#maybe its a 4-3 split

[ofswordsandpens]

adding to the "there should have been more genuine tension within the seven" train of thought, it would have been funny if the Argo II, technically being a ship, meant it fell under Percy's power domain and he could control it all at whim, rendering all the carefully crafted controls Leo built useless if Percy felt like being an asshole

[itsalittlebitchilly]

Me when 2!! of my professors call out people who are pissing me off in the same week

[gay-artificer]

I feel like I see much more complaining about innocent sad mom girlboss fandomized Artificer than i actually see innocent sad mom girlboss Artificer. Past like, jokes about them being a girlboss. Which don't count.

[hauntingblue]

I was checking out op manga prices and was like oh 15 per volume but east blue alone it's 4 volumes 💀

[nomaishuttle]

ive been in my fantasy world where i have a child all day its whatever

[slutla]

CURSED ALLEY ! | SINISTER MARK X FEM READER

warnings: 18+, dark content, dubious consent, objectification, power imbalance, hate sex kinda, unhygienic (?), blood, biting, mark threatens to eat u, like literally. choking, reader hates him n he loves it. he’s rlly cocky, breeding, public sex (?)

summary: you try to break free from his grasp, but the harder you pull, the tighter it coils around you, like he knew you’d resist, and planned for it.

an: minors ageless & blank blogs dni. ty mimi 4 da idea ily. bare w me on the dialogue, he only had like 2 lines in the show </3

This place swarms with vermin, thriving in its decay. It’s putrid and vile. you wish you had buried those thoughts deep, swallowed them whole, and just dealt with that maniac instead of playing the fool. Maybe it got to your head, actually. Ever since you turned into the star of this deranged game, you thought he might soften, that your punishment wouldn’t be as brutal. Maybe, just maybe, he’d grant you an easy death.

But mercy clearly isn’t in this fucking lunatic’s nature. Mark—or as they call him, Sinister Mark—is ruthless, a nasty, grimy psycho who clings to you like a parasite, feeding on your energy and siphoning the very essence of your strength and joy.

You’re pressed up against the alley wall—filthy, dark, and shaking. Honestly, you wish more than anything that he’d just put you out of your misery, but you know he won’t. He enjoys this, watching your face contort in pain, taking his time, dragging it out. That’s why he’s kept you alive for so long, right? You’re nothing more than a measly doll, something to entertain him when he’s bored, empty his balls when he’s desperate. It makes you fucking sick.

His hand rests around your throat, light, almost gentle—like he has no intention of hurting you. But you know better. You’ve been at his mercy too many times to fall for the act. You know this man like the back of your hand, and this? This is just the calm before the storm.

“Pathetic. Desperately pathetic,” he sneers, a smug grin stretching across his face—one you’d give anything to wipe off with your fists. He tightens his grip around your throat—slightly. Just enough to remind you who’s in control.

“You consistently try to fight against me, disobey me, Maybe I’ve gotten too soft on you?” His voice is mocking, laced with amusement, but his eyes tell a different story—cold, calculating, hungry. You glare at him, and it only makes him chuckle a low, condescending sound. You’re like a mouse trying to act tough between the teeth of a cat, all bark and no bite.

“What?” he taunts, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You’ve gotten bold, huh? Is that it? You think just ‘cause I’ve fucked my load into ‘ya a couple of times, I’ll go easy on you?”

His grip tightens enough to make your breath hitch, his smirk widening at the sight. “That’s real cute.”He fucking loves this—you, a wreck, lip split and oozing red, shoved against the wall like some stray mutt too dumb to run. The cold’s got you trembling in his grip, tight enough to bruise, and those hard little peaks poking through your shirt? Shit’s got him sporting a boner in his pants, straining against the fabric like it’s pissed off too. You scowl up at him, eyes flashing wet with hate, spitting some smartass jab that’s half-snarl, half-whimper. That’s the kicker—those venomous little words dripping from your bloody mouth just setting him off, making his cock twitch in pants. He yanks his hand off your throat, spinning you fast. Your tits smash into the brick, ass grinding against his already oozing cock.

“Better view now.” he mutters, breathing hot on your neck. “Gonna have to fuck that fight outta you,” he continues, lips brushing your ear. “Pound that tight little cunt till you’re drooling on my dick—too dumb to even hiss back. That’s what you need?” You’d never admit it but his words send heat straight to your womb, your pussy is practically shaped like his cock already and when he uses you, he wants you dripping, drooling sloppily all over him.

Mark’s dark eyes rake over you, zeroing in on the way your spine arches—fuck, it’s perfect, bending like it was carved just for him, dipping into the swell of your ass. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t play gentle—his fingers hook into your pants and underwear, yanking them down in one rough tug. The outdoor air slams into you, a cold snap kissing your bare pussy, and you shiver hard, instinct kicking in as your body jolts under his stare.

He’s smirking, that insufferable cunt, lips twitching like he’s won something. The wind whistles low through the city, but all you hear is the thud of your own pulse and the way his breath hitches when he sees you—exposed, trembling. “Look at you,” he mutters, voice gravelly, thick with want as his hands grip your hips, fingers digging into flesh like he’s staking a claim.

Mark’s eyes catch it—the slick shine dripping from you, pussy puffy and aching, not some dainty little ache but a raw, greedy pull. “Fuckin’ mess down there.” he says, sharp and dry, no trace of play in his tone, like he’s stating a fact.

“Slutty hole,” Mark snarls, voice thick with grit, “‘s just practically pleading to be filled raw.” You moan, all high and whiny, a sound so nasty it’s practically dripping off your lips, and he’s done waiting—his fat cock slides in, thick and heavy, plunging into your sloppy, squelching cunt with a wet schlick that echoes. juices splatter, a mix of your slick and his pre-cum sloshing out, your hole clutching him like it’s starving, gushing around his shaft as he rams it deep, balls smacking your ass with a lewd, sticky slap.

Loud, shameless moans rip out of you, spilling from your lips with every wet smack of his balls slapping against your ass—raw and relentless, the sound bouncing off the two walls that seclude you both. You’re squirming, thrashing in his grip, hips twitching as his rough hands work your sore, swollen clit, rubbing it fast and brutal, fingers slick with your mess. He’s pissed—you can feel it in the sharp huff he lets out, the way his jaw tightens—and his free hand flies to your throat, clamping down hard. “Stop fuckin’ movin’, you dumb whore,” he sneers, lips curling into a nasty smirk, “‘fore I rip a limb off you ‘n eat it.” Your body instantly locks, all power given to him. He’s not bluffing—you’ve seen him do it, blood on his teeth and all, tearing into others like it’s nothing.

Tears spill from your pretty eyes, streaking down your face, born from the jagged mix of terror and that sick, drowning pleasure twisting through you. Your tits scrape raw against the rough brick wall, stinging with every shove, while his hands pin you there—unyielding, cruel. He catches the tiny, pitiful kitten sobs hiccuping out of you, and his lips twist. “Awe, you’re cryin’?” he mocks, voice dripping with fake pity, and it pisses you off, heat flaring in your chest. Then his teeth sink into your neck—hard, tearing skin, blood trickling—and you flinch-yell, a sharp, ragged cry that nearly makes him bust right there, his cock twitching like he’s feral for it.

That bubbling churn hits your guts, familiar and hot, as his fat tip keeps bullying your throbbing walls, smashing in deep, relentless. His cream-slicked length vanishes into your squelching, messy cunt with every frantic, desperate thrust—using you like his own personal fleshlight, like you were carved out of the universe just for him to fuck. “‘S fuckin’ amazing,” he laughs, all breathy and rough, that stupid, hot edge to his voice, “pussy’s just swallowing me up—shit, it’s like you’re beggin’ to get knocked up.”

All you can do is moan and mewl, pathetic little noises spilling out like some bitch in heat, his cock bullying you mercilessly—stretching you open, pounding you raw. His grip clamps tighter, fingers bruising your skin, and then he groans, rough and guttural, voice scraping the air. It hits—thick, gooey ropes of cum shooting out, hot and heavy, flooding your womb white. You clench hard around him, thighs quaking, shaking like you’re falling apart, leaving a messy, creamy ring circling his dick. He pulls out slow, leaving your pussy gaping, a wrecked, dripping hole—combined cum leaking sloppy down your thigh, pooling in a sticky trail.

He stares, eyes dark and glinting, picturing you swollen with his kid, that pretty body all round and full—fuck, it’d look good on you. A low laugh rumbles out of him, abs flexing as he smirks, half-breathless. Maybe down the line. He thinks. You’re stuck here, pinned under him for the long haul—he’s not letting you go anywhere, not when you’re this pretty, this perfect for him.

[explorevenus]

something permanent pt 14 ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors. i stg. do not interact or i will call the cops

reminder that this is a dark fic, if any of the following bothers/triggers you, do not read: yandere!leon kennedy, kidnapping, forced daddy kink, forced breeding, pregnancy, non/dubcon

in other words, dead dove: do not eat !!! u have been warned and u are responsible for ur own media consumption.

chapter index: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12, pt. 13

'something permanent’: the spotify playlist

word count: 6.8k

description: leon and darling become parents at last.

tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, fem/afab!reader, no use of (y/n), some gory descriptions cus darling goes into labor obvi, girl dad leon, corny dad leon, horny dad leon (no smut tho i'm sorry. she just gave birth idk what u want from me), medical setting, breastfeeding, manipulation, stockholm syndrome-ish implications, some angst but also fluff

a/n: !!! i hope this was worth the wait <33 big big big big BIG sexy thanks to @dollfacefantasy and @gigabyte-flare for beta reading <3 i don't really have anything else to say other than that i appreciate everyone's patience while i've been dealing with some pretty major life things and i just hope you like it. gentle reminder that the taglist has been moved to the bottom of the chapter to reduce clutter

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy !!

-venus ♡

It went without saying that Leon had seen a lot of gore in his life.

A whole lot of gore.

He'd witnessed gushing bullet wounds, gaping slices of undead flesh, pulverized bodies, genetically modified monstrosities exploding into even more horrific versions of themselves, only to be slain by his hand, often spraying back to douse him in the kind of fetid rot that couldn't be washed out, only burned, the kind that clung deep in his skin for days after... and yet nothing could have possibly prepared him for what it would be like to witness you going into premature childbirth.

Nothing.

You were in so much pain, you were hollering and crying so hard you could barely get a breath in, and apart from holding your hand, he was powerless to help you. It was gutting.

"Shh, shh... you're doing so good, baby, just breathe with me, just breathe," He said to you, trying to manage his tone to be as reassuring as possible, but the stress had long since become him.

How could it not? He was watching his own lover split apart while conscious, pleading with the universe to ease the pain, even with an 18-gauge needle in the spine. You were miserable, and you were terrified, and Leon was terrified too. Perhaps even more than he'd ever been, because this wasn't supposed to be happening yet. He was supposed to have at least another month and a half to pamper you and watch you grow, at least another month and a half to prepare for this. 

Not to mention he wasn't entirely fond of the swarm of nurses in your face and between your legs, the rotating door of doctors and specialists working on your exposed body with absolutely no capability of understanding how important you were to him, how special and sweet you were, how little you deserved this.

It did occur to him, in the midst of all the noise, that perhaps this was the wrong idea. That he shouldn't have forced the one person he loves the most in the world to suffer like this on his behalf. That maybe he'd made a grave mistake that he could never atone for, a mistake that would surpass anything he's ever experienced in its devastation.

But all of those fears crumbled to ash when he saw her for the first time.

Monday, December 21, 2015. Winter solstice. 3:36 a.m.

She was so pink. She was so, so small, so pink, and so angry to be alive, but she was alive and crying. She was alive.

In that moment, Leon experienced whatever the opposite of blacking out was, a shot of pure adrenaline down his spine that made everything shine a little brighter. He didn't even realize he was crying with relief until he turned and saw that you were, too. You were barely cognizant, what with the delightful cocktail of shock and panic and pain medication coursing through you, but you were conscious and aware— at least for now— limp with exhaustion aside from clutching Leon's hand for dear life while the professionals got to work sewing you up, and he couldn't help but swipe your slick hair away from your forehead to shower you in tearful kisses.

"My good girl... I'm so fucking proud of you," He spoke into your hair, pressing a heavy kiss to the crown of your head as his free hand cradled your cheek, holding you as close to him as he could physically manage. "I love you so much... I love you..."

You weren't really registering much other than the pure relief of it all, but Leon couldn't blame you. In his eyes, he just witnessed you creating his entire universe, and you deserved all the rest you could get. You'd certainly need it in the coming months.

And even just the coming weeks, as many as it might take for her to incubate and grow a bit.

She was alive, and she was as healthy as she could be, considering the circumstances, but Christ, she wasn't even done cooking yet. She was so little, weighing in at just three pounds, seven ounces, and she looked more like a gummy bear than a baby. She was hooked up to so many machines in the NICU that he could barely stand to even watch after a while, for his own peace of mind.

But he couldn't relax, either, so Leon just stayed at your bedside for most of the night, watching you sleep. Killing time. Occasionally he would wander off for a walk up and down the halls, or to the cafeteria for a bitter black coffee to jump his brain, or he would linger by the window into the NICU for a while to watch her sleep, to see her pink and yellow baby blanket just barely rise and fall with every tiny breath so he could know for sure she was really here. And then he'd repeat his rounds all over again.

The nurses promised him over and over again that she was healthy, that there was no cause for concern at this point, but that didn't really stop him from concerning himself quite severely. He wasn't even sure he understood his own metric for what it would take to get him to relax at this point, so he just stopped asking questions after a while.

Walk the halls. Bitter black coffee. Check on baby. Walk back. Check on you. Wash, rinse, repeat. Eventually the nurses were looking at him like they were debating offering him an Ambien under the table just to calm him down, and perhaps because he'd grown so used to avoiding drawing attention to himself, that was when he finally decided to just sit his ass down at your bedside and stay there.

In his boredom he found that the TV was perpetually stuck on the Hallmark channel, streaming from an endless well of corny, poorly written holiday movies that left more than enough to be desired, but it was better than nothing. Leon couldn’t stand the silence, and at least it kept his mind somewhat occupied while he thumbed through that heavy book of baby names.

He’d already found one he liked— Abigail— but that still left room for one more. He couldn’t even decide if he thought that should be her first name or her middle name. All he knew was what the book told him, flowery words describing the meaning of the name as that of my father’s joy, and that was quite true, wasn’t it? She was his firstborn, and more than that, her mommy was you. Nothing in the entire universe could possibly stand to make him happier or more joyous, and thus Abigail was fitting. But how was he supposed to find another name to describe her when he hadn’t even had the opportunity to get to know her yet?

Or was this secondary name his opportunity to start a thread of her destiny for her?

It’s not like he never asked you for your opinion, you had just chosen time and time again not to give it to him. You were almost completely impartial when it came to talking about the baby, so regardless of how badly he ached for your participation in planning for the life you’d created together, he had long since become bitterly used to making decisions like this on his own.

With a deep sigh Leon let the book rest in his lap, fingertips drumming on the wooden armrests of his chair in thought of the kind of life he wanted for his baby girl. All he could think was that he wanted her to run, play, and be happy. He wanted her to be good to the world and he wanted the world to treat her even better in return. He wanted to ensure she’d never have to worry about a thing, that she would grow up kind and quick and a much better woman than he ever was a man.

He wanted her to be gentle and sweet and protected, like a princess, his jubilant little baby princess.

Lifting the book once more, Leon opened it back up to its table of contents and skimmed over the lines for the millionth time, only now he actually had a vague idea of what he might be looking for. The book was structured in sections, the first being cultural and regional names, the second being historical and literary names, and the last section was an alphabetized glossary of them all in one. It was exhaustingly organized and comprehensive to the last detail, but hey, so was he.

Tracing the page with two fingertips, he found the historical section of the table and went down the line, skimmed over architects, artists, explorers, war heroes, religious figures… all the way down to royalty.

Leon’s hope wavered a little bit when he found most of the names under that section to be underwhelming or flat-out bad when paired with ‘Abigail,’ but his mind had been set on that for so long that he’d already decided he wasn’t budging on it. He was toying with the idea of taking a break from his search for the night, until an entry on the list of princess names caught his eye. In his exhaustion, he must have previously overlooked it.

Charlotte.

“Charlotte Abigail,” Leon mumbled aloud, testing the name on his tongue. “Charlotte Abigail Kennedy…”

It flowed from his lips like a beautiful waltz.

The enticing scent of Leon's umpteenth black coffee was the first thing you noticed when you woke up, followed by the dull, full body ache that weighed you down to the hospital bed. Your head was throbbing, your eyes and throat were stinging and dry from overexertion, but more than that, you felt something like relief.

Yes, it was definitely relief, because any amount of pain in that moment felt like reprieve in comparison to active labor. And maybe you were still a bit fuzzy from the meds, but you weren't complaining.

Slowly, you blinked awake and took in your surroundings, the room quiet aside from the occasional beep of electronic medical equipment, and the subtle, rhythmic rumble of... Leon snoring?

Tilting your head, you saw Leon right there at your bedside, coffee untouched and still steaming on the little tray next to him. His legs were outstretched, arms crossed at his chest, and he had his head tilted back with that comically large book of baby names split open to rest over his face, blocking the fluorescent lights and rising sun from his tired eyes. You just watched him for a moment, knowing he'd likely spent all night fretting over you until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

For as much as you would have loved to just lay there and enjoy the quiet for a moment, though, you knew it was probably wiser to let him know you were awake. At least that way you could talk him into forfeiting his coffee.

"Hey," you spoke up gently, your voice hushed with sleep and a bit hoarse, "I'm pretty sure the shop in the lobby sells bookmarks."

He jolted a little and then stirred, gravity pulling the heavy book down until his arm shot up to catch it and lift it from his face with an exhausted look of surprise. "Y-You're awake—”

"Gimme that," you interrupted, arm outstretched in a dramatic show of grabby-hands at the paper cup of coffee placed just outside your reach. You could barely even remember the last time you were allowed a sip of coffee, and having to lay here smelling it but not tasting it when you so sorely needed it was torture.

Leon blinked once or twice in confusion, clearing away the haze that clouded his frayed neurons, and as his eyes followed the path between your fingertips and the shitty cup of black coffee he'd fallen asleep before having the chance to drink, he couldn't help but puff out a little laugh, handing it off to you without hesitation. For fuck's sake, you'd earned it, hadn't you?

The cup had been sitting there idle for just long enough that its contents weren't blistering hot, but perfectly drinkable. You took a quick sip, and then another, nose scrunching up for a moment because it tasted more like a dirty ashtray than it did coffee, but somehow it still went down like liquid gold. At least the taste was enough to keep you from drinking it too fast.

"How do you feel, pup?" Leon asked, tracing the curve of your cheekbone with a delicate thumb. As joyful as it was to see you awake and in decent spirits, he had to ask, because it's not like you were just waking up from any old nap. He watched you split apart last night. He could still smell your blood. Surely you had more to concern yourself about than caffeine.

Setting aside the cup, you searched your mind for the right way to articulate how you felt right now, but found it exceptionally difficult to encapsulate what all was going on up there after giving birth for the first time. So, you decided to start with how your body felt and work your way through it from there.

"Sore, like a bowling ball went through me... but it's not unbearable. I think the pain meds are still working," you began, tilting your head to let your cheek squish into the palm of his hand. "I feel a little numb and groggy."

With a sympathetic hum, he nodded, leaning over you to smooth your messy hair back and press a kiss to your forehead. "I'm not surprised, baby, you do seem a bit silly. They drugged you up pretty good," he said, speaking from experience, "but at least you're not in too much pain."

A beat of surprisingly comfortable silence passed between you two as you finished waking up and Leon just stared at you, as he often did. While the air between the two of you felt thankfully free of tension, it wasn’t without anticipation, nor was it without the presence of that massive elephant.

You knew she was okay because if she wasn’t, Leon would be having a nuclear meltdown, but you barely even got to see her before you passed out, so you didn’t know how okay she was. 

“Where is she?” You asked gently, hands fidgeting in your lap.

“She’s in the little incubator, but they said they could bring her in here when you woke up, if you were feeling well enough,” he answered, looking up at you through his lashes like a pleading puppy as he asked, “are you?”

You felt a rush deep in your chest that you couldn’t explain, emotion, and you found that your head was bobbing up and down in a nod before you even thought about it. You didn’t need to think about it. Of course your feelings about your situation and this baby were… complicated, to put it kindly, but you spent seven-ish months cooking the damn thing, so you might as well take the chance to hold her and get to meet her, right?

Leon didn’t waste any time scrambling off to get a nurse, and as you sat there waiting, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to be like. You weren’t ignorant of the fact that newborn babies didn’t have strong features yet, but you wondered if she would have any hair on her head, or what she would feel like in your arms, or what little sounds she might make. The few short minutes it took for Leon to return with your baby and a couple of nurses felt like a million years.

The door opened, and your heart stopped beating for a second. Your mouth dried and your eyes burned with tears.

She was so little.

Even swaddled up in a blanket, her tiny body was barely the width of Leon's forearm, her little head rested in the crook of his elbow while her socked and blanketed feet were tucked in the palm of his hand. Everything you felt in this moment was truly overwhelming— fright, nerves, and perhaps even a bit of pride, because come on. You made that thing. Willingly or not, you made your own little human, and in a removed context, that was crazy.

She was so little that you were almost afraid to touch her, trembling as Leon lowered her into your arms, but right away there was something about having her near that felt familiar to you.

Like an old friend.

For a long few minutes, you just cried. Deep, ugly, open-mouth cries that made your entire body feel weak. You couldn’t possibly get ahold of yourself, or even begin to understand how you were meant to.

Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon spoke gently into your hair, voice thick with emotion, “I-I named her Charlotte. Charlotte Abigail.”

Oh, how pretty. Internally you had to admit that he chose well, whatever his reasoning was.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” you sniveled, thumb caressing the thin, tender skin of her cheek, your chest throbbing as she squirmed and poked the tip of her tiny tongue out. “I-Is she okay? Are there any issues?”

The nurses calmly explained to you that she seemed to be regulating her temperature well enough on her own, but that the incubator was a precaution that would allow you and Leon the opportunity to get some actual rest. Her blood tests didn’t show any concerns and her oxygen levels were okay, but other than that, it was too soon to tell if anything else might be off, and they spared you the anxiety of getting too specific about the potential complications just yet. She would likely be spending at least 30 days in the NICU for good measure.

You, on the other hand, would be well enough to be on your feet as soon as the numbness wore off. That wasn’t to say it would feel good if you did, just that it was possible and wouldn’t kill you, though Leon would probably need to help you around for a few days… as if he needed the doctor’s order to do that.

Once they were sure you were healthy and comfortable, the nurses stepped out and for the very first time, it was just you, Leon, and your child.

“I’m so proud of you,” Leon whispered, watching you reverently. The sun had risen enough now to drench you in a saintly glow, your skin radiant and dewy with motherhood, your eyes glittering with tears as you gazed down at the sleepy baby cradled in your arms. “You’ve come such a long way, puppy, and just look at what you made for me. Look at what a perfect little angel you made for daddy.”

Letting out a slow breath from your nose, you resisted the urge to react to that. He’d done a pretty decent job of acting normal since you went into labor, and you didn’t realize how badly you were hoping he would keep it up until he ruined it with a brisk return to form. Perhaps the blame was on you for getting too comfortable with your expectations that high in the first place.

What felt especially unfair about it, however, was that his phrasing got beneath your skin more than you thought it would. Telling you that you’d come such a long way, and all because you made a perfect baby for him.

For daddy.

You’d only just had the chance to allow yourself to feel some kind of a bond with her, and Leon was already claiming ownership over it without a second thought. You wanted to snap at him that not everything was about him, that it wasn’t your goal to please him even if something you did made him happy, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say any of it.

Charlotte hadn’t even been born for 24 hours yet, you couldn’t start fighting in front of her already.

You stood in front of the window with Charlotte swaddled tightly in your arms, letting her watch the glittery, falling snow outside in an attempt to calm her. She was red in the face and hollering with all the power in her little lungs— which was a lot, you’d come to learn— quite cranky about the fact that your milk was taking its time to come in. In defense of your boobs, the girls thought they were going to have eight more weeks to prepare than they ended up getting.

But at a certain point you just had to wonder when enough might be enough. You knew it wasn’t your fault, that your difficulty producing breastmilk so soon after going into premature labor didn’t reflect negatively upon your ability to love and provide for your daughter, so why did it feel that way? You were trying to keep ahold of your emotions for the sake of your daughter while wondering somewhere in the back of your mind if you were even fit to care for her, if it was your fault that she was starving.

“It’s common for newborns to lose a little bit of their birth weight in the first few weeks, especially waiting for mama’s milk to come in,” the attending nurse calmly explained to you as she changed the sheets on the bed. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear. There’s no guide to being a new mother.”

“Thank you,” you replied over the shrill cries of your daughter, letting some of the tension drop from your shoulders. Leon had told you nearly the same thing practically a thousand times over the past few days, but it was hard not to convince yourself that he didn’t know what he was talking about and was just spouting nonsense to make you feel better. It felt more legitimate coming from a professional.

Once she finished up changing the bedding, the nurse offered to take Charlotte for a while if you needed a break, but for right now, you didn’t really mind. Having her close was supposed to stimulate milk production, as you’d been told, and for lack of a better way to put it, you sort of enjoyed hogging her from Leon. He’d stepped out for the morning to check in at work and grab a few things from the house, so he wasn’t here to take her anyway, but you felt it was your responsibility to seize every available opportunity to bond with her. You needed her to know that you were there for her, that you weren’t budging, and that you never would.

Being alone with her was a treat. She really was so cute, just a teeny tiny little thing, and you could have already sworn she had your nose. She was pretty.

“Oh, Lottie, Lottie, Lottie,” you sighed affectionately, cupping the back of her head to cradle her close to your shoulder, gently swaying and bouncing on your feet. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

As expected, her only response was a continuation of shrill cries. Part of you worried that your presence wasn’t comforting her at all, but every time you slowed in rocking her or made any move that she perceived as you getting ready to put her down, she hollered louder and clung to you for dear life. Clearly she knew where her bread was buttered.

You crossed the room in slow, bouncing steps, trying to keep her distracted just long enough for you to sit down with her in the rocking chair. Little as she was, your arms were getting tired from holding her up, and you just needed a bit of a break from it. Pressing your lips to her soft forehead, you breathed in through your nose and began quietly singing to her.

“I’m… a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, an onion patch, an onion patch,” you hummed, “I’m a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, and all I do is cry all day… boo-hoo, boo-hoo…”

It was an old, old song, and you weren’t even really sure where you remembered it from, but Charlotte seemed to enjoy it, and it felt fitting enough right now. Dragging in a breath, Charlotte reached up to rub her eyes with her chubby little fists, wailing cries beginning to soften down to weepy whimpers. It was victorious moments like this that almost made you forget how you got here.

“Hey, sweetheart,” came Leon’s voice from behind, reminding you exactly how you got here, “how are my girls?”

Almost immediately, Charlotte started screaming again.

Sighing out an exhausted breath, you turned over your shoulder to watch Leon approach, trying not to let it show on your expression just how annoyed you were that he’d ruined her calming mood right after you managed to get her there.

“Cranky,” you answered him simply.

Leon clicked his tongue and moved to sit at the edge of the coffee table in front of you, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face with a sympathetic gleam in his eye. “No milk yet, huh?”

You shook your head.

“Oh, puppy… I’m sorry.”

The look on your face gutted him. He could tell you were blaming yourself in some way, feeling guilty for not being able to produce quite yet, but his mind wasn’t lingering anywhere near blaming you for this. You’d already been through so much just to deliver the baby— if anything, he’d be more surprised if these next few weeks were to proceed perfectly after that. You were a superhero to Leon right now, a goddess, and not even gods or heroes were exempt from hardship, from plain bad luck.

“It’s fine,” you said with a slow sigh, “the nurses swear we’re getting somewhere. There was some of this… I don’t know, like… clear, sappy stuff that came out this morning, and they said it’s good for her, so…”

Nodding gently, Leon took your hand and squeezed it, trying to get you to actually look at him. “Well, that’s a good sign, right?”

“I think so… I don’t know. I hope so.”

“I hope so, too, baby.”

A few moments of silence fell between you— aside from the screaming newborn, of course— and Leon continued to think about how proud he was of you. When he first brought you home with him, you were adamantly against the idea of having babies, let alone being pregnant at all. But you took it like such a champion, nourished and cared for your child anyway, his child, and even after going into labor unexpectedly early, your priorities and your focus still remained on her.

He couldn’t confidently say he’d have been as brave if it were him. That alone gave him a lot of reflecting to do.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Leon asked, squeezing your hand again. “Absolutely incredible.”

“I don’t know about that,” you puffed out a dry breath, finally looking up at him. “Women have been birthing babies for thousands of years. I’m no different from any of them, unless you count panic-attacking myself into early labor, and even then I’m not the first. And I definitely won’t be the last.”

Shaking his head in affectionate disagreement, Leon said, “As far as I’m concerned, you didn’t just hang the moon, you molded it with your bare hands. Just… take the compliment, pup. You deserve it.”

A slight smile graced your lips for just a second, like you briefly allowed yourself to believe what he was saying. As much as it pained him to think about, Leon knew you hadn’t been given a whole lot of incentive to take him at his word on anything, but when it came to the praise you’d earned for making him a father, for growing his baby in you, it was so important to him that you knew he wasn’t just talking out of his ass.

So he spoke up again, following his praises with a gentle, genuine question; “Why are you being so hard on yourself?”

This gave you pause. He wasn’t wrong by any means— you absolutely were being hard on yourself here, in every way you could think of. The ways you’d been talking about and carrying yourself since he came home from San Francisco were indicative enough of that. It was like you were cowering from yourself, avoiding every part of you that made you you, like a mouse in a lab finally recognizing which buttons would shock you.

“She needs me,” you finally muttered, cradling Charlotte closer to your chest, even as she screamed your eardrum out. “She depends on me, I can’t just… fail her.”

“Fail her?” Leon whispered, encouraging you to continue.

Swallowing back nerves, you suddenly found you were having a difficult time making sense of what you’d been feeling lately, let alone putting it into articulate words. Still, you replied to the best of your frazzled, tired ability, “She was supposed to have eight more weeks… she wasn’t ready to be born yet, and I freaked myself out so much that I put her at risk. I’m so grateful that she’s okay, that it didn’t end badly, but Leon… it could have. It really could have.”

“I know,” he soothed. “I know it could have, but it didn’t. It didn’t. Look at her, she’s here and she’s alive and she’s healthy. She’s got strong lungs. She’s got your nose. She’s perfect, sweetheart, she’s absolutely perfect, and that’s not in spite of you, it’s because of you. I’ll repeat that as many times as it takes for you to internalize it.”

That framing of the situation was surprisingly insightful, coming from Leon, though you supposed he’d had some practice in forgiving himself over the years.

Sniffling, you nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “T-Thank you… daddy.”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, and Charlotte began to settle.

You were so confused when you woke up in the middle of the night to Charlotte crying again— not because of anything she was doing differently, but because of how you felt. Sitting up in bed, you briefly glanced over at Leon to find that the commotion had roused him too, stirring him from a light sleep.

“I can get her,” he was quick to rasp out, voice clouded with grogginess, but for once, you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“No, no, wait,” you whispered, your other hand kneading at your sore chest in an attempt to soothe the discomfort, but this wasn’t the same kind of breast pain you’d grown used to by now. They were tender and full to the touch, nipples stinging under your nightgown.

And leaking.

Eyes widening, you shot out of bed with a quiet, excited exclamation of, “oh, shit,” not even taking the time to mull over how silly it seemed to be so ecstatic that your nipples were leaking milk through your favorite nightgown. All you could think about right now was her. You could finally sate her hunger.

Leon sat up too, rubbing his eyes and leaning over to turn the bedside lamp on, trying to wake himself up enough to understand what you were acting so urgently about. Only once Charlotte’s cries were silenced and replaced with a soft, greedy suckling sound did he realize what was happening.

“Oh,” he gasped, stunned, “shit.”

You just laughed, completely unable to wipe the stupid grin off your face. Feeding for the first time felt really fucking bizarre, but with how happy you were that your daughter was finally able to eat, you couldn’t bring yourself to care even slightly. That was far from the biggest thing on your mind.

“She’s eating,” you beamed, turning over your shoulder to look at Leon, desperate to share this moment with the only person who could truly understand your relief. “She’s eating, Leon, she’s— she’s perfect. Holy shit.”

“You’re perfect,” he smiled wide, crawling out of bed to join you where you stood by the crib, his strong arms slinking gently around your waist. Pressing a kiss to the highest point of your cheekbone, Leon whispered in your ear, “I knew you could do it, puppy. I love you, I love you both so much.”

And now you were crying. You couldn’t help it.

Charlotte fed for a good long while that night, gulping down every stray drop she could find, and you and Leon just watched her in complete awe. She could barely keep her eyes open in her satisfaction, long lashes fluttering angelically upon chubby cheeks, her squishy little lips bobbing back and forth with every suckle as you both cooed at her and cheered her on.

Wiping away a drop of milk from her chin, Leon preened, “Oh, little Lottie… such a good eater, princess, my goodness…”

“Such a good eater,” you echoed, adding playfully, “must’ve gotten that from your daddy. He gets grouchy without breakfast, too.”

“Hey now, it is the most important meal of the day,” he pointed out to his own defense, very much in on the joke, though he couldn’t help but add another cheeky point that was reserved only for your ears. “Well… the second most important meal of the day, right behind dessert.”

Groaning, you rolled your eyes at him, “Cornball. You’re a horny, horny cornball.”

He only smirked, “Guilty as charged, pup,” and kissed you again.

Your mood improved a lot over the next several days, and Leon was so grateful for it. The timing couldn’t have been better for squashing your insecurities about being able to care for Charlotte. Waking up to feed her wasn’t something that stressed you out anymore, it was something that made you feel useful and needed, which you always were, but now you truly believed it. Leon joked more than once that he’d never seen you happier to whip your boobs out at any given time.

You were eating well, you were laughing, you were getting lots of good rest, and you were actually talking to him. Like, talking talking, not just nodding your head and pretending to follow along. You told him about your day, you told him how you were feeling, you commentated on TV shows together. Your unanticipated stay in the NICU was turning out to feel a lot more like a dream than a nightmare, and as such, he was almost reluctant to see it end.

But time marches on, as it always does. Part of him worried you’d go right back to being difficult once you were home and the novelty of new parenthood wore off. Part of him wanted to trust that you wouldn’t, because you truly understood everything now. Didn’t you?

The final week of Charlotte’s monitoring was dwindling down, and now that he wasn’t so preoccupied with worrying himself sick about you both, he couldn’t stop thinking about what you said to him before you went into labor.

‘Daddy, I have to tell you something.’

Whatever it was, you never told him. In the chaos of everything that happened right after, he almost forgot you even mentioned it, but it’d just been gnawing at him since the dust settled.

Leon wasn’t sure how to approach this with you. Talking about it clearly distressed you last time, even though you brought it up on your own, and he didn’t want to risk setting you off, but the intensity of emotion it brought was undoubtedly indicative of its importance. By principle, you should tell him if there’s anything he needs to know, right?

Maybe it wasn’t all that important. Maybe your reaction at the time was just a product of your condition, the hormones and anxiety, and maybe you hadn’t even thought about it since that night. Maybe it really wasn’t a big deal.

So why had it been so obviously eating you alive during the final leg of your pregnancy?

“Baby?” Leon asked quietly, tilting his head to look at you. It was three in the morning and you were laying in bed together after Charlotte finally fell back asleep for the millionth time, partly trying to get some more rest and partly preparing yourselves to have to get up again at any moment. But it was peaceful, and he hoped that would mean you were calm and comfortable enough to have this conversation.

Humming in acknowledgment, your eyes met his. He had his arm around you, thumb caressing you at the waist, your cheek against his chest. It was now or never.

“I’ve just been thinking lately… the night Lottie was born, you said you had something to tell me,” he began, pouring all his effort into coming off as non-threatening as possible, careful not to spook you. “The little lady interrupted you and I never got to hear what it was. Do you remember, sweetheart?”

At first you couldn’t move, completely paralyzed in his arms. Your initial inclination was to panic, of course, but for once in your life, the nerves weren’t manifesting like they probably should have been.

Or, rather, like they definitely should have been.

You resumed breathing, biting your lip while you tried to organize your thoughts and come to a decision. It would be a tough shot to lie right now, you knew that, and while you would have usually tried to come up with a convoluted way to worm yourself out of this, for some reason, you didn’t even really feel the need to right now. Leon had been in a great mood. You were pretty sure he hadn’t stopped smiling since Charlotte was born, and even leading up to her birth, he had been acting so gentle and loving with you.

But you still needed to cover your bases if you were going to be honest with him.

“Do you remember saying that whatever it is, we’ll handle it? That I wouldn’t be in trouble?”

Uh oh, Leon thought to himself, but didn’t dare let it show on his expression. That’s not a great start.

“I do,” he nodded encouragingly, “and that still stands.”

All you had was his word, and that was going to have to do, wasn’t it? Taking a deep breath, you tightened your arms around his middle as if preemptively pleading for mercy, and then you quietly admitted, “I-I broke the rules while you were away on that mission.”

He figured as much while speculating on what it might have been, so this didn’t really floor him too much yet. “Okay. What rules did you break?”

You hesitated for a beat, looking away to collect your thoughts and then back again, hoping he could see the guilt in your eyes, the regret.

“I went outside,” you whispered, feeling an awkward and unpleasant heat burning at your ears— shame. “I-I went on a walk, a long walk, and…”

Now it was Leon who wasn’t breathing. “And?”

“And I tried to get h-help.”

There it was. You tried to get help. Help. As if you needed any fucking help when you had Leon.

But then again, he thought, she didn’t have me. I wasn’t there.

His bottom lip quivered until he bit it back, stooping his head down to bury his face in your hair, hiding, both arms holding you tightly to him. He wasn’t sure how to feel. He thought he was prepared for anything you might have to confess, but this… this was devastating. This felt awful.

“God fucking damn it, puppy,” he wept, “what were you thinking?”

The realization that he was crying made you tear up too. He wasn’t angry, he was anguished.

“I-I’m sorry… I know, I’m sorry—”

“Did anything happen? Did anyone see you? Did anyone touch you?”

“No, no, n-nothing happened, no one touched me, I promise—”

“Don’t you ever do that shit again,” he sobbed weakly into the crown of your hair, clutching you to him like you’d fall apart if he let go, or perhaps like he would fall apart. “Do you hear me?”

You just nodded, stifling your cries with a hand over your mouth to keep from waking the baby. She was sleeping so peacefully in the crib a mere few feet away.

“I hear you, I hear you, I promise I won’t ever do it again… it was freezing and I was so scared, I… I couldn’t get home fast enough…”

Home. Was that what it was to you now?

“Good,” Leon said firmly, but not apathetically, sighing out a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t just have yourself to worry about anymore.”

You and Leon were practically tangled with one another, stuck together like glue as you desperately tried to soothe each other. Silence fell around you again.

taglist: @tosuckmyweenis @worriedweirdo @nexysworld @gigabyte-flare @litepowee @pb-n-aj @idekman111 @honeysoakedbandages @cosmicerror83 @ifeelikeflying @grnherbs @shycandykitty @monkeysoda @reijniana @starcrossedreaders @vividelreyy @elfven-blog @arthurdelrey @elliewilliamsno1simp @texas-chainslvt @sop-myers @1smallmediumatlarge @dangerousdreamkitty @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @theladynymph @stella-fleurets​ @alexi-is-depressi @death-paint @dollfacefantasy @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @pupthepokemonenthusiast @sleepyluxe @needylilgal022 @yuiopiklmn @fouyumixuri @amidalashandmaidens @average-yandere-enjoyer @gr1mreper @starkeysslvt @kcolrom

[quartztwst]

Wedding in the Clouds! (TWST Fan-Event) (CLOSED)

Happy Valentine’s Day! 💕💕 I finally finished this fan-event for my 3k followers celebration!

Summary of the event:

On one fine day, you recieve a wedding invitation from a mysterious someone named Dione. It says to be a wedding for Azul and QUARTZ?! Wait, don’t they hate eachoth- SUDDENLY, a bright light from the invitation blinds your eyes and you end up on a soft, fluffy cloud. Voices of other people groaning and waking up is heard too. It seems like other students from NRC were also transported here.. But why?

A light pink skinned lady grabs all of the students attention and announces that you all are wedding guests. She introduces herself as Dione, one of the most powerful mages in Twisted Wonderland. Dione’s attitude was very sweet yet it was very conscending like she was running some sort of workplace. Behind her was Quartz and Azul chained by vines from the cloud beneath everyone. They seemed to react accordingly as Quartz was shouting profanties and throwing a whole fit while Azul was trying to focus on the fact he was being embarrassed in front of a quarter of NRC but Quartz’s outburst was irritating him.

As they were taken away, Dione explained to everyone they were to forcibly help set the wedding up for the bride and groom with her bird minions. If anyone refuses, they will be thrown off from the clouds or forced into a prison made of vines. WIth a quick flick of her hand, everyone’s clothes were suddenly changed into wedding attire.

Once Dione left, the students started to split up and find a way to crash the wedding, but not for Quartz and Azul. The thing was…

THEY HAD A DAY OFF TODAY and who wants to spend it on a stupid wedding? They had plans!

Event Information:

There are 4 different operations going on at the same time to ruin the wedding because a lot of the students disagreed in which way to take this. You have an option to draw your OC in which ever operation!!

It looks like from the background that the place has no buildings but there are plenty made by Dione:

A building for the cake and food <- ran by geese

A place for the Bride to get ready in

A place for the Groom to get ready in

Dione’s place located on a cloud that is higher than the other clouds so she can watch over yall

A place where the decorations and necessities for the wedding are being delivered by doves, pelicans, storks <- they are also not weak, they dont play. they will fight back if disrupted)

and then the wedding atlar which is just the background it’s outside so its just the resting area

Quartz’s dress, Bride’s Tower, and delivery birds

Operation 1: Ruin the Wedding

Led by Idia. Objective is to ruin the wedding like destroying the cake, decorations, finding Dione’s weakness, ruining the whole set up, exploding shit idk

Description of the attire: Wedding outfits with a bit of technology accessories by Idia Shroud himself. (the leech twins have one ear bud in but i didn’t draw their ears in detail..) You can get creative with the tech accessories

Operation 2: Save the Bride

Led by my MC/Yuu and Grim (you can also add ur Yuus/Mcs in too!!). Objective is to sneak past the geese guards and save Quartz to stop the wedding.

Description of the attire: Wedding outfit is fine !! but you can get creative with it like “oh heh.. im the maid and uhhh quartz shat herself and i need to help her so let me in” or smth 😭😭😭

Operation 3: Do Nothing/Other

Basically you do nothing. Led by nobody lol. What’s your OC’s objective for doing nothing? Do they want to see the wedding? Do they not care enough because it might be over anyways? Is there no hope?

I didn’t draw anyone here bc it’ll be just wedding attire 😭😭

Operation 4: Steal the Groom

This is for all my Azul likers heh.

Since Azul and Quartz are being rushed to get ready, a lot of clothes are being thrown out and sent back in the boxes laying around so why not reuse them? Maybe you can use it to ruin the wedding and steal Azul’s heart awayy once they’re done dressing him up…..

Description of the Attire: Wedding Bride or Groom outfitss hehee

Rules:

NO weird outfits that sexualizes OCs

Use the tag #WedCloudEvent or tag me if you make a post of this event!!

Please be respectful to everyone’s OCs

You can also draw other TWST characters here if you want!!

Have fun!!

Here’s the background for your OCs!!

List of OCs/Characters:

Operation 1: Ruin the Wedding -

Idia Shroud

Floyd Leech

Jade Leech

Moch by @thatsadguymochi

Daphne by @pomevinelle

Yuya by @cheerleaderman

Akshara by @twistedtalestory

Alastor by @chaotic-snow

Yvonne by @juchioris

Kogane by @kogane-twst

Dimitrios by @twsted-void

Cupid by @nivvetsworld

Neuvins by @lapinhearts

Riddle (design by @lapinhearts)

Airinniz by @hanizmiyu

Kozakura Yuuka by @hanizmiyu

Nyx by @blackcat101

Viva by @evexe

Operation 2: Save the Bride -

My Yuu/MC

Grim

Silly by @sillybillymillyrilly

Silver (design by @0ann3 )

Yu (Yuri Takeba) by @0ann3

Loralyn by @chizramue

Mizuki by @sherryclover

Starr by @astral-pr0jecti0n

Xenon by @w0nd3rhoy

Yuubeni by @bunniehunn

Superstar! And Yuu By @imafrealinrainbow478484

Yukitaka by @yumaandyukitaka

Aki by @rinxleona

Rui by @rinxleona

Pluto by @teddyandmochi

Yuura by @a-z-rie-l

Operation 3: Do Nothing/Other -

AJ by @karamatsuboy-aj

Oisín by @xen-blank

Mama Hua by @lafashionlsta

Yuuko by @silkkorchid

Soul by @twistedplayer16

Operation 4: Steal the Groom -

Rémy by @ranas-twisted-wonderland

Ayesha by @iluvmusicxoxo

Alice by @sinjaangels

Djyuu by @djchik

ANYWAYS this is just an event I made out of my ass HELFP im sorry if theres a whole bunch of holes here 😭😭 and Idia and the Tweels outfits are SUPER SLOPPY so I can’t wait to see how everyone else makes their OCs’ outfits prettier also Quartz and Azul do not like each other here so be free to do anything lol

Happy Valentine’s Day! 💕💕💕🎉🎉🎉🎉

[aethon-recs]

30 Tomarrymort Recs for 2024 — Completed Multi-Chapter Fics (Part 1)

Happy new year, and what a year 2024 was for the Tomarrymort ship! 🤍 We went from close to 13,000 fics in the beginning of 2024 to over 15,000 fics in the ship tag by the end of the year. How incredible is that!?

I've split up my 2024 year-end recs into 3 parts: (1) Completed Multi-Chapter Fics, (2) One-Shots, (3) WIPs. Here is Part 1 of the list: Completed Multi-Chapter Fics.

Please enjoy these 1.5 million words of completed Tomarrymort fic from 2024!

*

A Dangerous Game by @cybrid (E, 322k, complete)

Tom Riddle opens the Chamber of Secrets in Harry’s fifth year at Hogwarts. After a botched attempt to extract the Horcrux in Harry’s scar leaves their souls tied together, Tom is forced to kidnap him when he makes his escape. A story of Horcrux hunting, adventure and unwilling attraction.

Anabiosis by @itsevanffs (E, 39k, complete)

The school is… unprotected. Voldemort gets resurrected early, and learns this very quickly. Harry Potter likes his new teacher: he's a pretty man in his early thirties with a kind smile and dark hair and eyes - and he doesn't seem to hate him, unlike all the other teachers.

aurora polaris by @aglassroseneverfades (E, 217k, complete)

Harry does not give up the Horcrux when he dies. Moved by compassion, he embraces it instead. What follows next, he could not predict. He’s not sure he ever really had a choice in the matter. The world Harry wakes up to is not like the one he remembers. And his captor is neither the same as he was, nor as different as he would like.

Change Me by @valkyrie-chemist (E, 17k, complete)

Harry Potter had grown up listening to tales of the cursed Lord Voldemort. Trapped in his mysterious manor, the man—the monster—was said to be crueler and more hungry than Death itself. So why then, Harry thought, was the groundskeeper still alive? What sway did Tom Riddle have over Lord Voldemort to stay his wicked hand when Harry had so brazenly trespassed on his lands? Whatever it was, it was not enough. For try as he might, not even Tom could persuade the monster to let Harry leave. That is, Tom challenged, if Harry even wanted to.

Creatures of the Dark we are by @hikarimeroperiddle (E, 28k, complete)

Banished to his cupboard at age 4, Harry learns to listen only to the Voice in his head. Its teachings warp all Harry could have become until no more than dark magic and devotion remains. Visions of a wraith with red eyes complicate matters, especially when Harry and the Voice follow it to Hogwarts so Master can get his hands on the Philosopher’s Stone. Harry can do magic. He can’t do people.

death cheater (are you?) by regulus_little_mermaid (E, 14k, complete)

Tom tries to understand: just because a stranger saves your life a few times doesn't mean you can fall in love with him.

Dulce Et Decorum Est Mori by beetaker (E, 135k, complete)

“I'm glad it's both of us,” Harry said, green eyes somehow greener, the natural brightness in him turning incandescent. “I'm glad we're going together.” “We'll always go together,” Tom said, knowing it as fact, unable to imagine anything different. Wherever he went, Harry was sure to follow. It'd been that way forever. It would surely always be that way.

Extenuating Circumstances by Origin_Of_Symmetry (M, 87k, complete)

“You’re really quite a delight, Harry. I can’t believe I went weeks thinking you were useless and boring.” Somehow, unwittingly, Harry finds himself engaged to Tom Riddle. He’s not entirely sure how that happened.

friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight (E, 28k, complete)

There’s something very unsettling about Tom Riddle. Cedric can’t put a finger on it. Whether it’s the way he moves, all long limbs and eerie fluidity, the dissecting gaze he follows them with, or the way he speaks, with an accent that doesn’t match his manners. Maybe it’s how he drinks in Harry’s presence like a religious zealot, or how his eyes wander over Harry’s body as if he’s seen the skin and flesh underneath before.

gaming buddies by @reggieblk (M, 19k, complete)

All it takes is a rude comment under a YouTube video for Harry and Tom to meet their best friend and, incidentally, the love of their lives. Through thousands of hours of playing Minecraft together, getting to know each other, and finally meeting in real life, it was inevitable they'd fall in love.

Hearthstone Abbey by @ramabear (E, 116k, complete)

Harry follows Thomas Gaunt into his world much like he stepped onto Diagon Alley that first time, wide-eyed and full of wonder. He has no idea what exactly this world has in store for him, but he knows that with Thomas at his side, he is safe and happy for the first time in his whole life. There is someone who will always be there for him, always look after him, always care for him and everything Thomas does just proves that to be true.

In the Shape of Fear, Erised by @rowena-rain (E, 19k, complete)

Harry sneaks into Lupin’s office late at night, determined to banish his recurring nightmares of a certain devastatingly handsome future Dark Lord once and for all. But things quickly spiral into depravity, and before he knows it, Harry is getting thoroughly railed by a boggart in the form of Diary Tom Riddle... Or is it?

in the silence by @satflesk22 (E, 48k, complete)

There's a new student at Hogwarts. And, for some reason, he's decided he's going to be Tom Riddle's best friend. Tom, immortal aspiring Dark Lord, apparently has no say in the matter.

In Their Absence by @mosiva (E, 35k, complete)

“Weird place to hang out, mate,” Harry said, more to break the oppressive silence. There was nothing but the thick hedges, the faintest whisper of a breeze, the grey sky overhead, and Voldemort. “You believe this to be a dream,” Voldemort rasped. “You always were foolish.”

Kudosed, Bookmarked, Subscribed by @maquira713 (E, 79k, complete)

By day, Harry works as a lowly assistant to his boss: the cruel, controlling Tom Riddle. By night, he lives, breathes, and writes fanfiction. And when he's not writing, he's obsessing over the work of his favorite Ao3 author: Lord_Voldemort_. So, of course, it’s only a matter of time before Harry gets caught reading Voldemort’s latest fanfiction at work… by none other than his boss.

Machine Men by @izharmilgram (E, 5k, complete)

Harry discovers Lord Voldemort is transgender, and he's really fucking hung up about it.

rage, rage (against the dying of the light) by MerleBlanc (M, 17k, complete)

1978. Voldemort is winning, bored, and his immortality secured. When a mysterious man appears out of thin air to oppose his Death Eaters, he is more than intrigued by whom the newspapers now nickname the Good Samaritan. Except someone is also stealing his horcruxes one by one, and he has never felt more threatened in his life. Or: Harry just lost his wife, made a deal with Death, travelled from the future to gain back his mortality, and decided to fuck a timeline.

see you soon by @duplicitywrites (E, 9k, complete)

It’s summer, which explains why Tom has all this free time to visit Harry’s flat and place of work, but it does not explain how Tom knows, with unerring accuracy, where Harry is at any given moment. Harry has checked with his coworkers—Tom only ever shows up at Fortescue’s when Harry is the manager on shift.

Shiver, Lustre, Skin by @monsieurclavier (M, 9k, complete)

Harry goes undercover as a bargirl at one of Tom Riddle’s exclusive clubs. Tom has her figured out in approximately one second. Or: In which Tom is a badass Wizarding mob boss and an incorrigible lesbian flirt, and Harry—sassy newbie Auror and secret virgin—is just Tom’s type.

something precious by @mosiva  (E, 16k, complete)

“Fine,” Harry said, giving in to curiosity as he always did. “What is it?” Tom shook the vial, letting the liquid catch the light and send rays scattering over his hand and face. “It’s a love potion,” he said.

Still Into You by @moontearpensfic (E, 29k, complete)

Harry has a stalker. If only he noticed sooner.

Sugar Soaked by @teaandsweaters9 (E, 46k, complete)

Seducing Hepzibah Smith out of her most precious belongings should have been simple. Spend time with her, charm her, drain her for all she’s worth, and move on. Unfortunately for Tom Riddle, Harry Potter, professional savior and amateur waiter, has other plans.

the only heaven by iwasborntired (M, 11k, complete)

“You,” Ginny swallows, and her voice sounds jagged, waves crashing against an uneven shore. “You called out for him, in your sleep.” He does not need her to finish. He knows. It is sick and festered and rotten, and it is true. In the blanket of night, in his dreams, Harry Potter starves. His mouth forms the supplication, a secret scalds the air, and his soul, then and now and always, calls out for Tom Riddle. It is only fair, after so long spent stitched into the fabric of one other.

the righteous dead by @aspengray (T, 40k, complete)

Harry is resurrected, sewn together with thread and magic. He remembers nothing except that he loves his savior, a man named Voldemort.

Thin Skin by @iseliljathedreamer (E, 15k, complete)

The war ended with a conditional surrender where the most powerful wizard alive signed his freedom away for 100 years to a boy of 17 armed with a basilisk tooth and a putrid, poisoned pool, in exchange for secrecy and eternal life. But that was years ago now. Harry thought he'd never get used to having Voldemort living in his house, but he did. Time is a miracle-worker beyond all human comprehension, and yet, there are wounds it remains to heal. Quite literally.

Tom Riddle's DIY Disaster by @sri-verse (E, 13k, complete)

Harry and Tom were the closest two people could be. They always shared everything, no secrets between them.  So, when Tom told Harry about his last orgasm, why was Harry acting all weird? It was granted that Tom would think of him.

Trenches by @shadow-of-the-eclipse (T, 82k, complete)

"Maybe you should kill them," Harry says. He's sitting perched on the stairs, hands clasped together, green eyes watching Tom and his irritating year mates. His form is hazy around the edges, an almost translucent quality to his image. "I can't just kill people," Tom says. "Not in public.” Role-Reversal where Harry is the Dark Lord and Tom Riddle is the Boy-Who-Survived.

two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane (NR, 8k, complete)

Potter is finishing up with his sketch of the craniofacial structure. There is still more of his body to go, and more sessions left, and Tom cannot be sure whether he wants the precise drawings to be more or less—true, at all, if he could even describe them as untruthful. They aren’t beautiful as Tom is in the mirror, but they are still, undeniably, him, with the eye of someone learning to cut people apart and look beneath their skin, still bloodless yet, and—well.

What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries (M, 17k, complete)

Harry is sold at auction to a man who is clearly in some kind of disguise - Lord Riddle isn't as charming as he looks, and the way he looks at Harry...

You By The Shore by @blackseatwenty (E, 19k, complete)

Harry's grown on the island his whole life. He fell in love with a stranger standing alone by the shore. Or is it crazy to believe in love at first sight?

*

[bbokicidal]

Smile For Me .:. Hwang Hyunjin .:. 10/10/2024

Genre : Smut Pairing : Ghostface!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Warnings : Height difference, mention of Hyunjin being physically bigger, stronger, taller, etc., face fucking (hard), rough sex, mirror sex, tiny surprise at the end !!

Notes : Again, a bit of a shorter post but I did my best here. I really had no motivation to write this bc of my brain feeling fried but I wanted to get it out for you guys. Ty for staying tuned. <3

Kinktober Day 4 of 10 : Size Difference w/ Hyunjin

Word Count : 3.3K

Next Post : 10/16/24

"What's a sweet thing like you doing at a party alone?"

The voice is enough to startle you into turning fully around, the drink in your hand sloshing aggressively in your cup and spilling over white knuckles. A gasp escapes your lips to show just how surprised you are by the man suddenly talking behind you. The voice changer definitely flipped a panic switch in your body.

"Well?" He questions.

The man is - well...

He's tall. Very tall, in fact, compared to you. Six foot at least if you had to guess. With broad shoulders and arms hanging down by his sides as he stands before you. The only reason you can even tell he's looking at you is because of the way his head tilts when you still fumble to answer; Though he doesn't seem to understand just yet that it's from both fear and arousal jolting through your limbs at the sight of a Ghostface costume looming over you.

The man's head cocks once more, a gentle nudge in an attempt to get an answer. Subtle prying.

You fumble, spit coating your lower lip as it escapes your teeth. "Just - came to drink."

Stupid answer to a genuine (?) question. Now this man - potentially.. dangerous - knew that you actually were alone and drinking by yourself.

Then again, even if he was potentially dangerous; He was undeniably sexy.

Or maybe that was your inner mask kink screaming.

The man leans in further to close the distance between your bodies, taking one step forward in a heavy combat boot that nearly stepped on the pink of your heel. Your eyes stay on the mask glaring down at you and as he leans in, you get the slightest glimpse of dark eyes hidden beneath the black mesh.

A soft tug pulls on your skirt, and when you look down you realize it's his hand pinching the fabric.

"You got a boyfriend hangin' around here, doll?"

You swallow, every word you thought to say somehow lumping in your throat. What about him was making it so hard to speak?

"I..."

His head tips upwards when someone calls for him, but with your ears ringing and head spinning from the closeness of his warmth - and his heavy cologne weighing down on his costume - you'd never even heard the name called that had summoned him.

He lets out a breath that you swear you can almost feel even if it's trapped behind the mask. Straightening up, looming over you once more, he takes his leave in slow and planned steps around your frame. His hand drags over the soft skin of your thigh as he passes, the leather glove making goosebumps raise in pink.

"Coming..~"

.

The alcohol had taken its toll whether you liked it or not - and it was time to break the seal. Unless you wanted to piss all over the couch.

The drunken contemplation makes you chuckle to yourself, eyes rolling back as your lips split in a silly grin, while your hand escapes the frosted - and spiked - root beer float sitting on the end table. With a soft excuse of your body, you slip off of the couch cushion that had held your weight to make way for the restroom just down the hallway.

It's a little wobble here and there, but you manage to make it to the bathroom door with the sturdy support of the pretty blue walls adorning the campus home. And just as you reach for the doorknob, you realize it's - very close to you. The door is shut, locked actually, and you blink a few times in realization that someone was already in there.

The knob twists once, then jerks away from your hold. You step forward and lull to look up at the poor person you'd disturbed - only to be met with the sight of the familiar slasher from earlier - buttoning the black jeans that he adorns underneath the costume he wears. And you just can't help but stare at the way his long fingers prod at the fabric of the gloves, pushing the button through the hole in the denim and seeing the way the visible bulge beneath the fabric seems to grow more defined.

He sighs out behind the mask, head tipping closer to his shoulder as if analyzing you and just why you're there - yet again in front of him. You can't see it - but his brow cocks behind his mask.

"Pervert."

And you jolt, nearly jumping out of your skin once again at the voice changer. You shudder out a breath, looking up finally at the mask once more. There's a person underneath there, you have to remember. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize." His voice lulls into a soft growl at the end, coming closer to where you stand in the hallway, frozen. You think he'll close the distance once more - but he stops short in the doorway. And you think you're safe.

Until he's lifting an arm to rest against the frame, making himself look even taller than previously. His free hand tucks down into his pocket, pushing up his costume so you can clearly see where it goes.

"But did you need something?"

Your breath hitches in your throat once more, and as you breathe out you end up whining. "I really need to pee."

The man behind the mask pauses. Visibly halts. Before a rumbling chuckle escapes his chest, distorted and cracking with the voice changer. "Alright, can't deny you that right." He steps aside from the frame and gestures into the bathroom. "To your throne, my lady."

It was at that moment that you realized - even if he was a hot masked man at a Halloween party - he was definitely a loser in a hot body.

.

One hour later is when you finally spot it.

You see him; out of the corner of your eye, lurking by the kitchen island and facing your direction as to see if you'll catch him looking directly at you. He's making it blatantly obvious that he's staring and that's what he's trying to do - wanting to gauge your reaction, see if you'll notice and catch on.

And when you do, you stare back for a moment as your friend babbles to a man beside her about some group drama happening the week prior.

He doesn't move.

Your head slowly tips to the left, his mirroring to the right. And you're very sure then that he's keeping his eyes on you and waiting for you to make a move.

The buzz in your chest could be from the alcohol - or the bubbling arousal that had already begun to seep towards your core.

Turning from your spot and gently slipping past your friend, you make your way back towards the hallway you had previously met him in. Pausing at the entrance, you turn to look over your shoulder and see him slipping away from his own friends to trail after your retreating form.

Like he'd let you get away that easily.

.

Your body is so compliant with him - bending to his every will and leaning into his touch even if it's not skin to skin. Your throat burns from where he had his hand wrapped around it, fingers tight enough to make you worry about the lack of air slipping down your trachea and into your lungs. But nothing - can draw your attention away from the heat pooling between your thighs - and the way his free hand had already slipped down to caress the softness of your center. It's as if he's attempting to ease the ache, even if he's only making it worse.

Your hands had just found home on his sides when he had begun to push down on your throat; But not in a way that restricted breathing. He was guiding you down towards the ground and your body, ever wanting, once again complied.

Sinking to your knees and letting your hands drag from his sides to his hips, the man above you looks - far larger than he ever had that evening. Looming? No. Towering over you now. With thick, heavy thighs right in your face and a bulge pressing against the denim of his jeans, he bunches the length of the costume in one hand and tucks it into the sides of the denim waistband so it's out of the way. Easy access, he's sure, watching as you sit so patiently in front of his pulsing cock.

He sighs out once more and lowers his head in a sharp nod, gesturing for you to do the work. You seem happy enough to do so - fingers fumbling with the button you'd stared at earlier in the night and tugging at the fly of his jeans. It rips downwards and he has to sway forward at the way you so eagerly pull the denim down his thighs, revealing tight briefs that outline his cock so perfectly.

And you can tell even without looking right at it that he's big.

He's almost surprised at the way you tug on his waistband, yanking the black fabric down as far as you can without completely stripping him. Hovering just above his knees, the fabric pulls at the simple mass of the muscle it wraps around.

The sight of his cock is godly.

Perfectly straight, pink at the tip with a slit leaking pre that just begs to be touched by your tongue. Thick and so heavy that it weighs down, refusing to touch the fabric covering his lower torso.

"What are you waiting for, slut?"

The moment he spots your tongue sliding out along your bottom lip - the softest hint of parted lips - he's pushing his cock into your mouth and down your throat.

The back of your head bumps the wall as spit drips from your pretty, plump lips - pooled on the back of your tongue just from the earlier sight of his cock waiting to be smothered by your walls; Your throat. You huff out and a soft whine of pain rings from your vocal cords, but he can't truly be bothered too much to care.

The feeling of his cock weighing heavy on your tongue is enough to drown out any pain you'd felt from the simple bump and grind of his hips pressing your head into the wall behind you. He rolls forward, slow, the tip of his pretty length rubbing against the back of your throat in an effort to make you gag. And when you do, he chuckles - the sound still distorted and crackling with use.

And though he'd just filled your throat without care for the ache that the stretch created against your cheeks - He did care about your safety, and was kind enough to slide a gloved hand down the back of your skull. It's resting there, gentle at first; Before he's fisting locks of your hair between his fingers and using it as leverage to thrust his hips right up against your face. Over, and over. And over. Until you're choking on his cock and spit is dripping down your chin in a foamy froth that, to him, proves just how much you're willing to give

He may be playing nice for just a moment, but it doesn't last too long as he pulls you in closer to him and buries your nose against the dark, coarse, curly hair bunched at the base of his length.

He grins behind the mask, chuckling again when he finally lets go of you and allows you to remove yourself from his cock. Your gasps fill his chest with -- pride? The feeling swells, feeling as though it might burst from the way you sit back against the wall and look up at him with glossy eyes that silently beg for more.

"Come here, pretty girl."

Reaching down, large hands grasp at your sides to pull you to your feet. Your knees ache, bruised from the ground you'd been pushed and pulled against as his cock violated your throat for what felt like at least twenty minutes - even if it had really only been just over five.

"Right there. That's right." He maneuvers you with ease, turning your body away from him so you can bend yourself over the side of the mattress in the middle of the room. The scent of the sheets is wildly familiar - a sudden memory of your friend Chris entering your head. He'd worn a cologne just like this at a party the previous weekend. And as you peek open your eyes, you realize you've seen these sheets before.

Of course it was his room you'd wandered into so blindly.

The memory of your dear friend escapes almost as soon as it comes, washed from your mind as the man behind you - above you - around you - leans down close enough so his chest can press against the swell of your back. His hands snake around the warmth of your sides, feeling over the pink of your dress as he hums in a low tone behind the mask. The sound is muffled - muted, to you - but it's made so painfully obvious by the way his chest vibrates with every low sound that escapes him.

His hands press further, running over the expanse of your ribcage before gripping at your body to pull you back. It's a quick jerking motion, one that makes you tumble back into him and fall to your elbows on the sheets you had spent nights in before. A sound escapes, a gasp of shock and relief as his bare cock slides against your panties from behind.

The man seems fond of your body, as if appreciating it while his hands run over your form. They leave your abdomen to lull higher, cupping the swell of your breasts and giving a subtle squeeze that leaves you wanting more - just as he pulls them away. He removes himself from above you, the lack of warmth making you lift your head and whimper in soft complaint.

You find yourself staring into a mirror - directly across from where he had laid you on the bed. Perched on your elbows, back arched, ass up for him. You can see clear as day the way his hand slides over your rear and down your thigh, reaching to hook a finger in your panties and pull back on them until he can let go and let the lace snap against your dripping slit.

The sound that leaves your lips is to die for.

His finger hooks back in the lace and pulls, this time to the side so he can move his hips in and press the tip of his cock to your pretty little hole. Waiting for him, dripping slick that leaks down your thighs and clenching around nothing as your body aches for him. Yearns for him.

You don't even know who he is and yet you're so desperate.

"Fuck -- Yes," You breathe heavy, your body gently lulling forward in a sway as he presses into your gummy walls with ease. It's a tight fit for him - he can't deny that - and it really is something he'd never forget. His body aches for more; Craves for more. So he snaps his hips forward almost immediately in a way that causes you to cry out louder than before.

He huffs, chest rising and falling in quick motions underneath the costume he wore. He couldn't help the way he breathed so heavy, especially with the mask on and wanting to keep it for a while longer so you would remain guessing and wanting to know who he is.

His hips snap in quick succession. His hands, rid of the gloves after he'd thrown them aside in anger that he couldn't properly feel the curves of your body with them on, grip tight at your his. His fingertips dig in and he uses his hold to pull you back onto his cock as he rocks forward, every motion so quick that even watching in the mirror is one big blur for you.

The way he snaps his cock into your walls, tip pressing to your cervix and kissing at it every other push; The way his body begins to drop down closer to yours the more he ruts into you in desperation for release.

He's nearly flush to your back now; Moaning and huffing and panting out in want for more, even if he's rutting his hips against your own as fast as he possibly can, the poor bed frame squeaking beneath the force he places down upon you.

But he refuses to give in so easily. That - or he gives up.

Sitting up and lifting a hand to the mask, his fingers curl in the black fabric and pull hard, ripping it from his head and shoulders. The reveal renders you speechless - the soft moans previously leaving your lips now silent as you stare up at him in admiration.

Hwang Hyunjin ; A quieter, kinder boy you'd only known from a Biology class the two of you shared. He sat kitty-corner to you at a table next to Chris, bumping their knees together to annoy the senior and giggling when Changbin - another senior of his - threw paper balls at the back of his head during class.

He always seemed so... booksmart. Nerdy. Dorky.

The reveal of his perfectly structured face glistening with a thin sheen of sweat really proved the fact that he is a loser in a hot body.

But you'd be straight lying to yourself if you said you didn't fucking love the way sweat began to bead and drip down the sides of his face, pooling and falling from his chin in a way that proved his effort.

"Oh my -- God," You choke on your words, staring up at your classmate through the mirror painting the wall across from you.

Plump lips curl into a knowing smirk. You hadn't suspected it to be him - Had you? You'd never seen the confident, sexually charged side of him that came out when he was outside of class - partying or dancing or rapping with his friends at karaoke. The cocky bastard that wanted the girl no one could get. (Oh, wait. That's you.)

"No need to keep staring, baby," He chuckles, his voice finally cleared of the distortion and truly his own. Low, raspy. As if he'd just woken up. "I'll find a way to make this moment last forever."

While your lips part in questioning and a soft sound leaves your throat to give him a shy reply, his fingers curl into your hair from behind. The locks, thick and heavy with sweat from the events of the night, tangle between thick knuckles that grip so tight you're sure he's never going to let go. Hyunjin tugs - no, pulls - back on your head to let your back arch in a way that made you nearly scream in pleasure as he continued pounding his hips into your own.

"C'mon. Come here, baby."

Pulling just a little more taught, Hyunjin lets himself slump forward. HIs chest presses just barely to your shoulders as he leans down, free hand slinging around to your front holding a small black camera that looks as if it'd come straight out of 2009.

As the camera clicks to life and the red light blinks in warning that the flash is coming your way, Hyunjin snakes his hand down from your hair to wrap around your throat instead. Your face, flushed and painted red with want and admiration, is in clear view of the small screen on the opposite side of the camera. "That's it..."

Hyunjin coos, biting into his lower lip as his thumb presses a bit harder down on the shutter button.

The red light blinks again and the flash springs to life, blinding you momentarily as if your sex-ridden haze wasn't enough.

"Smile for me, baby."

Taglist : @crybabykurominho @softkisshyunjin @minniesverse @dwaekkicidal @lixies-favorite-cookie @bookheadeily @jeonginsleftcheek @madkati @jisunglyricist @millseyes-world @warpedspirit @lovetaroandtaemin @ka0ila

@jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

[thewolfisyou]

What do the colors Pink and Yellow mean In Deltarune?

So I can't be the only one who has noticed a pattern with these colors? Specifically in relation to things that are 'corrupted' or odd.

You first see it with spamtons glasses. Its the only color (save his red blush marks) on the guy. It's good character design, and its funny when you find out he's wearing a bad swatch cosplay, so of course he got the colors wrong. I also didn't think about it at the time, but neo also has bits of yellow and pink. (on his chest and as apart of his wing) Sure the main color is a deeper shade of pinkish purple, but that certain shade of pink. #FCAEC8 or Flamingo Pink. Is always next to the yellow in his design.

The only other enigma that has these two colors is FRIEND, that image we saw in Queens basement that flashed for a split second, we see its face again during Ralsei's explanation of what dark then dark actually means in chapter 3. Then we see it again, this time as ADDS for the chapter 3 secret boss.

A game we can only play with a pink and yellow controller.

It's interesting that in game its described as either an ugly shade of pink, or an ugly combo of colors to have together.

Yellow is a well known color in the undertale universe. It's the color of Justice, It's heart effect acts like a gun or Shooter mode. (spamtons Big shot) but there is no known mode for pink because its not apart of the seven core soul colors. In fact its not even close to the same saturated colors. It's shade is way off.

So this means FRIEND is what? Mike? Or what was on the other side of the phone? if yellow and pink are colors of corruption, it explains why Spamton has them now and not when he was a BIG SHOT success. Right?

Maybe, I thought the same before I played chapter 4. Because that chapter hints that Pink could actually have a different meaning completely.

Because I lied, Spamton and FRIEND ain't the only characters with this color combo.

But what the heck could Asgore and Spamton have in common. (yes divorce jokes aside) Simple. Their both stuck in place, unable to move on because they keep looking back to a happier 'better' time. Both feel wronged and seek Justice in a sense, Spamton wanting freedom and revenge for being abandoned, Asgore wanting to prove what he did in the past was right and for the best for everyone, and if he can just prove that things will go back to how they were. We can even join this cycle by going through with getting the shadow mantle, which in term leads to Ramb, the guy who opened the way to the secret boss, being LOST instead of just turned to stone at the end of the chapter. At his encouragement of course, to play something Kris would have loved to play during that 'better time' in their life.

Pink isn't corruption, its Nostalgia Not bad in itself, but when connected to yellow, Justice becomes entitlement for a better time, at the detriment of everyone else.

FRIEND itself might not have these literal goals, but seems to almost feed off these feels of Toxic Nostalgia.

[seros-girl]

4. reassuring

katsuki bakugo x f!reader

pt. 1, 2, 3

Warnings: smut, theres a p link attached (have to be logged into X to watch!!) angst, tension

you sat in bakugo’s room as he got a few more reps in. he lifted the weight as you stared at him, admiring him.

his arm (the scarred one) starts to shake and thats when you know he’s at his limit. he puts it down and huffs out loudly.

“done kats?” you asked him as you admired his body. 4 months in and you still cant get your mind to comprehend that THE katsuki bakugo is your boyfriend.

graduation is around the corner, about a month out. he nods his head and puts the weight away in the corner of his dorm.

he looks at you and tackles you as you let out a series of giggles. “oof kats youre heavy” you huff out as you push at his strong chest.

he leans up slightly and captures your mouth with his. you cup his face immediately and kiss back. his hands roam your sides as you pull him in closer.

he hums against your lips as you scratch his bare, muscly back. his hands move under your (his) shirt and you hum in delight, bucking your hips upward.

he breaks the kiss as he looks down at you, lips swollen. both your faces are flushed as you pull him back in for more.

he lets out a groan as you tug on his hair and you let a small whine slip from your lips at the sound of it.

to put it bluntly, in the 4 (maybe six if we count those 2 months of situationship) months you and bakugo have been dating, you havent had sex.

its not like the two of you were craving it . what you had going on was great and wholesome, the occasional make out in his room at late hours of the night, but otherwise innocent and pure.

you wanted him to be completely ready, considering he is still a virgin. he breaks the kiss and breathes heavily.

you can tell he’s worked up, its pressed up against your thigh.

“im ready” he breathes out as he locks eyes with you. “yea?” you ask softly as you grab ahold of his face, him melting at your touch.

“yea” he nods firmly. “okay” you smiled bringing him in for a kiss. “okay” he mumbles against your lips as he hooks his arms under your knees and lifting you up effortlessly.

your lips never leave each other as he walks near the top of his bed and sets you down gently. he tugs on the shirt and he pulls it over your head, leaving you in lace lingerie.

its orange as bakugo leans back to admire it. “you are ethereal” he murmurs as he leans in to kiss your neck, sucking here and there making you let out small whimpers.

“and you sound so pretty too fuck” he says against your neck. his hands tugs at your lingerie, relishing it. “you wear this for me?” he mumbles as he presses small kisses to the exposed skin of your boobs.

“its so pretty, but i have to remove this” he says as he moves his hand around your body to unclasp your bra.

your boobs fall freely from the hold your bra had them in and his pupils dilate. he touches one and you gasp.

he kisses you again as you move your hands to help him rid of his gym shorts. his underwear being orange was so funny you burst out laughing.

“hey were matching!” you exclaimed happily and continued laughing. “youre adorable shut up” he says kneeding one of your boobs in his hand.

he gets rid of your orange thong and lets his hands wander around. you gasp at bakugo splitting your lips apart snd gathering your wetness.

“geez youre so wet baby” he murmers against your lips as his fingers wander towards your entrance. he pushes one in and starts to finger you to prep you.

he did his research (not in that way) about what to do. his thumb presses up against your clit as he moves in slow circles around your bundle of nerves.

“oh kats!” you moan out as you wrap your arms around his back, scratching. “fuck” you whine out as he sets a pace with his fingers.

as soon as you were about to cum he pulls his fingers out and you whine. “no” you said as you pull katsuki in for a kiss.

he removes his underwear and pulls away to open his bedside drawer. he pulls out a box of unopened condoms.

he struggles to rip open the plastic off of it, as he is visibly nervous. he finally gets it off and practically rips the box open.

you giggle as you lay there, legs spread open, waiting for him. you look down at his dick and just woah. you look up at him as he rips the foil open with his teeth.

“youre beautiful” you said softly placing a hand on his abs. he rolls the condom on as he looks at you. “im nervous” he admits to you as you grab a hold of his forearms.

“its okay baby” you whisper to him brushing his hair away from his face. he nods his head as he grabs your hand, gripping it tightly.

you adjust your hips so your legs are spread wider. with his free hand he grabs his dick and aligns it with your entrance.

he slowly pushes in as you both wince, the stretch burning. he is definitely bigger than iida. he moves slowly, inch by inch, your pussy allowing him in.

once he’s completely in, he hangs his head low, regaining his balance. he lets out a groan as you squeeze around him.

“you feel so nice” he says as he slowly starts moving. you wrap your legs around his waist as he kisses your neck.

he slowly moves in and out as you both let out a series of moans and groans. he sets a fatser pace as he grows confident.

“youre so big kats” you moan and he looks at you, stilling his movements. “gosh i love you” he says moving again and you gasp as he kisses you.

one at this new angle he had you in. your back arch as he held onto you tightly as he rutted into you.

two at the fact he said he loves you.

“i love you too kats” you were able to babble out as he smirks against your nipple. he sucks softly, swirling his tongue around. his mouth never leaving your nipple.

“kats im gonna-“ “let it out, im right behind you” he murmurs against your nipple going back to sucking. you let out a moan as the coil finally snaps and your legs shake.

bakugo cums into the condom as he gently thrusts a couple of times, letting the both of you ride out your high.

he stays inside you for a moment as you both catch your breaths. he looks up to look at you. “i mean it” he says breathless.

you look up at him and softly smile. “i know” you start pressing a small kiss to his lips as he pulls out, disposing of the condom. “i mean it too” you pull him into a hug as he collapses on top of you.

💥💥💥💥

“you nasty” kaminari whispers to you the next day and you look at him. “good morning to you to denks” you said rolling your eyes playfully.

“how…” denki trails off mimicking with his hands what he’s trying to indicate. “look who’s nasty now” you started scooping up a bite of your cereal.

“and gay, ky come get your man!” you called out as you smiled at denki and walked away to put your bowl in the sink, washing it.

“what’d he do now?” jiro asked as she walked in and grabbed denki’s arm like a child. “eavesdropped on me and bakugo” you said and averted your eyes.

“asked what his size was” you mumur that last part and she gasps. “oh my- MINA!” she calls out walking out of the kitchen to find her.

denki pushes you out as the girls somehow, within the span of 2 seconds, all found out. they grab you, dragging out of the dormitory complex and on the walk to UA.

“bakuwhore is no longer a virgin!” mina exclaims as she shakes your shoulders. “way to go!” she says squealing.

“wait why are you so excited mina?” you asked laughing. “lets just say my man owes me money now” she winked and you all laughed.

“this is great! we all have men, were graduating soon, life cannot be any better!” hagakure squeals in excitement.

you all stopped and looked at each other. “WHEN DID YOU GET A MAN?” you all let out at the same time.

she makes herself visible, her green hair bouncing slightly. “uhhhh” she says blushing as she looks at the boys who are not far off from you guys.

“one hint: elbows” she says and runs away. you all look at each other as you all think of who. “its sero guys” momo says and you all let out an “oh!” together.

“get back here toru!” ochako yelled out as you all ran after her. “what are they running for?” sero asks the guys and they all shrug their shoulders. “girls being girls i guess” shoto shrugs.

you all make it into class 3A, panting. “dude were heroes in training why are we so out of breath” mina says placing her hands on her knees, regaining her breath.

you stumble into the seat in front of sero, “i dont know man we gotta run more often” you huff out as you lean your head against the desk.

tsu sits in her seat, unbothered. “tsu you arent tired?” ochako questions her and she shakes her head no.

“i have the characteristics of a frog remember, ribbit” tsu says and you all look at her with envy. the boys walk in and denki immediately laughs as soon as he sees you all huffing and puffing.

“denks” jiro starts and he looks at her. “yes m’lady” he says dramatically as he leans in closer to her. “laugh again and this is going in your ear” she says raising her one earphone jack up, threatening.

he backs up muttering a “yes honey” and hides behind kirishima. “man up dude” he says shaking his head. he kisses mina’s head and sits on her desk as she stands in between his legs.

the class starts to fill up as you all wait for mr. aizawa to come in and start homeroom. you sit on bakugo’s desk and smirk up at him.

“you got a little something right there” you tease pointing to his neck. you left two little hickeys just to make sure that everyone knows he’s taken.

“i believe you do too” he mutters and looks at your neck. you have one near your pulse, but most of them littered your chest, which are covered.

“you freak” you whispered to him and he cocks his head to the side. “oh so im the freak” he taunts and thats when mr. aizawa comes in.

you all immediately fly into your seats. “good morning mr. aizawa” you all said in sync as you slouch in your seat slightly.

your legs still kind of hurt from last night. “today were doing basic training” he calls out and lets the cases come out from the wall.

“with class B” he smirks as you all let out happy cheers. “instead of like the joint training where its about 4-5 people in one group, we’ll be doing two v two” he explains.

“now get changed and meet in ground beta where you do the hero basic training with all might yearly” he says and you all get up and grab your cases.

you all quickly change and meet outside ground beta to find class B, vlad king, and all might. “we’ll be pairing you up randomly, draw slots!” vlad king said holding out the cases.

half of class A and B lined up drawing different balls. you dug your hand in and picked a random ball. you look down and see its iida’s picture.

“can i switch?” you asked vlad king. he shakes his head no and you sighed walking off. “who’d you get?!” sero shook your shoulders as you showed him the ball.

“oooooo” he and kirishima let out and you rolled your eyes. you threw the ball at iida and he catches it. the teams are as is:

round 1:

ochako & tsu vs kodai & honenuki

round 2:

sato & tokoyami vs kuroiro & komori

round 3:

izuku & shinso vs kendo & ibara

round 4:

sero & ojiro vs tsunotori & tsuburaba

round 5:

kirishima & mina (ironically) vs tetsutetsu & monoma

round 6:

bakugo & momo vs tokage & awase

round 7:

you & iida vs kaibara & shishida

round 8:

shoji & shoto vs yanagi & bondo

round 9:

jiro & hagakure vs rin & fukidashi

round 10:

mineta & kaminari vs kamikiri & shoda

“you happy with who you got?” you asked bakugo as you bumped your hip with yours. “least its not iida or the creep” he says looking down at you.

“dont turn this into a fight between you two okay?” he asks you and you nod as he softly places a kiss on your lips.

“were fighting ponytails boyfriend, should be interesting” he smirks as you laugh. “im up against kaibara & shishida, mine should be interesting too” you sighed out softly.

“round 5 will now begin shortly” present mic announces and you look up at bakugo. “hey its a rematch with both of them remember!” you said excitedly.

he leans down and plants a kiss on your lips. “goodluck” you said looking up at him with adoration. he walks in with momo as you watch through the cameras, everything going on.

you spot iida staring at you and you move away towards ochako. “you did so good!” you squealed hugging her tight.

“that concludes round 5! team bakugo wins!” present mic announced 6 minutes later as bakugo and momo walk out, high-fiving each other.

“that fast!” you said hugging him as he smirks. “‘m the best” he whispers to you. “damn right you are” you smiled so big at him.

“round 6 will begin shortly” present mic says as you sigh. “wish me luck?” you asked him and he nods. he kisses your head and you walk off, trailing behind iida.

“whats the plan?” he asks you and you sigh out. “well shishida can turn into a beast whereas kaibara can turn any part of his body into basically a drill” you recall off the top of your head.

“he’s more for close combat” you stop walking and turn to iida. “i have a plan” you said smirking and walking even further. “care to share or ya gonna keep it to yourself” he scoffs looking away.

“just follow along” you spit out. “i broke up with mei” he says and you roll your eyes. “i heard” you said trying really hard to ignore him.

“she doesnt seem too heart broken” you said as you recall you met with her earlier in the week. “she seems like her cheery usual self” you shrugged. “dont think she’ll upgrade your stuff for you ever again though” you stifle a laugh.

“i seriously dont get why you called it quits with her. seriously she’s a great woman, youre gonna need from her soon and you’ll regret tainting that relationship you had with her” you continue and he can only listen.

“i called it off with her because i didnt think it was fair to her” he said crossing his arms against his chest.

“how so?” you said wanting him to elaborate. “if i still have those feelings for you, i want them to dissipate before being with someone else” he says truthfully.

you turn to look at him, “and have they?” you asked. he sighs out, “not yet” his blue eyes looking down into yours. “well work on that” you said continuing to walk.

“why do you have to say it like that?” he asks you, giving slight attitude. “do i need to remind you?” you snapped back and he tenses.

“sorry for that by the way” he apologizes and you roll your eyes. “believe me dude im over it” you said as you sneaked around.

no sight of kaibara or shishida.

“your quirk isn’t compatible with mine, you picked the wrong ball” he complained and you slowly turn to look at him.

“oh im sorry, I COULDNT SEE WHICH ONE I WAS PICKING IIDA” you hissed at him and he backed away.

the cameras were catching all of this. mr. aizawa only sighed as he looked and heard everything. “not the place or time” he muttered.

“so how big was his?” he asks and you stop walking. “excuse me?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

bakugo looks at the screen horrified. class B listens in and mr. aizawa sighed even louder. “should we call the match off?” he turns to vlad king.

“shhh were listening” present mic waves it off. kaibara comes up behind you and stops all movement.

“wait shit- SHISHIDA COME HERE!” he calls out as he looks excited for some drama. shishida rounds the corner and listens in as well.

“cant be bigger can it?” iida taunts. you dont know where iida got the nerve, but you were mad.

“what gives you the damn right” you said starting to walk closer to him as he stands his ground. “to be asking about my sex life. why do you care so much? why cant you just leave me alone?!” you asked him practically yelling.

“YOU rejected ME” you remind him and he scoffs. “still bringing that up?” he asks, looking down at you. “YES because youre standing here looking stupid. its funny that you rejected me and i moved on and im happy for once and youre still here bitching to me” you said ready to physically attack him.

“do you love him?” he asks you and you only look up at him in disbelief. “do i love him? of course i fucking love him” you said scoffing. you lunged at iida as kaibara grabbed your waist and held you back.

“never talk to me ever again” you pointed your finger at him. “if the last time wasnt clear enough, i hope this is” you said as mr. aizawa called off the round.

you walk out of the building as everyone tries to stop you. you close yourself in as your tears slipped down your face. you walk off towards the locker rooms as you silently sob to yourself.

your tears are of embarrassment. embarrassed because your future colleagues and most importantly, your friends heard it all.

you sit on the bench as your body shakes. you struggle to breathe as you wipe your face. the door opens and in walks bakugo.

“hey” he says softly, taking offnhis gauntlets and moving to sit next to you. you lean your head on his shoulder as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“why are you crying, talk to me” he says softly as you struggle to breathe. “he embarrassed me” you managed to say and he sighs.

“mr. aizawa is making sure he receives punishment whether he’s class president or not” he strokes your hair as your breathing starts to even out.

“youre bigger” you mutter into his shoulder as he leans down to hear it again. “what was that?” he asks and you chuckle softly. “i said youre bigger” you laugh now as he joins in with you.

“i love you” he says rubbing circles onto your hip. “and i love you” you said moving up to connect your lips with his.

“im sorry he embarrassed you like that” he says and you shake your head. “‘s not your fault baby” you smiled softly at him.

“that better be the last time he talks to you, if not i’ll blow his ass up” he threatens and you pat his chest. “tone it down honey” you giggled.

“i swear im over him” you said after a moment of silence. “i know” he nods his head. “okay” you whisper softly to him. “alright bakugo get out or youre gonna see boobs other than your girls” jiro announces the girls presence.

he quickly stands as you giggle. he picks up his gauntlets and walks out, telling the girls he’s sorry. “that boy lovesssss you” mina squealed and all the girls form small talk.

💥💥💥💥

3 weeks later, youre in the lab with bakugo as mei fixes up his gauntlets. “oh y/n! guess what” she sing songs as she works.

“what!” you squeal in excitement. “im going on a date this weekend!” she says excitedly. “oh my all might- WITH WHO!” you get making your way over to her.

“someone from the hero course, not class A though the boys in there are drama” she huffs out and bakugo mutters a thanks.

“so from class B then” you urge her to continue and she smiles. “he came in for something the other day and ugh gosh he’s so cute!” she squeals.

you forget that as much as mei was a nerd and lives in the labs, she’s a girl at heart. “its uh-“ she giggles softly.

“sen kaibara” she smiles at you. “awwwwwww!! he’s such a sweetheart oh im so happy for you!” you exclaimed pulling her into a side hug while she works.

“i love tenya, but im not gonna wait around for him until he figures out what he wants” she scoffs and you nod in understanding.

“and i mean if this thing with sen doesnt work out, theres always the single life” she suggests and you nod.

“alright all done bakuhoe!” she says as bakugo makes his way towards her. “not my name” he mutters and she nods her head.

“i know just think its funny” she laughs as she kicks the both of you out of her lab, politely. “you have to tell me all about it!” you said to her on your out.

“yes and tell izuku to come meet me in the lab!” she calls out as bakugo thanks her. “izuku why?” he asks you. “not sure why” you shake your head.

“i love you” you said looking up at him. you held onto his bicep lovingly. “you make me crazy” he admits and kisses you.

for @kekeanna266 & @thisisgoodsoup i love you guys 🫶🫶

[peeweekey]

super graphic ultra-modern girl like me!

pairing: haley x reader

wc: 2k

tags: mature (NOT explicit) , closeted lesbian haley , both of you are drunk , making out

synopsis: where sharing lipstick with your best friend haley makes you feel… things.

a/n: reader: oh ho ho, i sure hope kissing my bff doesnt awaken anything in me! (it did)

i wrote this listening to super graphic ultra modern girl by chappel roan! haley fits so many of her songs its insane

your head is aching, spinning like you were sent to another dimension that consists of disco flashing lights and the nauseating smell of spilt vodka—all thanks to the sheer amount of alcohol you consumed in the past 5 hours. it’s pushing 3 AM—the strappy 4 inch heels are chafing your feet, the skimpy skirt clinging to your hips ride up in a way that would scandalize the small village mothers, and body glitter covering every inch of your skin. 

you feel light, weightless as you flutter and float through the rhythmic bass engulfing the club. you nod your head to the beat of the music, swaying your hips that loosen with every sip of the sweet alcoholic drink in your hand. 

you’re bouncing up and down to party rock anthem when your phone buzzes. fishing it out of your pocket, you squint your eyes to make out the notification. you bow your head, trying to make out the message over the flashing lights.

an amused laugh bubbles out of you. haley.

—> go 2 thr bathroon rn

—> hurry or else

you turn and wobble out of the middle of the dance floor, swaying to the beat while maneuvering the sea of sweaty bodies. the bathroom is in an isolated corner by the entrance of the club. you push the door open, stumbling slightly when it takes a little less effort than you expect.

you enter the club bathroom, shutting the ornate door behind you. it slams with a resounding slam, dampening the loud candy pop songs blaring through the party outside. 

your heels click against cool marble as you saunter to the long, seemingly endless, stretch of mirrors and faucets. twisting the knob, a rush of tap water flows freely; it contrasts satisfyingly with the heated skin of your hands. you wet your fingers, dabbing your cheeks and neck with cool water. you sigh, shivering with the instant relief it brings.

as you cool yourself off, you think—you do wonder what haley’s predicament is, she texted you with much urgency. 

perhaps she fell into the toilet—or maybe she’s drunk herself to the point of spewing her guts out in one of these very cubicles. the latter though makes you giggle. a notification buzzes from your phone, as if the sound of your laughter summoned it.

—> idiot

—> i can hear u laughing from here

you snort.

suddenly, without warning, you feel a warm hand pull you into a stall. it’s a sudden jerking motion, and you almost lose your balance to fall flat on your face. a gasp rips out of you as you clutch on to the very warm, very soft thing that keeps you from falling and twisting your ankle. before you even register the situation, you’re being dragged in to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. 

you’re frazzled, knocked off balance by a rude and very disrespectful stranger who obviously has no morals. you feel your blood boil, ruthless insults ready at the tip of your tongue—

—then you look up, and that feeling dissipates. instead, a cheshire grin splits your face, “haley.”

she’s the living breathing stereotype of a wild party girl like this; blonde hair in waves down her back that smells sweetly of strawberries, nails buffed and painted a pretty baby blue, and make-up done up to the absolute nines. her sequin skirt sparkles and winks as she shifts. pretty, you’ll ask if you could borrow it next time—

manicured fingers snap and you’re pushed out of your own thoughts. haley crosses her arms, standing in between your thighs, looking down at you with a displeased expression. “took you long enough.”

you offer a sheepish smile. “i was busy.”

“yeah,” she sneers, locking the stall door behind her. “busy shaking your ass to trashy zuzu club songs.” 

you ignore the sharp jab with a roll of your eyes. “what’s up?” you ask, your words slur slightly, almost tapering off into incomprehensible gibberish. “didya you puke or something?”

“ew. no,”the loud is just making my head hurt,” she replies, massaging her temples. “stick your legs together, i’m gonna sit on your lap.”

she knocks your thighs together with her knee. haley maneuvers you to her liking, your bare thighs pressing together when she spins and sits perpendicular to your lap.

“hm.” you feel the weight of her settle on top of your thighs. the warmth of her skin meeting yours under the cut of her skirt. you barely repress a shiver at the heat radiating off her skin. “woah! okay now you really have to tell me what’s going on.”

you're met with a faceful of strawberry-scented blonde hair when she shifts away—ignoring you. good news for her, your drink-addled brain doesn’t seem to care. in fact, your drunk brain figures it is a perfect time to shamelessly flirt. your tongue is loose enough, and your brain has completely thrown away its filter. as friends, of course; building camaraderie as people say.

“you smell nice, did you use that strawberry shampoo i gave?” you murmur, brushing the locks away from your face. you feel haley squirm in your lap. you know she used it, the pride bubbles up in you at the thought. 

it’s overly warm, that plus the buttloads of alcohol brewing in your gut makes your skin feel on fire. 

haley growls. “stop talking, dumbass.”

you roll your eyes, pinching her thigh. she yelps, high and breathy, swatting your hand away. she meets your eyes, her blonde brows furrowed.

“geez…” a lazy smile playing on your lips. “just take the compliment, hales.”

a ghost of a smirk appears on her cherry colored lips. glossy and pink. you wonder if they taste as sweet and tart as real cherries do—

you wince internally. thinking like that is not a good idea. damn your alcohol foggy brain, making you think of the inane idea of lusting after your best friend. 

you knock your forehead into her shoulder. “so are we just going to sit here all day?”

“i just need to touch up my lipstick,” she says. facing you with an expectant look. “then we can go back.”

“and that’s why you called me,” you raise a brow. your gaze trails to the cherry coat on her lips—it looks perfectly fine to you. in fact, she looks absolutely darling like this. 

“you need some?”

“…are you offering?”

“why not? we share all my shit anyway,” you shrug. “i think it’s somewhere in my purse—”

“where’s your purse?”

“i left it with the others, i think it’s with abby, i'll text her.” you say. fumbling for your phone, you reach in the hidden pocket of your skirt. the walls enclosing the cubicle restrict your movements; you bump your elbow against the flimsy wood as you dig deeper into the flimsy pocket. your skirt is skin-tight against your hips, you feel the woman above becoming increasingly agitated as your attempts to fish out your phone come out fruitless.

haley huffs above you, shifting; making your wary gaze snap back to her. she looks down at you with a pout—you’re damn sure she’s just as hammered as you.

“too far,” she whines, taking a firm grip of your jaw. your cheeks puff with the force of her squishing them, you feel the pointed tips of her nails digging into the fat there. she swings a leg over you, her hips bracketing your waist as she sits atop you. 

this position feels strangely intimate; like all your senses are overwhelmed with only haley. the heady scent of her skin, the short sounds of her breathing in your ears, the burning feeling wherever she touches—it’s all her, her, her.

which shouldn’t make you feel the way it’s making you feel; like you're buzzing with adrenaline. you feel the blood coursing through your veins at race car speeds—spreading all throughout your body. your cheeks feel hot, you feel dizzy with all your senses stimulated by your best friend.

the reverberating bass from the music outside shakes the walls; like some sort of finality as it thumps, thumps, thumps.

“hales,” you start, your mouth dry. “what—”

she stares at you, her crystalline eyes shining in the dim light of the bathroom. a pretty pink flush paints her cheeks til the tips of her pearl-adorned ears. you feel her breaths against your cheek—short and warm. “stay still, the gloss you have on your lips will do.”

your ears have to be fucking with you… your eyes widen and you swear you feel your heart jump up into your throat. “huh—”

“what?” she says in response to your wide-eyed expression. her tone drops to something akin to a purr. “your lipstick is such a pretty shade.”

helping is what friends are for, right? maybe this is merely the alcohol talking; because she doesn’t like you like that, totally—and the disappointment you feel is not because of that either. 

you swallow the heavy lump in your throat; your voice is strangled and stuttery when you speak. “f—fine.”

“perfect,” she grins. “hold still.”

this is the least you were expecting when you walked into the club bathroom; who knew you’d end up with haley in your lap and hovering over for what is technically a kiss. you will your eyes not to close, burning the view of her leaning over you into your brain. you shudder; this is not a sight that will leave you for months to come.

you squeeze her hip as her face hovers closer, palm lingering at her scratchy sequin miniskirt. you crane your neck, anticipating the brush of her lips against yours. your other hand travels to her upper back, stroking her locks of golden hair; under your ministrations, you feel her tremor slightly.

it feels like eternity when you finally connect. 

sparks fly the moment you feel the plush softness of her mouth against yours, moving in a salacious rhythm that you doubt is for only sharing lipstick. 

her lips are sticky with what remains of that cherry lip gloss; it smears all over your own lips, spreading your deep red lipstick everywhere; at the corner of your lips, at your chin. your eyes flutter shut, a contented sigh escapes your mouth and haley uses that as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. she drags her hand up and up, curling her fingers into the base of your neck.

you jolt, the pleasure fogs your mind; your thoughts are muddy, the only coherent thing is of haley. 

your tongue swipes at her bottom lip, chasing the fruity flavor of cherry cola on her lips. it’s sweet, she’s sweet. you feel lightheaded with the overwhelming sensations of it. sure, you’ve kissed once or twice—but it never felt like this; soft and desperate and hot and tingly, affecting you all throughout your body. 

your breaths are labored when she pulls away and you feel it's too soon. a clicking wet sound when her mouth disconnects from yours that makes you shiver. you feel dizzy with warmth; heat is pooling low in your belly, a low buzzing sensation overwhelms everywhere haley touches. 

her lips as wine-red as yours. the same color lipstick smeared messily on her lips. haley wipes the corner of your cupid’s bow, where some of the color had smudged, her breathing heavy and pupils dilated as you stare. her hands feel delightfully warm and soft against your skin. golden strands of hair brush against your cheeks, making you squirm in your seat.

you can barely restrain your delighted giggle, in awe of the absurdity of the situation. haley laughs too, a light sound like a tinkling bell. you slump against the cold tile wall behind you, boneless and in disbelief— did you really just make out with your best friend? and at a grimy club bathroom no less.

time seems suspended here, cramped in a stall with only the sound of heavy breathing. there will be a lot more questions when you leave, lingering glances at your pleasure-pulled hair and smeared lipstick. 

this is what friends do, what you and haley do. your eyes track her every move, unabashedly staring as she readjusts her top. haley catches your eye, smiling like the cat that got all the cream. 

she cranes her face to your ear, whispering. “thanks for the touch up, babe.”

[hellfirebarnes]

Slow-Burns - Part 2

PART 1 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5

I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?

Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.

Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.

Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader

1.7K words

Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?

You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.

Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.

Otherwise, enjoy :)

Bucky didn’t notice the quiet at first. Not right away. It started small - like the absence of a scent he couldn’t name until it was gone. The Tower hadn’t changed, exactly, but it felt different. Like it had lost its rhythm.

No laughter echoing from the kitchen at 7 a.m. No Bob poking his head into rooms asking, “Have you seen Sunshine?” like a lovesick Labrador.

No high-speed bickering between you and John that always ended in someone getting hit with a throw pillow. No weird, glittery mugs mysteriously appearing in the sink. No occasional brush of your hand on his shoulder when you passed by; always casual, always enough to leave him dizzy. No you.

You’d been reassigned - temporary intel work, some cross-team stuff with Agents of Atlas, maybe S.W.O.R.D. He didn’t ask for details. Didn’t want to seem obvious.

It had been eleven days. And he hated how he knew that.

He was sitting alone in the gym, the punching bag swaying slightly after a missed swing, when John wandered in eating a granola bar like he was doing it competitively.

“You hit that bag any more and it’s gonna call HR.”

Bucky said nothing.

John eyed him. “Let me guess. You’re in a mood because someone isn’t here to mock your brooding.”

Bucky kept his gaze forward.

“Or maybe,” John continued, “you’ve gotten so used to her being around that now the Tower feels like a crypt with bad lighting and even worse protein shakes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” John took a bite. “You should’ve said something before she left.”

“Said what?”

“That you’re in love with her, dumbass.”

Bucky turned, sharp. “I’m not—”

“Oh, right. You just stare at her like she invented air. Totally normal.”

Before Bucky could respond, Alexei burst into the gym wearing compression pants and a tank top that read ‘PAIN IS JUST FRIENDSHIP’ in Comic Sans.

“She is gone too long,” Alexei declared. “The team has lost its most beautiful asset. I am surrounded by men who don’t moisturize and women who threaten me.”

“You deserve it,” Yelena said from the doorway, holding a smoothie. “And she will be back. Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Alexei echoed mournfully. “It is too long. I miss her glitter mugs.”

Bucky said nothing. But his silence said plenty.

Three days later, Bucky found himself staring at one of your coffee mugs in the cabinet. White ceramic. A chipped handle. The words ‘DANCING QUEEN’ in bold letters.

You’d left it behind by accident. Or maybe on purpose. He turned it over in his hands. Stared at it longer than necessary. He missed you.

Not just in a general, I-like-having-you-around way. He missed your voice. Your presence. The way the team was louder when you were here; and yet somehow, he felt quieter when you were near. Like the chaos around you never touched the core of who you were.

And maybe that’s what he liked most. That you weren’t trying to fix him. You just saw him and didn’t flinch. He missed being seen.

By day 16 he was walking past the comms room when he heard it.

“—just got in. Yeah, I’m unpacking now. No, Alexei, I do not want to go on a double date with your cousin. Because he’s married. Yes, still.”

Bucky froze. The voice sent a jolt through his chest. He turned slowly toward the room.

You sat at the desk, headset on, typing into a report. Hair pulled up, hoodie half-off one shoulder. Like you’d never left.

“I’m not high-maintenance,” you were saying into the headset. “I just have boundaries. You should try it sometime, John. No, that’s not a dare—hey, don’t—dammit, I heard you grab your car keys—JOHN—”

You looked up then. Saw him standing there. And you smiled. Like he wasn’t just a teammate. Like maybe you missed him too.

“Hey, Buck.”

He swallowed.

“Hey.”

There were a thousand things he wanted to say.

I missed you.

The Tower sucked without you.

I hate that I only feel right when you’re around.

But he just stepped forward, nodding toward the desk. “You back?”

You shrugged. “They needed help with some data extraction. Valentina said I was too valuable to waste on a desk job. Also, Bob threatened to cry if I didn’t come back.”

Bucky cracked the tiniest smile. “I believe that.”

“I’m glad to be back,” you said, more softly now. “I missed you guys.”

He looked at you. And he almost said it.

I missed you too.

But instead, he just nodded again, awkward and quiet and entirely overwhelmed. “Welcome back,” he said, voice rough.

You smiled. Then stood and closed the distance between you with a few casual steps. And before he could brace for it, you hugged him. Not a quick team-hug. Not a side-pat. A full, wraparound, warm-press-of-your-cheek-to-his-shoulder hug.

His brain short-circuited.

You pulled back after a moment, but didn’t step far. “You okay?”

He looked at you, caught in your gravity.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I am.”

The briefing had barely ended before Bucky’s heart pulled a somersault in his chest.

“Agent, you’re riding with Barnes,” Val said, snapping the folder shut. “He needs someone to interface with the target’s comms network and your track record with extraction’s clean. You’re his second.”

You looked up from your notes and nodded, calm as ever. “Got it.”

Bucky, meanwhile, forgot how to breathe.

The Mission was in Istanbul, the objective was to infiltrate a secure facility, extract one scientist and one suitcase, avoid setting off alarms, and get out clean. Classic Thunderbolts assignment, but without the usual chaos.

You worked like you’d done it a hundred times. You beside Bucky in the shadows, your voice clear and low in his ear.

“Firewall’s looping. You’re clear.”

Bucky moved silently through the corridor, taking out guards with silent precision. You trailed behind, disabling cameras with almost casual ease.

“You move like you’ve done this before,” you murmured as you covered his six.

“I have.”

“…Show off.”

He smirked, just barely, but you saw it, and he caught the glint of approval in your eyes.

The suitcase was secured. The scientist retrieved. Extraction clean.

No explosions. No alarms. No Alexei flying through a wall. Just the two of you, moving as if you were calibrated to each other’s pace.

When the quinjet door shut behind you, and you dropped into the seat across from him with a victorious sigh, Bucky finally exhaled.

“You did good,” he said quietly.

You looked at him, surprised - not at the words, but at the fact he’d said them. You smiled. “So did you.”

His chest warmed in that familiar, traitorous way.

That Night in the Thunderbolts Tower post-mission drinks were happening. Team tradition according to Yelena.

Alexei kicked off the night by pouring vodka into what looked like a flower vase. Bob wore a party hat. John brought out a Bluetooth speaker and started playing aggressively patriotic rock songs. Yelena threatened to destroy it twice. Possibly three times.

You showed up in jeans and a black tee that showed off your form, which made Bucky forget his own name for at least six seconds.

And then he did something no one expected.

He walked into the room. With a beer. Voluntarily.

Conversations stopped like someone had hit a mute button.

“Holy crap,” John said, eyes wide. “He emerged from his Brood Cave.”

“I thought he only came out for missions and dark vengeance,” Ava deadpanned.

Bucky rolled his eyes and settled into the corner of the couch, ignoring the way every pair of eyes kept sneaking glances like he was a ghost made of sarcasm. But one pair of eyes - your eyes - lit up when you saw him. And that made everything feel… less terrible.

You were mid-conversation with Yelena and Bob when John inevitably slunk over and started poking at you like a bored older brother. “Be honest. I carried this mission. You all just followed my lead.”

“You got stuck in a hallway mirror because you thought it was another room.”

“It was an optical illusion.”

“It was a hallway.”

Bob burst out laughing. “I liked the part where you walked into a glass door. Twice.”

“You’re all traitors,” John muttered into his drink.

Bucky watched it all - the easy way you leaned against Yelena’s shoulder, the way Bob circled you like a moon around a star, and the way you just fit, seamlessly, into the madness.

He wanted to talk to you. To walk over, say something - anything. But every time he tried, it felt like a wall went up.

Bob was telling you a story now. Something about a rogue kitten he rescued on a rooftop. “—and then it bit me, right here,” Bob said, pointing to a spot on his hand. “But I respected its boundaries.”

You laughed, bright and genuine.

“I named it Waffles,” Bob added, eyes shining. “It lives on the roof now. We’re friends.”

Bucky gripped his beer tighter. He had nothing to compete with Waffles the rooftop cat.

Across the room, Yelena caught his expression and muttered under her breath, “Oh for God’s sake.”

“What?” Ava asked.

Yelena pointed with her chin toward Bucky. “Barnes is having a romantic panic attack and none of you are helping.”

Alexei leaned closer, whispering, “Should we intervene?”

“No,” Yelena said. “He must suffer until he says something useful.”

You finally peeled yourself away from the chaos when Bob disappeared to get Waffles-related photos on his phone and John wandered off to argue with the Spotify algorithm.

You walked toward the kitchen, passing by Bucky. He looked up, startled.

“Hey,” you said casually, pausing near him. “You doing okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“Still recovering from Bob’s smoothie-to-Waffles ratio. But otherwise? Pretty good.” A pause. Your voice dropped slightly, more sincere. “It was nice working with you again.”

His chest tightened. “Yeah,” he said, and then, before he could stop himself, “I missed it.”

You blinked. “Yeah?”

“Missed working with you,” he clarified, barely covering.

A beat passed. Your smile warmed. “I missed it too.”

And just like that, the wall between you cracked - just a little.

[highprettybabyy]

Seeing Red

Part 4 - Yours, Mine, Ours

jenna ortega x fem!reader apocalypse au

summary: they're lesbians, your Honour

warnings: enemies to lovers, typical apocalypse stuff, violence, blood, zombies, gore, maybe angst... some fluff...

this is a flashback

AN: they might kiss in this chapter...

word count: 1.9k

Part 3

—//—

Neither of you spoke when you stepped out into the open, but your feet slowed. Then stopped.

You both turned at the same time.

Back towards the mall.

You didn’t say it. You didn’t need to. Something unspoken passed between you; the kind of mutual decision born not out of logic, but need. You weren’t ready to split off again. Not just yet.

So you went back.

Not for supplies. Not for safety.

Just… to walk.

The mall was strangely peaceful. Shafts of sun filtered down through broken skylights, casting golden stripes across ruined tile and old storefronts. The air was still, quiet, even warm in places. As you wandered, your footsteps echoed through the vast emptiness like the ghost of some lost civilisation.

You passed through the food court - long-abandoned trays, plastic chairs overturned, remnants of teenage jobs and after-class coffee runs. You moved through a clothing shop, untouched for weeks, where a mannequin lay face-down in a pile of scarves. Jenna flicked its hand with her boot as she passed.

It felt like drifting through memory.

You ended up near the central atrium, where the ceiling had half-collapsed.

That was where Jenna finally said it.

“We should stay together.”

You turned your head.

She wasn’t looking at you, just squinting up toward the beams of light above. Her voice was too casual, like she hadn’t just dropped the one thing you’d both been dancing around for days.

“Yeah,” you said, after a pause. “I was thinking that too.”

You expected tension.

Instead - relief.

She glanced at you then, and something softened around her mouth. “It’d be safer.”

“Easier,” you added.

“Less risk.”

“And, you know…” You shrugged. “Someone to watch your back.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You mean I can finally stop saving your ass every other day?”

You smirked. “I save your ass. We just don’t keep score.”

Jenna huffed a breath, almost a laugh. “We should start.”

It was easy. Too easy. You didn’t realise how much lighter you both moved until that moment, like some quiet part of you had unclenched for the first time in weeks. The thought of being alone again suddenly felt worse than any horde.

“I’ve got space,” she said. “Back at my place. Tall windows. Good vantage. I set up tripwire on two exits.”

You nodded slowly. “Mine’s got food stores, water collectors, a functional solar panel. It’s more hidden, though. Less obvious.”

Jenna tilted her head. “More isolated, you mean.”

“Quieter,” you said. “Which matters.”

“Visibility matters more.”

You blinked. “I thought we were just talking.”

“I am talking.”

There it was - the edge.

You felt your shoulders tense.

“Look, I’m not dragging my entire setup to your half-collapsing loft just because you have a good view of a dead shopping strip,” you said.

Jenna stepped forward. “And I’m not trekking through zombie-infested suburbs just to hole up in your silent apocalypse cabin with no sightlines.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re obsessed with control.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everything has to be your way. Your plan. Your list. Your schedule-”

“You showed up and hijacked half of it!”

“Because you needed help!”

“Oh, don’t pretend this is altruism-”

“I’m not!” she snapped. “But I didn’t sign up to be your backup.”

“Well, I didn’t ask you to!”

The words echoed down the corridor - harsh and too loud. The silence that followed was worse.

Jenna’s jaw was tight. Her hands clenched and unclenched.

You didn’t wait for her to say anything else.

You turned and walked away.

-

You didn’t slam the doors. You didn’t yell after her. You didn’t even know what you were walking toward - just away. Away from her.

You needed air. Space. Anything but the taste of those words in your mouth.

You kept walking through the quieter parts of the mall, past shuttered shops and half-looted stores, until the sound of your breathing finally slowed again.

That’s when you saw it.

A real estate office. Tucked beside an old pretzel stand and a nail salon with shattered glass. Its windows were smeared with soot, but intact. The sign still read SOMERSET HOMES - FIND YOUR FOREVER PLACE.

You stepped closer.

The glass door creaked as you pushed it open.

Inside, the room was dim, but untouched. The kind of office people used to walk into on Saturdays with their partners. The desk still held a cracked mug full of dried pens. A phone sat off the hook, beeping every few seconds into the dead quiet.

But what caught your eye were the flyers.

Dozens of them. Pinned to the back wall, clipped to wire racks. Colourful, faded, but mostly intact. Photos of houses lined up in neat rows. Front porches. Rooftop terraces. Gated gardens. A few were torn. Some were sun-bleached. But others showed beautiful villas tucked behind trees. Brick cottages with cellars. Two-storey homes with metal fences and side garages.

Empty. Untouched. Waiting.

You stared.

And slowly, the ache in your chest began to shift.

You didn’t need her house.

She didn’t need yours.

You could find one together.

Pick it out. Make it safe. Build it from the ground up. Yours and hers.

Together.

Really together.

Your fingers couldn't strip the flyers from the wire racks fast enough. Not even looking at what's on there; you and Jenna would decide together.

You didn’t smile.

But something inside you steadied.

And for the first time all morning, your feet turned back toward the furniture store.

Toward her.

-

The silence hit harder once Jenna was alone again.

She returned to the furniture store slowly, footsteps echoing louder than before. Y/N’s absence made the space feel gutted - like something vital had been ripped out and the air hadn’t caught up yet.

She dropped her pack against the dresser with a dull thump, her hands flexing open and closed a few times before she sat down on the edge of the bed. For a second, she just stared at the wall.

Then she stood back up.

She needed to move.

The public bathroom wasn’t far, just down the service corridor, past an abandoned cleaning supply closet and a row of lockers. Her boots sounded too loud in the narrow hall. Her chest still tight from the argument. From the stupid way it spiralled. She’d just - she hadn’t meant to-

She pushed open the bathroom door.

It was cold. Stale.

A single cracked fluorescent bulb flickered overhead. One of the sinks had detached from the wall and lay in pieces on the floor. The mirror was intact, though. Mostly. A crack through the bottom edge like a lightning bolt frozen mid-flash.

Jenna stepped up to the sink and turned the tap on out of habit.

Nothing happened.

Of course.

She stared at it for a moment anyway - like maybe, if she stood there long enough, water would come. Something would come. A break. A fix. A sound that wasn’t her own thoughts grinding themselves raw.

She twisted it again.

Nothing.

She looked up.

And there she was - in the mirror. Hollow-eyed. Jaw clenched. A smear of dirt on her cheek, dried blood near her collarbone, a healing cut at the corner of her mouth. Hair fraying out of its braid.

She barely recognised herself.

But that wasn’t what hit her.

What hit her was the angle. The light. The silence.

The bathroom.

It didn’t even smell the same, no floral soap or paper towels, but the memory still carved its way in, clean and sharp.

-

It had been after a class debate - bioethics, maybe. One of those long, heavy topics that got under everyone’s skin. But it wasn’t about the topic. Not really. Not with Y/N. Never with Y/N.

She remembered the way they’d gone at each other. Words like knives. Controlled, but only just. The room faded out when Y/N spoke - not because she cared what she had to say, but because she couldn’t not care. Y/N was impossible. Always so sure, so sharp, and always looking at her like she was the problem.

Jenna had pushed back - like she always did.

It got heated.

Too heated.

The professor had sent them both to the counsellor's office to “cool down.”

Y/N didn’t go.

Jenna did - for about two minutes. Then she got up, irritated, pacing, blood still buzzing in her ears. She knew exactly where Y/N had gone.

She found her in the women's bathroom.

Pacing in front of the mirrors. Jaw clenched. Eyes stormy. Wiping her face like she couldn’t scrub the argument off her skin.

Jenna pushed the door open harder than necessary.

“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped.

Y/N didn’t answer. Just threw her a look - hot and sharp and furious.

“You’re supposed to be with the counsellor.”

“Screw the counsellor,” Y/N shot back.

Of course.

Jenna took two steps forward. “You can’t just ignore it. This isn’t just about you-”

“Isn’t it?”

She laughed once. Bitter. “You think you're the only one who’s pissed off? You think I don’t-?”

And then something in her chest snapped.

Not out of nowhere. Not really. It had been building for weeks. Months. Years, maybe. Every time Y/N challenged her. Every time she saw that flicker of something in her eyes - like hate, but not quite. Like they were circling the same fire and both of them were too stubborn to admit they’d already been burned.

She didn’t plan it.

One second she was shouting. The next she had Y/N against the wall.

And then her mouth was on hers.

It wasn’t soft. Wasn’t gentle. Wasn’t even really a kiss.

It was collision.

Heat and teeth and breath, her hands braced on the wall, Y/N’s fingers curling in her shirt like she didn’t know whether to shove her away or pull her closer.

Jenna remembered the sound Y/N made - a small, broken gasp - the way her body responded even as her mind caught up a beat too late. The way something wild slipped loose between them in that tiny, cracked bathroom.

She could still feel it. That chaos. That ache.

And then -

The door creaked open.

A girl walked in. Stopped. Blinked. “Oh shit,” she muttered, then backed out like the moment hadn’t just shattered into a hundred jagged pieces.

Jenna stepped back immediately. Too fast. Her chest heaving, mouth parted.

Y/N looked at her like she’d been hit.

She needed to leave.

"Jenna-"

She didn’t look back.

And neither of them brought it up again.

Not once.

-

Now, in this ruined mall bathroom with a broken mirror and dead plumbing, Jenna blinked slowly at her own reflection.

She turned the tap again, just once, and watched it not respond.

Then she said, quietly - to herself, to the mirror, maybe even to you:

“I shouldn’t have left.”

Her voice sounded strange in the empty space. Soft.

She gripped the edge of the sink.

It had never been just about the arguments. Not then. Not now.

She’d kissed you because she wanted to win. And because she didn’t want to win. Because you’d always gotten under her skin and she didn’t know how else to get you out.

She didn’t regret it.

She regretted not saying anything after.

Jenna stood there a little longer.

Then she wiped her face with her sleeve, adjusted the straps on her vest, and turned off the useless tap.

This time, when she looked in the mirror, she held her own gaze a little longer.

And then she left the bathroom - not slower, not faster. Just steadier.

And she hoped you’d come back.

--//--

AN: ...it's in a flashback though.. :D

Part 5

[ludwig-van-gaythoven]

Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader) Part 5

Fandom;

Mean Girls (2024)

Pairings:

Regina George x Reader

Summary:

The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.

Warnings;

Underage smoking, underage drinking, Claustrophobia, homophobia mention

Parts;

Part1// Part 2// Part 3// Part 4// Part 5// Part 6

“Why the fuck is Regina in your room? Why are you even speaking to her? Dude! Fucking answer me!”

Janis’s voice is so loud down the tiny phone speaker that it makes it buzz like an annoying little mosquito.

You scowl and resist the creeping urge to hang up, and throw your phone far far away, maybe off a cliff. You click the volume down and try and muffle the sound of Janis ranting down the speaker by shoving the receiver deep into your pocket, but it’s too late.

Regina has already left. Her bedsheets are left thrown back and crumpled, she usually fixes the blankets back to perfection so she clearly left in a hurry.

You grab your jacket with a huff and stomp outside the cabin to stand in your usual smoking spot and light a much needed cigarette before putting the phone up to you ear.

Janis is still yelling, finishing a sentence you didn’t hear the start of. Some accusation about alliances with the enemy.

“Fucking hell, Janis! It’s not that big of a deal!” You finally snap.

The phone goes silent. It’s a welcome break but you know she’ll start up again.

“Yeah sure, my best friend suddenly being pals with Regina George, not a big deal.” She snarks. “Can I just remind you, that bitch nearly ruined my life! Is that why you’re ignoring my calls? Because you’re too busy becoming plastic?”

You sigh. “It’s not like that.”

That’s true. You haven’t been morphed into some sort of Barbie doll all of a sudden just because you spent some time with Regina. To be truthful, you realise Regina isn’t really like that either. She’s a little messy, she’s flawed, but you think she’s more perfect like that. Your face softens slightly at the memory of yesterday, her mascara dripping down her cheeks with a big grin plastered on her face. She wears a fake mask to protect anyone from seeing her real personality. You get it. It’s easier to take a rejection when you haven’t really shown your true identity.

Your heart aches to defend her. To tell Janis to back off, but you can’t. She wouldn’t understand.

“Look, she got roomed with me because she got drunk with Gretchen and Karen on the first night so the teachers wanted to split them up.” You explain as calmly as you can while your blood boils beneath the surface.

“So why didn’t you think to mention this when I called last?” She snaps back. She’s caught you there.

“Because I knew you’d go all revenge-crazed and pissed off like this!” You shout back. You hear Janis scoff.

“Whatever, I don’t give a shit about Regina. She literally means nothing to me! Less than nothing, I just want to see that bitch suffer-“

“Then why can’t you stop talking about her!” As soon as the words leave your mouth you regret them.

“Fuck you, man.” She doesn’t even give you a second before hanging up.

You take a long draw of the cigarette that’s spent most of its time burning away between your fingers. You felt guilty about arguing with Janis, she’d been your best friend since the start of high school, and you could still see the pain that Regina had caused was still playing on her. You didn’t know the full details but you knew that Regina had outed her in a cruel way and made her out to be obsessed just so she could be with a boy. But that was a while ago, people can change.

So why hadn’t you been able to tell her that you liked girls when she hinted at it? You couldn’t even trust her fully.

You couldn’t help your mind wandering to where Regina might be. That seems to be all you can think about recently. Regina. You never fell for her Queen Bee attitude, high school drama was boring to you, you’d rather steer clear of it. But this new, playful, carefree side to her? You couldn’t get enough of.

She’s probably snuck off to meet Gretchen and Karen. You were surprised that she’d actually followed rules for once and not gone to meet them yet. Was it because you had been there with her instead? She said last night that she had enjoyed hanging out with you.

How much of the phone call had she heard before she left?

You light another cigarette. It’s not like you to chain smoke like this but you can’t help it when you’re stressed. The smoke whirls out in front of you, lines of wispy grey entangle and then disappear in-front of your eyes.

You head back inside the cabin when you’re done. Regina still isn’t back.

You lift your bedsheets ready to try unsuccessfully to get some sort of rest and find tiny pieces of paper, shredded on your mattress. It’s the drawing Regina took.

She clearly heard more than she was meant to.

You brush it onto the floor, not bothering to collect the tiny scraps, that felt more like little broken pieces of your soul.

When you finally close your eyes you’re back in the clearing. This time you don’t feel afraid and you automatically start scanning the shadows between the trees. A pair of blue eyes catch yours, as usual, but as soon as you take a step forward,the big cat slinks back into the shadows and disappears.

When you wake up, Regina still isn’t back. Your stomach sinks. She probably won’t want to speak to you ever again, you won’t even get a chance to explain.

You know you have to be up and ready in 20 minutes but you don’t want to get out of bed, or risk bumping into Regina.

It’s pretty hot outside and you’re not sure what the activity will be today so you put on a black tank and some loose khaki trousers. Regina must have been back when you were asleep because her bed is made and her cupboard door is left open.

When you go over to the campfire pit, she is already there. She’s standing around with the usual two girls but she’s also next to Shane Oman.

That makes you nauseous. He’s grinning and so obviously checking Regina out.

She starts running her hand up and down his bicep and over his chest, giggling and leaning into him. He’s loving it and has a hand around her waist. You turn around so you don’t have to look at whatever show they’re putting on.

It feels like she’s doing it just to spite you.

Seeing her that close to him makes your stomach knot with jealousy, it shouldn’t, it’s not like you’re together.

“Okay everyone listen up! Today and tomorrow are the last days of camp, so you will be hiking and setting up your own camp for tonight. This will combine all of the skills you have learnt this week!” There’s a dull chatter of excitement as maps are passed around and people start getting into groups.

You secretly hoped you’d be paired in cabin groups so Regina might actually hear you out and stop being so pissed off. It would get her away from Shane too.

Much to your annoyance, you’re told you have to pair up with Regina, Gretchen, Karen and Shane because apparently it’s unsafe to go alone.

You’d actually rather be eaten by a bear.

Each group is given a tent, you’re given two, the teachers tell you Shane has to stay in one separately but you know that won’t happen. You’re hoping you can just keep that tent for yourself. You’re also given other supplies like cooking utensils, scissors, a mallet, rope etc.

Shane offers to carry both tents in a pitiful attempt to seem strong and manly. Regina plays straight into it and makes a big deal out of grabbing Shane’s hand and feeling his arms.

It makes you roll your eyes. You’re sure you see the corners of Regina’s lips curve in a smirk.

You end up carrying one of the tents anyway, it’s pretty heavy but at least it gives you an excuse to stay at the back of the group, it’s not like you’ll have anything to talk to them about.

Regina walks in-front of you with Karen and Gretchen on one side, and Shane on the other. You’re pretty sure everyone has forgotten your existence, apart from Regina perhaps.

She’s wearing a black crop top and baby pink mini skirt, it makes being behind the group kind of worth it.

After about 2 hours you get to a dead end, there’s a large rock ledge with a few crude dips for you to put your hands and feet to climb up. There are thick shrubs either side to stop anyone going around. This must be what they meant by testing the skills you’d learnt.

Regina goes up first, Shane is standing almost directly underneath her and is grinning to himself. It makes your stomach turn. She climbs up easily, and stands with her arms folded impatiently when she gets to the top.

Shane goes up next, again making a big deal of being so manly, he practically jumps from one step to re other up the ledge. It makes you cringe. He looks more like an ape.

Regina catches your expression and as soon as he’s up she’s all over him again. Is this some sort of punishment? But why would she be trying to make you jealous that way?

You go up last. It’s not too high so you’re not really afraid.

“Don’t fall, loser.” Regina spits and the whole group burst out laughing.

It stings but you ignore it and carry on walking behind them once you reach the top. Whatever she’s trying to do, to get under your skin, to piss you off, you’re not going to give her the satisfaction.

You notice Shane’s hand sneak down from her waist towards her ass and Regina visibly stiffens and moves away slightly.

Soon enough you come to a small opening in the rocks, must be the second challenge. Even from behind you see Regina tense up. It’s just a narrow crawl space that likely pops out quickly on the other side. There’s a wall of rock that seems impossible to climb that looks to go on for a while either side.

Shane goes through first, followed by Gretchen and Karen.

“I’m not fucking doing that.” Regina huffs once it’s just the two of you, raising her hands. “I’ll walk around.”

“It looks like you’ll be walking for a while.” You try and reason, but she’s already started walking.

“I’ll come with you.” You’re not sure why you offer. The suns setting slightly and you don’t like the idea of Regina going alone. Even if it is just a few minutes to walk around the obstacle.

You follow behind in silence as she walks along the rock wall, thinking about all the things you wish you could say. I’m sorry about what Janis said, I don’t agree with her. I like hanging out with you, I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out.

You want to reach out and take her hand like she was doing with Shane, especially since now you know how soft she is.

You want to gently cup her face and kiss her, feel her soft lips and be intoxicated by her warm vanilla scent. You want to ask her on a date, maybe go to the movies, take her for a nice dinner, kiss her on the front porch.

All the things she’s probably done, or will do with Shane.

It feels like you’re walking for ages, it’s quite a lot darker than when you started. Regina keeps a quick pace ahead of you. Her face fixed in a permanent scowl.

You finally turn the corner and see the entrance to the small cave.

Nobody is there, they’ve left. How long did it even take you to walk round anyway?

“What the FUCK.” She screams. It’s so loud you swear you see birds scattering off their branches. “What bitches!”

She growls and flops down, sitting on a fallen tree trunk. You can see a glimmer of hurt and confusion in her eyes.

“It’s getting dark. We have one of the tents , we should set up some kind of camp.” You say, dropping the tent bag on the floor.

“Whatever. I’m not helping though.” She huffs. You don’t bother arguing, you can tell she’s hurt and you don’t want to make things worse.

You unzip the tent bag and start pulling out poles. There are no instructions and all of the poles look identical. You start arranging them in a way that sort of resembles a tent, you bend the long metal pole and try to force it into a fabric sleeve of the tent material, you think it’s secure and let go but it pings back up with such a force that the whole structure jumps. You leap back, the metal projectile misses your face by millimetres.

Regina’s watching you with an amused expression. It makes you blush. At least she’s in a better mood.

After about an hour of wrestling with tent fabric and poles, you’ve made a structure. You’re not sure if you can call it a tent, or if it’ll stay up but it provides some cover.

As night draws close it gets significantly colder so you collect some wood and dry grass for a small fire. Luckily you always carry your lighter so it was simple enough to start. Both you and Regina sit opposite sides of the fire, on the floor, the smoke isn’t as thick as the silence between you.

You dig around in your bag, hoping that maybe you packed some supplies from the bag the teachers gave you. The others must have most of the food and cooking equipment.

You did pack one thing

Marshmallows.

You hold the bag up to Regina who giggles and finds two thin sticks for you to roast them on over the fire. Neither of you speak still as you hold the stick, turning it every now and then.

You remember one other thing you packed secretly in your bag, you rifle through again and pull out a small hip flask of vodka and take a swig. With no mixer, the liquid burns all the way down to your stomach, you offer it to Regina who grimaces but takes the flask.

You sit for a while, toasting Marshmallows and passing the hip flask back and forth before one of you is buzzed enough to speak.

“You and Shane make a good couple.” You’re not sure why you even say it, you don’t think that at all. Regina seems tense around him and you’re pretty sure he’s only after one thing.

“I know.” She responds flatly. It’s unconvincing.

You swallow another dreadful mouthful of vodka. It feels like willingly swallowing paint thinner.

“Why did you screw over Janis?”

Her brows furrow, she reaches for the flask and takes a drink. That was definitely the wrong thing to say but the vodka makes words tumble out before your brain has a chance to screen them.

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I guess you think I’m a bad person.” She doesn’t meet your gaze and her tone sounds defeated and a little ashamed.

“ I don’t.” You say quickly. “You must have had a reason.”

“Yeah… I did.” She sighs.

You decide not to push it any further.

“Are you looking forward to camp being over?” You decide to try and divert the conversation.

“Not really, there’s not as much pressure here to perform. I don’t like being a bitch you know, it’s just school, it’s survival of the fittest.” She starts “Out here I feel free. I actually miss middle school, I wish I never went to that party, or kissed Janis. I’m sick of everyone thinking I’m fake, nobody treats me like an actual person.”

She looks up at the night sky, a small tear running down her cheek, catching the moonlight which makes it look like a diamond.

“Being with you has felt free.”

Your heart skips a beat. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol but you get the courage to go and sit next to her. You gently put your arm around her shoulders and she relaxes into you.

You fit together like a puzzle.

You look up and scan the stars with your eyes and find what you’re looking for. You point up to 3 stars in a row.

“There’s Orion’s Belt. Those 3 stars are several times bigger than the sun, and they burn tens of thousands of times brighter.”

Her gaze falls to where you’re pointing.

“It kind of reminds me of you, Karen and Gretchen.” Regina laughs at this. “You shine brighter than anyone else at the school. I know what you mean about just trying to survive, just try not to burn so bright you burn out. You’re perfect enough as you are.”

She sighs, her hand is on your lap now and you struggle to concentrate on the stars.

“And that one sort of looks like a lion” You point up again, Orion’s Belt is the only one you recognise. Luckily this makes her giggle more.

She lifts her head at the same time you turn. She’s so close you can see the stars reflecting in her eyes. In this moment you realise you have two options.

A look of hesitation crosses her face and she starts to pull away.

You make a sudden, probably stupid decision.

As soon as your lips meet you see stars explode behind your eyelids. Her lips are just as soft as you imagined, it takes a second before she’s kissing you back. Her hands reach up and tangle in your hair. It’s gentle and rough all at the same

You pull away. “ I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t-“

She cuts you off with another quick, soft kiss.

“I’m tired, I’m going to sleep.” She says, standing and walking over to the tent which is shockingly still standing.

You’re left, sitting on the ground next to the now dwindling fire, kept warm by the redness in your cheeks. You pull out a cigarette and light it on the smouldering fire.

The star lion in the sky beams down at you.