake, you reminded yourself.

But then he leaned in and fixed your strap, fingers grazing your skin like he meant it — and everything fake felt far too real.

—

You made it exactly nineteen minutes into the rehearsal dinner before Jack’s hand slid to your thigh under the table.

You nearly choked on your wine.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, smile still plastered for the couple across from you.

He murmured, “Just playing the part.”

His fingers stayed there.

Warm. Heavy. Possessive.

You didn’t move.

Not even when his thumb slowly traced a circle.

Later, when you stood for pictures, he rested his chin on your shoulder like it was nothing. Like his breath wasn’t brushing your skin. Like your body hadn’t just betrayed you entirely.

Your smile for the camera was dangerous.

His? Infuriatingly perfect.

—

The suite was stunning.

Which almost made up for the single bed.

Jack raised a brow. “Seriously?”

The host had given you the honeymoon room. As a gesture.

He turned to you. “You want the right or the left side?”

You kicked off your heels. “I want sleep and zero conversation.”

“You got it, princess.”

You brushed your teeth.

He undressed.

And when you emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, skin clean, you found him shirtless, reading a book on the bed like he didn’t just ruin your night with a bare torso and low-slung sweatpants.

He looked up.

And his eyes… didn’t leave your legs.

Or your oversized tee that didn’t quite hide the shape beneath.

“Problem?” you asked.

His jaw twitched.

“Nope.”

He turned off the light.

But the heat between you stayed on full flame.

—

It’s fake, it’s fake, it’s fake.

That’s what you told yourself the next day — while you danced in the sun, smiled in designer heels, and let Jack rest a hand on your back in every photo.

That’s what you reminded yourself when people whispered “they’re kind of perfect together” and your cheeks flushed hot.

And that’s what you screamed inside your head when you saw him talking to the bride’s cousin — some blonde with a backless dress and a fake giggle — and felt your stomach burn.

You didn’t even realize you were staring until Jack looked across the garden, eyes narrowing.

He excused himself from the girl mid-sentence.

Stormed toward you.

Grabbed your hand.

Pulled you around the corner, into a hallway off the terrace, near the powder room.

The music faded.

His back hit the wall.

He pulled you with him.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, voice low.

“No,” you lied, furious.

He grinned.

You grabbed his collar.

His mouth crashed into yours.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t careful.

It was everything the contract said you couldn’t do.

And it was the only real thing you’d felt in weeks.

His hands found your waist. Yours tangled in his curls. He kissed like he wanted it — like he needed it — like he’d been holding it in since New Jersey.

You moaned into his mouth.

He cursed into yours.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, dizzy, ruined—

He said, “Tell me it’s fake now.”

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

Because your hand was already unbuckling his belt.

And he was already backing you into the guest bathroom.

And the wedding music kept playing, far away — like you weren’t breaking every rule you’d signed.

—

The next morning was quiet.

You ate breakfast on the terrace.

He sat across from you.

Sunglasses. Bed hair. Barefoot.

He didn’t speak until you looked at him.

Then, calmly, softly, he said, “Stay with me. Even after the wedding.”

You blinked.

“I mean it,” he said. “Come with me to Quinn’s birthday party”

Your breath caught.

And maybe for the first time in your life — you didn’t feel like the scandal.

You felt like the story.

You land in Vancouver two days before Quinn’s birthday.

Jack insists on flying you in himself. First class. Quiet flight. Shared headphones. Champagne you barely touch.

You rest your head on his shoulder.

He doesn’t move for the entire six-hour flight.

—

The party is small.

Just family, close friends, a few Devils and Canucks teammates in vacation mode. The restaurant is candlelit, tucked in a private upstairs floor, music soft and jazzed.

You wear silk. Emerald green.

He wears black. No tie. Hair messy like he never even tried.

He can’t stop looking at you.

Everyone else tries not to stare.

Quinn gives a speech. So does Luke.

Someone clinks a glass. The cake comes out.

Jack stands suddenly. “Wait—one second.”

The whole room quiets.

He clears his throat. Nervous.

You blink.

“I just—uh. Wanted to say thanks to Quinn for being the best older brother a guy could ask for. And also—” he turns, finds your hand on the table, links your fingers like it’s instinct “—also for not strangling me when I brought her to the wedding.”

Laughter. Lighthearted groans. Quinn raises his glass with a smirk.

You squeeze Jack’s fingers under the table.

He doesn’t let go.

—

You leave early.

Too many cameras. Too much press.

Jack says he’s tired.

You say nothing.

But when he pushes you into the wall of the hotel suite, mouth already crashing into yours, you understand why he really left.

You taste champagne and heat and everything you’ve been holding in for weeks.

He pulls your dress up, hands rough. “Been thinking about this all night.”

“You mean all month,” you pant.

His laugh is low, wrecked. “Touché.”

You reach for his belt.

He catches your wrist.

“No.”

You look up, startled.

“I want to see you first.”

You blink. “You see me now.”

“No.” His voice softens, deepens. “Not like that. I want the lights on. I want to remember all of it.”

Your heart trips.

He unzips your dress slowly.

Lets it fall.

He peels it off like it’s a promise — not a distraction.

And when you’re left in nothing but your heels and breathless silence, he just stands there, jaw clenched, eyes burning.

“You’re unreal,” he says. “Like… how are you real?”

You laugh. “Jack—”

He cuts you off with a kiss. Long. Deep. Hungry.

When you reach for him again, this time he lets you.

Clothes come off in silence.

Except for the moan he lets out when you drop to your knees and taste him — slow, teasing, cruel.

He doesn’t last long.

You don’t want him to.

He tugs you up, pulls you into his lap on the edge of the bed.

“No games this time,” he whispers. “I want to be inside you. Real. No pretending.”

You nod, lips parted.

He pushes in — slow, inch by inch, until you’re full.

You both breathe hard.

He holds your face.

“This isn’t PR anymore.”

You nod again.

“I don’t want the contract. I want you.”

And then he moves.

Slow at first — maddeningly slow — like he’s memorizing every sound you make, every twitch of your hips.

His mouth finds your neck, your chest, your collarbone.

His fingers dig into your waist.

Your nails scratch his back.

“Tell me it’s real,” he begs.

“It’s real,” you say.

He moves faster.

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

He thrusts harder.

You fall apart in his arms, shaking, breathless, overwhelmed.

He follows seconds later, forehead pressed to yours, hand still tangled in your hair.

After, he wraps you in the sheets, chest to chest, heart to heart.

You lie there, tangled.

Breathing.

You think it’s over.

It’s not.

He leans up on one elbow.

Looks down at you.

And says softly, “Come to New Jersey.”

You blink.

“Stay with me. Let them talk. Let them say whatever. I don’t care if it started fake. I want you. At my games. In my house. In my bed.”

You swallow.

“Make it real,” he whispers. “Let’s do this for real.”

You say nothing.

Just pull him down and kiss him like a yes.

—

[pillow-coded]

To Have and To Hold — Chapter 9

Summary: A sunny morning, a planetarium trip, and a picture-perfect afternoon. Everything feels almost too good to be true. But when an innocent comment catches Spencer off guard, the day takes an unexpected turn. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn Series (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Reader overthinking, a microscopic amount of angst towards the end Word Count: 6.4k

Series Masterlist

The sunlight woke me before the alarm did — sharp and golden across the floorboards, the kind of light that makes everything feel warmer than it probably is. But maybe everything just felt warmer because of how good things were going.

I spent the night over at Y/N’s last weekend. Maddie had fallen asleep in my arms, tiny fingers curled into my sleeve like she was holding onto a dream. The next morning, she’d drawn a picture of the three of us — stick figures with tangled smiles, all holding hands. Y/N saved the fluffiest pancake for me. Just set it on a little plate like it was obvious. Like I was expected to stay for breakfast.

I hadn’t had a nightmare in nearly a week. I wasn’t sure if that meant anything, but… I’d started sleeping with one of Maddie’s drawings pinned to the wall. Maybe that was my saving grace. A little paper talisman that reminded me why things felt lighter lately.

The team’s been side-eyeing me more than usual. If they hadn’t been suspicious after I slipped and said Maddie’s name instead of the victim’s name during the Jensen’s case, along with my little meltdown, then my recent cheerfulness definitely gave me away. JJ cornered me in the hallway yesterday and asked if I was “seeing someone.” I panicked and changed the subject — something about ant pheromones, I think.

But I smiled the whole way home, just from thinking… ‘Yes, I’m seeing someone.’

I stretched, blinked at the ceiling for a few seconds, then sat up slowly. It was a late-spring morning, the kind that smelled like wet grass and felt like a second chance.

When I checked my phone, I already had three messages from Y/N:

Y/N: hi :)

Y/N: I don’t want to overwhelm you or anything but Maddie has been up since 6:13

Y/N: she’s fully dressed, packed her purse, and keeps asking if “Spencer’s awake yet” like I have access to your brain

I smiled to myself, thumb hovering over the screen longer than it should’ve before replying with a simple:

Spencer: Just woke up, but I’ll be there in 15

I got ready faster than I thought I could. Just a minute or two — which was far too quickly compared to other times I’ve seen Y/N, where I stood in front of the mirror way too long, obsessing over how my cardigan sat over my button-up, or whether I looked like I was trying too hard.

Regardless, those two minutes of getting ready gave me three extra to spare and still make it to her apartment in the promised fifteen.

So I made some coffee.

By the time I’d poured it into a travel mug, Y/N had sent a photo.

Maddie, standing proudly in a glittery skirt and a sweater with a purple cat patched across the front. Two mismatched bows decorated her pigtails. Her tiny purse — the one she insisted on calling her “field bag” — was slung over her shoulder. I knew without even opening it that her little “stars notebook” was tucked safely inside, along with that purple glitter pen she guards like her life depends on it.

She was grinning like she’d just won Little Miss Universe.

I forced myself to set the phone down. I grabbed my bag, locked the door behind me, and slid into the driver’s seat — coffee safely in my travel mug, still hot.

I still have ten minutes to get there, and maybe spare an extra minute.

The drive wasn’t long, but the silence gave my thoughts too much room. I took a sip of coffee at a stoplight, trying to keep my mind still, but it never really worked.

It was strange — how natural it felt now. How familiar the route to their apartment had become. Like muscle memory.

I’d memorized the road since the first time I drove there. The house with the overflowing flower garden. The small kindergarten tucked at the corner of the block, right at the intersection where I turn right. The maple trees lined up neatly in front of her building, the leaves just starting to blush toward summer.

With every drive, I start to feel fonder of it all — the road, the houses, the crooked bus stops, even the cracks in the sidewalk. They’re markers now. Little signs that I’m getting closer to them.

Closer to her.

I pull into Y/N’s visitor spot. She gave me the pass last week— It was laminated and labeled — She told me to keep it, since I’ve been coming over so often. Like she expected me to keep coming. Like she wanted me to.

And maybe that’s what made my hands shake a little as I turned off the ignition.

Not nerves, but excitement.

I grabbed my coffee and stepped out of the car, the air still cool enough to nip at my collar. The trees rustled above me, and I counted the steps from the parking lot to her front door without meaning to. I always did. Twenty-six and a half. The last one’s a little shorter because the sidewalk dips just before the porch.

I used to hesitate here. The first few times, I’d stand at the edge of the welcome mat, rehearsing what I’d say. Trying to find the right tone, the right words, the version of myself that felt safest to offer.

Now I don’t rehearse. I just knock.

Because she always opens the door like she’s expecting me.

Because Maddie always squeals when she sees me — like I’m not a visitor, but someone who was meant to arrive.

Because this place — this life I only just started to tiptoe into — doesn’t feel like borrowed time anymore.

It’s starting to feel real.

And that… that’s the scariest, and best, part of all of it.

“Wow, you actually made it in fifteen minutes.”

Y/N’s voice hit me first — amused, teasing, the kind of dry warmth that always makes my stomach twist in the gentlest way. She was leaning against the doorframe, hair pulled back loosely, one hand on the knob and the other braced against the edge like she hadn’t just opened the door, but welcomed it. Welcomed me.

“Spencer!!!!”

Maddie was already charging at me before I could answer. Tiny shoes tapping against the floor, pigtails bouncing with each step. She wrapped herself around my leg like a very sparkly, very enthusiastic barnacle.

“You’re here! You’re here! You’re here!”

I laughed, steadying my coffee so I didn’t spill it all over her glittery skirt. “I told you I’d be here.”

“Mommy said you might still be brushing your hair.”

Y/N gave me a look over Maddie’s head — clearly not sorry.

I shrugged. “I considered it.”

“Well,” she said, pushing the door open wider, “you still look very brushed. Come in. She’s been waiting at the window like a cat.”

I stepped inside, careful not to trip over Maddie, who was now spinning in tight circles like she needed to release excess joy from her limbs. Y/N closed the door behind me with her foot, already halfway back toward the kitchen, muttering something about “goldfish crackers and fruit pouches.”

She was in motion — efficient, focused, a little chaotic in that way she always got when she wanted things to go perfectly.

“There’s still some breakfast on the counter, Spence. Feel free to grab some.”

“Oh, I’m good,” I said, lifting my travel mug. “I made myself some coffee.”

Y/N turned from the kitchen just long enough to give me a look — not annoyed, just deeply unimpressed. “You didn’t eat, did you.”

I hesitated. “…No.”

She sighed, grabbed a piece of toast from the counter, and handed it to me like a doctor prescribing medication. “You need to eat. Coffee doesn’t count as breakfast.”

I took the toast. “It’s… efficient.”

“It’s not,” she said, already back to zipping up Maddie’s backpack. “It’s a shortcut to passing out in a planetarium’s lobby.”

Before I could come up with a defense, Maddie darted into the room, swinging her bag behind her like a superhero cape, the zipper half-undone and a stuffed dinosaur hanging out the side.

“Mommy packed the purple gummies,” she whispered to me like it was top secret. “And two juice boxes. The good ones.”

I nodded seriously. “Sounds like you’re well-prepared.”

Her bag sat open on the counter. She zipped it, unzipped it again. Added a water bottle. Swapped one snack pack for another. Then checked it again. I watched her take out a tiny travel-sized sunscreen, hesitate, and put it back in.

“I know we’re going to be indoors mostly,” she said, more to herself than to me, “but there’s a courtyard, and she’ll ask to run around. I just know it.”

“She’ll probably demand us to play tag,” I offered.

Y/N looked up at me and smiled — flustered, fond, flushed. “Exactly.”

She double-checked the wet wipes, the napkins, the bandaids. Paused. Then checked again.

I didn’t say anything. I knew this part wasn’t about the snacks or the wipes or even the backup hair ties. It was about feeling ready. Feeling in control of a day she desperately wanted to go right.

She caught me watching and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like I’m going crazy. You deep cleaned your apartment before our tea night.”

I held up my hands in surrender, smiling into my coffee. “Fair.”

“Ready to go?”

I nodded, tightening the lid on my coffee. “Yeah. You?”

She let out a breath — not frustrated, just one of those quiet exhales that meant she was trying to ground herself. “I think so.”

Her eyes scanned the apartment one last time. She touched the strap of her bag like she wasn’t sure it was secure, then tugged Maddie’s tiny jacket out from the hook by the door.

“Mads, come here!”

“I am here,” Maddie announced, appearing dramatically from behind the couch. She held her Rapunzel doll in one hand and her glitter pen like a dagger in the other.

“Shoes,” Y/N said, pointing. “Both of them. Preferably matching this time.”

“But mommy, I want the pink sparkly one, and the silver one with lights…”

Y/N sighed, already glancing down at Maddie’s feet — two completely different shoes, equally chaotic in energy. She opened her mouth, probably to protest, but then… stopped.

Instead, she knelt down, brushed a curl from Maddie’s cheek, and smiled — soft, tired, full of something I couldn’t name but wanted to memorize.

“Alright,” she said gently, “just this once.”

Maddie lit up like she’d been granted a royal decree. “Yessss,” she whispered, triumphant, and immediately stomped her light-up foot to make her point.

Y/N stood back up and looked at me, shrugging like this is my life, but her smile hadn’t faded. If anything, it was stronger now. A little messier. A little softer.

“Fashion icon,” I murmured.

“You’re enabling her.”

“I’m just respecting her creative vision.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no heat in it. “Alright. Bag?”

I held it up. “Secured.”

“Maddie, You’re really bringing Rapunzel?”

“She wants to see the stars!” she shouted, already halfway out the door.

Y/N followed with a resigned but affectionate sigh. “Alrighty then… to the car we go.”

We made it down the steps in a not-so-orderly line — Maddie skipping every other stair, Y/N trailing her like a bodyguard with a purse and backup hair tie in hand. I unlocked the car and held the door open while Maddie climbed into her car seat with a surprising amount of coordination.

“Mommy, can we play I Spy while Spencer drives?” she asked, already strapping herself in like this was a full mission briefing.

Y/N gave her a look in the rearview mirror. “Only if we keep the volume at indoor voice levels.”

“I am inside,” Maddie argued, completely missing the point.

I smiled as I buckled in. “You can start. Just give me a second to warm up my deduction skills.”

“Okay, okay…” Maddie squinted out the window like a tiny detective. “I spy with my little eye… something that’s blue!”

“The sky?” Y/N guessed.

“Nope!”

“Your juice box?” I offered.

“Wrong again!”

I glanced in the rearview, then pointed toward the front seat. “Is it the museum flyer in the pocket?”

Maddie squealed. “Yes!!! That was so fast!”

Y/N looked at me like I’d just performed a minor miracle. “How did you even see that?”

“I have very advanced observational skills,” I said, sipping my coffee.

“Uh-huh,” she said, trying not to smile. “Just keep your eyes on the road.”

So I did.

We drove in that easy silence with the occasional interruption of Maddie humming in the backseat between guesses, Y/N leaning her head lightly against the window, sunlight catching in the strands of her hair. I didn’t say much. I didn’t need to.

The city passed by in flashes of spring color. Street signs I didn’t have to read anymore. A left turn I’d already memorized.

By the time we pulled into the planetarium parking lot, Maddie was pressed up against the window like it might disappear if she blinked. Her feet kicked excitedly, mismatched shoes flashing pink and silver like twin beacons of chaos.

“We’re heeere!” she sang. “I see stars! I see rockets! I see a UFO!”

Y/N laughed. “That’s the rooftop observatory, baby.”

I turned off the engine and smiled at the two of them. “It’s a retractable dome — it opens up so the telescope can track celestial objects without obstruction. Some of them are motorized to follow the rotation of the Earth.”

Maddie’s eyes widened like I’d just handed her the moon.

“Can we go in there?”

“Maybe,” Y/N said, glancing at me with a grin. “If our tour guide keeps the facts coming.”

I sipped my coffee. “I haven’t even started.”

“That is so cool,” Maddie whispered.

Y/N turned to me, eyes warm. “See, this is why you’re not allowed to skip these things,” she said, nudging my arm. “We’d miss all the fun facts.”

I felt myself smile—small, but real.

“Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s goooo!!” Maddie squealed, grabbing both of our hands and yanking with surprising force for someone who barely clears three feet.

Her tiny fingers wrapped around mine, sticky with what I hoped was just juice residue, and I let her drag me forward. Y/N laughed beside me — not the quiet kind, but the full, unguarded kind that made my chest ache in the best way.

We jogged awkwardly behind her, Maddie setting the pace, completely unaware of how fast her little legs were moving.

“She thinks she’s leading a mission,” Y/N panted, half-laughing as we reached the doors.

“She is,” I said. “Operation: Get to the Dome Theatre sky show in record time,”

Y/N giggled. It was a sound I never wanted to forget.

The kind of sound that makes everything else go quiet for a second — like the world stepped aside to make space for just that.

Her eyes met mine, bright and unguarded, and something shifted. Just a flicker. Just enough to make my steps slow down, even as Maddie kept tugging us forward.

I wanted to say something — something clever, maybe, or meaningful. But the moment passed before I could catch it.

“Come on!” Maddie whined, yanking harder on our hands. “We’re gonna miss the rocket show!”

“It’s not a rocket show, sweetheart” Y/N said, breathless from trying not to laugh. “It’s literally about the stars.”

“Well the rocket gets us there!”

“Mads, wait,” she called, chasing after her. “We have to buy the tickets first.”

Maddie stopped with a huff, her sparkly shoes blinking in protest. “But the show’s gonna start!”

“It’s in twenty-five minutes,” Y/N replied, pulling her phone out of her coat pocket. “You’ve got time to bounce in place.”

We reached the counter, and Y/N was already halfway through digging into her purse for her wallet when I stepped up beside her and offered my card without thinking.

“I got it.”

She blinked. “Spencer—”

“It’s fine,” I said, quietly, not looking at her just yet.

“You’re gonna have to let me pay one of these days, you know?”

“Maybe,” I reply and turn back to Maddie, leaving no room for discussion. “You ready, Captain?”

Maddie’s face lit up with a bright smile. She brought her hand to her forehead in a crooked salute �� all enthusiasm, no coordination.

“Aye aye, space wizard!”

I couldn’t help it — I smiled. It tugged at the corners of my mouth before I could stop it. She had that effect on me. Both of them did.

Y/N watched the exchange with a look I couldn’t quite name. Somewhere between amusement and something softer. Something that felt like it might crack me open if I stared at it too long.

“Alright, crew,” she said, brushing her hand lightly against my back as she started walking toward the exhibit hallway. “Let’s blast off.”

And just like that, Maddie took off again, arms out like wings, narrating her own mission under her breath.

I followed a step behind them, coffee still warm in my hand, heart a little fuller than it had any right to be.

Maddie’s shoes squeaked softly against the polished floors as we stepped into the dimmed glow of the Space Gallery — all navy-blue walls and tiny flecks of light that mimicked stars. She gasped so dramatically you’d think she hadn’t just spent the last hour talking about constellations. Her hand immediately reached for Spencer’s.

They walked a few steps ahead of me, her dragging him to the first exhibit like he was the one who needed guidance. Spencer tilted his head slightly, reading one of the displays with quiet focus. I could already see the gears in his head turning.

“Did you know a single teaspoon of neutron star material would weigh about 6 billion tons. That’s more than all of humanity combined?”

“What’s a neu star?” Maddie asked, her voice bouncing off the curved walls like it belonged there.

Spencer looked down at her and instinctively lowered himself a bit, like he wanted to meet her where she was — not just physically, but entirely. It wasn’t performative. He wasn’t showing off. He just wanted her to understand.

“A neutron star,” he said, so gently it almost caught me off guard, “is what’s left after a really big star explodes. It’s super small, but so heavy it would sink right through the Earth if you dropped it.”

Maddie stared up at him, unconvinced. “That’s not real.”

He smiled at her like she was letting him in on a secret. “It is. I promise.”

She thought for a second. “Is it heavier than my bag?”

He nodded. “Definitely.”

“What about my couch?”

He barely hesitated. “Think about a trillion of your couch.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow.”

And me? I just stood there. Watching them. Feeling something bloom in the center of my chest that I didn’t know what to do with. Not because it was surprising — not really — but because I had no defense against it.

He made her feel smart. Important. Listened to. He didn’t just tolerate her curiosity, he fed it, gently and patiently, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And I’d dated men who couldn’t even hold a two-minute conversation with her.

I wasn’t sure when I’d started looking at Spencer like this. I only knew that now, in this light, with starlight reflecting off glass and her tiny fingers still curled around his hand… He was no longer just the guy I was falling in love with… He was starting to become part of our little family.

It was getting harder to pretend I didn’t notice.

“My teacher told me space is quiet,” Maddie said, pointing to a photo of an astronaut drifting alone, weightless and small against the vast black behind him. The image made me ache a little, though I couldn’t say why. Maybe because I knew that kind of floating.

“Actually, space isn’t entirely silent,” Spencer replied, gently. “Contrary to popular belief.”

And just like that, his voice slipped into that soft cadence he used when he was explaining something — the one that made even the most complicated ideas feel like bedtime stories.

I watched him, watched the way his hand stayed loosely around Maddie’s, the way he glanced toward me halfway through the sentence. Like he was making sure I was still listening. Like he wanted me to hear it, too.

“While space is a vacuum,” he continued, “sound can travel through plasma waves. Spacecraft like Voyager have recorded electromagnetic vibrations, and those can be converted into sounds. That’s how we get those haunting recordings — those low, eerie tones from deep space.”

He said it like it was magic. Like science and wonder didn’t have to cancel each other out.

Maddie gasped. “So there are noises?”

He nodded. “Not like voices or music. But the universe… hums.”

And I don’t know. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the way his eyes lingered on mine a second too long. Maybe it was just the way he stood there, so calm, so sure — like the universe wasn’t so quiet after all.

But I felt something settle in my chest.

A kind of humming, too.

And it had everything to do with him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, catching me staring.

I blinked, caught. “Uh… yeah. Sorry.” I smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s just… what you said. It’s really interesting.”

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the truth, either.

What I meant was: You’re really interesting. You make everything feel a little more possible. I’m falling for you faster than I thought I would. And it scares me. And I still want to keep going anyway.

But I didn’t say any of that. Just smiled. Just walked with him to the next exhibit. Just let the hum settle a little deeper into my chest.

The quiet, steady hum that now lived with the image in my head — of him and me, floating in space… weightless, slow-dancing among the stars.

Maddie tugged on our hands again a few minutes later, pulling us toward a life-size cardboard cutout of three astronauts standing on the moon. Their helmets were cut out, faces missing — waiting to be filled.

“Mommy, can we please take a picture? Please, please, pleaseee?”

She was already halfway into the cutout before I could answer, sticking her head through the middle astronaut and waving her arms like she was floating.

I glanced at Spencer. He looked amused. A little hesitant, but not in the no kind of way. More like he was waiting for permission to be silly.

“Come on,” I said, nudging him gently toward the display. “You can be the one on the right.”

“What about you?” he asked, even as he stepped into position.

“I’ll be left.” I smiled. “We’ll let the captain take center.”

Maddie beamed.

A nearby planetarium staff member — young, kind-looking, with a smart camera clipped to her side — had been watching. I waved her over.

“Would you mind taking one for us?” I asked. “She’s really into the moment.”

“Of course,” she said with a grin, already unclipping the device. “We’ve got a quick-print model. Want me to run a copy for you?”

“Yes please!” Maddie chirped from inside the helmet.

The staffer raised the camera. “Okay, astronauts — big smiles! Say ‘zero gravity!’”

“ZERO GRAVITY!” Maddie screamed, right in my ear.

I laughed so hard I nearly knocked the cardboard loose.

Click.

After, we stepped out and leaned together to look at the screen on my phone. The photo was... chaotic. Maddie’s expression was wild-eyed and joyful, mine a little blurry from laughing, and Spencer—

Spencer was smiling.

Not that small, nervous half-smile he gave strangers. Not the polite, professional one.

He didn’t even notice he had that smile on—he couldn’t have noticed the way it made my heart flutter out of my chest.

The attendant stepped aside, tapping at the small screen, and within seconds, a glossy photo began printing from the side. She handed it to Maddie, who took it like it was the single most valuable object in the galaxy.

“Oh my gosh, look at me!” she squealed. “I look so cool.”

As she spun in a circle with the photo, Spencer stepped forward — quiet, casual, almost as if trying to be discreet. It was as if he didn’t want us to know he wanted to keep this moment. “Is it possible to print one more?”

“Sure thing,” the staffer said, feeding the request into the machine.

He waited, then slipped the second print into his wallet when he thought we were not looking, but I was. I was looking, and I was melting.

The man I met not so long ago — guarded, uncertain, stitched together by his own quiet grief — was now keeping a picture of the three of us in his wallet.

Like we were his.

Like he wanted us to be.

And God, if I wasn’t already so in love with him… this would’ve been the moment.

“Mama, I’m hungry,” Maddie said, tugging at the hem of my sweater and breaking the thought clean in half.

“There’s a cafeteria here,” Spencer said gently, glancing down at her, then at me. “It’s just past the next exhibit hall.”

I nodded, still catching up with my own heartbeat. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Maddie was already on the move, leading the way as if she knew exactly where she was going — like she’d memorized the map in her dreams. Spencer fell into step beside me, and for a moment, we didn’t say anything.

We didn’t need to.

“Let’s go sit at that table with the stars on top!” Maddie shouted, already halfway there before either of us had a chance to say yes. Her shoes lit up with every step like she was walking across a galaxy. She was positively buzzing — like the gift shop, the theater, and the entirety of outer space were somehow all crammed into this little lunchroom.

“Star table it is,” I said, watching as she hurried to the table. “Sweetheart, Spencer and I will go get the food. Don’t move from the table.”

“Okay!” she chirped, already climbing into the seat like she was buckling into a spaceship.

We turned toward the line, and I could already feel it — the way Spencer’s presence settled beside me. Close, but never overbearing. Just there. In that way he always was now.

“She’s in full astronaut mode today,” I said as we grabbed a tray.

“She’s very committed to the mission,” he smiled beside me, “I think she thinks this is her command center.”

“She’s not wrong,” I murmured. “We’re just lucky she hasn’t tried to assign us matching uniforms yet.”

He chuckled — a low, unguarded sound that slipped right through his ribs and out his mouth. I was convinced i would never get tired of hearing it.

I grabbed us a spot in line while he hovered near Maddie, making sure she was safe and wouldn’t cause any havoc from her excitement. From a distance, they already looked like a family. They were a picture I’d dreamed up once and forgotten, only to stumble into it again by accident.

By the time he joined me in line, I’d pulled myself back together. Mostly.

“She’ll want the mac and cheese,” I said, scanning the kid’s menu. “But she’s going to ask for no green things.”

“No green things?” Spencer echoed, like he was entering it into some invisible file.

“She has a personal grudge against anything remotely herbaceous,” I said. “If there’s a microscopic fleck of parsley on the edge of the plate, she will know.”

“She sounds like a tiny food critic,” he said, looking entirely too fond.

“She once asked a waiter if he knew spinach was actually poison,” I deadpanned.

Spencer laughed — He kept laughing throughout the day, and I swear, each time it chipped away at whatever guard I’d carefully built between us. Weakening me in the best, most dangerous way.

I just looked at him.

And he looked back, eyes warm, mouth tugged into this impossibly soft smile. It made me feel like my ribs might disintegrate under the pressure of how much I wanted him.

I was sure I was blushing. I could feel it blooming up my neck, burning behind my ears.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t tease or ask what I was thinking. He just… kept looking. Like I was something worth paying attention to.

And I wanted to stay right there — suspended in that silence, caught in the gravity of him — for just a little longer.

But then Maddie waved at us from the table like she was trying to land a plane, and I exhaled, breaking the moment before it could swallow me whole.

We got our food and made it back to the table, where Maddie had arranged her napkin like a placemat.

“Mac and cheese, no green things,” Spencer said, placing the tray in front of her. “Just how the captain likes it.”

She looked up at him like he’d just granted her a wish. “How’d you know that?”

“Well, Maddie, you forget I’m a wizard,” he said, like it was obvious. Like there was no other explanation necessary.

She looked absolutely enchanted. I looked at him.

And there it was again — that quiet pull in my chest. The part of me that ached in a way that wasn’t painful, just… full. Too full.

I slid into the seat across from him, setting my drink down as Maddie arranged her napkin like it was part of a formal galactic dinner.

Spencer took a bite of his hot dog and immediately got mustard on his sleeve.

“Oh,” I said, grabbing a napkin. “Hold still.”

“I’m fine—”

“I know.” I smiled, dabbing at the spot anyway. “You’re not being arrested. I just don’t want you to look like a guy who lost a fight with a condiment.”

He held still. Let me wipe at his sleeve like it was the most natural thing in the world. No awkward flinching. No muttering about how it didn’t matter.

Just... stillness.

Trust.

“You didn’t even try to stop me,” I teased, tossing the napkin into a pile.

“I figured you’d win anyway,” he said, voice softer now.

I glanced up. He was already looking at me.

And suddenly the table felt smaller. The air thicker. Not in a bad way — just charged. Like something unspoken had landed between us, and neither of us quite knew what to do with it.

“I don’t always win,” I said.

“You always do with me,” he replied — then took a sip of his drink like he hadn’t just casually short-circuited my brain. “You two always do.”

Maddie, mercifully, broke the silence by nudging his arm. “Can I have some of your cookie?”

He blinked, like he’d momentarily forgotten she was even there. “Of course.”

He broke it in half and handed her the bigger piece.

I watched it all — the soft way he passed it to her, the quiet smile on his face when she called him “Space Wizard” again.

And the hum in my chest — that same one from the gallery — came back full force.

We lingered at that star-covered table longer than I meant to. Long enough for Maddie to finish her meal and long enough for Spencer to wipe a crumb from the corner of her mouth without thinking. Long enough for me to realize — again — that he fit here. With us. So effortlessly it almost hurt.

Eventually, Maddie pointed toward the glowing sign near the exit and gasped like she’d just discovered treasure.

“The gift shop!”

I didn’t even have time to respond before she was on her feet, stuffing her bag under one arm and dragging Spencer by the hand with the other.

“Come on, come on, come on!” she cried, bouncing with every step. “We have to get space stuff!”

Spencer looked back at me helplessly as she pulled him along, and I just laughed, tossing our trash away and hurrying to catch up.

The gift shop was a blur of overpriced glow-in-the-dark toys, constellation kits, stuffed astronauts, and themed candy. It should’ve been overstimulating — the kind of place that gave parents a headache.

But for some reason, it felt… nice.

Warm.

Maddie darted from aisle to aisle, narrating every item like it was part of an expedition. I followed behind, but Spencer stuck close to her, letting her explain which rocks were “actually from the real moon” and which plushies were “too pretty.” He took it all in with that same quiet interest — like none of it was beneath him.

After a while, she held up a glow-in-the-dark space puzzle, her arms barely able to carry the box.

“This one! Mommy, please? It glows like actual stars!”

I took it from her to check the price, already reaching for my wallet.

But Spencer was faster.

He stepped in without a word, card already in hand.

“Spencer,” I warned, but he didn’t look at me — just handed it to the cashier with a polite smile.

“I’ve got it.”

“I thought we agreed you were gonna let me pay this time,” I muttered, trying not to smile.

He glanced over at me then, that little gleam in his eye like he knew exactly what he was doing. “No, you said that. I said maybe.”

“Smartass.”

“Mommy,” Maddie said, peeking up at me with wide, curious eyes. “What’s a smart ass?”

I froze. Spencer turned very still beside me, lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh.

“It’s… uh…” I cleared my throat. “It’s a type of donkey. Very clever. They use them in space missions sometimes.”

Maddie blinked slowly, unconvinced.

“You’re lying,” she said flatly.

Spencer coughed into his hand. “She’s kind of right, actually. There’s no documentation on NASA space donkeys.”

“See!” Maddie said, triumphant.

I gave him a look. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m trying not to laugh,” he whispered back, and God, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled — I wanted to bottle it.

The cashier handed over the bag with a smile. “You three make such a cute family.”

The world tilted.

Just slightly.

And then I felt it — the shift in Spencer beside me. Subtle, but instant. The way his body tensed. The way the warmth drained from his smile just enough to feel it.

He spoke before I could.

“Oh—uh, we’re not a family.”

It was quick. Sharp. Like he wanted to make sure it was said before it could be misinterpreted — before the moment could get away from him. His voice had that practiced ease to it, but I heard the hitch underneath. The flicker of nerves.

And still, it stung.

It shouldn’t have. I knew it shouldn’t have. Because he wasn’t wrong. We’re not a family. That word carries weight, permanence, things we’ve never said out loud — maybe never even let ourselves think for more than a second. We’ve been orbiting something unnamed for weeks, months. Carefully. Cautiously. Never too close.

But maybe, deep down, I’d started to believe in the blur between what we are and what we could be.

Maybe I liked living in that bubble. The warm, soft, unspoken place where our mornings felt like rituals and our laughter echoed like it belonged to something bigger. Where he kept photos of us in his wallet. Where Maddie called him a wizard. Where we just... fit.

And now the bubble had burst.

One sentence. One reflex. And suddenly everything felt colder.

I forced a smile. The kind you give strangers who compliment your outfit — small, polite, harmless. I didn’t let it reach my eyes.

He quickly payed for the puzzle, like he wanted to get out of there as soon as he could.

“Right,” I said, like it hadn’t scraped against something raw inside me. “Just friends.”

We stepped out into the late afternoon sun, the sky now a gentler blue, the kind that comes after a long day of wonder.

Maddie skipped ahead of us on the sidewalk, her sparkly bag swinging wildly in her grip, pigtails bouncing with every uneven step. She was narrating something to herself — something about stars and space wizards and how she was going to “glow in the dark” when she got home.

I couldn’t make out the words. I wasn’t really listening.

I clutched the museum bag in my hand a little tighter, fingers curled too tightly around the soft plastic. It crinkled loudly with every step. I didn’t let go.

Spencer walked beside me, just close enough that our arms nearly brushed. He said something — something low, something gentle. A comment about the gift shop or the sun or Maddie’s energy levels. I couldn’t even tell.

I nodded. Maybe I smiled. I don’t know.

I just kept walking.

Because my heart was still back at the checkout counter, sitting quietly next to the words we’re not a family.

He didn’t mean anything by it. I know he didn’t.

And even if he did… he’s not wrong, we’re not a family.

But that doesn’t stop the part of me that wishes we were — That he wanted us to be.

Previous Chapter |

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[myluckyluv]

Pink Looks Better Ruined

CW: degrading kink, spanking , overstimulation ,clothes ripping ,dom yuji

If any of these themes are uncomfortable or triggering for you, please scroll past. 18+ only / MDNI.

The clock on your phone blinked past midnight. Again.

You sat perched on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, wearing nothing but a sheer pink lingerie set that clung to your curves like it was stitched on just for him. It matched his hair. On purpose. It was loud, attention-seeking, and utterly sinful.

And he hadn’t seen it. Yet.

Yuji had been gone all week on missions, barely texting more than “I’m okay” and “Sorry, baby.” You knew his work was important, but that didn’t stop the frustration bubbling beneath your skin.

You’d waited long enough. Tonight, he’d come home to you. And you weren’t playing nice.

The moment you heard the front door creak open, you shifted, posing sweetly with your hands in your lap—just enough cleavage peeking through the thin fabric to make your point.

“Baby?” Yuji’s tired voice called out as he kicked his shoes off.

“In here,” you purred, letting your voice drop to a slow, teasing lilt.

He entered the bedroom, sweaty from travel, shirt riding up slightly as he tugged it off—and froze the second he saw you.

His eyes widened. His throat bobbed.

You didn’t say a word. You just looked at him, posed perfectly on the bed in your skimpy, sheer pink lingerie—legs crossed, smirking, your fingers resting on your inner thigh, one strap casually slipping off your shoulder.

He stepped closer. “Damn, baby… you’ve been waiting for me like this?”

Still silent. You blinked once, then looked away with a huff.

Yuji frowned. “What, no smartass comment tonight?”

You crossed your arms beneath your chest, putting the cleavage on full display just to punish him. “You didn’t even notice.”

“Notice what?”

You scoffed. “The lingerie. Pink. For you. Your hair, dumbass.”

His eyes flicked down, then widened slightly. “Oh. Shit. I—”

“Don’t ‘oh shit’ me,” you said, turning your face away. “I’ve been waiting in this for hours. And you just waltz in like—”

Riiip.

“Yuji—what the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry—! It’s hot—it’s sexy—and I’m losing my mind—”

“You didn’t even appreciate it before you destroyed it!”

His hands gripped your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the bed.

“Fine,” he growled. “You want me to appreciate it? I’ll show you how much I fucking appreciate you.”

You gasped as he shoved you back, pinning you down, one hand sliding up your thigh, the other gripping your wrist tight above your head. “You bratty little tease,” he hissed. “You really thought you could dress like this, ignore me, and not get wrecked?”

“Maybe I just wanted to see how long it’d take before you begged,” you purred.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

In one swift motion, he dragged your panties down and tossed them aside, gripping your jaw as he leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “You’ve been walking around the house like this? Waiting for me like a needy little bitch?”

You moaned just at his voice, breath catching as he pressed you into the bed.

“You want me to beg?” he whispered darkly. “You’ll be the one fucking begging.”

Then his fingers were on your clit, rubbing tight, ruthless circles that made your thighs quake.

“Yuji—fuck—!”

“That’s right,” he hissed, fingers moving faster. “Moan for me. Say what you want, princess.”

“Please,” you gasped. “Need you—want you to fuck me—please, I’ll be good—”

He smirked, yanking you down to the edge of the bed and manhandling you onto your hands and knees. “Good girls don’t tease their boyfriends like that.”

His hand came down on your ass in a sharp smack that made you cry out. Another landed right on your clit, and your legs nearly buckled.

You were panting now, clenching around nothing, body desperate and soaked. “Please, daddy, please—just fuck me already—”

Yuji groaned, pulling his boxers down just enough to free himself before slamming into you with one rough, deep thrust that had you screaming into the sheets.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled, snapping his hips against yours with punishing force. “So fucking wet and all for me.”

His grip on your hips bruised, his cock hitting deep and hard, and your brain was gone. All you could do was whimper and beg between moans.

He wrapped a hand in your hair, yanking your head back to whisper, “You’re mine, you hear me? This pussy’s mine.”

You cried out again as his pace quickened, skin slapping, his other hand moving to rub your clit ruthlessly until your entire body convulsed.

You came with a sob, legs trembling, voice cracked from how loud you’d been. And still—he didn’t stop.

“Too much—Yuji—please, I can’t—”

“Oh, you can,” he panted. “You’re gonna cum again. And again. Until you learn your fucking lesson.”

He flipped you over, spread your legs wide, and drove back in, fucking you through your high with gritted teeth and hungry eyes. “You’re gonna cream on my cock one more time, slut. Be a good girl and take it.”

You were nearly sobbing when the next orgasm tore through you, back arching, body twitching beneath him. That pushed him over the edge—he let out a deep moan, spilling into you as your name broke on his lips.

He collapsed over you, both of you panting, sweaty, wrecked.

Then—softness.

Yuji kissed your cheek. “Baby… you okay?”

You nodded slowly, trembling in his arms. “Just… holy fuck.”

He chuckled, pressing lazy kisses down your neck. “You brat. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“You ripped my favorite set.”

“I’ll buy you ten more.”

You sighed. “They better all be pink.”

He groaned. “You’re gonna kill me.”

[francixoxoxo]

ooh i'd like to make a request: billy x female reader where billy is insecure about his appearance (maybe he was insecure about his big eyes and nose as a kid, and his ma told him he would grow up to be very handsome but he didn't believe it). reader reassures him that he's the handsomest man she's ever seen with lots of kisses and cuddles (i yearn for sad puppy eyed billy, he's so pookie 🥹)

awww this is such a cute idea anon!!!

A man like Billy always struck you as confident. Never cocky, but cool and collected. Sure of himself.

so when you get that first whiff of insecurity, you’re bewildered. “When I met you, I thought you were out of my league.” Your head is on his chest, tucked close to him under his sheets, he plays with your fingers in an action you’ve found is Billy calming his nerves. Though you can’t imagine why he’d be nervous now.

“Other way ‘round, baby.” He says it in a chuckle, and his expression might’ve fooled you. Maybe he is just digging at himself to make you laugh. You’d believe it if it weren’t for his rugged fingertips actively winding up and unfurling your fingers.

“What d’you mean?”

Billy’s brows furrow, almost wounded at how serious you take what he just wishes you’d brush under the rug. “What?”

“You’re handsome.” Maybe you’re too suspicious of him to make the compliment sound sugary. He grins at your blunt tone, and you can’t resist a laugh at yourself, “I mean— Billy, shut up— I mean that you’re really, stupid handsome.”

He shrugs. Indifferently, he wants you to think, but the upward turn of his lips isn’t real. Isn’t natural. “I’ve never been handsome, baby. Y’dont have to make m’feel better. M’ just grateful you love me.” Maybe the frustration the blatant untruth brings onto you is slightly knocked off-kilter by the look on his face when he says you love him. Because he’s not being one bit cocky. It’s just a fact. You love him. He loves you.

But he’s being stupid. You can recognize that because you love him, as you shift against him, your arms crossing over his chest so you can prop yourself up and look at him face to face. “Billy. You really think you’re ugly?”

He looks at you with round, big blue eyes, like a puppy getting caught with something in his mouth. “I mean— I ain’t.. much t’look at.” He presses his lips a moment, stammering again before smiling and huffing. Beat. “I guess so. Yeah.”

“Awh, baby.” You sigh, brushing the backs of your fingers along the opposite stubbled cheek, kissing his jaw. “I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve seen in my life. Have I never told you?”

Billy nods, his fingertips smoothing over the wrinkles where your fingers bend. You kiss further up his cheek, roaming under his eye, over the bridge of his nose. That quiet disagreement melts into earnest belief, if only because it’s you insisting it. His hand not playing nervously with yours finds its way into your hair. “I think you have.”

“Clearly not enough.” A lazy smile spreads over your lover’s cheeks as you rain down affection on him. His fingers move from yours to tenderly slip up your forearm. You know he’s feeling a bit better just by that.

“Have I called you beautiful today?” He murmurs after a moment. You hum positively and lay a kiss over his brow. “Jus’for good measure.. You’re beautiful. ‘Specially on the inside, my sweet girl.”

That’s how you know he’s really grateful for your kind words. It didn’t take much of a breath from you to change his mind— atleast for now.

[stellargh0ul]

Hey! This is my first tumblr request ^^I’m not sure if you write platonic fics so feel free to ignore this! I’ve been scavenging the web for platonic fics for years 🥀

But could you maybe write something where there’s a young sibling of sin who can’t sleep due to anxiety and frater comforts them? It can be gender neutral too. I find it hard to sleep at night and copia is such a comfort character to me and I would be totally read it with a face like this “😸”

Okay I’m sort of rambling now but that’s basically it :P

Tysm^^

I do platonic a lot actually! I'd say it's about 50/50ish, but i'm always happy to do them. I went with a child, since you said young and i'm a sucker for a man who's good with kids.

-

he isn’t expecting the movement outside his office door in the middle of the night to be a child.

Copia looks up from his desk and peers at the door, squinting as though he’d seen wrong. a curious face again peers around the corner, poking into the room to catch a peek at what he’s doing.

when it sees Frater Imperator looking back at them, the child freezes in place. they stare at each other for several long seconds, locked in a stalemate, before he sighs and goes to get up from behind his desk.

the movement seems to break the spell and the child goes running, little bare feet smacking against the marble-tiled floor. but Copia can be quick when he wants to be and he’s at the door mere moments later, calling for the child to stop.

luckily for him- his quickness does not extend to running more than a few feet- the child listens to him. they’re wearing a set of black pajamas, the kinds the novice siblings of sin are given to sleep in, and while he doesn’t recognize their face from around the Ministry, that means little. there were always children in need of a home arriving.

“i’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be out of bed,” the child says, their eyes fixed on the hem of Copia’s robes as he walks up beside them. “I was… I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk. but I got lost…”

“come then,” Frater Imperator says, holding his hand out to the child. he doesn’t think they look older than eight. “I’ll take you back to bed.”

the little hand is small in his as they go. Copia doesn’t say much- he doesn’t know this child and doesn’t know what would be comforting to them, but from the way they’re clinging on to his hand, they must have been wandering lost for a while. long enough that they’d been frightened.

“how are you liking the ministry so far?” he asks as they walk and the little child starts before they glance up at him.

“everyone is very nice to me. and the other kids have been nice too.”

“good, good. I am glad to hear this. if you ever have a problem with them, tell them that Frater Imperator will come and set them straight again.”

the child nods emphatically.

“you’re Frater Imperator?”

“I am.”

he has, for a moment, the same sort of feeling he got seeing children when he was Papa Emeritus IV- this child obviously looks up to him.

“…can I ask you a question, Frater?”

“of course.”

quiet, for a long moment. they’re nearly at the children’s dorms so he slows his steps to allow this child time to think.

“…do you ever worry about stuff?”

“do I ever worry about what kind of stuff…?”

“…just, I don’t know. stuff. like, everything.”

he purses his lips, looking down at his small companion.

“…I worry about a lot of things. there is a lot to do to keep the Ministry running. but you, my friend, you are a child. you should not have so many worries that they keep you awake at night.”

the child cringes and he knows he’s hit the nail on the head.

“…I can’t help it.”

“alright. how about this- in exchange for walking you back to the dorms, you do something for me.”

“what do you want me to do?”

he kneels so that they’re face to face, bringing their hands together tightly.

“tell the sister in the morning about your anxieties, alright? perhaps she can help you. perhaps we can figure out something so that a child like you doesn’t have to wander around at night worrying.”

“…okay, Frater.”

“good. this is where we’ll say good night now, alright, dear?”

he gestures towards where the children’s wing starts and the child lights up, nodding emphatically.

“thank you!”

“it was no trouble. if you do find yourself wandering at night again, you are always welcome in my office. I am usually awake.”

he watches the child head back into the halls of the dorms for a moment longer before turning to head back to his office. his own worries are still pressing.

[salmoninnit]

Wish You Stayed

ex!satoru gojo x reader x crush?!choso kamo pt. 1 - pt. 2

The sound of your phone buzzing awoke you from your sleep, with a groan you reach for it and open your eyes slightly. 

Satoru: Morning, you fell asleep in the car and wouldn’t wake up. I brought you upstairs and made sure to lock up before leaving. I left some alka-seltzer pills that are on your bedside table. Feel better

Same old Satoru as he was before, caring and considerate towards you even after not speaking for years. A part of you wanted to see this as a good thing but another part felt like you can’t just go back. People change in 3 years, you’ve changed in 3 years.

Nothing ever can be the same, it can only get better or worse. 

A part of you from last night wanted to see how things played out with Choso while another part of you wanted to run back to Satoru. 

You: morning, thank you for bringing me up and for the tablets. my head is pounding

He instantly replied to your message.

Satoru: Yea of course, need anything else to feel better?

You bit your lip, you wanted to ask for something just to see him. But you knew better to do that to yourself. Him being here, taking care of you? It was asking to become putty in his hands and with how shitty you feel, it’d work and rewire everything. 

You: no ill be fine! thank you for offering :) Satoru: Okay, just let me know if you do

You thumbs up the message and toss your phone on the bed. It was 10 am and thankfully you didn’t have plans. You reluctantly got up and grabbed the tablets he left for you. Letting them sizzle in the water as you go to the bathroom. 

Splashing water in your face after you freshened up felt like falling into a cold pool. You shivered as you patted your face dry. Heading back to your room you drank the water. Feeling a little less groggy as you climbed back into bed. Playing some random youtube video and laying down. 

You don’t know how long it took but you were again awoken by a buzzing from your phone. Sighing you flip it over and see it’s 2 pm and the buzzing was now a text from a random number. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx: hey it’s Choso. did you make it home safe last night? 

A flutter appeared in your stomach as you smiled. Adding his contact and replying back. 

You: hey! yea i did, a friend dropped me off. i drank so much, im suffering the consequences of my own actions Choso: i’m glad to hear you made it safe. how much did you end up drinking for you to feel that bad?  You: i lost count after my fourth round of shots and 3 drinks deep tbh Choso: one hell of a reunion for you and your friends huh?

You giggled as you tried to recount how many drinks you actually had. Kento’s beer, a mojito, two drinks with Choso, 2 shots, another mojito, another shot, another mojito, and maybe 3 other shots? No way you drank that much, your bank account shall suffer and you shall not check it. 

You: yea it was. i’ve seen most of them except one throughout these past three years and so this was the first time we were all together since highschool Choso: that’s nice, im glad you had fun. I had fun with you last night 

You feel your cheeks warm as you giggle. It really was nice talking to him, it was easy and he was kind but also intimidating. He was tall and built, probably not as tall as Suguru or Satoru. But his build definitely matched similar to theirs. 

You: i did too, would definitely take you up on that date you mentioned :P Choso: are you available tomorrow? 5 pm?  You: yea! what is the setting? how should i dress? Choso: anything you want, you’ll be pretty and fit in anywhere i have planned :) You: okay then, i’ll see you then :)

He hearts your message and you send your address to him. 

Either that alka-seltzer put in the work or the idea of a date with Choso made you feel so much better. 

You sigh as you look up at the ceiling, this was just the start of whatever will be your next few months of whatever the fuck is happening with Satoru and Choso. After 3 years of nothing romantic, all of a sudden two men appear. Even though Satoru hasn’t explicitly said he wants you (you saw him once, maybe you are a bit delusional), there was a feeling in your gut that said he does. The stares, the way he talks a bit quieter when he speaks to you, and the way he just is the old him when you were together. Less brash and nowhere near as affectionate (for obvious reasons), he still looked at you the same way he did before. 

You don’t know if he ever stopped looking at you that way, even when breaking up. Yea it was on mutual terms but the look in his eyes as you agreed to it, held every emotion he still carried for you. 

And he still carried that look in his eyes 3 years later. 

A part of you yearned for it, wish you spoke to him sooner. But you didn’t dare to reach out and neither did he. So what was the point? Still being in love with your high school sweetheart, mutual affection both ways but at the same time, you both loved old versions of each other. 

What if we changed so drastically and once found out, it wasn’t there? Would there be a point in bringing up old emotions from a previous time? From previous versions of you?

You didn’t know and didn’t want to think about it much longer.

So you let the day move on, eating and resting. The alcohol killed you but at least you hadn’t thrown up. Pretty sure the alka-seltzer really did work overtime for you. 

Lounging on your couch at 8 pm, playing a tv show and laying on your side. A knock on your door echoed through the apartment as you lowered the volume of the tv. You made your way to the door and looked through the peephole. On the other side stood Satoru, wearing a hoodie with digimon character and jeans. Your heart did a small flip as you opened the door. 

“Hey”, you said with a smile. 

“Hey, sorry for showing up like this. Wasn’t sure if you had eaten and was in the area. So I got you your favorite - or old favorite pho”, Satoru said as he held up a bag from your favorite spot. 

“It’s okay, thank you. Come in”, you say as you move aside for him to walk in. He takes off his shoes and makes his way to the table. He starts taking out the pho containers and setting them up, then he sits casually in the chair just like he used to before, like it was second nature for him.  

You shut the door and make your way to the fridge, grabbing two sodas, one coke and one dr pepper. Proceeding to the table as you sat across from him, placing the coke in front of him and grabbing your portion of the food. 

“I got you the same as before, hope you didn’t switch that”, he laughed as he opened his container. Popping the top part out and dumping it onto the noodles. Then filling the container with broth. You followed suit and let the noodles soften. 

“You know you didn’t have to do this right?”, you say as you look at him. He’s adorning a smile and now you take notice he isn’t wearing his glasses. His eyes are set on you and speaking a million words. 

“I know but it felt like a nice thing to do, plus I haven’t seen you in ages. Thought it’d be nice to just hang out”, he says as he looks down at his soup. Satoru had debated this for hours since the morning. He was hoping you’d tell him you need something, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat to see you again. Even though he doesn’t feel like he has that right anymore, he was willing to do anything to make it be his right again. 

“This is nice, I honestly was craving this after my shitty excuse for food earlier. Made a burnt grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup from a can”, you laugh as you stir your noodles around, breaking them from their mold of a circle. 

“You could’ve asked, I told you just to let me know”, he says softly as he mimics your actions with the soup. He cracks open his drink and takes a sip from it. “Still remember my likes, like I remember yours”.

“Well hard to forget when we ate and drank much of the same things back then”, you laugh and start eating your pho. 

“Fair enough, it’s like it’s embedded into my brain”, Satoru says as he starts eating. 

You fell into a silence of eating and the only thing being heard was the tv and you two eating. It felt domestic, it felt like it did before. The time changed and yet you’re still here, sitting across each other in the same way, eating the same foods you two would get, and being comfortable with each other. 

As you were finishing your pho, your phone rang on the table. You glanced at it and saw Choso’s name at the top. You inhaled and grabbed it quickly. 

“Sorry I’ll be right back”, you say as you get up and make your way to your room. 

“Hey!”, you exclaim as you make your way into your room. 

Satoru’s ears perked up at how happy you sounded. He had seen the name on your phone and by your reaction, it had to be the guy from last night. With a small groan he threw his head back. Competition wasn’t new for him, he’s always been competitive and good - no great - at everything he did. But he had never dealt with competition when it came to you. 

Having met on your first days of highschool, you two were both nerds. Relating on interests and hobbies, staying up waiting on drop dates for games or going out and buying ridiculous anime items. It was natural for you two to end up liking each other, even your friends saw it before you two did. They bet on how long it’d take for someone to make a move, it wasn’t until before the ending of freshman year that anything was said to one another. 

He confessed first like a lovesick puppy, he had seen you get hit on by some guy in another class. It was the first time he saw you blush at anyone other than him. He felt a sickening feeling in his stomach, at the thought of losing you, at the thought of you being with someone else.

And that’s when he realized he had liked you. He had rushed over to you and told you some lie to pull you away from the guy. He had dragged you outside to where you two would hangout after school with your friends but usually after they left, you two would linger there. 

“I need to tell you something”, he said nervously as he balled his hands into fists. 

“Okay what is it ‘Toru?”, you spoke lightly with a tilt of your head. Eyebrows furrowed as you stared up at him. 

“I-I like you. I don’t know how long I’ve liked you for and maybe it was the first time you smiled at me. O-Or when you gave me my keychain for my phone, or when you laughed at my joke the first week of class. Maybe I’ve liked you from the moment I got to know you. But I just know I like you. More than anyone else, more than my favorite digimon character”, he utters as he averts your gaze. 

You had stood there in awe, shock, and pure bliss. 

“Toru…I like you too. I didn’t think you’d like me back but looking back I might be a bit stupid from not realizing it”, you laugh as he shot his head back to look at you. You were looking down as he stared wide eyed. He didn’t think you’d reject him but at the same time he didn’t think you really did like him.

“Oh..I-I honestly don’t know why I didn’t think you’d like me too. Maybe we're both a little stupid here”, he laughs as he reaches for your hands, embracing them with both of his. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You gaze up at him with a saccharine smile, eyes crinkling from how genuine it is. “Really?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, “Yes really stupid. I think if you don’t answer I’ll bury myself 6 feet under”.

“Okay, I’ll be your girlfriend Satoru”, you giggle as you pull your hands away from his and hug him. He reflexively wrapped his arms around you and picked you up with a spin. You laugh out and so does he. 

Shoko won the bet, she had said you’d two be together before the end of the school year. Kento and Yu had bet you’d get together by the beginning of the next semester. While Suguru thought it’s take another year for you two to even realize it by how stupid you both were to each others yearning. 

Satoru sighs as he replays the memory, he thinks about it far too often. Having replayed every detail from that day, the days before and after. His biggest regret was breaking up with you before college. You hadn’t grown apart, it was all the same but you both wanted to focus on college. He proposed the idea after seeing all the time he’d have with school and the family business, he didn’t find it fair to you to be unavailable constantly. It hurt him to even bring it up, to even think about it. 

But you understood, you wanted the both of you to be successful in your own ways. It crossed your mind but you never voiced it. When he brought it up, you wanted to say it’d be fine and you’d understand his time away. But you knew, it would ruin you two. The lack of seeing each other and affection you both couldn’t 100% show. Would make you two grow to resent it and resent each other for not trying harder. 

So you agreed. The no contact was to not be distracted, neither of you saw each other as distractions, but you both knew it’d turn into it. So there was no fighting, no lashing out; just acceptance. It killed you both and even 3 years later, after graduating and working, you both felt the same way for one another as you did then. 

Satoru tried to move on, tried to meet new people, tried to forget about you but everyone he met wasn't you. Everyone was shallow with no true personality, you were the only one he’d met that fit him like a puzzle. So he stopped trying, he’d get hit on but turn them down. 

Now watching you get excited over someone else was killing him. He wishes he’d come around sooner, yea you met this Choso guy last night but the way you had looked at him when you had talked to him in the bar, Satoru had only seen you look at him that way. 

He knew from Suguru that you hadn’t been with anyone else since him. He reveled in the fact that you hadn’t moved on from him.

As if you’d ever truly be able to move on from one another.

But this factor of running into someone who clicked with you like he once had, had him nervous. Had him on the brink of begging you to be with him. But he couldn’t.

It wouldn’t work, maybe before, back then it would’ve. But he can tell you changed, you’re not as you were before. Not lovesick for him like he was for you. 

He might be too late but that won’t stop him from trying. 

<<previous : next>>

so guess this is my first series on here, not sure if it'll be long or short but lets see how ill do

[roses-and-sakura]

Hear me out AU:

In Twisted Wonderland, Magestones are eroginous zones to their user.

Like I think I’ve seen a fancomic about it before or I was just Delulu- BUT IT WAS ON MY MIND RN AND I NEED TO LET IT OUT

So pls listen:

Magestones are used to channel their magic, blot, and can be connected to a mage’s soul, become hyper-sensitive focal points of both magical energy and emotional feedback.

Because of their connection to the user’s life force, physical or magical contact with a Magestone can create reactions ranging from intense sensory stimulation to emotional vulnerability—almost like an magical erogenous zone.

The Magestone would glow in pulses depending on the user’s heightened emotion.

After acquiring a Magestone, it can grow alongside the user, as if it has become so used to their owner's magic that its technically linked to them and attuned to their physical and mental well-being. (That or since magestones form as a result of crystals absorbing magic from the earth and air, maybe it also absorbs the users magic just a little bit when it channels their magic and absorbs their blot.)

But if you don’t use your magestone frequently, or use different kinds of magestones frequently (like you use A only a little bit before getting B since its a different color or smth(idk what I’m doing, just know what I mean ig)), there won’t be that kind of connection.

Prolonged stimulation—through magical probing, enchantment, or any sort of touch—can cause involuntary responses such as increased heart rate, shivering, flushed skin, or even a loss of composure.

Some advanced mages are trained to keep their composure when their Magestone is tampered with. Inexperienced or emotionally unstable mages may not have that control.

…It can be seen as a little rude if you touch someone’s magestone/s unless in certain circumstances like where a certain coach had to take them for his students’ training camp.

Some people can intuitively sense another’s Magestone “pulse”, or in the MC/Yuu’s case, maybe the dripping sounds when they’re close to blot.

Reactions from Dorm Leaders + Jamil

• Riddle Rosehearts: He’ll either be composed but upset or get completely flustered if anyone touches his Magestone. He considers it rude and inappropriate, and may behead you. His magic might even flare if you don’t apologize quickly.

• Leona Kingscholar: He’ll growl if you so much as glance at his Magestone for too long. But if someone he likes touches it? He smirks and dares them to try again- idk maybe he’d also pin you down too. (Aldvekshenbd- I’m rolling on the floor at the thought)

• Azul Ashengrotto: Hides any reaction behind a composed front, maybe jolt ever so slightly—but his magestone pulses visibly if stimulated. He might retreat to his office under the pretense of “urgent paperwork,” but really, he’s trying to calm the pulse in his Magestone.

• Kalim Al-Asim: He may eather get uncomfortable and start squirming away with an excuse or BLUSHES SO HARD he practically combusts.

“W-Whoa! That tickled! I mean—wait, was that supposed to feel that good?! Aha—oh no—JAMIL HELP?!”

Kalim doesn’t fully understand what you’ve just done to him, but his Magestone starts glowing like a beacon. He gets flustered and Jamil would appear immediately to drag him away, glaring at you like you just committed high treason.

• Jamil Viper: At first, Jamil stiffens. Not from surprise—he always anticipates others’ movements—but from how much it affects him. You might think he’s unaffected until he gets upset and berates or or gets angry enough to use his UM for you to never bother him with useless things again.

• Vil Schoenheit: Vil doesn’t react visibly—he controls his body well. But his Magestone glows soft violet, betraying how rattled he really is. If someone touches it, they’d better mean it unless they want to be verbally criticized by him. I think Rook would deal with those who just want to see a reaction out of him honestly-

• Idia Shroud: Honestly don’t think it would happen since his stone is in that Skull Catalyst thing-yes I’m referencing Genshin weapons. But if you did manage to touch it, the Magestone would react too much. Like it sparks, his hair may turn pink, and he retreats into his dorm. Later, he might say something in a flustered murmur like, “T-t-that’s off-limits unless you want to… ugh, nevermind.”

• Malleus Draconia: Touching his Magestone is like invoking a some Fae custom/tradition. Like touching the Magestone is an ancient sign of intimacy, maybe like proposing a soul bond (or Marriage lololol). He does not take it lightly.

If you’re a stranger? You may have just cursed yourself.

If you’re close to him?

“If you’re ready to bear the consequences… then do it again.”

[notyourmamasdeerbat]

A Word With Friends | June 23rd

Hello hello, my friends! I got a little carried away after work so this is very delayed, but happy Monday and happy word of the week, I am so so pleased to be hosting this beyond delightful game for the generous @hedwigoprah ! 🧡 Thank you @officialnostradamus , you absolute vernacular genius, for hosting last week as well. I loved your word!

Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends.

This week's word is (my all time favorite word) Balter

to dance or tread clumsily, without particular grace or skill

Happy writing, dear ones! I can't wait to see what you all come up with!

Enjoy some sorely needed fluff under the cut; 2K+ words, a continuation of my very very late submission for last week, Rook and Harding recovering from dour conversation and foul portents

“No no, like this–” Rook laughed, gently taking Harding’s hand. It was a little difficult, and the dwarf had to stand on her toes to reach the rogue as they tried to bend down, awkwardly accommodating one another as Rook led them in another stumbling turn. 

Harding dissolved into giggles again, breathlessly clinging to Rook’s fingers with her own. “I’m getting dizzy. How many times do you have to spin?” 

“Twice, then come about. Ready? One, two-three, one, two-three, one two-thr– Harding!” Rook wheezed as Harding trod heavily on their foot, laughing aloud and from their chest for the first time in days. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Horrified, the scout went to release their hands. Rook kept a gentle hold and spun the dwarf slowly under their arm, recovering as they spun their shorter partner out a few steps and drew them back in just as carefully. 

“I’m fine. You should have seen Revas. He can’t waltz for anything. He likes to say he can, just don’t believe him.” 

Harding giggled, returning carefully to their starting position in the golden glow of the music room. “You’re pretty good at this. I’ve never waltzed before.” 

“Maybe you can impress Taash later.” 

Harding went cherry red right to the tips of her ears. “I– Oh, no, I don’t think–” 

Rook snickered and smoothly transitioned into another series of slow steps, rotating them round and round across the floor in the silence. Past the piano, around a low table scattered with letters and documents. “Take it slow. One, two-three, one, two three, slow quick-quick, slow quick-quick, now you’re getting it!” 

Harding exhaled, brow furrowing in concentration as she watched their footsteps move in tandem, shadows dancing on the creaking floorboards of Solas’ old respite. Lips moving quietly to continue Rook’s count, she anticipated the extension of Rook’s long arm and turned beneath it, coming back to center without pause. 

“Excellent, my friend! Oh, you’re a natural! Lady Lace Harding. You’ve got the soul of a dowager empress!” Beaming, Rook spun them once more, a little wider apart, across the floor to crash together again, picking up the pace. 

“Oh Maker— Rook–!” Harding protested breathlessly, laughing and out of breath. 

A curious hiss rippled through the chamber underneath the hollow scraping of stone as the door to the music room slid out of sight, revealing the ghostly lilac rays of the astrolabe in the library’s sanctum beyond. 

Harding threw a glance over her shoulder with a grin. “We have an audience!” 

“Manfred!” Rook slowed and carefully released Harding, whose braids stopped swaying when she did, touching her brow with a dizzy grin. “Hey, love! What are you–” 

An indignant screech echoed and bounced off the stones. Manfred startled, hissing animatedly as he clattered into the room, waving his arms wildly, clacking his mandibles together and grinding the teeth of his permanent grin. The stone door began to slide shut behind him, just a furry bundle of lightning skidded around the corner, lifted a bright eyed head, shrieked its recognition and sprang in after him. 

Assan pounced on the wayward skeleton in a tumbling bundle of bone and feathers. They scrambled against the floor, shrieking and hissing as Assan lifted his wings, flapping and squawking in triumph. 

“Woah, woah, hey!” Rook scruffed the thick skin and fuzz at the nape of the griffon’s neck, hoisting him up with a grunt as Assan went immediately limp, foreclaws hanging. “Be careful, be careful!” 

Manfred scuttled back on his hands, bony knees knocking with a joyful cry, mouth still open wide. 

Assan’s tufted tail lashed back and forth eagerly as he panted. 

“Are you two playing?” Rook laughed. 

Manfred hissed happily, and Assan squawked, wings flapping in assent. 

Harding cackled, slumping back down onto the piano bench. “Oh my goodness. I thought maybe Manfred had taken Assan’s favorite carving or something.” 

Manfred asssshhhed indignantly as he wobbled to his feet, taking both bony hands to cover his glittering lenses and bunching his shoulders. 

“You were…? Hiding? Oh, hide and– Assan, you’re supposed to let him hide first!” Rook released the griffon, heart lightening another few degrees as Assan chirped and bounded in happy circles around the skeleton. Manfred turned to follow him, clapping his hands in delight, before settling and planting his booted feet to point at Harding. 

Her hazel eyes widened as she touched the embroidered front of her overalls. “Me?” 

Manfred hissed and turned to point at Rook. Harding hmmed in understanding, starting to smile. “Oh! Us! Rook and I were— well, we were trying to dance. I think.” 

Manfred perked up like a freshly watered lily, seeming enchanted by the thought. Assan squawked and sat, curling his tail over his feet to regard Rook doubtfully. 

“What?” Rook demanded. “I can dance.” 

Assan preened a forefeather, unconvinced. Manfred bounced his hands excitedly, hissing and gurgling as he held out his phalanges to Harding. 

“Oh, no,” Harding laughed. “I’m done. I’m really done for today, I think.” 

Spirit undamped, Manfred only shrugged his collarbones and scapulas to clatter in a jaunty circle, proceeding to balter alone around the space while chattering a rhythmless melody of ‘ra’s and ‘shk’s. 

Rook grinned full tilt, amused by Curiosity’s antics. Assan concurred, cocking his head to one side as his ears folded back, eyes fixed puzzled on the skeleton and his uncoordinated jig. 

“Manfred!” The stone door ground open once more. “If I find even one vertebrae out of alignment, I assure you, I will be very cross ind– Oh!” Harried, Emmrich paused in the archway of the music room, eyes widening at the sight before him. Neve lingered close behind as she tried to catch her breath, smiling to herself with a whole host of glowing wisps drifting behind her. 

Manfred fizzed and whistled, waving over his shoulder by way of greeting as he continued to clatter and spin and wave his arms. 

“Having fun there, Fred?” Neve stepped into the room, the rhythmic clink of her prosthetic leg underscoring the skeleton’s clicks, clacks and whispers of marrow against leather. The wisps chittered curiously, drifting in to follow and illuminate the space even further. “Hey, Rook. Lace.” 

One of the wisps swooped down across the piano after stirring a few strands of Harding’s hair affectionately, bouncing across a few of the keys in a short series of discordant notes. The spirits immediately gathered round the instrument, as if recognizing it through enraptured study.

Assan purred and twined around the detective’s legs, nudging his beak under her hand. “Saw these two thundering by– wanted to see if they needed wrangling.” 

“Wrangling indeed,” Emmrich sniffed, stepping inside, even as his very stern expression was beginning to reluctantly melt into something much softer as he watched his ward sway and wiggle to his own music. The necromancer sighed and folded his hands behind him with a weary smile, regarding Rook sidelong. “I do hope we’re not interrupting.” 

“Not at all. Seeking levity. Manfred followed our example after Harding and I had a heavy chat.” Rook’s lips quirked as the wisps continued to bounce and play along the keys, before everyone grew very very still as the contradictory melody smoothed into something harmonious. Several of the wisps had lined up, jostling each other in line, before moving one after the other in an almost choreographed sequence. 

Everyone but Emmrich seemed dumbstruck as the wisps began to play a dreamy Orlesian waltz in perfect time. The professor’s mouth curved in earnest as he relaxed and settled back slightly on his heels. “Well now. Memory astounds.” 

“You mean–” Harding, enamoured, watched the spirits over her shoulder with a disbelieving grin. “They’re playing something from memory?” 

“Something from this room, or the mind of an occupant. I gather they are all quite familiar. How fascinating.” Emmrich studied the phenomenon fondly, gaze drinking in each tendril of phantasma. Neve chuckled, leaning a shoulder against the wall as she watched the spirits at play. 

“Now that’s something you don’t see every day.” 

Manfred, absolutely overjoyed by the addition of music beyond what he alone could hear, shrieked and redoubled his efforts, beckoning for Assan, whose ears shot straight up as the griffon bounded over to his friend, wings lifted experimentally. Manfred mimed reaching for Assan’s feathered joints and the griffon only spun out of his grasp, chittering and cooing, pleased with this new game as he seemed to trot in time. 

“Oh, here we go.” Grinning, Rook clicked their heels and held a hand out to Emmrich. “Professor?” 

The elder gentleman made a noise, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Oh. It does seem a shame to let the wisps’ talent go to waste.” He took Rook’s hand. “But I warn you, it’s been some time since I–” 

“Me too!” Rook interjected reassuringly, still beaming in the golden hour glow of the Fade beyond the windows. “Don’t be shy. Show us how it’s done.” 

Emmrich exhaled through his nose with a fond smile and offered his other hand with an elegant sweep of his arm. Rook took it as Emmrich rested another broad, thin fingered hand on their shoulder and Rook settled a hand carefully at his side. 

The wisps renewed their melody, a little more quickly than before, and Emmrich took a deep breath before lifting his chin and surging into a graceful tri-step with Rook in tow. The Veil Jumper caught their breath in surprise, beaming as they were swept along and adapted to the necromancer’s dapper pace. 

Harding whistled. “Wow!” 

“That’s what I was thinking,” Rook laughed as Emmrich turned them once in a neat and tidy spin, resuming their tandem. 

“Not too fast, I hope,” Emmrich hummed, confident in his earnesty. 

“Oh, bring it on,” the Veil Jumper challenged, feeling like their face might crack from smiling. 

“It may not be a waltz in definition if we push ourselves too far. Maker forbid– a foxtrot.” 

Rook laughed and shifted their hips one way, gently tugging Emmrich along with them to make way for Manfred and Assan’s spirited clamoring. 

“You’re rather adept at this,” Emmrich observed. 

“This and no other– waltzing was a force of habit in Orlais.” Rook laughed and allowed the necromancer to turn them under his arm, light on their feet. 

“Drilled into muscle memory, I gather.” Emmrich spun them across the floor in a gentle extension of his hand and Rook turned back to meet him as they resumed their dance. 

“Very much. You’re excellent.” 

“Why thank you, Rook. I admit, it took years and years of practice.” 

Neve smiled from her perch, she’d settled down beside Harding on the piano bench. “And how does a mortalitasi Fade-expert come to learn ballroom dances?” 

“Spirits have the most curious habits. Most adore music just as much as we do.” The waltz slowed and eventually drew to a close. Emmrich released Rook with a careful bow, and they returned the gesture gallantly before whirling on the piano bench and holding out their hands eagerly to Neve. 

“Your turn.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Neve hummed, reproachful, even as her dark eyes glittered with surprised laughter. 

“Oh, but I do. Take it away, garçons.” Grinning as the wisps resumed another, jauntier melody that may have once been some kind of shanty, Rook gently pulled the detective to her feet as she sighed and relinquished her hands. 

Rook gathered her arm and Neve settled her hand in the curve of the Veil Jumper’s waist. Manfred hissed inquisitively and tapped Emmrich on the shoulder, offering both of his hands. 

“Why, Manfred, I’d be delighted.” The necromancer’s crow’s feet crinkled endearingly as he took his ward’s hands in his own and began another, slower waltz, humming along with the piano. Manfred followed determinedly, keeping time with the click of his subtalar joints. Assan sprang up onto the piano bench (barely keeping his haunches from falling off the edge in the limited space) to lay his head in Harding’s lap. 

“I don’t dance, Rook,” Neve said, even as she allowed the rogue to lead them in a graceful turn. 

“You might, if you like. You’re probably better at it than you think.” 

“You’re a little insane, you know that?” 

“What?” Rook hummed, smiling as they spun the detective under their arm and across their chest as she followed, near graceful, almost practiced. Neve never half assed anything, not even an unfamiliar dance. “You hadn’t noticed? The world’s ending and we’re all a little insane. But the wisps are playing piano. I think I’ve been out-crazied. Just for tonight.” 

Neve grinned and tossed her head to flick a lock of dark hair over her shoulder as they turned and spun throughout the music room, the steady clink-clink of her leg keeping excellent tempo. “Watch your toes. This thing isn’t built for waltzing.” 

“Oh, don’t worry. These boots have seen everything.” 

“You invest in anything steel capped?” 

“Next stop at the market if you manage to break my foot. Which you haven’t.” 

“Yet.” 

The uplifting melody grew romantic and classical once more as the door to the music room slid open with the rattling groan of marble and granite. Lucanis stood in the doorway, eyes widening slightly at the sight before him in the warm glow of the chamber. 

“Ah, Lucanis!” Emmrich greeted, waltzing by in the arms of his skeletal companion. “Fine evening, isn’t it?” 

Harding giggled at the look on the assassin’s face. 

Rook beamed over Neve’s shoulder, suddenly feeling startled and exposed, even as they valiantly recalled their count and turned with the detective once more, face heating. “Hey, you.” 

“Hello.” Lucanis blinked, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. “Am I interrupting?” 

“Not at all.” Neve broke from Rook abruptly and pushed them towards the Antivan Crow with a palm against their lower back, her voice low and sly. “The more the merrier.”

Tagging my beloveds! Do with this what you will and enjoy the game! Remember to have a snack and drink some water- your kidneys will thank you. 🫗💝

@fenrelmercar @draco-illius-noctis @redheadsramblings @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @davrinsleftpectoral @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @sunny374940 @nevarrantorte @caughtnyact @seaglassmelody @strugglinggranola @jenn2d2 @thesummerstorms @woundedsoul12

[pastel-rights]

{ms assistant professor! with the recent star rail short- what aeon emanator do you think you and your friends would be?}

I fucking hate this game, man. (/j)

For Tae, I feel like I’m legally, contractually obligated even, to say she’d be an emanator of destruction, since, well:

There’s just something about these damn emanators of Destruction. And being styled with white and yellow. (<- yellow is her second favorite color next to green and she’s sick of it)

I’m telling you guys, I cannot STAND the destruction. First you nearly take out the space station, then you make me feel bad for the General (that was ALREADY crossing the line, mind you.) and now, this?

Oh my good LORD, dawg, look at my emanator of Destruction!!!!!!!!!! We!!!!!!! Are!!!!!! So!!!!!!!! Cooked!!!!!!!!! Argggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’!!!!

It also doesn’t help that uh. In Honkai Impact 3rd, there’s these two herrschers. The Herrscher of the End and The Herrscher of Corruption. The Destruction feels a lot like those two Herrschers to me, and with the way the Herrscher of Corruption is related to The Elysian Realm (which is what Amphoreus is based on in part) and we’ve already seen glitches and rewind, I feel like we’ll definitely be seeing more of that DAMN Herrscher.

Oh and with the way the Eurdition is just one big computer? Nous, you would be SO cooked if HI3rd and HSR ever truly collided in any way that mattered.

Okay so, more than anything, more than ANYTHING, really, I can’t stand the Herrscher of Corruption. But, I still can’t stand the Destruction either, that hasn’t changed.

There’s red flags to it, and oh boy, I am NOT colorblind.

Anyways Tae as an Emanator of Destruction, I’m legally, morally, mentally, and contractually obliged to say that.

…

Yuu? honestly I could see them as an emanator of Akivil/The Trailblazer, but maybe it’s because I’ve always associated them with the unknown and adventure.

There’s something about them that always called for a little mystery, a little adventure, and they sure love getting themselves into trouble. Which, yeah, I can understand that. Me too me too…

Fifi… I could see her as an emanator of Propagation, to be completely honest? It’s like, rats, but instead of rats, it’s giant bugs that multiply endlessly. And we all hate to see it, and we hate to fight it even more because it’s like the goddamn hydra, where you cut off one head and two come up in return.

Klai feels like an emanator of Propagation too. And Joe.

Beth… uhhh… huh. Nothing comes from the top of my head. Like, I’d say emanator of Abundance but their aeon is a dick to the highest degree. Like, good heavens why are you such a hateful tick. Beth is like…… good abundance. Kind Abundance.

Yeah.

Pins… Pins gives off like. Not quite emanator vibes but whatever Ratio is to Nous. Anti emanator. (/j)

Four, Emma and Al ALSO all gives off Propagation vibes. Damn why are so many of you bitches giving off big bug vibes.

Screw it, everyone (but Tae) is now an emanator of Propagation! Fuck you!!! (/ref)

…

Oh wait this asks what *I* would be too, huh.

Uhm. That’s a good question!

I don’t know!

Part of me wants to say Nihility, since, well, nihilism. I’m not a very positive person in reality, I heavily border on nihilism most days so it makes sense to me????

But the other part of me likes Remembrance for myself?????? I dunno I like the way the path of Remembrance is, how it plays, what it is in concept, blah blah blah blah…….

I don’t know which one…..

I crumple into the floor face first

I probably missed some people but erm. It’s okay. I’ll be honest, you’re getting me right as I wake up so.

[ohyouluckysaint]

⁎̯͡ഒ 𝖲𝖠𝖵𝖤 𝖠 𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳, 𝖱𝖨𝖣𝖤 𝖠 𝖶𝖧𝖮? Ꮚ or fall fawn!reader learns what it means to ask to wear a cowboy/cowgirl’s hat ✸ word count ﹕ 2.5k ◎

ᝰ content warning ﹫ 𝐍𝒮𝐅𝐖(𝟏𝟖+) ╱ RATED R. adult content ahead, this isn’t suitable for minors. blurb, plot and fluff b4 smut, established relationship, explicit language, kissing, nudity, fingering (shower sex, r!receiving), reverse cowgirl position (tribbing!), praising, aftercare, second person.

𝖲𝖠𝖨𝖭𝖳 𝖲𝖠𝖸𝖲.ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏⊹ Happy pride month!!! Mines has been really great so far and I don’t want it to end. This is my very freaked out gift to all the sapphics out there that love Tashi and cowgirls like I do.

submit reqs 𖬺 turn notifs on!

You practically spring off the couch like it’d given you a boost itself when your house phone rings in the kitchen. Taking the pale yellow phone off the receiver, you speak into it softly, “Hello?” And sure enough, Tashi’s unmistakable voice filters through in response. “Hey, pretty,” your heart flutters and swells, you have to bite down on the glossy swell of your bottom lip to swallow a giggle. “You haven’t forgotten about our date, have you?” And your jaw slackens. You knew you had forgotten something but couldn’t place your finger on it and when she sighs at your silence, you know you’ve been caught.

“I’ll bring you a gift,” you offer and she shakes her head as if it’d be seen by you. “Nah, just make sure you’re outside in fifteen.”

You hear her truck rumbling as it pulls onto the road outside of your hand-me-down wraparound porch house, you bid the cool air of your home goodbye and step outside into the heat. Sweat doesn’t waste time building up on your honeyed skin, even with fewer layers. Yet you feel better seeing your girlfriend is wearing funeral black like she doesn’t care the sun will treat her harsher.

“Is that a little charm on your purse? It’s cute,” Tashi compliments as she acknowledged it glinting on your journey to the car. “Cute as me?” You teased as you climbed into the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt securely only for her to kiss your cheek, “Hmmm,” she hummed as if she were honestly thinking it over, already having her answer anyway and just wanting to tease. “You’re cuter than that.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that, right?”

“I’d never just say what I’ve been telling you a long time.” She said, showing off that pearly grin as she shifted the gear to drive. As she drove down the road, her free hand slid over to rest on the clothed skin of your thigh and you squeeze your thighs together from it in the least discreet way. She smirks to herself softly and then it’s gone in a whisper before you could notice.

After horseback riding with Tashi, working up a sweat from weather that’s so hot it’s visible, and giggling at everything she says, settling down to eat at some under acknowledged restaurant that has a bar area with a hole in the wall esque was…expected. But, in a good way. You like how Tashi’s predictable in ways. Maybe it’s because you two were just close friends a decent amount of time.

“I’d take ya somewhere nicer if there was somewhere nicer,” she speaks up, you’re making a face and don’t even realize it. A mustered up sheepish grin takes root on your lips at how she could read your thoughts from expression alone and she’s right. There’s not much to the shit hole town you both live in, but you make the most of it and with that you both met so there’s an upside to it.

“It’s alright. But, you’re really wearin’ the cowgirl hat?” Your words weren’t meant to be judgmental, but by her reaction you imagine it sounded like it. goosebumps prickle at your skin when cold air whips through the area from a couple passing by to get to a table and how she meets your gaze again with darkened eyes. You swallow thickly and your fingers flex against the fabric of your sweater, but before you rush to apologize and explain, Tashi opens her mouth to speak.

“You’re a fan of it…and me, so I don’t see the issue.”

“Whatever, let me try it on at least and I never claimed to be part of your fan club.” She chortled at that. She was about to slip her cowboy hat off with ease, a hand already upon it before she paused. “You know what that means, right?” She sounded far too amused and it immediately raised suspicion within you.

“Nope,” you responded, popping the p quietly.

“If you wear this hat on your pretty head, ya gotta ride the cowgirl. So I’d have to cut our date short and hike you on home tossed over my shoulder.” Tashi explained, her hand coming down from her hat and rested on the wooden surface of the dinner table. She was always one for racking up achievements so putting on a show of you being carried off by her is on her bucket list for sure.

Your doe eyes widen at the revelation and you blink for a moment then a look of intrigue dons your face. “Oh.”

Your girlfriend isn’t blind to any expression you make, especially that one. It’s your signature visible representation of eureka.

“I’ll ride nice and slow for you.” You teased, eyes narrowing playfully with a scrunch of your nose. You hadn’t taken her seriously; it sounded silly after all. Tashi doesn’t breathe a word, just tips her hat before placing it on your head gently and snugly as if she were crowning you. The austerity in Tashi is admirable, but you’re highly keen and don’t miss how her jaw tightens and the pads of her fingers press down firmer on the worn table. Her pupils dilated like a cat readying itself to hunt. “Let’s head straight to yours after dinner then,” Tashi finally said with a soft smile as if she wasn’t picturing your face contorting in pleasure above her just when the waiter came over with steaming rolls and pulled out their pen and server book.

You’d been thinking it about it too. You know if you don’t express that you want it too, she’ll say something like—

“Closed mouths don’t get fed, babe. What ya thinkin’ about?” Yeah, like that. “Were you for real or trying to see me flustered if I took the bait?” She huffed out a breath as if it were the most obvious thing in the world what she’d meant to begin with. “Deadly serious,” your eyes broadened a fraction like a deer caught and temporarily blinded by headlights. You’re pulled out of it when a woman comes over and clears her throat politely, it’s clear by her body language she hasn’t steeled herself for the answer no. “May I try on your hat, ma’am?” Your manicured eyebrows raise at that and you’re about to decline when Tashi beats you to it. “No,” she flat out says, “she’s alright on that.”

The lady scoffs, evidently not appreciative of the interruption, but relents when she notices you agree with your girlfriend. She saunters off while murmuring dramatically under her breath.

“Can’t believe she has the audacity to be pissy,” Tashi spat, fixing her face when she heard you giggling across from her while tearing up immediately from how tickled you are. She couldn’t stop herself from falling into laughter right with you.

You sounded like hyenas in sync before you got yourselves together when your respective meals arrived steaming hot along with your delayed drinks. Neither of you spoke except for musing on about how delicious one another’s order was once you began eating since you’d been starving like crazy. Mostly you humming with a gentle smile, nodding softly when Tashi would ask if it’s good and her feeding you some of her food just to watch your eyes light up as you stare at her.

By the time you both had gotten dessert, you would’ve assumed Tashi had forgotten all about the ride a cowgirl shtick when you got back to your place, but she’d placed her signature hat right back on your head when you both crossed the threshold and shut and secured the front door. You blinked for a moment then turned to cant your head rearward a smidge to look up at her to which she stepped closer and allowed her hands to find purchase on your hips.

“Wanna shower together?” And you don’t trust that to not be sly.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your gaze flitting down to her lips and your hands sliding up her clothed arms to rest on her shoulders.

You’re no better. Your nerves are thrumming and your blood works harder to pump underneath your skin in anticipation as you cognizantly fall victim to her charm.

You don’t miss how when she’s helping you wash up, her thumbs opportunistically brush against your pebbled brown nipples. Just like when she was peeling your clothes off, all measured and slow. Your breath hitches and she takes the time to let the suds slough off your body with the shower spray before dipping her lithe fingers down between your spread thighs. Her fingers focus on rubbing tight, steady circles around your pretty clit with just the right amount of pressure as she decorates your neck in soft kisses.

You softly gasp before cursing underneath your breath, “Fuck.”

If your clit throbbing like crazy isn’t a dead giveaway you were hoping she’d pull something like this, it’s you canting your head to the side and spreading your thighs more. Her fingers dip down to your entrance in response and your thighs tremble when the water hits your clit with precision now, hissing softly before moaning. It’s as if it’s working in tandem with her, even though she’s more calculated and gentler. You can feel the simper embolden her features against your neck as she fucks you with her deft fingers and curls them in that familiar spongy tissue on your front wall earning a momentary hitch of breath as your face twisted in pleasure with each pump.

Her free hand slipped underneath your thigh and lifted it up carefully, your moans echoed off of the shower walls and your hand pressed against the glass wall to steady yourself even though she had you.

Your head canted rearward to rest against her shoulder and that didn’t deter her from continuing to kiss and suck your neck as her fingers didn’t slow down, it didn’t take long for that feeling to fester in the pit of your stomach. All warm in a tight knot closing in on the navel before it snapped and sent you crying out her name, your thighs trembling in response from your over sensitive swollen clit still being struck with the splatters of water.

Her lips pulled away from the canvas of your neck that’s blossoming with purple bruises, a string of spit connecting for a moment. She kissed along your shoulders as she pumped her fingers a few more times before slipping them out and setting your leg down.

Arousal and relief flood your face and you lift your head only for her to turn you to face her and splay her hand on the back of your head, meeting you halfway with a kiss. Your hands slip off her arms briefly then perfectly grip her shoulders as your lips work against hers. Unhurried and gentle the way you both like it.

You’d think exhaustion would’ve washed over you both by the time you finished truly showering and had a long day, but that sweat sloughing off was just waiting to pack back on. Your thighs rested on Tashi’s shoulders, she sniffed along your inner thigh, inhaling that vanilla scented body cream you just applied before slipping on your bra, baby tee, and gray cotton panties. She sniffed right at the dampening spot on the fabric then kissed right there with no shame. “What’re you doin’, huh?” You inquired, lightly thumping the cowgirl hat that barely rested on her head now.

She mumbled something incoherent before she continued kissing your pussy through the fabric, licking a flat, wet stripe up with a hum. You gasped softly and jolted, your bud still a little sensitive even after having several minutes to recover from your first orgasm.

She mentally debated whether to ask you if she should pull them aside or not, but instead, she sat up. When she went for her hat, you assumed she was going to fix it, only for her to take it off and place it on your head instead. Your eyes flickered with realization and you saddled up and mounted just as any cowgirl would.

You learned that from the best.

The moment your cunt lowers on Tashi’s, you’re struggling not to whimper immediately. It elicits a slick sound between your bodies as your throbbing clits meet. Your signature golden cowgirl boot and horseshoe pendants glint as they swing and smack back against the bare skin of your chest with each push rearward and drag forward of your hips from the pace you set and Tashi’s spreading your ass cheeks with a sigh born from awe.

Before she smacks and grips one and then brings her hands move up to rest on your hips, silently coaxing and helping you grind even more on her pussy. Your mixed arousal sticking and coating skin, making each other’s walls clench around nothing as you both softly moan, you slightly louder than her.

“Shiiit, you’re doing so good,” Tashi breathed then softly gasped. “Keep going. Mhm. Right there, baby,” she encouraged followed by a hiss slipped between her teeth as her eyes threatened to roll back at how you listened perfectly. You lazily nodded before your head tipped down as your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes fluttering before you gasped. “Feels good,” you finally managed to say back, your hips not letting up and kicking up the pace, bouncing a little.

Tashi had the best view a woman like her could ask for. Your deep bronze skin sheen with sweat, the dip in your back from arching each time you move, and watching your ass jiggle on her.

Her breath hitched as her head rested back on the sheets with a shaken moan, a stutter like she’s bounding toward climaxing. She could drown over and over again in this feeling you’re giving her and wouldn’t tire of it. She breathes out again unsteadily, her thick dark brows knitting together as pleasure doesn’t wait to hit her like a freight train with you being eager like a bunny on top of her.

Your body stiffens as you meet her in the middle soon after. A moan of her name spills free as you gradually stop riding her. Tashi rubs her hands up and down the canvas of your back as if she were studying it and it was etched with all the knowledge that ever was in the world. Thorough, unhurried, and quiet except for the panting from you both needing time to breathe. She could feel their cum mixed with their arousal dribbling down her asscrack and onto the now dampened bedsheets. It wasn’t an unwelcome feeling.

The air in the room has unsurprisingly thickened with heat, heavy with the smell of sweat and the three wick caramel scented candle you lit when you both came back.

“You did real good. C’mon,” Tashi said, patting your bare hip to signal for you to turn and lie down with her before you both had to cool off with a shower again and clean the sheets. When you do, she’s wrapping her arm around you as you snuggle up against her. “My hat suits you. Want me to get you one?” She mumbled before kissing your forehead as she rubbed your shoulder.

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

“You’re insane.” “No,” Tony said, “I’m invested. You three were Stark’s most promising recruits. Until you decided to start fucking each other like you were on a goddamn sex carousel.”

He might be invested but he for sure is also insane lol

“You forfeit your contracts, your stipends, and the Stark Fellows program goes down in flames with a PR nightmare I’m not particularly interested in cleaning up.” “You wouldn’t…” you started. “Oh, I would,” Tony said, suddenly sharp. 

Good god, how has he made it this far being so unhinged? (I will answer myself: nepotism lol)

“Why are you doing this?” you asked. Tony studied you. “Because I’ve seen what happens when people like me just operate on feelings instead of facts. You can help me prove a point to the world. Me, Rhodey, Pepper… we tried the denial thing. It nearly destroyed us.”

Wait but did the three of them end up together then, after almost falling apart? 🤔

A drone dipped overhead, buzzing like a curious gull. Stark’s lens, taking notes. 

Geez

“This isn’t an assignment.” Steve's tone was sharp. “It’s a trap,” Bucky said from the threshold.

100%

 “Picked it up after the lab accident,” he said, voice kept low so it wouldn’t crack. “Needed a reminder of someone who would always be a part of me, even if a part of me was missing.” “Something I can’t live without.”

🥹🥹🥹

  The villa felt too staged to settle in. It was like a set waiting for a scene.

And we all know Tony loves drama

"Didn’t feel right claiming a bed built for three."

Would not be me lol

Steve appeared in the hallway, towel slung around his neck, hair damp. He caught the end of Bucky’s sentence and tilted his head. "Well," Steve said, voice even, "maybe it’s time we stop pretending we’re not all supposed to be here." He was offering something, but not forcing it. You sighed and rubbed your temple. You were overstimulated and jet lagged. Then, “Sometimes I think I ruin things just by wanting them too much.” You shook your head. “You didn’t ruin anything. We all got scared. We made shitty choices. But we’re still here.”

Steve and his speeches 🥹

“Can we try something different?” You nodded. He lifted his cup slightly. “One apology each. One truth. No interruptions.”

Oh this is gonna be interesting 👀

“I’m sorry I didn’t think I was worth loving. That I pushed you away. Pulled Steve in, then turned on both of you. I used distance like a fix. It wasn’t.” He looked up. “Truth? I never stopped needing either of you. As friends. As more. You’re home.”

They are his home 🥹😍

“I’m sorry for managing instead of trusting. For trying to contain what we were instead of facing it.” He looked at you. “Truth is, I’m not scared of losing you anymore. I’m scared of not trying again.”

And I think om his fear they can work together

“And no re-litigating old guilt. We apologize once. We live differently after that.”

Important point!

Bucky lifted his cup. “Then here’s to living differently.” Three cups clinked. Small vow, big shift. You paused to let yourself feel the gravity of what you’d just said, of what you were choosing.

I think it's good that it's such an active choice

You reached a hand out. “Middle’s mine. Always was.” He smiled softly and stepped forward. And for the first time in a long time, sleep came easy.

🥰🥰🥰

One leg was tangled with Steve’s, the other bracketed by the heavy weight of Bucky’s thick thighs. Your head rested against Steve’s chest, his steady heartbeat loud in your ear. Bucky’s arm curved loosely around your waist, palm splayed low over your stomach. Steve shifted first, breathing a half-groan into your hair. Bucky followed, hips rolling once, barely, against your ass. You felt both of them, thick with sleep-hard arousal. There was the slow press of Steve against your belly, mirrored by Bucky’s heat at your spine. Neither of them moved with intent, just the lazy, helpless friction of sleepy bodies molded to yours.

There are worst ways to wake up 🤭

“You’re incredible,” he gasped, “...I’m not gonna last…” “Let go,” you told him. “Let me take care of you.” He did, pulsing hot in your fist, forehead pressed to yours, lips parted around a groan. Then Bucky’s hand moved faster at your core, his hips rutting against the small of your back. You reached for him and found him straining against the waistband of those grey Stark sweats. “I’ve got you too,” you whispered, and wrapped your hand around him. He choked on your name as he came, quickly, forehead buried in your shoulder, the word hot against your skin.

🥵🥵🥵

 The silence after was thick with breath and the scent of sweat and skin and sex. No one rushed to speak. You were still sandwiched between them, wrecked and warm and not even remotely sorry.

Absolutely not sorry 😌

“I’d ask to let me lick you clean, but if I put my mouth on you, you wouldn’t leave this bed all day,” said Steve, licking his lips.

I personally wouldn't mind that tho 🤭

“You two are going to ruin me." "If you let us," came Bucky's soft reply.

I hope that's a promise!

You buried your face between them and let yourself be held. Happy. No shame. No guilt. Just three hearts, still beating.

🥰🥰🥰

Honestly, it was starting to feel like surveillance kink.

Lmao he really has

You crawled out of bed quietly. Steve was starfished and blissed out on one side. Bucky was curled around a pillow on the other. Both were snoring.

So cute 🥰

 It was obscene how peaceful they looked after the way they'd wrecked you this morning, Steve’s mouth at your throat, Bucky’s hand between your thighs, both voices in your ear.

🤭🤭🤭

➤ FYI: I need data on hormone shifts across shared poly-cortisol dynamics, so you, Barnes, and Rogers need to wear biometric rings all week. Try not to break them during any… recreational entanglements.

“Does Stark sleep?” you muttered, sliding off the mattress and padding barefoot toward the en suite. “No,” Steve grumbled after you, blinking blearily. Bucky muttered something foul and buried his face in the pillow. “He recharges through chaos.”

He really does, there is no other way lol

➤ Also, the midnight balcony reconciliation? Very touching. Genuinely. Might enter it in the next Stark Industries leadership retreat video. Keep it up,team.

I can't with this man

And in New York, Tony Stark sat on his balcony, sipping espresso and smirking as he watched the biometric vitals of his three most chaotic proteges spike in sync. “God, I love science.”

“So… group mission to neutralize B.E.T.S.Y.?” You picked up the tablet again, swiped over to the diagnostics interface, and smiled. “Already halfway there.”

Dream work makes the dream work

I bet he does and chaos 🤦🏻‍♀️

Sugar Shack

Sugar High| Sugar is Sweet Masterlist | Sugar, Cubed Masterlist

Summary: Thanks to Tony’s continued manipulations, it’s you and Steve and Bucky in the Maldives. And it is hot. Scientist AU

Word Count: 4.1 K

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes x Reader; Allusion to Tony x Pepper x Rhodey

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Roommate/Co-worker au, ANGST! These three are scientists, y'all! 🤓 Employer manipulation/coercion, (Tony is an ASSHOLE) surveillance. Forced proximity/intimacy, hard talks, apologies, truths, safe word, there's only one bed, Norweigan wood and how you solve it, fingering, manual sex, polyamory, beginnings of a polycule.

A/N: I revisited Sugar and the boys from the Sugar is Sweet séries, and let me tell you. Bucky and Steve sure have grown up from their college days. This is related to the Sugar is Sweet and Sugar, Cubed au, but can be read alone. This comes after Sugar High. Likes are welcome, but I’ve worked really hard on this, so if you enjoyed it, even if you didn’t, please let me know by reblogging and commenting. 🥰

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You returned to New York changed.

Not healed, not whole, but hopeful.

And You and Steve walked straight into Stark’s office the Monday you got back from Tokyo, side by side.

Tony didn’t even look up from his tablet.

“We’re done,” Steve said without preamble.

“With you playing god. With the experiments. With us being your favorite fucking variables.”

Tony took a long sip of something violently green and didn’t blink.

“That’s adorable,” he said. “But also irrelevant.”

He tapped something on his tablet and slid a thick folder across the table. The label read

FELLOWS ASSIGNMENT: PHASE TWO

“Three operatives. Two weeks. One island. No oversight.”

You blinked.

“Three?”

Tony glanced up. 

“He’s already there. Got in this morning.”

You didn’t have to ask who. Steve’s jaw clenched. 

“You’re insane.”

“No,” Tony said, “I’m invested. You three were Stark’s most promising recruits. Until you decided to start fucking each other like you were on a goddamn sex carousel.”

You stiffened. Tony leaned back in his chair, all smug calculation.

“I figured, why waste good chemistry?”

“Because we’re not lab rats,” you snapped. “We’re not your experiment.”

“Sugar, everything is an experiment,” Tony said evenly.

“Especially love.”

You stared at him across the glass table. Steve’s body was a wall beside you, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

“This isn’t funny,” you said.

“Didn’t say it was,” Tony replied, not bothering to look contrite.

“But it is real.”

He tapped the tablet again, pulling up a silent video feed: aerial shots of the island, heat signatures already populating the overlay. One of them, alone, glowed steady near the main villa.

Bucky.

Your throat tightened. Steve didn’t look at the screen.

“So what happens if we say no?” Steve asked flatly.

Tony shrugged. 

“You forfeit your contracts, your stipends, and the Stark Fellows program goes down in flames with a PR nightmare I’m not particularly interested in cleaning up.”

“You wouldn’t…” you started.

“Oh, I would,” Tony said, suddenly sharp. 

“You think I don’t know what this is? You three think you’re subtle? I’ve been watching this clusterfuck brew since orientation. You’re brilliant, but you’re human. And humans make messy, complicated choices. This assignment is your last clean one.”

You flinched.

Steve stared at him coldly.

“So this is a test.”

“This is a choice,” Tony said. 

“Why are you doing this?” you asked.

Tony studied you.

“Because I’ve seen what happens when people like me just operate on feelings instead of facts. You can help me prove a point to the world. Me, Rhodey, Pepper… we tried the denial thing. It nearly destroyed us.”

He stood and circled to your side of the table. 

“So, this is the offer.”

He tapped the file.

“You get fourteen days on an island in the Indian Ocean. Doing your job: research for me. You, Blondie, and Mr. Sad Eyes. You wanna make up? Break up? Blow up? That’s your call.”

The room was quiet. Tony leaned forward.

“But let me be very clear. This is your last chance to prove you can handle what you started. Together.”

You looked at Steve. Really looked at him. His brow was furrowed. He didn’t blink. But when your eyes met, something shifted.

He nodded. Barely. Once.

You turned back to Tony. 

“We’ll go.”

Tony blinked like he’d expected it.

“Good,” he said.

“Flight leaves in six hours. Pack light. Hydrate.”

He stood, already moving toward the door.

“And don’t forget the sunscreen,” he called over his shoulder.

“Things are gonna heat up fast.”

The door hissed shut behind him and Steve exhaled slowly beside you. You stared at the silent tablet feed, the glow of Bucky’s heat signature pulsing like a heartbeat.

—--

Twenty-four hours later you and Steve touched down on the island.

The seaplane skimmed turquoise water, the sky above a blistering dome of cloudless blue that made your eyes ache even behind sunglasses.

Steve stared out the window, his clenched jaw at odds with the postcard below. 

Neither of you had spoken much since Stark’s briefing, spending six hours packing, boarding, and flying into a trap labelled research.

The dock stretched impossibly long, ending in sand as fine as sifted sugar. One modern villa rose from the shoreline, all blond wood and glass. Palm fronds rustled in a wind that smelled of salt and mango, but you felt only the stone weight of not ready.

The plane bounced once and slid to a halt. The pilot flashed a thumbs-up that you couldn’t return.

Steve moved first, grabbing both duffels. His motions were automatic, but when he glanced back, a note of apology softened his eyes. You nodded and followed him onto the dock.

Heat swallowed you whole. And there he was.

Bucky Barnes leaned against the rail, one hand around a water bottle, the other braced on wood.

His damp hair was shoved back, and he sported a shadow of stubble, an open white camp-shirt fluttering around lean muscle, and what looked like Stark swim trunks riding low. 

Blue-steel eyes, wary and hopeful, fixed on you the instant you stepped into view. He didn’t wave, and he idn’t move.

He just watched.

A drone dipped overhead, buzzing like a curious gull. Stark’s lens, taking notes. 

Steve clocked Bucky a second later. The shift in the air was small but razor-sharp. 

You kept walking.

Inside, the air was cool. There was sleek tile underfoot one long room, framed in floor-to-ceiling windows, with the ocean simmering just beyond.

A kitchen. Three bedrooms. One shared bathroom with an outdoor shower, mirrored walls, and no privacy to speak of.

A binder sat waiting on the counter, stamped in that insufferable Stark font:

PHASE TWO – INITIAL OBSERVATIONS

You ignored it. Steve didn’t.

He cracked the cover, voice flat:

“Purpose: Environmental stress calibration … Deliverables: daily logs, task-compliance footage … Hydration protocols non-negotiable.”

Page flip. His brows knotted.

"Observe specimens under stress. Test heat endurance in exposed uniform variants. Document hydration patterns. ”

“This isn’t an assignment.”

Steve's tone was sharp. 

“It’s a trap,” Bucky said from the threshold. 

He’d followed but kept to the edge of the room, shirt lifting in the breeze. The late afternoon light lit new ink over the lower sweep of his left ribs: one black glucose ring, six sharp peaks, stamped along the line of his heart.

“Hi,” his voice was quieter this time.

“Hi,” you said back, just as quiet, staring at his tattoo. 

You were frozen. That expanse of skin had been blank the last time you saw it, months and months and a thousand regrets ago.

Bucky saw the moment you noticed. He inhaled, shoulders squaring.

Steve’s gaze moved between you and Bucky. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, closing the space between the three of you. 

“Hey,” he said, voice low and even.

Bucky nodded once, jaw tense. His eyes flicked from you to Steve and back again.

“Picked it up after the lab accident,” he said, voice kept low so it wouldn’t crack.

“Needed a reminder of someone who would always be a part of me, even if a part of me was missing.”

Steve set the binder down, stepping in behind you. His palm rested lightly at your spine. Beneath his T-shirt you knew his own simple-sugar chain lay inked over his heart.

Two molecular diagrams; one research question: you.

You reached out, brushing the linen aside. Bucky’s pulse was quick, but certain.

“Blood sugar…” you whispered, eyes flicking up to his baby blues.

“That’s a statement…” your mouth turned up in a side smile.

His eyes, cautious but hopeful, softened and he smiled back down at you.

“Something I can’t live without.”

Behind you, Steve’s thumb made a silent circle against your spine as if to say: I’m here; this is right. 

The drone outside banked seaward, its buzz fading. Stark would record three elevated heart rates, but not the variable that mattered.

You drew a steady breath.

“Phase Two runs on our protocol.”

Steve nodded.

“Logs and uniforms, fine. But the methodology is peer-led.”

Bucky’s hope sharpened to resolve. 

“And peer-protected.”

The real experiment, trust rebuilt on equations of three, had already begun.

-----

The villa felt too staged to settle in. It was like a set waiting for a scene.

So you wandered. From the kitchen to the deck, the bathroom to the hallway. You brushed your fingertips along the cool teak banister.

You went past the bedrooms (only one made up with linen, the others bare mattresses) and the common room, finding a quiet hallway leading to a spa suite. It had sunken slate floors walls paneled in pale cedar and smelled like yuzu and steam.

A Japanese-style hinoki tub sat beneath an open skylight, long and deep, the wood golden and warm. Beside it was a rinse stool, a polished copper basin, and folded towels stacked neatly. Sliding doors opened to a lush private garden, lanterns flickering at the edge of the foliage.

It was beautiful, still and waiting for use.

You sighed, ignoring the silent camera-drone hovering near like a curious mosquito and avoided your reflection in the massive glass panels as you moved back to the kitchen.

Dinner was a quiet, functional exercise. You and Steve worked the kitchen; Bucky grilled. The fish was perfect, the rice fluffed perfectly.

"So," Steve said, digging into his meal, "how long have you been here?"

Bucky didn’t look up from his plate.

"Couple days."

A beat.

"Alone?" you asked.

"Obviously."

The scrape of metal on ceramic filled the silence. You sipped your wine just to keep your hands busy.

"Must’ve been nice," Steve muttered, not quite biting, but close.

Bucky’s laugh had no humor.

"Yeah. Loved the alone time. Nothing like sweating through drills while a drone drops sunscreen samples and watches you rehydrate."

You winced.

Steve pressed.

"You could’ve left."

"Could’ve," Bucky said. "Didn’t."

That shut down the conversation. You finished eating silently in the open-plan dining room, the floor-to-ceiling windows framing a perfect, burning sky.

Afterward, Bucky disappeared without a word. Steve stayed behind, rinsing dishes with too much intensity, and you grabbed a bottle of water and wandered. You walked the perimeter of the deck, watching the sun sink like an ember into the sea.

Eventually, you came back inside.

You passed Bucky in the hallway, his hair wet, a regulation tight t-shirt clinging to his shoulders, and Stark-issued grey sweatpants.

He paused like he wanted to say something. You opened your mouth to ask where he was sleeping, but he beat you to it.

"Which room did you take?"

"Didn’t," you said. "Two don’t have linens. The third’s half-made."

His brow creased, then smoothed. "Yeah."

"Is that where you slept?" you asked, remembering Bucky was terrible at hospital corners.

"No. I’ve been on the couch."

You blinked, and he shrugged, eyes unreadable.

"Didn’t feel right claiming a bed built for three."

Steve appeared in the hallway, towel slung around his neck, hair damp. He caught the end of Bucky’s sentence and tilted his head.

"Well," Steve said, voice even, "maybe it’s time we stop pretending we’re not all supposed to be here."

He was offering something, but not forcing it. You sighed and rubbed your temple. You were overstimulated and jet lagged.

"I’m exhausted. I’m taking the bed. You two can figure out the couch. Or the mattresses. Or whatever."

You disappeared into the bedroom before either of them could argue.

Inside, the cool air was a welcome shock. You peeled off your clothes and took a five minute shower. When you emerged, you changed into a soft Stark tank and shorts, brushed your teeth, and crawled under the sheets with the lights still on. 

Sleep pulled you under immediately.

—--

Jet lag didn’t forgive.

You woke sometime after midnight, overheated and disoriented, the ceiling fan ticking softly above. Padding barefoot into the common room, the tile cooled your feet. A single lamp cast a cone of gold over the couch.

Steve sat there, elbows on knees, scrolling silently through something on his phone. His profile flickered in and out of the screen’s light, showing the tension in the line of his jaw.

He looked up the moment you neared

“Hey,” he said softly.

You offered a tired smile.

“Jet lag.”

“Same.”

Through the glass doors, the deck shimmered silver under the moonlight. Out there, outlined in pale light, was Bucky. He stood barefoot, hunched over the railing, eyes lost to the ocean.

You opened the door and stepped outside. Bucky didn’t look up. You leaned beside him, watching the white curls of surf kiss the sand.

“My head’s loud,” he said, voice low.

You turned slightly.

“Talk to me.”

He hesitated.

Then, “Sometimes I think I ruin things just by wanting them too much.”

You shook your head. 

“You didn’t ruin anything. We all got scared. We made shitty choices. But we’re still here.”

The door clicked behind you. Steve stepped out with a tray, three mugs of tea steaming gently in the night air. He handed them out wordlessly, then leaned against the rail on your other side.

Bucky looked between the two of you.

“Can we try something different?”

You nodded. He lifted his cup slightly.

“One apology each. One truth. No interruptions.”

Steve blew out a breath.

“You first.”

Bucky’s voice cracked slightly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t think I was worth loving. That I pushed you away. Pulled Steve in, then turned on both of you. I used distance like a fix. It wasn’t.”

He looked up.

“Truth? I never stopped needing either of you. As friends. As more. You’re home.”

Steve took his time. 

“I’m sorry for managing instead of trusting. For trying to contain what we were instead of facing it.”

He looked at you.

“Truth is, I’m not scared of losing you anymore. I’m scared of not trying again.”

You wrapped both hands around your cup. 

“I’m sorry I tried to love one of you, then the other, like I could separate it. Like I had to choose.”

You looked at them both.

“And the truth is…from the first day in Stark House, I wanted both of you. Still do. Not because I’m confused. Because I finally know what I need.”

Steve cleared his throat. 

“Ground rules recap: Total honesty. One safeword if things spike: ‘Fox,’ from Mount Inari.”

Bucky huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh.

“Fitting.”

You nodded. 

“And no re-litigating old guilt. We apologize once. We live differently after that.”

Bucky lifted his cup.

“Then here’s to living differently.”

Three cups clinked. Small vow, big shift.

You three finished your tea in silence and then went back into the common room. On a bookshelf was a shōgi board.

Steve noticed it first.

“You remember this? We had one in Stark House.”

Bucky went over and ran a finger over the gold general. 

“You called it a bishop and stacked them like Jenga.”

“I was concussed from a game.”

“You were drunk.”

You poured more tea before they could revive the debate, bringing one cup to Bucky, one to Steve, and kept the last for yourself.

“Truth,” Bucky said after a sip. 

“I miss how close we were in Stark House. The affection, the comfort…” 

You looked at him, then Steve.

“Okay. Ground rule Number Four,” you said. 

“No pressure. No expectations. But if we want comfort, or affection, we ask. And we trust the answer.”

Steve nodded. “Agreed.”

Bucky’s voice was quiet. “Of course.”

You reached for their hands. 

“Then come to bed.”

The master bedroom was cool again. You watched as Steve claimed one side, lying back with hands behind his head. 

You paused to let yourself feel the gravity of what you’d just said, of what you were choosing.

Bucky hovered in the doorway.

Waiting.

You reached a hand out.

“Middle’s mine. Always was.”

He smiled softly and stepped forward.

Under the covers, Bucky's thigh brushed yours and you felt the slow drag of Steve’s thumb at your wrist before he pulled away, reminding you of what you once had. But when you found their hands under the covers, you reminded them of what was there now.

Safety.

Honesty.

Hope.

And for the first time in a long time, sleep came easy.

—----

You woke slowly, warm and surrounded.

One leg was tangled with Steve’s, the other bracketed by the heavy weight of Bucky’s thick thighs. Your head rested against Steve’s chest, his steady heartbeat loud in your ear. Bucky’s arm curved loosely around your waist, palm splayed low over your stomach.

You stayed still. Drenched in warmth, in memory and in want.

Steve shifted first, breathing a half-groan into your hair. Bucky followed, hips rolling once, barely, against your ass. You felt both of them, thick with sleep-hard arousal.

There was the slow press of Steve against your belly, mirrored by Bucky’s heat at your spine. Neither of them moved with intent, just the lazy, helpless friction of sleepy bodies molded to yours.

Neither of them moved with intent, just the lazy, helpless friction of sleepy bodies molded to yours.

But then Steve’s hand found your hip. Bucky exhaled into your hair. And you knew.

They were awake.

You lifted your head.

“Hey,” you whispered.

Steve blinked his eyes open, pupils slow to adjust, mouth already parted like he’d been dreaming something filthy.

“Hi,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

Bucky’s voice came next, rough against the nape of your neck.

“Mornin’, Sugar.”

You shifted between them just enough to see both faces.

“I’m awake,” you said softly. “And I’m asking. We all need release.”

Steve’s thumb brushed your hipbone. 

“Are you sure?”

Bucky’s hand flexed at your waist. 

“We don’t have to…”

“I want to take care of us,” you said.

“Like this. Just… like this.”

That quiet paused everything. Then Steve kissed your forehead.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Tell us what you want. Remember the safe word.”

“I do. Don’t think I’ll be using it.”

You reached for Steve first, sliding your hand beneath the covers and wrapping around him, thick and hot and already pulsing against your palm. He pulled a shuddering breath.

Bucky kissed the back of your shoulder before slipping his hand down your shorts, easing between your thighs.

You gasped.

He murmured into your skin, “Still okay?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Touch me. Please.”

And he did.

Two fingers, soft at first, stroked through slick warmth. His body curved tighter behind you, breath coming fast. You rocked against him instinctively, while your hand on Steve stroked tight and slow.

Steve cupped your jaw and kissed you, open-mouthed and aching. His other hand covered yours where it moved over his cock, guiding you harder.

Bucky groaned into your neck, one hand deep in your pussy, vibranium relentlessly rolling your nipple.

You whimpered as Bucky whispered into your skin.

“Fuck, you feel good.”

You tipped your hips for him, greedy for more. The rhythm he found was unhurried, circling, dipping, curling, until your thighs trembled. Your release crested like a tide, quiet but consuming, your cry swallowed in Steve’s kiss.

“Good girl,” Bucky whispered, still stroking you through it.

Steve’s hips jerked in your hand. 

“You’re incredible,” he gasped, “...I’m not gonna last…”

“Let go,” you told him. “Let me take care of you.”

He did, pulsing hot in your fist, forehead pressed to yours, lips parted around a groan. Then Bucky’s hand moved faster at your core, his hips rutting against the small of your back. You reached for him and found him straining against the waistband of those grey Stark sweats.

“I’ve got you too,” you whispered, and wrapped your hand around him.

He choked on your name as he came, quickly, forehead buried in your shoulder, the word hot against your skin. 

The silence after was thick with breath and the scent of sweat and skin and sex. No one rushed to speak. You were still sandwiched between them, wrecked and warm and not even remotely sorry.

Bucky kissed the crown of your head. 

“You okay?”

You nodded, utterly sincere.

“Oh, Yes.”

Steve curled a hand around your waist as Bucky went and got towels.

“I know that wasn’t slow, but we’ll take this slowly,” you whispered.

Steve chuckled, eyes closed as Bucky slipped back into bed.

“I’d ask to let me lick you clean, but if I put my mouth on you, you wouldn’t leave this bed all day,” said Steve, licking his lips.

You shivered.

“I know,” you smiled. “But we’re going slow, remember?”

“No. My smaller brain is in charge right now,” replied Steve.

You sucked your teeth.

“Okay, Mr. All-But-Dissertation.”

“My dissertation is the only thing not hard right now.”

You giggled. Something soft came from behind you.

“Defended right before the accident.”

You turned to Bucky and looked into his eyes.

“Congratulations, Dr. Barnes.”

Steve grabbed your hips as you arched into him while kissing Bucky.

“Shit, need to get to writing…” panted Steve, eyes watering with want.

You rolled your eyes at the old competitiveness.

“You two are going to ruin me."

"If you let us," came Bucky's soft reply.

You buried your face between them and let yourself be held.

Happy.

No shame. No guilt.

Just three hearts, still beating.

—--

Your workday started with a ping.

Actually, six.

Your Stark tablet lit up in quick succession:

07:12 – TONY STARK @ STARK HQ

➤ Hope you stretched. ➤ Daily sync in Lab 3 at 08:00. Bring your brain. Bonus points if it’s caffeinated. ➤ Don’t blow anything up before I log on. No promises? Thought so. ➤ Also: I need baseline biometrics. Check the drone. Surprise! ➤ Also also: how’s my favorite emotionally repressed trio? Sleep okay?

You blinked at the last message.

The audacity. The accuracy.

Honestly, it was starting to feel like surveillance kink.

There was no use pretending he didn’t know. You could smash your tablet against the wall and it would still beep with his next message before you swept the shards.

You crawled out of bed quietly. Steve was starfished and blissed out on one side. Bucky was curled around a pillow on the other. Both were snoring. 

It was obscene how peaceful they looked after the way they'd wrecked you this morning, Steve’s mouth at your throat, Bucky’s hand between your thighs, both voices in your ear.

“Does Stark sleep?” you muttered, sliding off the mattress and padding barefoot toward the en suite.

“No,” Steve grumbled after you, blinking blearily. Bucky muttered something foul and buried his face in the pillow. 

“He recharges through chaos.”

The villa’s open-plan kitchen was quiet as you sipped water and tapped through Tony’s messages, scrolling past three new data requests, a flagged "URGENT" note about hydration tracking, and an image attachment of what looked like… a flying beetle?

You narrowed your eyes.

“Wait a damn minute…”

Right on cue, the sleek black insectoid drone hovering in the corner of the room emitted a cheerful little chirp. Its LED eye winked red, then green, like it was proud of itself. This was a different, smaller drone from last night.

“Tony,” you said aloud, already dreading the answer.

The tablet pinged again.

➤ Meet B.E.T.S.Y. 3.0! Bio-Energy Telemetry Surveillance Yielder. Isn’t she cute? ➤ She’s been recording vitals and environmental data since Bucky landed. She’s also motion-synced to detect stress patterns. You’re welcome. ➤ Oh, and I blurred the nudity. Mostly. Scout’s honor.

You squinted at the drone, wondering if it had hovered outside the bedroom earlier. Steve came and leaned on the counter beside you.

“Is that what blinked at me in the outdoor shower yesterday?”

Two more pings lit up.

➤ FYI: I need data on hormone shifts across shared poly-cortisol dynamics, so you, Barnes, and Rogers need to wear biometric rings all week. Try not to break them during any… recreational entanglements. ➤ Also, the midnight balcony reconciliation? Very touching. Genuinely. Might enter it in the next Stark Industries leadership retreat video. Keep it up,team.

You poured yourself a glass of water, resisting the urge to chuck the tablet into the surf.

Footsteps approached. Bucky padded in shirtless, his hair damp, sweatpants slung low on his hips, already scowling. 

“Why was that thing watching me stretch?”

Steve didn’t look up from peeling a banana. 

“Tony says she’s tracking muscle fatigue.”

Bucky pointed at the blinking orb. 

“She just tried to follow me into the bathroom.”

You took a long sip of water and smirked. The three of you stood in silence, staring at the drone.

It chirped. Then Steve spoke.

“So… group mission to neutralize B.E.T.S.Y.?”

You picked up the tablet again, swiped over to the diagnostics interface, and smiled. 

“Already halfway there.”

And in New York, Tony Stark sat on his balcony, sipping espresso and smirking as he watched the biometric vitals of his three most chaotic proteges spike in sync.

“God, I love science.”

——

Feedback is life! 😁

[gaydexvocaloid]

staring at stardust’s taobao page longingly. w when. when will you be sol d internationally . plewse.. pllelsse….

[shima-draws]

Question for no particular reason if someone, not me, hypothetically wrote a fix it fic where Izuku goes back in time to save a young Tenko, would you, the audience, prefer that to take place BEFORE Tenko kills his entire family with Decay or AFTER

[bowl-of-fruit-loops]

hey why did bill’s ex-wife move to clivesdale? literally no one from hatchetfield would do that. people die and go missing all the time and they refuse to leave. and if they do they don’t move to fucking clivesdale