#I’ll post the other stuff I drew tomorrow promise

[hueberryshortcake]

this is so specific but human Quiverwing Quack having some good old fashioned target practice after cutting 8th period chemistry. why did she even sign up for that class? Honker is supposed to be doing her homework for her but that can’t save her when it’s time for pop quizzes. luckily it’s incredibly easy to convince launchpad to check her out early under the guise of a “family emergency” to do some training together instead of bombing the test like usual. it’s harder to keep darkwing from finding out, unfortunately, but hopefully the school doesn’t pay attention to the fact that the orphan girl has had three grandmothers die in the past six months

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || your newest client asks you to give him a real challenge, and you’re happy to oblige.  

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 6.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut but no actual sex (lots of handjob stuff though and some brief oral m receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, more cnc (because of the overstimulation), bondage, edging, impact play (riding crop), brief cock torture (she just hits him with the crop a couple times), implied “kink as trauma response” (this is gonna be a theme throughout the whole fic), forced to break a rule/doomed to fail/impossible challenge (idk how to warn for this but yeah), forced voyeurism?, thigh riding (reader rides bucky’s thigh), some degradation/dumbification, brief/implied dacryphilia, a bit of angst/feelings

new parts posted on thursdays!  join the taglist here

“Can’t,” he sighed, “can’t come again.”

He looked so painfully adorable when he begged like that, his brow glistening with sweat as he jerked under your touch.  “Aw, poor baby,” you pouted, twisting your hand when it stroked over the head of his cock, “yes you can.  I know you can.  Just gimme one more.”

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, “Mistress, please— just stop, please, I can’t… can’t take any more…”

“I know you can, sweetheart— I know you can be my good boy and keep coming for me.  Tell me your color.”

“Yellow,” he whispered.

“Think you’re almost done?” you pressed, smiling when he nodded breathlessly.  “Yeah, there’s my good boy— gonna come again for your Mistress?”

“Yes,” he breathed, baring his teeth as his hips bucked wildly to try to avoid further sensation, “y-yes, one more, just one more, I’m gonna— fuck, gonna come, just don’t stop… fuck, it hurts.”

“I know, but you’re being so good for me,” you purred.  “You like it when I milk your pretty cock, don’t you?  Even though it hurts?”

He winced but nodded.  “C-coming, Mistress, fuck, I’m coming…!”

Since it was his fifth of the evening, he could only give you one thick drop of come that gathered at his slit before running down over your hand which finally slowed to a stop.

You both sighed with relief as you pulled your hand away and leaned back, admiring how beautiful he looked as he caught his breath, covered in come and sweat.

"Good job," you praised with a chuckle, "I hope I didn't go too hard on you."

"N-no, that was… that was really good," he sighed, slumping back onto the bed.  "Can I use your shower before I go?"

"Yeah, totally," you nodded.

After a long pause, you gave him a confused look.  

"I thought you were gonna shower?" you reminded him.

"Oh… I guess I have to get up for that," he sighed, making you laugh.

"Rest a bit longer.  You've had a… challenging afternoon."

He nodded a little and you got up from the bed to go wash your hands and freshen up a little, smiling at your own appearance in the mirror— sometimes you forgot how you looked when you did this, but there was an undeniable aura of power around you… especially after a session like that.

This was only your third week with James, and already the dynamic felt so natural between you— and yet, so fresh compared to your other clients.  Normally it took longer for a newbie to get comfortable with you, yet most of them had had multiple doms before and here was James, totally inexperienced and taking it all like a champ.  There was an air of innocence about him, you figured, in contrast to this undeniable strength and intensity that you caught glimpses of from time to time.

Sometimes, it felt like he was chasing an innocence he lost a long time ago.  Whatever it was that drew him to this, you were happy to help him along the way.

It was probably a little dangerous to enjoy sessions with a client so much; even though you often pretended that everything was about your pleasure and not theirs, obviously since they were the paying customer it was the complete opposite in reality.  But there was an equity to the dynamic with you and Bucky, he served you with a real dedication rather than for his own gain.  And you, meanwhile, had rediscovered the fun in this career that had originally drawn you to it in the first place.  It was less like a science now, more like an art— you let yourself go with your instincts and do whatever felt right in the moment, and both of you benefitted for it.  

“Come on, get up and clean yourself off,” you encouraged— gently, of course— as you left the bathroom and returned to find James laying sprawled out on the bed.

“I know you said falling asleep here was a one-time courtesy,” he remembered with a smile, “but I could use it now a lot more than I needed it then.”

Honestly, you didn’t see him smile that often.  It was pleasant; you hoped to see it again.  He did get up, though, and take the washcloth you handed him to wipe off the come that had gotten all over him.  “What are you thinking for next week?” you asked as you leaned against the wall.  “Any special requests?”

“We can discuss all that over the phone,” he decided.  You still didn’t understand fully why he didn’t like to discuss future scenes in person; it was like he wanted the in-person interactions to be as ‘in character’ (if you will) as possible.

“Alright, just keep me updated,” you requested with a shrug.

You got changed while he took his shower, and when he emerged to the living room he seemed surprised to see you sitting on your own couch.  After a moment, you realized it was the fact that you were in normal clothes that threw him off.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before… or pants of any kind.”

You looked down at your outfit with a smile, glad it was at least still professional and not sweats and a t-shirt or something.  “Yeah, I guess you haven’t.  First time for everything, right?”

“Yeah, had a lot of first times with you,” he chuckled.  “Most significantly less mundane than this.”

A brief silence filled the room but it wasn’t exactly awkward, at least not for you.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” he decided as he grabbed his jacket from your chair and slipped it on.  You’d been spending most of this session trying to forget how good he looked in the leather motorcycle cut, so that was out the window now as you tried to keep from visibly biting your lip while he walked towards the door.

Damn, he was fine.  But there were more pressing matters at hand.  Like preparing yourself and your apartment for your next appointment.  This guy wanted to get slapped around until he cried… shouldn't be too difficult, but your arms would probably be sore tomorrow.

Opposite of last week, I really want you to edge me tonight, as long as possible.

Don't go easy on me, make me hold it in.  I need a challenge this week.

-J

It was odd how emails from James made your week.

He seemed to prefer to communicate his desire with you this way; maybe it was easier for him, and you couldn’t really blame him for that.  The nice part was that you didn’t have to temper your reactions, if you had any, since you were always alone when you got his messages.  You might be old hat at it now, but you could remember a time that you had to hide a grimace when a client told you to your face what he wanted.  Not that you would shame them for it or anything (unless, you know, they paid you to), but you didn’t enjoy everything you did with these men.

Did you enjoy everything you did with James?  Yes, but you were pretending not to— for your own sake.

You dressed a bit differently for today’s session, more conservatively… not that it was especially conservative by any other person’s standards.  But it left your legs and chest covered, somewhat in the spirit of ‘mean corporate businesswoman’ aesthetically.  For some reason you felt like using a riding crop required wearing pants.

James certainly didn’t seem to mind, with the way he nervously cleared his throat after you opened the door.

“Good to see you again,” you greeted formally, “please, come in.”

He stepped past you, still looking at you and not at what was in front of him, meaning he ended up slamming himself gut-first into your kitchen island.

“Oh!  Are you alright?” you smiled when you noticed. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he nodded, rubbing his stomach for a second but recovering quickly.  “I told you I can take a lot of pain,” he joked.

“Well, we’re going to put that to the test today,” you promised cryptically.  “You must’ve seen the crop on the table.”

He nodded again.  “Yeah....”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yes,” he answered, a bit too quickly.

“Then let’s get you tied up, James.”

Straddling his lap, you realized the rope was a bit too tight when you saw it digging into his skin; maybe he wouldn’t mind that, but you did, so you pushed the rope back through itself to loosen it slightly.

“How long did it take you to learn all these knots?” he asked casually, watching your fingers nimbly work the ropes around his wrists.

“Not too long,” you shrugged, “I’ve only been doing this a few years… but I knew them before that.”

“Boating school?  Boy Scouts?” he suggested jokingly.

“Just a hobby,” you decided, dodging the covert question about your past.  “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Do I look like a Boy Scout?” he countered with a scoff.

“Not anymore,” you shrugged, “but I bet you did once.  You’re sorta innocent, you know.”

He swallowed dryly, and you raised an eyebrow as you glanced from the knot you were tightening to his face, which looked a bit flustered.  “R-really?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, leaning back on your heels to look at him straight-on.  “Are you surprised to hear that?”

He nodded quickly, and you laughed.

“Aw, you thought you were so kinky, huh?  So dirty,” you purred, running your hand up his leg until he tugged slightly on the newly-tied ropes— a subtle way to get him to test them for you.  “But you’re really not.  You’re just my sweet, innocent boy.”

He whined— really, properly whined— and you dug your nails into his skin until he hissed instead.

“I don’t think you believe me,” you noticed, leaning back to reach for the crop behind you.  “You think you’re so filthy and perverted, right?  Are you a pervert, James?”

“Yes,” he breathed, shivering as you let the crop slide gently over his skin— his abs, his hips, his legs which were already quivering so adorably.  “Yes, Mistress.”

“And how’s that?”

“I think about… getting hurt,” he admitted weakly, “when I touch myself.  And I touch myself all the fucking time.”

“Yeah?  How many times a day do you stroke that pretty cock, James?”

“Twice every morning,” he blurted out, “after that it depends.”

You didn’t let yourself show your surprise at that number.  “Depends on what?”

When he hesitated, you hit him sharply on the thigh and he winced.  “Depends on what I… what I end up thinking about.  Sometimes… sometimes something reminds me, and I have to get off.”

Something told you not to press on what it was that he needed to be reminded of, and why it made him want to jerk off so bad.  Something told you he wasn’t ready to tell that story yet.  “Did you touch yourself today already?” you asked instead.

“No, no ma’am,” he shook his head, voice wavering as you brushed the crop over his chest, “it’s… it’s different with you.”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” you smirked, hitting him on the stomach quickly.  “I bet you’re finally satisfied, right?  Nothing’s ever worked for you before.”

“Yes,” he moaned, crying out slightly when you hit him on the arm (flesh— you were too afraid what sound the metal one would make) much harder than before.  “The nights I see you, I… I can sleep.”

“You sleep better?”

“No, I just… sleep.”

You tried not to react to that, moving to a new question instead.  “Do you want me to hit you again?  Or do you want me to stroke your cock for you?”

An obvious choice to some, surely, but he seemed to really struggle with it.

“Which one do you think you deserve?” you asked instead.

“Hit me more,” he decided.

Instantly, you struck him once on the face and again on the shoulder, then moved down to his legs for three in a row in spite of the way his body jerked away instinctively.  

“Fuck,” he sobbed, “don’t stop— I need more…”

You focused on his legs, on the inside of his thigh where he seemed the most sensitive.  His twisted joy turned to true fear, though, when you brushed the end of the crop over his balls.  “Do you want me to hit you here?” you challenged.

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered.

“Let’s make a deal, James,” you offered, “wherever I hit you, I’m gonna kiss it to make it better.”

“Then hit me wherever you want,” he nodded, almost smiling at you.  He cried through his teeth when you whipped his shaft with the crop— not especially hard, in fact quite delicately, though the second was harder.  And the third, though not much more aggressive, was right on the sensitive tip; his eyes shot open and his hips jerked away.

“So good, such a good boy,” you whispered proudly, putting the crop aside to lean in and kiss his cheek where you’d hit him before, his shoulder, his arm.

You worked your way down carefully as he breathed heavily beneath you, whimpering slightly when you kissed his thighs and notably ignored his flexing, leaking cock.  “Please,” he whimpered.

“Shh, be patient,” you soothed, “be my good boy.”

“Your good boy,” he repeated, trying to restrain himself but already bucking up into the air again, “fuck, wanna be your good boy, Mistress.”

“Are you already close, pet, just from getting hurt?” you asked in a faux pout.  “You’re not gonna come if I give your pretty cock some kisses, right?”

“I— I won’t come,” he promised.  “Not until I get permission.”

“Baby, it’s gonna be a long fuckin’ time before you get permission,” you promised with a toothy grin.  “Look down at me, honey, I want you to see this.”

He hesitated for a second but obeyed, looking down at you with an expression that was full of awe as you gripped his cock and gave gentle, teasing kisses up his shaft.  It bobbed in your hands with each one, and he let out the most beautiful sigh when you kissed the tip carefully.

A wide lick made him jerk beneath you.  “F-Fuck,” he stammered.

“You said you wouldn’t come,” you reminded him.  “Can I keep going?  Are you gonna be a good boy?”

“Don’t stop, please,” he breathed, “I’ll be good.”

Taking the head between your lips, you suckled gently as he shivered and moaned.  You weren’t sure you’d ever been with anybody— on or off the clock— who was so sensitive.  And you loved it, honestly; who could resist those precious noises he made?

As much as part of you wanted to go nuts and really push him to the edge, you tried to be gentle and careful so as not to make it impossible for him to hold back.  But even then, when you gently grasped his balls in one of your hands and squeezed them, he apparently couldn’t take anymore.

"S-stop," he hissed, and you pulled back, sitting up.

"You were close?" you asked, and he nodded a little.  "Oh, what a good boy."

He whimpered briefly.  "Yes, your good boy, Mistress…"

Your fingers trailed delicately up the underside of his cock, making him shiver violently.  "I know you want to come, but you want to be good even more.  You're such a sweet little pet."

It seemed like the praises did more to keep him on the edge than the touches, so you kept both going; wrapping your fingers around the ridge of his head, you gave the most gentle and subtle strokes, and leaned in to whisper against his ear.

“Is this why you wanted me to edge you today, James?  So you could show me how good you can be?” 

“I-I don’t know,” he blurted out, rocking his hips as best he could while restrained, “I just wanted to… I just wanted you to make me wait.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that,” you laughed slightly, “I can make you wait all day.  Is that what you want?”

“No, that’s— not that long, I can’t wait that long,” he shuddered.

“Mm, that sounds like your problem, not mine,” you smirked.  “Not sure why I asked what you want, honestly… cause I don’t fucking care.”

His choked-out whine was too perfect to ignore.

“Oh, what a pathetic little moan that was, poor baby,” you cooed mockingly, “are you regretting it now?  You’re probably wondering what you got yourself into, ‘cause you’re worried Mistress is never gonna let you come.”

“No, I don’t regret it,” he denied weakly, “whatever you want— do whatever you want to me, just… give me what I deserve, please.”

You stopped touching him completely and he straight-up sobbed.  “You don’t deserve anything from me, James.  You don’t deserve me at all.”

He told you before that he liked when you rapidly cycled between soft and mean.  Kept him on his toes, apparently.  Honestly, you felt a little guilty talking to him that way sometimes, but his cock leaking enough pre-cum to soak the bedsheets beneath him was a sign you were doing something right.  “I know!” he cried.  “I know, fuck, I’m sorry, but I need you.  I fucking need you, Mistress, please— you know I’ll do anything.”

“I’m feeling generous today,” you shrugged, “so I won’t ask you for much.  Just beg me a little more.”

“Please, pleasepleaseplease,” he rushed, “touch me.  Anywhere, whatever you want, I just need to feel you.  I know I… fuck, I know I don’t deserve it, but let me try to— to earn it.  Please.”

You knew if he had it his way, he wouldn’t do much talking at all.  But you couldn’t just let him have it his way, now could you?  It was better to make him just the right amount of nervous, just the slightest hair uncomfortable, by making him talk to you.  And, of course, you liked the way his deep and rough voice got all whiny and needy like this.

One finger under his chin guided him to look up at you, those pretty blue eyes watery and sparkling and wide with misplaced innocence.

“Tell me who you belong to, James,” you instructed darkly.

“You, Mistress,” he whispered, “I’m yours, I— oh fuck…”

Unshockingly, he was reduced to only moans again when you started stroking his cock, the slick precum making every movement smoother.  “All mine, huh?  My little toy?” you confirmed, but he could only nod and swallow thickly.

You sped up quickly, getting faster and faster until you were really, properly jerking him off and he was biting hard on his lip.  Just when he seemed to really fall into it, get almost comfortable, you had to stop.

"Oh, fuck—" he gasped, bucking his hips up to try to chase your hand when you pulled away, but it was no use with him tied up.  You watched his cock bob in the air and smiled.

“Did you think it was going to be that easy?” you smirked.

Shaking his head, you tilted yours to look at him, reaching up to trace your fingers over his chest.  

“Don’t lie, baby, you thought I was gonna let you come, didn’t you?  You’re so sweet, James, and so, so stupid.”

He gasped, and for a second you thought you might’ve gone too far, but it shifted to a moan quickly and you realized he was having the time of his life.

“Just my dumb, brainless little toy,” you continued with a snarl, watching him tug at the ropes as his eyes fluttered shut.  “It’s okay, James, it’s okay… you don’t need to think, I don’t want your mind.  It’s useless.  I want this pretty cock, that’s all I want from you.”

“It’s all yours, Mistress,” he promised, cheeks burning bright red and eyes forced shut.  “All of it, I swear.”

“I know,” you cooed, holding his face gently to soothe him a bit.  But then your other hand wrapped around his cock and he was anything but soothed.  “Shh, shh, don’t make any sounds, you’re just a toy and toys need to stay quiet.”

You missed his noises, actually, but he looked so cute biting his lip and struggling to suppress them.  His cock was so swollen in your hand that you honestly wondered if it was somehow getting bigger.  Was that even possible?  Your mouth was watering regardless.

“I’m gonna give you a little break,” you promised gently, “but I’ll be honest, pretty boy… I don’t think you’re gonna like it one bit.”

The look he gave you beautifully balanced fear with anticipation, and you stopped stroking him to reach over towards the bedside drawer and pull out a vibrator.

“Your Mistress is feeling a little.... self-indulgent today,” you winked.  “And since I, unlike you, don’t need to hold myself back from coming, I think I might as well get myself off if I want to.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed dryly, watching you closely as you stood up off the bed and started to carefully undress yourself.  It was a lot more fun to get naked when you were wearing something that didn’t actually show much skin— the button-up seemed to really get him going, his tongue mindlessly darting out to lick his lips as you opened one button at a time.

Once it was off your shoulders and on the floor, and he could see the almost-transparent bra you had on, you moved to opening your trousers as well.  Just to be mean, you faced the other way as you pushed them down over your ass; you heard his breath catch and you smirked to yourself, spinning to face him again in just the matching, dark red bra and panty set.

“What do you think, do you like this better than the black ones?” you asked coyly.

“I like you naked better than both,” he answered, and you grinned.

“I’m gonna let that backtalk slide just once because it’s not worth my time to go over there and slap you for it,” you decided.  “But don’t test me, James.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered dutifully, sounding a bit out of breath as he watched you climb back onto the bed, positioning yourself carefully.

You faced him straight-on and laid your legs over his, meaning your lace-covered pussy was in full view and only inches from his leaking cock— the damn thing looked sore by now, purple at the tip and just as desperate for attention as the rest of him.

When you pulled the fabric aside to show him your cunt, he hissed and looked away.

“Look at me, James, keep your eyes open,” you demanded, seeing how totally wrecked he looked when he turned his head back to you and stared down at your body with half-lidded eyes.  “Look at how fucking soaked my pussy is.  You remember how it feels to be inside it, don’t you?”

He swallowed, sighed, and finally (just barely) nodded.

“You remember how hot and wet and tight it is, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he choked.

“Well, that memory’s all you’ve got to work with, sweet boy, because I don’t think I’m ever gonna let you fuck this pussy again.”

He really, properly sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, and those arms flexed against the ropes defiantly.  “N-no, please—” 

“I’m gonna make myself come with this,” you promised, interrupting him as you grabbed the vibe, “and I want you to remember how it feels when I come around you, okay?  

Turning it on, you wasted no time pressing it to your clit, moving the end of the toy in slow circles and keeping a close eye on him as he watched you.  Your intention had always been to give him a show, but the embarrassing thing was how little of it was an act.  Ironically, even though you’d been edging him this whole time, having to touch him that way without any pleasure for yourself was almost as torturous.  You’d soaked through your panties by the time you had him tied up, to be totally honest.  So, giving into it and letting yourself feel good was a breeze.

“Think about when I was riding you, James,” you instructed, your own voice clearly affected by your pleasure now.  “Think about how good it would feel if I let you come inside me.”

“Oh, god,” he cried, leaning his head back.

“Think about my pussy milking every fucking drop of come out of you.  You know I wouldn’t let you stop until I was completely full of your come, I bet you’d like that.  I bet you’d like to eat your come out of me, you sick little pervert.”

“Fuck!” he yelped, tugging at the ropes harder now— for a second you thought he might really break them and jump you.  And for a second, you knew you’d let him.  It made your walls clench as you imagined facing the consequences of driving a man to the brink of insanity until he couldn’t help but fuck you like an animal.  It was a good thing he didn’t see you bite your lip as you imagined that.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” you taunted.  

“God, don’t tell me,” he sighed through his teeth, but obviously you ignored him.

“I’m thinking about what a good boy you are for me,” you cooed, your hips starting to rock up against where you held the end of the vibrator; you pressed it down harder onto your clit and moaned instantly.  “Yeah, I’m thinking about how pretty you look when you’re all desperate and needy and fucking pathetic—”

“Oh—” he choked.

“My dumb litlte whore, that’s all you are, James,” you groaned.  “I know you wish you could touch me, it’s all you can think about, right?  That pretty head of yours would be completely empty if it weren’t for thoughts of me and how badly you want me.  Right?”

“Yes,” he whispered huskily.

A shiver ran up your spine when the vibrator bumped into a more sensitive part of you, and you did it again and again until you thought you might lose it a bit faster than you meant to.  “This toy feels really good,” you informed him in a purr, gasping when you slipped the vibrating body of it into your pussy, “but it doesn’t feel as good inside me as you do.”

His eyes fell shut but he still winced a bit every time you made a sound; he couldn’t run from this, no matter how hard he tried.

“Oh James,” you moaned loudly, fucking yourself with the vibe for a moment before you pulled it back out to focus even harder on your clit, “I’m gonna come.  I’m so, so close… I can feel it getting stronger, I think I might make a mess on these sheets.  And the only way I’m ever gonna let you come is if you watch me do it.  So open your fucking eyes.”

He blinked quickly as he opened them, gaze scanning your whole body before settling on your cunt; you were sure he could see it pulsing as you got closer and closer, you knew he was imagining how it would feel.  You only spared a brief glimpse at his cock, bobbing between his legs, and wished you could just slip it in you now and come while it stretched you out. 

But that wasn’t what he was here for, sadly, and you were sure you were the only being truly denied of your desires, despite how it probably seemed from the outside.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, numbness starting to tingle in your legs as your orgasm built up quicker than even you expected.  “I’m coming— James, I’m coming, oh, fuck… right there— yes!”

A gush of heat warmed your cunt at the same time that shocks ran up your spine and down your limbs; you could feel your legs shaking, and you knew he could, too.  

It got so intense for a second that you had to pull the vibrator away, though you didn’t stop coming until a few moments later, eyes falling shut without you meaning for them to.

You actually laughed a bit, breathlessly, as you turned the vibe off and set it aside, although you weren’t sure exactly what was supposed to be funny about this per se.  When you opened your eyes, you saw James looking down and looking positively defeated.  But he looked tense, too, and you sat up on your wobbly legs to get closer to his face.  

“Relax, James,” you told him firmly as you examined him.

“I— I can’t,” he whispered. 

“Why not?”

“I’ll come.”

Nothing could fight your wide grin anymore, not when you heard that.  “Oh, baby… are you about to come without even being touched?  Is that how much you liked watching Mistress come?”

He nodded, ever so slightly, and you laughed.  Not quite a mocking laugh, moreso impressed.  Prideful, even.  You leaned in to give a wet kiss to his neck, licking over his pulse as he shivered violently.

“That’s my good boy,” you whispered against his skin.  He whined and you cooed soothingly right away, “oh I know, I know.  It’s so unfair, isn’t it?  Mistress gets to come and you don’t…”

“Please,” he stammered, “I’m so close, let me come, please.”

“But I don’t wanna see you come, baby— I wanna see you cry.”

You started to slide your hand down his chest and he jumped up to attention as he tried to squirm away.  “No, please, don’t— don’t touch my cock, not if I can’t come.”

“You can hold it in, can’t you?” you pouted.

“No, I can’t, I can’t,” he sobbed, watching fearfully as your hand moved down to his stomach and over his hips.  

“But I thought you were my good boy,” you frowned, suddenly wrapping your hand tight around his cock as he choked on a gasp.

“Mistress!” he sobbed.  “Please, don’t—  don’t move your hand, I’ll come.”

"Never fucking tell me what to do," you instructed firmly, just barely stroking as he cried weakly.  "I'm gonna touch you however I want and you're not gonna come because you're my good boy, right?"

"No, Mistress, I can't stop it, I'm gonna come— stop, please…"

"You'd better not fucking come," you hissed through your teeth, speeding up your movements and watching his eyes shoot wide open, "you'd better hold it in until I'm done with you."

"I'm trying— please slow down, can't take it—"

You shook your head, tutting disapprovingly.  "No, baby, I tell you what you can take."

"Oh— oh god, Mistress, please, please stop, please, I c-can't— fuck!"

You pulled your hand away the second his cock started to flex but it was too late: come was shooting from his swollen tip and painting his chest and stomach.  You didn't even wait until he was done to backhand him across the face.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled.  "I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it…"

You softened slightly when you heard his broken voice, saw the desperation and fear on his face— it was real, more real than the fake ‘no’s and the encouraging pleas for mercy.  "Baby, it's okay, you tried so hard," you soothed instantly.

Hope filled his eyes just as much as tears as he looked up at you.  "Am I still your good boy?"

"Always," you smiled, caressing his face where it was already turning red from your slap.  

You reached down and caressed his cock with the back of your fingers, watching it flex weakly.  

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

His lip twitched, almost like a wince.  “Do we… do we have to stop?”

You quickly glanced at the clock.  “Um, no,” you mumbled, “we still have time.  Just tell me what you want.”

“I wanna watch you come again…” he admitted softly.  “Is… is that okay?”

Although you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, you were still surprised.  “Yeah, sure.”

“But… but closer this time,” he added, “not so far away.”

You were literally laying on top of him, how did that count as far away? 

“I wanna see your face,” he clarified.

“Okay,” you nodded, deciding to indulge him.  It was sort of like aftercare, except that this wasn’t exactly the ‘after’ part yet.

On your knees beside where he was leaning back against the headboard, you slipped your hand down into the lace panties again, finding your clit still swollen but not too sensitive.  A little gasp fell from your lips when you touched it, rubbing it carefully with two fingers while he looked up at your face.  

You felt slightly exposed when he watched you this close, and you didn’t know where to look to avoid direct eye contact.  Looking at his lips was just a little too tempting, so that wouldn’t work.

“My hands are a little tired,” you explained, “they might cramp up.  Maybe I could use your thigh…”

“O-okay,” he nodded, and you removed your fingers from your panties to sit down on the thick muscle of his leg.  You felt him tense up under you slightly, and you carefully began to rock your hips until your clit rubbed just right against the inside of your underwear.  Surely he could feel how wet you were— actually, you both could hear it, almost a wet clicking-like noise as the soaked lace slid against your skin.

The dynamic shifted slightly, not that you minded it, as he watched you ride him carefully.  Just as he couldn’t hide much from you when he was naked and tied up and baring his soul to you in the kinkiest way possible, you couldn’t hide your pleasure from him when he was looking at your face so up-close.  You let your hands carefully roam his body, narrowly avoiding the trails of cooling come he’d left on his stomach and chest, until you found his strong shoulders and held onto them for balance.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, biting your lip as your sore clit throbbed against his hard, muscular thigh.  

“Will you… could you kiss me?” he requested quietly, and your heart broke a little bit.  You shook your head, and he nodded in understanding.

“I’ll kiss you here,” you offered instead, whispering against his skin before you pressed your lips to his forehead, then his cheek, then his jaw.  “Is that better, James?”

“It helps,” he agreed in a sigh.  

“I’m close,” you warned quietly, pressing your cheek to his and weaving one hand into his hair.  “I’m gonna come again, on your thigh.”

“Let me touch you,” he begged, “just a little, please…”

You nodded, about to reach forward to untie one of his hands, but he snapped the ropes and you had totally forgotten he could do that.  He quickly ran his touch all over your body, calloused hands and bound wrists in stark contrast to your soft skin.  The metal one was a little cold but it didn’t bother you; the other was almost too hot, and it was like being warmed and cooled all at once.

He ran his fingers down your spine, he gripped one of your shoulders, he rubbed your legs: he did everything he must have been wishing he could do this whole time, even gasping as he ran one hand up your chest and over a cup of your bra.  Just as you sensed that he was about to ask if he could touch you there, you nodded and felt his metal hand tug down the red lace and grab your breast— thankfully not very hard, though he did give your nipple a quick pinch which made you gasp.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he finally settled his hands on holding your hips, just tight enough to slightly guide your movements as you rocked faster and more desperately.  “Please come,” he begged weakly, “Mistress, please… use me.”

It sort of hit you all at once then, like a punch to the gut.  Except, you know, a lot more fun than getting punched in the gut.

“James,” you gasped, legs quivering where they straddled his as a new patch of slick soaked the lace (and presumably his thigh as well).  He held you tight, kept you moving through it while your fingers tangled in his hair and your mouth fell slack for another, louder moan.

The way his lips moved over your skin, laving your collarbones and pulse point and the innermost corner of your jaw, was positively worshipful; reverent.  “Mistress,” he whispered, almost sounding like praise but tinted with awe.  Your movements slowed down to a stop and the two of you breathed a sigh together, unintentionally.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“What for?” you asked, blinking quickly and looking down at him, coming back to reality (though you weren’t quite sure where else it was that you had just been).

“I dunno, everything,” he decided.

“Don’t thank me,” you smiled.  “Keep paying me, though.”

He laughed a little, glancing away.  “Yeah, and I’ll pay you back for these ropes… sorry."

"No, hey, don't be sorry," you dismissed, getting up off of his leg and standing up to go grab a towel for him.  "I'm just sorry we still haven't found anything strong enough to hold you."

"It's fine, they're strong enough to make me stop myself when I want to do something I shouldn't, that's all that really matters."

You nodded to yourself as you dampened the towel and came back to wipe him off.

"I can do that for myself," he reminded you, sounding a bit embarrassed, but you thought it was sweet. 

“You just focus on getting those ropes off of yourself,” you decided with a little smile.

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[softboydrew]

and then they knew that you could be homesick for people too.

She watched the screen intently with butterflies erupting in her stomach, waiting for him to answer the call. It’s almost been four month since he’s been gone, the longest he has ever been away on a work trip.

“Goddess Devine!” She finally hears through the speakers following with his face popping into the screen with a huge smile plastered across his face.

“I was getting worried that you might’ve fallen asleep” she sighs in relief.

Y/n clutches to her wine glass peering at Drew, he looks tired especially since it’s around two in the morning where he is, but it’s the only time y/n can call him since she only gets home and has enough time to change before calling him.

They don’t like to call this a “long distance” relationship because he’s only gone when on location, when she's not in University, or working she usually tags along, but it sure does feel like it when days turn into weeks, and then a few months.

Sure, she always makes time to go visit him whenever she can, especially in the summer time but she also has a career to prioritize. Drew always tells her that getting away will benefit her creativity and mental health because he knows how, incredibly stressed she gets when finishing off the workload from the previous semester.

Anyway, he is her everything so all she really needs is to see his handsome face and hear his beautiful voice, that makes her weak in the knees and she’s all set.

Of course Drew already knows this but he can’t help but be selfish when it comes to y/n.

“You know I’d never do that to you” Drew says softly as he watches her take a sip of her wine.

“I know”

She frowns at him, noticing the bags under his eyes and he sticks his tongue out at her in hopes to cheer her up. “Sleep who? I only want you” he teases.

“Oh, shut up”’she rolls her eyes at his cheekiness.

Y/n cracks a smile at him as he places his hands behind his head and gives himself bunny ears, causing her to laugh a true laugh that brings music to his ears.

“Only two more weeks, baby and I get to come home!” He says excitedly. “Then I get to kiss you all over and keep you locked in the bedroom for days” he says darkly while wiggling his brows.

Y/n's eyes gloss over as she looks at him through the screen, all she’s wanted to do since the day he had left was exactly that and she didn’t know if she could handle two more weeks without her beau.

But, she doesn’t want him to see the pain, or blame himself for the way she’s feeling so she pushes her thoughts aside, biting her lip in anticipation while dropping her head in her hands and awing at him with her eyes.

“Promise?” She nearly whimpers making Drew laugh, throwing his head back to the process.

“Always!” He muses.

“Two weeks can’t go by fast enough, I can’t wait until you’re here… in our bed and in my arms” she hums.

Drew nods, his motions lagging as the connection faulted a for a second or two. Y/n chuckles at the way his face is frozen in the screen, his face all distorted from being paused in the middle of nodding his head, she can’t help but take a screenshot of it.

Y/n loves posting screenshots of their FaceTime chats, mostly the ones where Drew is making a funny face, she gets a kick out of it and so do her followers. Drew always grins about it, but y/n knows that he secretly loves them, she can always picture him laughing hysterically at himself which causes her to smile.

“Mmm you have no idea” Drew says after appearing live on the screen with a yawn.

Y/n scrunches her nose at him and leans back into her chair, tilting her head back as she chugs the rest of her wine speeding up the process of a tingling head.

Drew hoots at her playfully, bringing his hand up into a fist and pumping it over his head causing y/n to snort out and laughs long with him, both of their eyes filled with tears as they bend over laughing at one another.

"My girl's goin’ to bed drunk tonight” he says loudly like he’s talking to an audience which causes y/n to scoff and wipe her lips.

“At least I know I’ll sleep like-”

“A fucking brick!” Drew laughs causing y/n to shake her head at him, “when you're wine drunk you’re on a whole other level” he laughs causing y/n to hide her face into her hands giggling, already feeling the buzz of the bubbly.

“You never seem to complain when you experience it first hand” she snaps making him suck in and smirk at her.

“Handsy ladyy” he sing songs.

“Loser” she says, sticking her tongue out at him, watching as he clutches his chest and sticks out his tongue in response.

Like clockwork, the pair have their synchronized yawn motioning that it’s time for sleep, Drew groans and looks at his clock and y/n knows it’s time, it’s around three for him by the time they come close to the end of their conversation.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah” Y/n nods.

She smiles at her boyfriend, watching as he leans closer to his laptop and blows her a kiss through the screen.

Y/n's cheeks glow red as she reaches out and pretends to place it on her heart before doing the same, watching Drew pretend to stuff her kiss into his briefs causing her to snort out.

“Love you” he whispers causing y/n’s head to spin even more than it already was.

She knew she’d never get tired of hearing it come from him, and she’d never lose those butterflies that followed.

“I love you too” she whispers back, “until tomorrow”

“Until tomorrow.”

[withcolebrock]

Caught Simping

Corpse Husband x fem!Reader

Requested: yes :)

Summary: Corpse gets upset when he thinks Colby is flirting with Y/N

Warnings: swearing and cringe stuff

Word Count: 2,351

Author’s Note: I was going to wait to post this tomorrow but why not now lol haha. honestly this could’ve been better but ummm yeahhh, anyways the person had asked for Mr. Brock to be here so yay my two favorite men in one fic love it lol. also I literally could not figure out anything to title this so this is what ya get lol haha anyways I hope you guys enjoy it!!

~~~

It had been an hour since they all started playing, a few people were getting tired. While others were willing to play for several more hours. “Be right back, gamer bladder,” Corpse and herself said around the same time, she stood up from her chair, placing her headphones on the desk. She left her gaming room, and shut the door behind her. She walked into the living room to see Corpse walking towards the bathroom. He stopped short as he looked towards her. His eyes looked her body up and down.

“Are you playing much longer?” he asked while he began to walk towards her. She shrugged slightly as she dropped the hoodie covering her head.

“I’ve got a few more games in me, are you almost done?” she asked while he slowly wrapped his arm around her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’ll be done when you’re done,” he smirked as he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She smiled against his lips as she slowly began to kiss him back. They pulled away, smiling towards each other as they walked towards their gaming rooms. She entered her room again, she couldn’t hide the smile she had to her lips, as she sat down in front of her face cam.

She put her headphones on as she heard Sykkuno say, “Anyone got a fill?” A few people had said that they didn’t have anyone, Y/N began to text a friend of hers from the Vine days. Before she started doing gaming, she was pretty popular on Vine, she had over two million followers and she hung out with Sam and Colby all of the time during that time.

“Dave? Boyinaband? I know he has proximity chat already,” Corpse asked, Y/N smiled to herself as she heard his voice.

“Oh yeah, of course!” Poki cheered.

“Awesome,” he said into the mic, “We still need one more, right?” Corpse continued, muting his mic shortly after.

“I think I got someone, one second,” she said into her mic as she continued to text Colby. She muted herself briefly as she focused on what she wanted to say to him. Explaining that the group was playing the proximity version, asking if he had that version or if he could download it quickly.

“Who is it?” Toast asked.

She unmuted her mic and explained, “His name is Colby, We’ve been friends for years, if that’s cool with you guys,” she chuckled. They waited for a few of the people to join, they began to discuss some things going on in their lives, while talking to their chats. She muted herself in discord while she talked to her chat. “A few of you guys might know him, he has a channel with Sam Golbach, like creepy paranormal stuff. It’s pretty cool. We did vines together all the time, I’m sure they are on YouTube somewhere.” her eyes widened at the memory, the vines were overwhelmingly cringey as most of her vines were.

She unmuted herself in discord and told the group,“He’s coming and he already has the proximity chat,” she explained as she added his information into their discord call. She sent him the invite over discord.

“Sweet,” Sykkuno said, Y/N smiled to herself as she listened to Sykkuno. Shortly after, Dave joined the call. Everyone started asking Dave how he was doing, since they all haven’t played with him in a while.

“Uh, hello,” Colby spoke, everyone in the call immediately started greeting Colby. Poki had asked how Y/N and him had met, Colby laughed slightly, “We met at Vidcon like four years ago, when Viners were invited that year.”

Shortly after everyone introduced themselves to the new people, the game was started. She was a crewmate. “Oh my god, oh my god,” Y/N giggled as her character moved towards the lab. Colby’s pink character was following him, “No, Colby no get away from me, I don’t trust you,” she joked. He chuckled.

“Hey, come on, I promise I’m not an imposter, please stay with me and keep me safe,” Colby begged. Corpse’s character ran past them, he ran towards one of the nodes. “You have med scan? Let’s scan together,” he offered while making his character dance. Y/N rolled her eyes as she followed Colby’s character to the med scan.

“I do have med scan,” she giggled. She clicked off her med scan, seeing that she had to wait for Colby, she officially cleared him. “Okay, you’re cleared,” she explained as she started heading towards decontamination.

“See, I would never lie to you,” he said teasingly. They entered the small room and Y/N went to do wires.

“I gotchu,” she giggled. Shortly after a body was found near admin. Everyone began to ask each other where everyone was at, “I was with Colby the entire time,” she said as she hovered over the skip vote button.

“I wouldn’t let her out of my sight, she’s med scanned,” Colby explained, everyone laughed as they quickly began to ask everyone else where they were at.

“I was by O2 tree,” Corpse said, with no further explaination. He was never straight forward with his responses. Instead of further investigating, the group decides to skip vote. Except there was a rogue anonymous vote to Colby. Everyone gasped slightly at the sight.

“What? I hard cleared him,” Y/N laughed, as the screen faded into the game.

“Y/N please stay with me, I need your help,” Colby whined as they walked towards the admin table together. She quickly clicked onto the table checking to see where everyone was at. There were a few in the lab and a few near electrical. They both walked into decontamination. “Everyone else is so scary, you make me feel safe,” he drew out his words as they walked through the long hallway together. They entered the bigger room together to see Corpse doing simon says.

“Corpse!” Y/N whined as she motioned her character towards him, she danced near his character. Colby walked away briefly to do another task. He finished his task and as his screen lit up, he saw her character. He chuckled as he began to dance with her. “What are you doing down here alone, it’s not safe,” she muttered as she continued to dance her character with Corpse.

He giggled as he said, “I’ll join you guys,” himself, Y/N, and Colby’s character headed up towards the decontamination that led towards the admin table. They all stumbled upon Poki’s body.

~~~

The next round she was imposter with Poki, she was doing amazing. The proximity chat made it even harder to be imposter. She always screamed after she killed someone, but she had to stop for this type of game play. One of Poki’s kills was called, “Where’s the body?” Corpse asked.

“By the button,” Colby responded, “Where were you, Y/N?” he asked. Corpse let out a huff of air, while leaning back into his chair.

“I was on the left side of the map the entire time, Sykkuno can vouch for me, I was with him for most of that round,” Y/N explained, her heart racing. She raced her eyebrows and forced a smile.

“Yeah, there’s no way she could’ve done this kill,” Sykkuno responded.

“I don’t believe it, Y/N’s acting weird,” Colby said.

“How am I acting weird?” she asked through laughter. Corpse smiled to himself as he heard her laugh.

“I dunno, you’re just being all different, it’s weird,”

“I’m not being different,”

“Maybe a little bit you are,” Colby teased, everyone laughed as they all skipped at the same time.

“Definetly not,” she rolled her eyes playfully. The next round began and Y/N ran off with Corpse. “Bub, what tasks do you have?” she asked as she chased after his character, contemplating on killing him or not.

“Wires,” he said shortly. Her head shot back slightly at his response, he was never short with her. Suddenly coming from the other direction was Colby.

“Y/N, thank god! I missed you!” Colby shouted jokingly, he danced his character around Y/N’s as they walked towards decontamination together.

“Missed you too! What tasks do you have?” she asked to try and switch the conversation. Corpse didn’t say anything, he just stood and began to do his wires. They continued to walk down the long hallway. Once they were in the big room Corpse and Colby began to do tasks. Y/N stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as she saw Poki come running down one of the hallways. They moved their characters towards each other as they ran up and killed both Corpse and Colby.

“Oh my god!” Colby yelled.

“Uh, fuck I knew it,” Corpse commented. With the double kill, they won the game. “Good game,” he commented as he leaned back into his chair.

“I’m totally going to get you back for that,” Colby teased. It wasn’t much, but the more he spoke Corpse was getting annoyed. He wasn’t even sure if he was flirting with Y/N, but it sure felt like it. He knew Colby would never intentionally flirt with her, but he needed to do something.

“I’ll be right back,” he spoke into his mic. Corpse muted his mic in both discord and his YouTube stream. He stood up from his desk and left his gaming room. He walked towards hers across their apartment. He knocked on the door several times.

“One second,” she whispered into her mic, muting herself on both platforms. She stood up and pulled open the door seeing Corpse standing at the door fuming. “What’s going on?” she asked, noticing the small frown to his lips. Without saying anything he takes a small step towards her. He rested his hand on her lower back, he lifted her shirt slightly as he rested his hand on her skin. The sudden cold feeling sent chills all over her body.

“Why is Colby flirting with you?” he asked as he looked her features up and down, he looked back into her soft concerned eyes. Her mouth fell open as she shook her head slightly. She stood silently as she looked into his squinted eyes. His fingertips grazed over her skin as they spoke.

“He isn’t, that’s just how he is,” she explained, he raised his eyebrows slightly as he took a long breath. “I promise he’s just messing around,” she reassured as she rested her hand onto his cheek. He pulled her body towards his, he pouted his lips. “It’s nothing more than just jokes, I promise,”

“He’s not very funny,” he let out. She chuckled as she shook her head slightly. She moved her hand slightly as she ran her finger across his bottom pouted lip. His lips curled upward slightly, at the touch. “I don’t like it when another guy jokes around with you like that,” he whispered as she slowly pulled her finger away from his lips. She slowly moved her hand from his cheek to the nape of his neck. “I’m the only guy that can do that.” She rolled her eyes playfully as she moved closer to him.

“I’m sorry,” she let out, he looked her body up and down slowly before he slowly dropped his hand away from her skin.

“It’s okay, I’m just-whatever,” he shook his head as he bit his bottom lip, she raised her eyebrows as her eyes widened.

“Were you just going to admit to-”

“No,”

“I think you were,” she teased as she watched him walk away from her gaming room.

“No,” he sing-songed as he walked into his room. She giggled as she shut the door and headed back to the game. She put on her headphones and unmuted herself in the discord call.

~~~

She ran her fingers through her wet hair as she walked towards her bedroom. She pushed open the door to see Corpse laying on the bed scrolling through Twitter. She walked towards her side of the bed and picked up her phone from the side table. She read a text from Colby, thanking her for allowing him to play with her. She quickly responded as she sat down on top of the comforter. She rested her phone down onto the side table again, while plugging it into the character.

She inched closer to Corpse, he lifted his gaze towards her, a wide smile forming to his lips. “Hey,” he muttered barely above a whisper. She slowly laid down beside him, while adjusting the pillow beneath her head.

“Did you make something trend on Twitter or something again?” She questioned, he rarely sat on his phone scrolling through his social media unless he was messing with his fans or reposting his fans art or people who share his music. He chuckled while shaking his head.

“Not intentionally,” he motioned the phone towards her, she took a hold of it and saw that #SimpCorpse was trending. She furrowed her eyebrows as she clicked on the first video that showed up. It was a slowmo of Corpse taking a hold of her waist earlier in her stream. She gasped, covering her mouth. He nodded slightly. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, she thought he would be mad but he wasn’t. “I think that’s funny,” he chuckled as he rested his phone on his side table.

“I didn’t think to turn off my face cam, oh fuck,” she laughed nervously.

“It’s fine, Baby, I promise,” he tilted his head to look towards her. “I mean, I am always a simp for you,” he teased, her features scrunched together as the words left his lips.

“That was really cring-” she tried to say but he shook his head as he leaned down slowly to press his lips against hers. She kissed his back softly as she giggled slightly, “You were definitely a jealous simp today, then,” she played along. He pressed his lips together while shaking his head. He slowly fell back onto his back.

“I wasn’t jealous,”

[icycoolslushie]

THG Thomastair AU

“I wish we could find sanctuary,” Thomas said. “You know, with shelter and such.”

“But Thomas,” Alastair said, “you are my sanctuary.”

TW/CW: If you're reading this, you've probably read The Hunger Games books or watched the movies so this has the same stuff as in them!

Idea // OG post // Ask

Disclaimers: This has headcanons along with snippets. Hopefully it's not OOC. Any Persian is what my Iranian friend told me. I like to headcanon that all the districts have their own language. Warning: The plot might be non-existent. Also, if you see any kind of mistakes (grammar, spelling, etc.) please let me know! Kinda long :)

Thomas is from District 7

Alastair is from District 11

The president is Josiah Wayland

The Head Gamemaker is Maurice Bridgestock

Eugenia is part of a group to overthrow the Capitol

Barbara and Oliver died in a previous Hunger Games

It was like it was in the books

Alastair used to be in a relationship with Charles Fairchild, son of the mayor of District 11, Charlotte Fairchild

Risa is Sona’s sister so Alastair’s aunt

Alastair volunteers for Cordelia

Cordelia struggles with him and finally says in “I love you” in Persian (dooset daram) before Alastair goes on the train

Cordelia is like Prim

Alastair’s mentor is Ragnor Fell

They be sassy together

Thomas’s mentor is Charlotte

Alastair’s stylist tells him Alastair should dye his hair back to black

In the opening ceremony, Thomas dresses as a tree and Alastair thinks how Thomas makes “a boring costume look beautiful”

Alastair has a suit on with leaves embroidered on it which Thomas later tells him “it was like nature blessed you”

Jem may or may not be an Avox Jem is Alastair’s Avox

Thomas Tanner is Thomas’s Avox

For training Alastair throws spears and pulls a 8

Thomas uses a broadsword in training and pulls an 8 as well

Thomas gets a compass rose tattoo from his stylist for the interview

The arena has a structure that looks like the Eiffel Tower at one end

The arena is covered in forests, except for the Cornucopia

When the canon sounds, Alastair runs toward the Cornucopia and escapes with a dagger to the forest

Thomas runs straight (ha!) into the forest

9 children die in the initial bloodbath

Alastair and Thomas both spend the night in trees about ten minutes away from each other

In the morning, Alastair hears rustling and eventually confronts Thomas

They first try to kill each other, but then they hear someone else and work together to fight the District 9 male tribute

Alastair puts his dagger at the tribute’s throat and stabs him there

Alastair doesn’t want to partner up and vice versa

“Alastair—I think you’d be a great person to team up with, but I . . . I don’t want to team up with you. I don’t want to team up with anyone. We—we might survive till the end, and then—” “No, Thomas, I understand. We’ll pretend this never happened. We’ll go our separate ways.” Thomas nodded, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Part of him had been hoping Alastair would disagree with him, even when it was reasonable. He ignored it and set about laying the food they’d gathered.

But they gather food and decide they’ll have a meal together and then go their separate ways

They make a meal of some fruits they find on trees and on the ground

Thomas just cannot eat the celery

They part ways

By the second night, fourteen people in total are dead

Thomas goes to the Eiffel Tower structure the next day

He climbs onto the first level and greets Alastair

Alastair’s leg is wounded

Alastair explains that the Careers fought him

The Careers include Augustus Pounceby and Clive Cartwright

“Tell me. Tell me who hurt you. I’ll kill them.” Alastair had never seen anyone so angry on his behalf that it unnerved him. “It doesn’t matter, it was the Capitol—” “Don’t,” Thomas said quietly. “Don’t try to downplay it. I want to make them pay.” Alastair paused. After a minute he said, “It was the Careers. The District 1 and 2 tribute. Augustus and Clive. They climbed onto here and started fighting me. I gave Augustus a good cut on the arm and Clive a nice scar on his cheek but they overpowered me. Augustus stabbed my leg. They left laughing.” “They didn’t finish you off?” Alastair shook his head. “I think they . . . wanted me to suffer. It isn’t like I can go anywhere, and I have no allies, so probably wanted to come back tomorrow and then finish me off. But it’s not like I’m going to last that long.” The last sentence caught Thomas off guard. “What?” “Aren’t you going to kill me?” Thomas thought about the District 1 tribute, Augustus, who had been saying that Barbara was weak before the Opening Ceremony. That Barbara, who had gotten him out of a scuffle with a Peacekeeper, was weak. That Barbara, who had volunteered for her cousin in the Reaping, was weak. He thought about the hate he had felt for the Career. Then he thought about graceful, elegant, bleeding Alastair in front of him, the way he had hugged his sister, the way he guarded himself, and decided. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Thomas bandages Alastair’s wound

“Alastair, you’re hurt. Please let me wrap your leg in leaves and vines.” “Thomas, you don’t understand. I’ve always bandaged my own wounds. It’s not going to change now.” “Sometimes,” Thomas said, “it’s better to let others take care of you. They do a better job than you realize. Alastair, please. You’re bleeding. Let me help.” Alastair saw something in Thomas’s eyes: truth. He thought back to how many people would want to help him: his father, his mother, his aunt Risa . . . when he was young. As he grew up, all of them faced the same cruel system and all of them were expected to take care of their own wounds. Now, here was someone willing to help him when he should be killing him. It gave Alastair such a feeling of care and belonging that he nodded. It wouldn’t hurt to let someone take care of him for once.

They eventually decide to team up

Thomas makes a meal out of things he finds in the forest

He and Alastair eat it

Alastair heals from his wound

By that night, nineteen people are dead

Augustus, Clive, and the District 8 female tribute are still alive along with them

Alastair takes first watch during the night, Thomas takes the second

Alastair gently moved his fingers across the compass rose tattoo that Thomas had gotten from his stylist. He felt Thomas’s pulse. He promised himself that that pulse would go on even when his own didn’t.

The next day Alastair and Thomas set off (Alastair’s leg is healed)

Augustus and Clive are waiting for them

Thomas kills Augustus, attacking with A LOT of force

Clive gets a good hit on Thomas with a sword on his left arm

Alastair and Clive fight, Clive flees finally while he’s bleeding from a dozen cuts

Alastair bandages Thomas’s wound with leaves and vines

“I love it when you say my name. Say it again.” “Thomas—Thomas, you’ve lost too much blood. You’re going delirious.” Thomas sighed softly. “I would go delirious if that meant I could hear you say my name one more time.”

They get a sponsor gift: a whole meal of steak and sides, which they finish that day

When Alastair bites into an apple, Thomas wants to kiss him

Both of them fall asleep at night

When they wake up, they’re in a prison; a Capitol prison

They were in prison. But even if they were in hell, Alastair wouldn’t have minded. They were together.

They lie in each other’s arms, seeking warmth

“Why are we in prison? What did we do?” Alastair demanded, getting up as Josiah Wayland stuck his ugly face in front of the bars. President Wayland’s lip curled. “It isn’t you that did something, it’s your family.” Thomas gasped sharply. “Eugenia.” The president smiled cruelly. “So you do know her crime.” Thomas swallowed. Alastair put his hand in Thomas’s. “What did my family do?” Alastair asked, trying to change the topic. “Why, your sister did the same thing,” Josiah Wayland said. This time Alastair gave a sharp gasp. Thomas squeezed his hand, and Alastair drew a bit of comfort from him. But his mind was on Cordelia, his little sister, what would happen to her— Wayland, the monster he was, smiled wider as he saw Alastair and Thomas despairing their sisters’ fate.

Cordelia joined the same rebel group Eugenia was in

“But why are we here? What did they do that you had to take us out of the Games?” Thomas demanded when he had finally calmed down. It seemed that all the Lightwood siblings would all die in their youth. “As soon as they are in our custody, they will be executed. In front of you two. Everyone thinks the two of you killed each other. After they’re dead, both of you will be executed.” Thomas swallowed. “Why? Why will you execute us?” “Your sisters should have thought about your safety before they did what they did. At least you’ll be able to tell them goodbye. If the executioners give you the chance,” President Wayland added before he gave another cruel smile and left.

Thomas and Alastair despair over their and their sisters’ fates

“We’ll fight them. I don’t care. We’ll fight the Capitol. We’ll make them pay for what they did to Barbara and Oliver and Jem and Will and Tessa and my mom and every single person they hurt. We’ll make them pay, Alastair.”

Thomas sighed. “If only we had hope.” “I don’t think about hope, Thomas. I think about you. You’re my hope.” And now I’m going to lose you, Alastair wanted to add, but he didn’t. And then I won’t have any hope left.

“The odds were never in our favour, Thomas,” Alastair whispered, closing his eyes. Then he added softly, “And they never will be.”

Letter addressed to Alastair Carstairs, District 11 male tribute of the 56th Hunger Games, from Charles Fairchild, son of the mayor of District 11, found crumpled in a trash bin of the Training Center floor 11

Taglist: @della-vacker-supremacy @themadhatter999 @writeforjordelia @theenchanteddreamer Also tagging @jurdan-my-beloved who originally requested the headcanons and @youngreckless Lmk if you wanna be added or removed!

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - Chapter Eight (sfw)

I hope those few of you who follow this blog even remember this story!! It's being posted on here as a WIP, so technically you're all my beta readers :). Sorry it's taking so long to work through, but I'm really busy with other writing work, plus actual work, and some life stuff, but it's not abandoned!

In this chapter, which is a bit of a filler chapter, Hermione gets a pleasant surprise visit at the Kneazel and Quill, and she learns what Draco is doing with himself all day at the Manor, and why he has the hands of a potion master. Meanwhile Draco is quietly freaking out about what Scorpius will think of his kindling relationship with one third of the legendary Golden Trio...

As always, looking forward to hearing your reactions and thoughts!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six (nsfw), Part Seven (nsfw)

___

The bell above the door of the Kneazel and Quill jangled, and Hermione looked up to see a very familiar figure wearing practical, Muggle clothes, and a tired but genuine smile.

“Harry!” she shrieked in delight, rising and scuttling around the desk. “When did you get back? I thought you were on assignment in Sweden til —”

He raised his eyebrows. “Wednesday? It’s Wednesday today, Hermione.”

“So it is,” she laughed, and pulled him into a hug. “Cup of tea? You look wiped out.”

“I’m only staying if you’ve got custard creams…”

She snorted. “I must have known I’d need them — I stopped at the Tesco Express on my way in this morning.”

“Maybe Professor Trelawney was wrong about you and ‘the sight’ after all?” Harry grinned and she shook her head, curls bouncing everywhere for want of a hair-tie.

Seated in the cramped back room of her second hand bookshop, Harry looked at her and cocked his head slightly to the side.

“What?” she asked, dunking a biscuit into her tea.

Quietly, Harry said, “There’s something different about you.”

“No there isn’t,” she retorted, scoffing her custard cream down and reaching for another. “I’m the same washed up old hag I’ve always been. Now, tell me about Gothenburg! I’ve wanted to go back ever since we went there for that conference — must be, ooh, what, twelve years ago now? Gods, how time flies.”

“Ok, first of all, you’re nothing like a ‘washed up old hag’, so don’t you dare talk about yourself like that, and secondly, Gothenburg was amazing.”

She smiled, and let him tell her what he could about his assignment.

“Bet Ginny’s glad to have you back,” she said.

Harry’s face shifted into what Hermione called her favourite ‘Harry being soppy for his wife’ expression, and he flushed. “Yeah, probably. Apparently Lily’s been flying around the garden at Grimmauld and it’s giving Ginny kneazles. Lily’s been pretending to be the next seeker for the Harpies or something…” Raking his hand through his messy hair, he sighed. “Who’d have ever thought I’d be sitting in your bookshop, talking about my daughter learning to fly, eh?”

She smiled, but Harry’s expression cracked a little.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Hermione scowled fondly and reached across to take his hand in hers. “Harry… we’ve been over this a thousand times.”

“I know. I just…” he drew in a long inhale and then said, “So are you going to tell me what’s changed in your life since I’ve been away? You’re practically glowing. Did you meet someone?”

Hermione bit her lip and drew back, cheeks heating damnably.

“You did? Who is it? Do I know them?”

“Yes,” she said carefully. “You do. But if I tell you who it is, I need you to…” she puffed out her cheeks and finished off in a rush, “I need you to promise not to freak out first of all, and then promise you won’t tell a soul. Not even Ginny just yet, ok? It’s really important.”

Harry looked wary and worried at that.

Taking one more breath for courage, she said quietly, “It’s Draco Malfoy.”

For a moment, Harry fell utterly still, his green eyes wide and disbelieving. He looked like he was expecting Fred and George to pop out of the bookshelves with party streamers and tell him he’d been pranked, but when he saw her anxious expression, his shoulders dropped a fraction and he whispered, “You’re bloody serious.”

“Yes.”

“How?” he blurted. “I mean… the man’s a hermit by all accounts. How did you even meet him, let alone… you know…” he grimaced and she bit back a snicker. It looked like he’d swallowed a toad whole.

A tiny smile crept onto her lips and she relaxed just a little. “It was back on the first of September,” she said. “I went with Ginny to wave James and Albus off, and —”

“— of course, Scorpius started this year too.”

“Exactly. Draco was there to see him off. Ginny was amazed that he’d left the Manor, but he’s… Gods, Harry, he loves that boy so much.” She paused, recalling Draco's stricken expression as the train had pulled away from the platform, and of his fears about losing Scorpius because of their relationship.

Harry watched her with a quiet intensity for a moment and then asked, “So… Uh… how’d it happen?”

She laughed. “I invited him for a drink at the Leaky, fully expecting him to refuse. I think he surprised himself when he accepted. We had lunch together and honestly…? It was really nice. He’s changed, Harry.”

“I know.”

That surprised her, and she sat up a bit and frowned.

Chuckling softly, Harry ran a hand around the two-day stubble on his jaw. “You remember the attack on the Manor?”

“Little Scorpius yowled in my arms for hours while you questioned his father, Harry. I couldn’t forget that.”

Harry acquiesced with a sideways nod of his head. “Well, he wasn’t the same Malfoy from school in that interview room, Hermione. I don’t know what I was expecting, but when I could get him to focus on something that wasn’t the whereabouts of his son, he was articulate and helpful… Still arrogant and snappy, but…” Harry shook his head. “He’s definitely different.”

Hermione bit her lip to try and stop herself from crying, which failed, and when Harry looked up, his face fell.

“Hermione? What’s wrong?” He set his mug down and rose from his battered old armchair, crossing in two strides to kneel beside hers.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t understand,” she whispered, shaking and overwhelmed.

All the tension left Harry and he hugged her.

It was awkward because of the furniture, but Harry had always given the best hugs no matter the situation. “You deserve to be happy, Hermione. And you’ve always known your mind. If Malfoy can keep up with you, and keep you happy, then…” he shrugged without letting go, “I’ll support you. If he hurts you though, I will use every curse I’ve ever learned as an Auror on him.”

“Thanks, Harry. You promise you won’t tell anyone yet?”

He nodded.

And then someone cleared their throat from the doorway into the main shop, and Hermione jumped. Harry sprang back, hand going instinctively for his wand, but he stopped when he saw who was standing there.

“Theo!” Hermione exclaimed, smearing the last of her tears off her cheeks. “What are you doing here? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Too busy sobbing onto dear Potter’s shoulder,” he said without barb. “Everything alright?”

She nodded. “Just getting emotional about something as usual. What’s up?”

“Just came to see if you wanted to grab lunch, but I can see that England’s favourite Auror has returned. How was your trip, Potter?”

“Good,” he said, suddenly every bit the awkward boy he’d been at Hogwarts. “I just finished debriefing and thought I’d stop by for a custard cream and a chat with Hermione before I head home. I’m on leave for a week now.”

“Nice,” Theo smiled. “Any plans?”

Harry shrugged. “A few casual rounds of quidditch with Ron and the others,” he said. “Time with Ginny and Lily. Might pop up to Hogsmeade and see if I can visit James and Albus at the weekend.”

Conversation stalled, and Harry rocked back on his heels before putting his mug down and turning to Hermione.

“Look, I’d better get going,” he said. “But… Come over for dinner this week, alright?”

She nodded. “I’d love that. Tomorrow any good?”

“I’ll check with Ginny, but I can’t see why not. I’ll owl you.” He paused and then grinned. “C’mere,” he said, and pulled her into another enormous hug. With a hand briefly on the back of her head, he murmured, “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing him so hard he wheezed.

“See you, Nott,” Harry said with a polite nod as he left.

Once the bell had fallen silent again, Theo turned to her and crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “Everything alright?” he asked again now that they were alone.

“Yeah,” she said and rolled her eyes. “I told him about Draco and bound him to secrecy. I was so relieved when he took it so well that I just burst into tears.”

Theo laughed at that and finally seemed to relax. “I’m honoured to have known before Potter, then,” he said. “And what, pray, are those?” he added when his eyes landed on the custard creams.

“Muggle biscuits,” she said, picking up the plate and holding it out to him. “They’re delicious.”

Theo looked as if she’d offered him a plate of slugs and held up his hand. “Thanks… I’ll, uh, pass.”

“You’re such a snob, Theodore Nott,” she laughed, bustling off to tidy the mugs and plate away. “What did you want, anyway?”

“Lunch,” he said.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” she countered.

“Mmm. I had a deposition that went on forever. I’m starving.”

“Theo, I do actually have a business to run,” she said. “Isn’t today Dan’s day off? Can’t he go instead?”

“He’s already reserved us a table and is probably halfway through his steak and rioja by now,” Theo groused. “I’ll bring you a doggy bag if we have any leftovers,” he added affectionately.

“Thanks?”

Pausing on the threshold to the back room, Theo fixed her with one of his rare, intense and sincere looks. “I’m glad things worked out with you and Draco. Potter was right; you both deserve to be happy.”

She swallowed thickly, feeling tears prickle at her eyes again. “You won’t tell anyone? He wants to tell Scorpius himself. He doesn’t want it coming from someone else first.”

Theo dragged his thumb across his heart in a cross and nodded. “Drinks on Friday? Draco said he might come.”

“I’ll be there anyway,” she promised, and Theo left with a friendly wink that only he could get away with.

She and Draco continued to see each other, mostly using the seclusion of his London apartment, though they did sometimes go back to hers. There they watched the 1946 Great Expectations. To Hermione’s surprise, however, Draco informed her that it wasn’t his first time seeing a muggle film. That, naturally, led down a whole rabbit hole of questions, ending with the discovery that Draco had built Scorpius a warded playroom inside Malfoy Manor that was shielded from the effects of magic and thus allowed Muggle technology to function perfectly.

“But… you need electricity!” she’d blurted.

Laughing and looking far too smug with himself, Draco said, “Indeed.”

“But… wizarding households don’t have electricity!”

“Granger, you’re glorious when you’re baffled. I must make more efforts to confound that brilliant mind of yours more often.”

“Tell me!” she’d shrilled, pinching him in the ribs as they sat on the sofa together with the end credits rolling away in the background. When he’d just sat back with his mouth quirked into an infuriating smirk, she had straddled him and raked her fingers through the slightly shorter hair just above his hears on either side of his head, scrunching the silver-white waves until he’d groaned and bucked upwards slightly into her. “Tell me, Draco Malfoy, or no more kisses.”

“You drive a hard bargain, my beautiful, brilliant witch,” he purred, slightly breathless as she continued to hold him in her grasp, head tilted back a little, throat exposed. His hands landed reverently on her hips and he closed his eyes, clearly enjoying the contact.

Naturally, Hermione kissed him on the lips and he smiled. “Perpetual shock charm,” he said when she drew back. “I made a generator.”

“That’s… That’s so simple it’s genius. But surely you had to look up —?”

“I’m fairly certain I could get a job as a muggle ‘electrician’ now,” he snickered, chasing after more kisses. “But I choose not to.”

“What do you do with yourself all day?” she asked. “Running Malfoy Manor and the estate can’t take up all your time, surely?”

He went a little tense beneath her at that and then chuckled, embarrassed. “I… I’m on the board of a number of charities,” he said, “And I’m currently conducting research into a number areas in the field of Potions. I did a postal course to get my NEWTs in Potions, and shortly after that, attained my masters.”

“Huh,” she said, sitting back a bit. She reached down and brought his hands up in front of her. Pressing a kiss to each of his scar-flecked knuckles, she murmured, “That explains a lot. You’ve got the hands of a potion-master, Draco.”

“Too many spills and accidents,” he snorted. “And not enough dragon hide gloves.”

“What are you researching?”

“A number of projects,” he said evasively.

“Come on,” she laughed, dropping his hands again and beginning to nuzzle at his jawline and neck. He was utterly weak to that, she’d discovered to her absolute delight, and she was not above using it to her advantage. Beneath her, he shivered and went limp, turning his head with a sigh of pleasure as she raked her teeth over his pulse and then kissed him.

“I’m working on… ah… on a recipe that… oh gods, Granger…”

“Go on,” she crooned.

“A recipe to make the wolfsbane potion commercially viable,” he panted.

At that, she did pause, but only for a moment. Next thing Draco knew, Hermione had flung her arms around his neck and was squeezing the life out of him like a boa constrictor.

“Granger?”

She just shook her head, thinking of what Remus Lupin would say if he knew what Draco was working on now on behalf of his kind. “Why?” she eventually croaked without removing her face from the crook of Draco’s neck.

His hands skated gently up and down her back, the heat simmering back down to something calmer; something fond and affectionate. “Because,” he fairly growled, “Fenrir Greyback tormented my mother when he lived with us at the Manor, and I had no idea that werewolves could be functioning members of society with the right help until I met Remus Lupin. It was just another area where if I’d only known more at the time, it would have made so much difference to my perception of things.”

He sighed and kissed the side of her head.

“I can make a difference now. I’ve got a state of the art potions lab in one of the dungeons at the Manor, and Severus left his entire collection of books and notes to me in his will. He must have known I always wanted to be a potions master, even when I didn’t think I’d live beyond the end of that awful year…”

That was probably the longest continuous speech from Draco she’d heard since they’d started seeing each other, and the emotion in his voice, lingering beneath the surface like a hidden current, moved her deeply.

“You’re a wonderful man, Draco,” she whispered as she kissed his temple. “I wish the world could see you for who you are now…”

“You see me,” he said very quietly. “That’s enough.”

___

To be continued! Don’t forget to let me know what you think, and help a relative newbie (at least to contributing anyway) to the fandom out by reblogging!

writing masterlist | Ao3

[drawlfoy]

Detention, Retention, and Draco Being a Lying Shit -- Halloweek Day 2!

catch up on part 1 on my masterlist

request guidelines (in case you were thinking of it ;))

want to be tagged?

pairing: draco x reader

request?  nope

summary: 2 months of detention with Draco Malfoy might be a pain for Y/N, but Harry has other plans.

warnings: swearing, underage drinking (of course not endorsed by me...of course)

a/n: soooo things in my life have gotten a little crazy in the past 48 hours. you may have been wondering where part 2 was yesterday and while this post sums it up best, i’ll take a crack at explaining it here. my relationship got pretty messy and things have been a roller coaster ever since monday night my time. i try and be someone who can separate her emotions from her work but these past two days have made me realize how much my mood impacts everything :/ it isn’t my intention to lead you guys on at all and i want to keep writing this piece, but i apologize in advance if this doesn’t finish itself by friday. anyways, enough blather on my behalf. thanks to anyone who made it through this--you guys mean so much more to me than you know. i hope you enjoy.

tags! @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @shadyrose66622 @alwaysbeanunknownfan

word count: 1.3k

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two. 

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him. 

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers. 

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door. 

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time. 

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled. 

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her. 

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks. 

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth. 

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile. 

Task 1? Technically done.

final a/n: haven’t done one of these in a while! anyways, i hope you guys enjoyed! i have a luttle more written for part 3 so hopefully i’ll have that out tomorrow too :) let me know what you thought! do you guys think that, even if this is a draco x reader pairing, he’ll ever really tell her what his 6th year task is? i’m curius >:)

[keeptheotherone]

Do You Promise?

Chapter 1 of a new WIP, just for you, my Tumblrers <3

August 1999 the Burrow’s garden Weasleys’ 2nd Annual End of Summer Celebration

Charlie Weasley sat on the fence separating his mother’s vegetable patch from the garden, thinking about the last time he’d sat here, one year ago. Then it had been Bill at his side, not his little sister.

“Knut for your thoughts,” she said, pushing herself up.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

Ginny raised her brows at the implication of his answer but didn’t tease. “Around.”

“Mmm.” He’d been home for more than twenty-four hours, but he hadn’t seen Potter once. At Christmas, they’d been a package deal, never out of arm’s reach of the other. “I thought he might have had to work.”

Ginny shook her head, pigtails dancing round her shoulders like they had when she was shorter than this fence. “Today and tomorrow, but not tonight. Mum made them promise.”

By “them,” Charlie knew she meant Ron and Harry. But … Mum made them promise? Not Ginny, or even Hermione?

“Well, he’d better show up,” Charlie said, taking a drink of his beer. “He owes me a rematch.”

They had played Quidditch in the orchard last year, he and Ginny and Potter and George and a bunch of kids he hadn’t known. Played past sunset into darkness, until Professor McGonagall ended the pick-up match without a capture of the Snitch.

Ginny muttered something that sounded like “he owes me a hell of a lot more than a rematch,” but Charlie let it slide. Ginny could take care of herself.

He and Bill had made sure of it.

“Shouldn’t you be with your friends?” 

“Thanks, Charlie, that means a lot.” She swiped the bottle from his loose grasp and drank.

Charlie had to remind himself she was of age to keep from overreacting, but even so, his hand twitched reflexively.

Ginny saw it and smirked round the glass, tipping her head back and the bottle up, taking several long swallows just for show.

“Yeah, you can have my beer, Sis. I’ll just get another, no problem.”

She finished with a pop and licked the foam from her upper lip before handing it back. “Thirsty.”

Charlie held the bottle up to the light—there was exactly one swallow left. “Brat.”

Ginny was predictably unfazed, gazing over the crowd starting to assemble round the food tables. “I talked to Angelina. She said Alicia couldn’t make it this year.”

“Who?” Charlie said, right as a picture of a perky brunette, with equally perky … anatomy … popped into his mind. Shit. Alicia wasn’t avoiding the party because of him, was she? The same age as George, she would know most of the people attending tonight. He’d thought they parted on good terms, all things considered….

“I thought you might be watching for Amy.”

“Amy’s coming?” He hadn’t seen Amy Green since he had invited himself back to her room and she politely declined. 

“Fleur wasn’t sure,” Ginny said casually, as if she hadn’t just dangled fairy lights in front of a niffler. “She said she encouraged her to come since she sounded a little down, but Amy didn’t commit. I hope she does, don’t you?”

“Of course. I haven’t seen Amy since the memorial. It would be good to catch up.” Charlie took a subtle deep breath, repeating the mantra he told himself when he occasionally woke with her on his mind. You asked, and Amy said no. It doesn’t matter if she isn’t seeing anyone. She’s still unavailable, Weasley. No benefits, just friends.

“I remember, you know. You think I was too young to understand, but I remember. In Egypt.”

Charlie scoffed. His baby sister celebrated her twelfth birthday the summer his family had visited Bill in Cairo. “Oh, yeah? And what do you think you remember, Gin-Gin?”

“I know Bill was an arse,” she said bluntly.

This reversal of her usual hero worship got Charlie’s attention.

“I know you weren’t. And that you liked her. I know you two went out together, and you’ve both dated other people since … but you’ve never dated each other.”

Charlie sighed. “Ginny….”

“Bill’s married,” she said simply. “It doesn’t matter any more.”

“I never thought I’d say this … but go find something else to do. Even if it’s Harry.”

****

Charlie did not leave his post on the fence rail, content to get quietly drunk and watch his family enjoy themselves. He had wondered why he’d bothered making the trip in—it made three in a month, when you added the party to Ginny’s and Percy’s birthdays—but now admitted to himself it had been in hopes of seeing Amy. After all, she hadn’t refused him, exactly; she’d refused the timing. 

“I think we both know what will happen if you walk me back to Hogsmeade.”

He raised his brows, leaving the challenging “so?” unspoken.

Amy closed her eyes, then pulled her hand from his. “Not today, Charlie.” She waved her hand at the gates and the castle and the grounds beyond, where the first Remembrance Ceremony had just ended. “Not after this.”

“Oi, sleepyhead!”

Charlie opened his eyes to find an object in eminent danger of colliding with his nose. He snatched it from the air in sheer self-defense, then groaned when he realized he’d just crumbled one of the best biscuits he’d ever had in his life—a biscuit he’d been waiting all year to taste again.

Percy laughed. “Nice catch, Captain.”

“Shut up,” Charlie muttered, trying to transfer the contents of his hand to his mouth without wearing them.

“Full of snappy retorts tonight, I see.”

Charlie eyed his next-youngest brother, his cheery demeanor highly suspicious. “Did you just get laid?”

Percy slung one arm around his shoulders. “I, in the utmost gesture of brotherly solidarity, am foregoing my own numerous opportunities to assist you in yours, however few and far between they may be.”

“You’re pissed.” Alcohol did not make Percy more relaxed; it made him more Percy-ish.

Percy squinted one eye closed and looked towards the gate. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But not so drunk I can’t recognize a certain beautiful brunette.”

It was Amy. She was wearing—well, Charlie supposed it was technically a dress, but he’d seen similar items under a dress or robes more than once. It was black and flow-y, with red flowers and skinny straps made to make a man think of slipping them off, and just like that Charlie saw the garment puddled at her feet. She was taller than usual in thick sandals, and even from this distance, with the cut of the dress and the way she moved—he could tell she was braless. He raised the bottle to his mouth before remembering it was empty.

“Godric, I wish I had a camera,” Percy said wistfully. “George and Ron are never going to believe this.”

Charlie realized he was making a fool of himself, closed his mouth, and turned, shaking off his brother’s arm. “What’s she doing now?”

“Making a beeline for us.”

Charlie spoke through clenched teeth. “Shut up and get the—”

“Amy! What a pleasure. We’re so glad you could make it.”

Charlie turned to find his brother kissing Amy on both cheeks with minimal difficulty, despite their height difference. His heart skipped a beat. She was taller; he could kiss her easily.

No, not kiss. We’re friends!

Oh, who was he kidding? Unless she flat-out declined, he was sleeping with Amy Green tonight. They could figure out the friendship stuff tomorrow.

“Hey,” she said, pausing just shy of kissing distance (cheek or otherwise).

“Hey.”

Her hair was down, as it often was, but she had pulled back the front above her ears, exposing small purple and silver earrings (her house colors) and … a blush?

“I would offer to bring you a handful of biscuits, but something tells me you two aren’t going to be here for long.” Percy smirked. “Take care, Amy. See you tomorrow, Charlie.”

Charlie glanced at Amy to judge her reaction. “I’m sorry. He’s, er—”

“Taking the piss?” She offered the British idiom with a grin.

Charlie returned it. “I was going to say ‘pissed,’ but yeah. That too.”

She laughed.

“I keep telling you, you’re lucky to be an only child.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, brushing her hands over his chest with slow, deliberate strokes that were in direct opposition to her presumed goal of removing crumbs. “Brothers can be useful. I figured even if you turned me down, not all of you would.”

Charlie froze, just for a second, his brain short-circuiting to a night more than a year ago, before Ron had left for Australia. “Well, if she actually says it with words, that’s always a good sign, although if she strips her knickers off, that’s even better.”

Wait a minute … she wasn’t commando under that thing … was she?

It took a few moments for the silence to catch his attention.

“I take it that’s not a no,” Amy said dryly.

“No. It’s not. But—”

Her expression darkened, and she pulled away slightly. 

“The terms haven’t changed.” 

“I didn’t think they had,” she said cooly.

They had been here before, the autumn after Voldemort came back. Grimmauld Place, an unexpected post-meeting raid, high spirits and adrenaline … and the darkened hallway where Amy had turned him down. “I like strings,” she’d said, and walked away.

The staccato drumbeat of the Weird Sisters’ Do the Hippogriff pulled Charlie from the memory.

“Drink?” he asked, indicating his empty bottle in case she hadn’t heard him over the noise.

“Not really.”

He’d already started towards the tables, but her answer drew him up short. “Really, Amy, you could at least buy me dinner first,” he said sarcastically.

She sighed. “Look, Charlie, I don’t want to play the game. It’s why I’m here. Now, am I wasting my time or not?”

For the second time that night he found himself holding on to his temper. He was starting to see how she’d got under Bill’s skin, why he’d had such a hard time letting her go even when Bill had known he didn’t want to pursue a relationship with her.

“So what, you thought you’d just fly in, snap your fingers, and I’d jump?”

“Am I wrong?”

Godric, she was obnoxious. She was also beautiful, confident, and sexy as hell, and Charlie was honest enough to admit he found the balance of power between them as intoxicating as it was infuriating. 

“We could get a room at the Leaky—in magical London—or maybe Hogsmeade?”

“I have a room in the village.”

Damn. When Amy made up her mind, she didn’t mess around.

“All right,” he agreed. “One last thing, though.”

He stepped into her space, close enough to ruffle her skirt with his legs and watch the gooseflesh pebble across her chest and shoulders. He ignored the temptation to follow it down and looked her in the eye. In heels, she was as tall as he, but his wide shoulders and bulky frame dwarfed her. He paused to let her consider this fact, still not touching her, before dropping his voice.

“You will not be in control the entire night.”

Her reaction went straight to his groin—a sharp intake of breath, dilated pupils, a shiver she tried to suppress. Then she smiled, a sly, knowing smile that reached all the way to her eyes and made them sparkle in the fading sunlight.

“Do you promise?”

[verai-marcel]

This Is Perfection (RDR2 Fanfic, Javier x F!Reader, Biker AU, 18+)

This is part of the series Ride Through My Heart. Read the other parts here.

Summary: You are an intern at a photography studio, and lately you've been crushing on the male model that works with your boss. Javier is sex on legs and your eyes are drawn to him every time he's near. On top of his looks, he's also kind and funny, which made you doubly fall for him. Little did you know, he's had his eye on you too, for he knows your secret identity: a semi-popular cosplayer on the convention circuit. 

Author’s Notes: Trying another Javier x F!Reader fic because he deserves love too. The title of this fic is yet another obscure lyric from a popular song, so try and guess! Also I’m not in the photography or modelling industry, so most of that stuff is just conjecture and internet research.

Tags: fluff, romance, gentle to passionate to rough sex, mild dirty talk, neck grabbing (but no choking), some use of a different language

AO3 Link is here, sweetheart.

Word Count: 4457

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

“See you next week, Javier.”

“Later Charles,” Javier threw over his shoulder as he left Charles’ cat café. He finished his latte, jaywalking across the two lane road to get to his bike. Bright red, his Ducati Streetfighter was his prized possession, his baby, his joy. When he wasn’t working, he loved to take his motorcycle to the nearby lake and ride around the backroads, enjoying the scenery.

But lately, he had no excuse to go out. He felt he had overbooked himself this month, running from one photo shoot to another. He had to sleep, had to eat properly and work out so that he looked his best, and that cut out practically all of his free time. Feeling the stress steadily creep up his spine and into his brain, his only breaks were his weekly meetings with his friends, which he could count as business since he was their marketing manager. Self-appointed, of course.

He only left Sunday for himself, which he had been using for personal and wardrobe maintenance. Javier was nothing if not meticulous about his look. He had to be, when it was the product he was selling. But lately, even his Sundays were being booked with side jobs. 

He chucked the empty latte cup into the trash and got onto his bike. It was Sunday morning and he had once again broken his rule and picked up an extra gig at the beach by the lake. He almost hadn't taken the job, except that there was a lady working today that he absolutely wanted to see. 

***

You were sitting inside a minivan with the sliding door open, cords coming out of your laptop and hooked up to a power strip, connected to an orange extension cord that was coming out of the visitor’s center. Your boss was testing shots by the new mural that had been painted on the retaining wall next to the beach. You had helped her set up most of the lighting gear already, so at this point, the two of you were just waiting for the model to arrive. While you had wanted to spend the weekend touching up your costumes for the convention next week, you also needed the extra money. It had nothing to do with that fact that the model for today was none other than the delightful (and very sexy) Javier Escuella.

Ever since you had started working with this modeling & photography company, you had done a lot of random work that wasn’t really related to your college degree. However, you learned a lot about the profession and discovered that the thing you really loved more than photography itself was the photo-editing.

While you were editing some of your personal photos, you heard the sound of a motorcycle pulling up. Looking over at the source of the sound, you watched as Javier pulled his helmet off his head and shook his hair out. As he took off his bandana and biker jacket, you made a mental note to remember this moment forever, his biceps revealed, his sleeveless shirt wrapped around his torso like a lover.

Then he looked at you and grinned. He had caught you staring. Again.

How many times in the past three months since he started to work with your company had he caught you staring? And how many times had he just grinned at you, knowing he had caught you? 

Too many. Didn't he think you were a creep? And yet he still smiled. 

“Hey you,” Javier said smoothly as he walked over to you, the slight sway to his hips taunting you. He was a natural-born model, his movement graceful as a cat and his charisma amplified by his seductive smile. Taking a seat next to you, the space between you two barely a hair’s breadth apart, he leaned over to look at your screen. “What are you working on?”

You quickly tried to shut the laptop, but just as quickly he stayed your hand. His hand was bigger than yours, encompassing and warm. His fingers, wrapped around yours, gently moved the laptop screen back up, and you couldn’t stop him, so enraptured by his touch.

Apprehensively you watched him as he looked at your latest shots of you in your almost completed costume. You swallowed. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize you? After all, you had your glasses on, a big beanie over your hair, and an oversized sweater. Your photo had so much more makeup on and a wig, perhaps he wouldn’t—

“Oh, I know this Insta account.”

You paled.

“I’m a big fan.”

"I'm editing for a friend–" 

"Don't lie," he said softly. "I can tell it's you. I've known since I started working with you."

You squeaked. 

He turned his blazingly glorious smile onto you, and you felt like the sun was shining straight into your eyes. While you were reeling from his admission, he continued to talk to you.  

"You're going to that big convention next weekend, right?" 

You nodded. 

"Can I come?"

Shrugging as you tried to play it cool despite the slight tremor in your voice, you replied, "I'm not sure if tickets are still available, but I wouldn't stop you."

He leaned in a little closer. "What if I told you I already had a ticket?"

You gulped. "Re-really?" 

Nodding, he stood up, giving you room to breathe. "I may not look like it, but I enjoy comics too."

Noticing that your boss was starting to head over, you quickly said, "please don't tell my boss about this. I don't want her to think I'm slacking or anything."

Javier smiled and winked at you. "Of course. Your secret is safe with me." He leaned down to look at you in the eyes, and you were mesmerized for a moment from the intensity. "Just promise me I get a photo shoot with you at the con."

You nodded, your head moving so fast that your glasses dipped down your nose. 

He laughed as he casually reached down and moved your glasses back up, his fingers brushing against your temples.

"Then it's a date," he said as he walked away to greet your boss. 

Grabbing your laptop and pulling it off the charger, you followed as they went to the shooting location, your heart pounding a million miles a second. 

***

After the photo shoot, Javier traded his phone number with the lovely lady who had been the subject of his heated dreams as of late. He hadn't wanted to scare her; she always seemed so jumpy when he approached. But he always noticed the way she stared at him before he caught her eyes. The look she gave him was pure woman, and he craved more. 

It wasn't just the looks that brought her to his attention. He started following her Instagram account a year ago when he was looking at last year's masquerade winners. Her smile, her energy, and her creativity drew him in. He had found himself liking all of her posts in a day, scrolling endlessly through her archive. 

So when she had shown up at one of his photo shoots three months ago, he had been delighted. But she seemed shy and even denied that she had an Instagram account when he had asked her. He was even more surprised to find that she wasn't a model, but the photographer's intern. 

At that time, he had let it go. She was clearly hiding it, clearly didn't want to draw attention to herself. But every time he got to work with her, he felt frustrated that she hid herself so carefully behind her wide rimmed glasses and oversized hoodies. Her cosplay photos were amazing, her smile brilliant, her makeup impeccable, her costumes were bold and full of color combinations that seduced his vision. 

At the same time, having her hidden away made him feel a bit better about her safety. What kind of wolves would go after her if they knew how gorgeous she was under her baggy clothes? 

As he slowly got to know her, his affection for her had only grown. With each job, he talked with her more and more, and she had opened up to him. While they hadn't traded phone numbers until now, he could say with a certain level of confidence that they were on good terms. Almost friends, really. 

He couldn't wait for next week. He had gotten his Comic-Con ticket months ago and had been preparing on his own. Javier grinned under his helmet. 

She was going to be so surprised to see him. 

***

"Thanks for working today. I'll see you tomorrow."

"No problem, see ya later!" 

Your boss waved as she went to her car and drove off. The two of you had dropped the company van back at the office, so now you had the rest of the day to yourself. 

Getting into your car, you started it up, put your favorite music on… 

And you promptly screamed in both excitement and anxiousness. You had a date with Javier. You. Had a date. With Javier. 

You drove home, got to your apartment, and started working feverishly on the rest of your costume. 

Next weekend had to be perfect. 

***

You finished your make up and looked at yourself in the mirror. You had arrived at the convention center early and started getting ready in the bathroom as other cosplayers had begun to trickle in. For everything else in your life, you were unsure of yourself, constantly second guessing your choices and worrying if you were, in fact, wrong about everything.

But in this space, you felt strong. Confident. Because, despite the occasional hater in your comments, the majority of your feedback was positive. Besides, you were someone else when you put on your outfit. You were Star.Bright.909, a cosplayer with over a thousand followers. Not as many compared to the big name cosplayers, but you were proud of yourself for getting this far.

So when you came out of the restroom looking your best, the few gasps you heard were worth it. As you walked outside towards the photography area that had been set aside for cosplayers, you already had five people asking to take photos of you.

You smiled and posed and thanked everyone who wanted to take a photo. You were gracious and patient, even though you were trying to meet up with some photographers you had spoken with online. When you reached the small plaza, you met up with them and worked for the rest of the morning, posing as the photographers asked and networking with other cosplayers in the area. 

Just as you were about to head off towards the lobby to check out the dealer's hall, a man walking through the crowd caught your attention. Dressed up in a skin tight lycra Spiderman outfit, you could tell immediately that his muscles were real. The way he moved was smooth, graceful, and awfully familiar, despite not seeing his face. 

Wait. 

It couldn't. 

As he came closer to you, he bowed in a gentlemanly fashion and held out his hand. 

"Hola, mi Estrella."

You squeaked. "Javier?" 

"Just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman," he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. "Perhaps we could take a photo together?" 

"Of course," you said, suddenly shy. A professional model wanted to take a photo with you. Granted, you knew Javier, but he was still a pro, while you were an amateur. 

"Do you mind if I put my arm around you?" he asked politely. 

"That’s fine," you said, your face warming. 

He nodded and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close for the photo. You grinned, channeling your happiness into your smile. Holding up the phone for a selfie, Javier took a few shots before taking a look at them to check their quality.

He still hadn't let go of you. 

"Whoops, sorry," he said, finally letting go. 

"It's okay," you quickly said. "I… I didn't mind."

He looked at you, but his mask prevented you from seeing his expression. 

"Are you free now?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm free for the rest of the day." You had worked yesterday and some of today, but you always left the last half-day of any convention for shopping or panels. 

Javier held out his hand and you gladly took it, letting him walk you back to the entrance of the convention center. 

As the two of you walked past one of the hotels that lined the plaza, you saw the laces of one of your boots hit the ground. 

"Hold on," you said as you stepped off the main path to tie it back. 

Then you felt the splash of liquid come down on your head, the smell of alcohol pungent and seeping into your wig.

For a moment you were shocked. Then the overwhelming sense of frustration hit you and all you could do was stay still and will yourself not to cry. Not in front of Javier. 

Warm hands touched your wet shoulders. 

"Sweetie. Come on, let's get you changed. Can I escort you to your hotel room?"

You looked up at him, at his compassionate eyes, and you shook your head. “I drove here this morning.” You had driven here from your apartment, an hour away.

“Oh. I see.” He took your hand and began to lead you down the road, away from the convention center. 

"Where are we going?" 

"My hotel room, if that’s alright. Or would you rather go back to the convention hall?"

“You got a room?” you said in surprise. 

He shrugged. “I have other business in the city tomorrow morning, figured it’d be easier to spend the night.”

“Oh, okay,” you said, unsure of what else to say. 

“So… are you okay coming with me? I won’t do anything, I promise.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” You put your hand on his arm. “I trust you, Javier.”

He nodded and continued to walk with you. He was taking you to his bedroom. No ulterior motives, he just wanted to help you get clean.

But part of you really wished he had some ulterior motives.

***

“I’ll get you some extra clothes from my backpack,” Javier called out to you as he left you to clean up in the bathroom on your own.

You stared in the mirror; your make up was ruined, your wig would need an extreme clean up when you got home, and your costume was stained and reeked of alcohol. As you took off everything and tried to rinse out what you could in the sink, you counted yourself lucky that this had happened at the end of the convention rather than the beginning. At least you had all of your shots and you could maybe sell a few prints to make some of your cash back.

You showered and dried your hair as quickly as you could, not wanting to take up more of Javier’s time. He had left a shirt and shorts in front of the bathroom door for you, and you opened the door a crack to pull them inside, throwing them on. They were a bit loose on you, but that was a welcome relief, compared to the skin tight costume you had on earlier.

“Alright, I’m good,” you said as you exited the bathroom. Javier was lying on the bed, his legs still on the floor. His costume was unzipped to expose his torso, his arms up in the air as he was typing on his phone. Turning his head to you, he gave you a lazy grin before patting the bed next to him. 

“Have a seat, I’m just finishing this post for Insta.”

You sat next to him and took in his body from up close. His abs were perfect; you wanted to run your hands down them to see how they’d feel under your fingers. He was lean, tanned, muscles, everything you lusted after.

“What do you think?”

You quickly looked up at him, as if he hadn’t just caught you staring at his body. He was holding out his phone, a picture of the two of you with your costumes. The caption said, Found my favorite cosplayer today! She graciously took a selfie with me, isn’t she wonderful?

You felt warm from his kind words. “You’re too nice to me,” you mumbled.

Javier laughed softly and sat up. “I like being nice to you.” He posted the photo and put his phone down. Turning towards you, he reached up and stroked your face with the back of his knuckles. “I just… like you.”

You swallowed. The fact that he was saying that now, with you wearing baggy clothes, your make-up gone, just being your unglamorous self, meant so much that you started to tear up.

“Did I say the wrong thing?”

“No,” you said between tears. “I like you too.”

He started to lean in for a kiss before he stopped. “May I?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” you said without thinking.

A moment passed, his deep brown eyes searching yours. “Anything?” he finally said.

You nodded. Time to own up to your words, to your feelings that you had been denying for so long. “Yes.”

“Well, I’d rather do whatever we want with each other,” he said, smiling gently.

You leaned in and kissed him, surprising him and surprising yourself. Your hands rested on his chest and you gave in, exploring his toned body, his skin underneath your fingers, feeling warm and inviting to your touch. He pulled you into his arms and kissed you back, a passionate inhalation of your very spirit, as if he wanted to merge his soul with yours.

Soon he pressed you down against the mattress and kissed you for a few moments more before he pulled away. “Wait here for a few, I’m going to shower so I don’t smell like sweat and spandex. You deserve better than that.”

You laughed as he kissed your cheek and went to shower. 

Laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, you managed to find your brain again. You, and he, were about to…

Your brain left again and you just grew warm between your legs. You wanted him so much.

In a daze, you didn't notice the sound of the shower turning off. You didn't notice the door open and close. You only noticed when he came back to the bed, wearing just a towel around his waist, smiling down at you. The tendrils of his black hair clung to his cheeks, still damp from the shower, as drops of water slid down his neck to his chest, drawing a line you desperately wanted to trace with your tongue. As your eyes moved lower, you noticed his towel wasn’t exactly hiding his desire for you.

"I've wanted you for so long, querida," he said, his voice like fingertips gliding down your spine as he stepped to the foot of the bed. Taking off your shirt and throwing it aside, he grabbed your breasts and kissed them, laving each nipple with his tongue before pinching and teasing you with his dexterous fingers until you were a writhing mess. You could feel your panties being soaked by your desire, and you shifted your legs, wanting to remove them.

Your movement attracted his attention, and he looked down at you. Reaching down to pull at the waistband of your (his) shorts, he pulled them off, revealing your beige panties.

“Aw, I thought you would have gone commando,” he teased as he tugged your underwear down your legs, his fingers caressing you along the way.

“They weren’t soaked with alcohol,” you mumbled.

“They’re soaked now,” he said with a cocky grin, tossing them aside. Then he placed a hand at each of your knees and spread your legs open, revealing your most intimate body parts to him. Licking his lips, he knelt down and pulled your hips to the edge of the bed. 

The moment Javier’s tongue brushed against your core, you nearly came. He was hungry, so hungry, and ate you out like a man starved. With one hand he held you down, his fingers splayed out on your stomach and occasionally digging into your soft flesh while he slipped one finger inside of you, stretching you out slowly.

“Let me hear what I’m doing to you, baby,” he said before diving back in.

“Y-you’re, making me, feel really, good,” you managed to say between sharp intakes of breath.

“Bien, bien,” he praised, petting your belly. “Come on my tongue, querida, I want to taste your happiness.”

With that command, he slipped another finger inside of you and sucked hard on your center, his eyes on you as he drove your body into a heated frenzy, barely able to hold you down as you keened. Your hips undulated out of your control as the spiral unraveled and you let go, euphoria zipping up and down your body. You cried out wordlessly as you peaked and then fell, landing in a fluffy cloud of afterglow.

“Oh my god, Javier,” you breathed. “That was amazing.”

“Who said we were done?”

You lifted your head up just in time to see his teasing grin as he stood up.

And he dropped his towel.

Your lust went through the roof; you were so ready for round two.

His hands on your knees, he pushed them up to your shoulders.

“Hold your legs open for me.”

You willingly obeyed.

Javier cupped your cheek and leaned down to kiss you, the taste of your release still lingering on his lips. You felt him nudge you open, his length sliding inside of you as the two of you shared a moan, swallowed up by each other’s kiss.

He continued to kiss you as he slowly pressed forward until his hips were flush with yours.

“You feel like heaven,” he said as he leaned back so that he was standing over you, his cock deep inside of you, your hips barely on the edge of the bed. He gripped your waist, his hands warm in contrast to the cool hotel air. Slowly sliding out of you until only the tip of him remained, the only warning you got was the feel of his fingers digging into you before he slammed back into you.

“Oh my god!” you yelped.

“Too much?” he asked, looking a little worried.

“Keep going, please,” you begged. “I want it hard!”

“Oh yes,” he moaned before going all out, letting loose all of his lust for you as he fucked you in a frenzy. He fell upon you, crushing you into the mattress as he wrapped a hand around your neck. “Like this, baby?”

“Yes!” you breathed out, your voice cracking. “More, more!”

Javier’s eyes lit up as he pulled out of you and picked you up effortlessly, tossing you into the center of the bed and rolling you onto your stomach before climbing up onto the bed. You felt his length sliding along the curve of your ass before he lifted your hips up slightly and mounted you from behind, moaning softly.

“You’re perfecto,” he whispered into your ear when he covered you with his body and began to fuck you from behind, his hand wrapping around your neck again. You could feel the brush of his hair along your skin as he rutted into you, his deep sounds of pleasure echoing in your ears.

His long fingers found their way to your clit. One stroke and you flinched, still sensitive from your last climax. He didn’t show you any mercy; the hand around your neck tightened, his legs trapped yours in place, and his fingers found your core once again, stroking you oh so perfectly. The pressure from his touch was just right, the feel of his breath against your ear as he slipped into another language to tell you how much he coveted you.

Javier’s head pressed against your temple. “Give me everything, baby. I want you so much.”

His words, his touch, his absolute possession of your body made your release so much stronger this time around. You cried out his name as pure pleasure rocketed through your bloodstream, a high better than any drug. His hips kept pumping as you spasmed beneath him, wringing out every last gasp and moan from you until you were shaking with the aftershocks.

“Let me make a mess of you,” he growled.

“Yes, please,” you said mindlessly, willing to do whatever he asked. 

He pulled out of you and rolled you onto your back. Straddling your waist, he took your hand and wrapped it around his cock. You stroked him rapidly, watching his eyes burn with ecstasy, his breathing grow heavier as he reached his peak. Reaching for his balls with his other hand, you fondled him gently, looking up at him with a smile.

That flipped a switch, as he reached for your neck again, his other hand wrapping around yours to apply more pressure to his cock as he came, spilling himself all over your breasts. He moaned your name as he finished, looking at you in complete awe.

“Fuck,” he breathed, letting go of your neck and hand as he fell to one side and rolled to face you. “I haven’t come like that in forever.”

Looking at his satisfied face, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a one time deal or if this was the start of something, you weren’t sure what.

You must have looked concerned, because he frowned, his brow wrinkled with concern. “What’s on your mind?”

“Um, I… never mind,” you quickly said, deciding not to voice your thoughts.

He leaned in, placed both his hands on your cheeks, and squished your face a little. “Please tell me.”

With his gaze so intensely close to you, you spoke without filtering. “Is this a one time deal? Or can we be… something more?”

He stopped squishing your cheeks, but he kept his hands on your face. Kissing your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, he smiled at you. “I want something more. Do you?”

You nodded enthusiastically.

“So let’s try."

You couldn't help the grin that broke out on your face. 

"That's the smile I fell for," he said, smiling back. As he tried to pull you close, you pushed on his chest. 

"I'm sticky."

Javier just laughed. "Let's take a shower then." He cupped your cheek and kissed you again, his lips lingering on yours before he pulled back to gaze into your eyes. The way he looked at you pulled at your heart, while his next words made you happier than you had ever been. 

"You're the brightest star in my life."

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

End Notes: A bit on the nose, but the lyric is from Hips Don’t Lie by Shakira. Hope you enjoyed this story! One more left in this series. I’m going to wrap it up with the last Arthur x F!Reader!

Also happy birthday to @eddescuella!!! I waited so I could post on your special day! 💖💖💖

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Headstrong

Part Six

Summary: After a health scare in Los Angeles, Haven tries to make amends.  Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC Word Count: 1865 Warnings: Post-brain injury symptoms, language. A/N: Taglist is open, you can be added to the one for this fic or Buckvember simply by sending an ask. I don’t know a whole lot about how boxing standings work, so just know that any errors are unintentional and everything is for the sake of the story. Happy Reading!

Series Masterlist

GIF found via Google Image Search. 

Another concussion, the doctors in Los Angeles had concluded. Haven had indeed taken a risk, going into that fight still suffering symptoms from her head injury after the car accident. The neurologist in the ER gave her a very stern lecture on taking these sort of risks with her life, and ordered off fighting for another month, to allow her head time to heal. Running was fine, as was light weight training, as long as she didn’t push herself, but sparring or another fight was out of the question. 

 A few days later, Haven woke up in her own bed, feeling awful. It had nothing to do with her physical state, despite the headache still plaguing her. The awful feeling stemmed from a lot of guilt she felt over not telling Bucky sooner. The relief in his expression and carriage had been undeniable when the doctor had told them the diagnosis wasn’t life threatening. After that, he hadn’t spoken to her. Hell, he would hardly even look at her. 

Since they returned home the day after the fight, Haven had called Bucky three times, but he hadn’t returned her calls. She couldn’t blame him for that. If her condition had turned out to be worse, a lot of people would have placed blame on him … the fault was all her own. 

Meandering down to the kitchen, she drank down a glass of water before pouring herself a cup of coffee. Wes was at the kitchen table on his laptop and bid her a quiet good morning. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Wes continued, “that jump off the cliff — was that really a stress-reliever, or was that an impulse-control issue because of brain damage?”

Haven shrugged and sunk to one of the chairs. “Maybe some of both. The doctors said I’ll be fine, though, so no need to worry. I just need to keep an eye on things. Not put so much pressure on myself when fights come up. Take this month to take really heal, all of that.”

Wes went back to his work on the computer for a couple of minutes before interrupting the silence again. “He was really worried about you, you know.”

“Who was?”

“Bucky,” Wes answered, rolling his eyes. “Who else could I mean?”

“The doctor?”

Wes shook his head. “You’re so dumb sometimes. I should have them check your head again. Yes, Bucky was really worried about you. He was angry, but I think it’s only because he was so worried. You know?”

Haven chewed on her bottom lip and chipped away at the fading glaze on her coffee cup. “He won’t return my calls. We’re supposed to start training again tomorrow — the things I can do — and I don’t even know if I have a coach or not. Damn it, I should have told him. I was being so … so …”

“Stubborn,” Wes supplied. “Stubborn would be the word you were looking for. And, by the way, you dragged me into it, thanks. I’m not going to lie for you again. The thing is — never mind that. It’s not my point. My point is, Haven, Bucky was really worried about you. More than I would expect him to be.”

Haven frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was a limit to which people could worry about other people.” 

“I’m being serious so quit being a brat. What’s going on with you and Barnes?”

“Nothing is going on with me and Barnes. I crossed that line with Rum, I’m damn sure not going to cross it again. That was a catastrophe of epic proportions, and, quite frankly, almost cost me my life — and, let’s not even bring my career into it.”

Wes closed his laptop and rubbed his hands into his eyes. “Rum’s an irresponsible, selfish, manipulative asshole. If you ask me, he saw you coming and took advantage of it. Bucky isn’t like that. He wants what’s best for you, he understands you, you guys work well together. He doesn’t train you, he trains with you. Brock was using you to make a name for himself and to take all the credit. Bucky doesn’t do that — he’s here for you.” He leaned back in the chair. “I’ve watched the two of you since he started coming around. There's a tension you both have that goes away when you're together.”

Haven sipped at her coffee but didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Knowing her brother the way she did, she knew he wasn’t telling her to hurry out and date Bucky or ask him out — he simply wanted her to consider Bucky as an option. She reached her fingers up to her lips, remembering their kiss in the ocean. 

“Right now, I just need to know if I still have a coach,” she finally commented, getting up to put her coffee cup in the sink, “and if he won’t answer my calls, I’ll just go to him.”

Bucky was running late for Steve and Charlotte’s get-together. He may have already know what they were going to announce, but it was important to him that he be there, especially after the conversation with Steve the previous week. He was trying to be a better friend than he had been after the cancer diagnosis. 

“Wallet, phone, keys,” he muttered to himself as he made sure he had each item before opening his apartment door. He didn’t expect Haven to be standing there, hand poised to knock. He took a step back from the surprise. “Haven.”

“Hey,” she greeted, blushing and hesitant, “I’m sorry to barge in on you uninvited and unannounced, but you weren’t answering my phone calls. I know you’re mad, Buck, but I —”

“Listen, I don’t mean to interrupt you, but I’m on my way to an important thing. Kind of a family thing, actually.”

Haven shoved her hands in her pockets. “Oh, right. I’m sorry. I’ll just … well, call me later then. Please.”

She turned to go but Bucky called her name. He closed the apartment door behind him and locked it before motioning in the opposite direction she had been walking. 

“You wanna go with me?”

Haven shrugged. “Haven’t I intruded enough for one day?”

“No,” Bucky chuckled, “you haven’t. C’mon. It’ll be okay.”

He held his hand out to her and, after another few seconds of hesitation, Haven took it, following him out of the apartment building and down to his car. She buckled herself into the passenger seat and waited patiently while he got the car started and navigated into traffic. 

“So, uh, where are we going, exactly? You said a family thing?”

Bucky checked traffic at a stop sign before crossing the intersection. “More or less. My best friend Steven and his wife Charlotte are making a big announcement today to our close friend group.”

Haven gnawed on her bottom lip, wincing when she hit a sore spot. “Maybe this isn’t the kind of thing you bring … company for.”

“It’ll be fine,” Bucky assured. “How’s your head?”

“Fine,” she nodded. “No problems since we got home. I’m sorry, Coach, that I didn’t tell you about the head stuff to begin with. That wasn’t fair. I was just so ready mentally to get back in the ring, I didn’t care about the risks.”

Bucky drew in a breath. “First of all, how about we drop the coach title unless we’re training or something like that. I know you don’t want to cross personal lines, but we’ve kissed once —”

“And you’ve seen me naked,” Haven couldn’t help but giggle, her own attempt to lighten the situation a little. 

Bucky laughed with her, taking his eyes off the road long enough to see her smile. “And I’ve seen you naked, yes. So can we drop the title when we’re not doing boxing things?”

“I’ll try.”

“Fair enough,” he ceded. “Second, yes, you should have told me. I don’t care about it for my sake though, I care about it for yours. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Besides watching you dive off a cliff, not finding out about a potential head injury after you took headshots — that was one of the scariest moments in my life, Haven.” He took an exit off the highway, into a nice neighborhood. “I’m not Rumlow, I won’t use things against you. You don’t have to hide things from me.”

Haven looked out the passenger side window as rows of houses passed them by. “It isn’t easy to trust people after something like that.”

Bucky pulled up to a modest, cozy home. Several cars were already parked in the drive and in front of the house. Haven cleared her throat and unbuckled her seatbelt. 

“You’re sure they’re gonna be okay with me being here?” she asked him. 

Bucky caressed her cheek with his thumb. “You can trust me, Haven. They’re going to love you.”

From the panic in her expression, Bucky would have expected her hand reaching up to push his away from her, but instead, she held tight to his hand. 

“Promise?”

“Which part?”

She swallowed hard. “All of it.”

Maybe it was another risk, but Bucky took it: he pressed a soft kiss to her lips before answering her in a low, husky voice. 

“I promise.”

All of Bucky’s friends were welcoming and happy to meet Haven. Though they did ask some questions about the fight and her boxing career, most of the conversation centered around everyday chitchat, which, surprisingly, Haven was grateful for. 

When Steve and Charlotte announced they had a baby on the way, the whole friend group was excited, and Haven found herself excited for them, too. Bucky’s smile was quiet, so she nudged him lightly with her elbow. 

“Did you know about this?”

Bucky grinned mischievously. “They told me last week. I’m the best friend! Wanna know a secret?” Haven nodded, so Bucky leaned over to whisper in her ear. “If it’s a boy, they're gonna name it James.”

She ignored the shiver down her spine. “Is that a family name?”

Bucky saluted her. “James Buchanan Barnes at your service, Ms. Cleveland.”

“Oh!” Haven giggled, realizing it had never occurred to her that Bucky was a nickname. “Well, that’s an honor.”

“It is,” Bucky returned. 

The group returned to chitchat, though this time it was mostly baby-related. Haven felt good, being part of a friend group again where she wasn’t pressured to be a boxing star. Wasn't pressured to be Brock Rumlow’s perfect trophy girlfriend. Wasn’t pressured to be anyone other than herself. 

She was standing on Bucky’s left side and, mostly without thinking, she laced her fingers through his. However the prosthetic worked, Bucky’s vibranium fingers curled around hers before his eyes snapped toward her. Haven let go of his hand and apologized. 

“I just … I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Bucky took her hand again. “First time anyone’s willingly touched it besides me and the doctors.”

Haven nodded her understanding and pushed her fingers through his again. She re-joined the conversation as though she and Bucky held hands all the time, ignorant of the warm way he stared at her for several more seconds before Steve called for his attention again. 

Buckvember: @peace-love-hobbitness​​​ @disastersoldierbucky​​​ @connie326​​​ @rebekahdawkins​​​ @wonder-cole​​​ @shynara51​​​

Headstrong: @disastersoldierbucky​​​ @captain-s-rogers​​​ @amanda-teaches​​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​​ @tanelle83​​​ @tellmewhatyouwill​​​ @capandbuckylvr​​​ @pinknerdpanda​​​  @ntlmundy​​​ @siggy85​​​ @itsallyscorner​​​ @m-blasterrr​​​ @just-the-hiddles​​​

[elizoearn]

HOME AT LAST

CHAPTER 1

Summary: Harry has finished his fifth, and worst, year at Hogwarts, and he now has to face a summer from hell at the Dursleys, until Albus decides that it is time to get him properlytrained. Harry will finally have the mentors and the family he had dreamt of, so many times.

I’M POSTING THE FIRST CHAPTER HERE, TO GIVE YOU A TASTE...

Harry sat in his room at Privet Drive. The clouds had covered the sky. Thunder was making his windows tremble. He sat watching the rain — frankly it matched his mood. A month almost had passed since Sirius was taken through the veil. He couldn't even get himself to say that he had died. Who was he fooling? He wasn't the chosen one! He couldn't even get his life in line. How could he save the entire wizarding world? He replayed the conversation with Dumbledore over and over in his head. He would have to kill or be killed. That was his destiny. Right now the latest seemed his preferred choice. Maybe Voldemort was the way to get out this miserable life of his. Otherwise he was too coward to do it himself. Damn the Gryffindor spirit of his. Where was it when he needed it most?

He held his quill in his hand, a bit of parchment in his desk.

Dear Professor Dumbledore, I am leaving and never coming back —no scratch that—he drew a line over the sentence. I hope you're doing fine. I'm not. I can't sleep, nightmares you see, I can't eat, or rather I'm not allowed to, I can't leave this godamn house. I feel like the walls are closing in. I don't think I can take it much longer. I was writing to apologize. You were trying to protect me and I couldn't understand that. I just wish things were different. I wish... Sincerely Harry James Potter The Boy who never had the chance to Live, and will Die. ******************* He left the piece of parchment on his desk and sighed deeply. He really felt like he was going in circles. He wasn't going to send it. He had just wished to put some of his thoughts on paper, maybe ease his heartache. Little did he know that the headmaster was feeling as sad as he did right now. Said headmaster was watching the fog out of his office's window. Harry was constantly on his mind. He had avoided the boy all this year for his good only to find out he had done him more harm with this decision. He had seen how devastated Harry was when he left Hogwarts a month ago. He had began searching for the horcruxes. He had an idea of where to find the ring. He was just debating if he should tell Harry or not. A voice in his head told him that he had already hidden too much from Harry. But it crashed his heart even the thought of having to tell Harry that ultimately he would have to die. Both Minerva and Severus had insisted that he should bring the boy at Hogwarts. Severus had learned about Harry's fate. He was so angry with him. But it seemed that he didn't want to give up hope. As much as he disliked Potter, he didn't hate him, he knew that the boy had a lot on his shoulders and that his life wasn't easy. But he was forced to pretend in front of his Slytherins. He was a spy after all. Severus almost pleaded with him to bring Harry over the summer, let him learn Occlumency correctly, train him, prepare him and maybe he would stand a chance. Minerva told him so too. Mind finally made, he took a piece of parchment.

Dear Harry, I hope you're as fine as you can be. I have a situation to discuss with you so I will come tomorrow morning at 11:00 am sharp to retrieve you if this is acceptable. Please answer as fast as you can. Give your message to Fawkes, he will make sure I receive it immediately. Yours, Albus Dumbledore

"Give this to Harry, Fawkes. You know where to find him." The Phoenix hooted in agreement, took the small piece of parchment in his beak and let the flames surround him as he departed straight to Harry's room in Surrey. ***************** Harry was startled when flames erupted in the middle of his room. The flames dissolved and he saw Fawkes. "Hey, Fawkes..." He caressed the head of the Phoenix who let out a sound of satisfaction. He took the letter from his beak and read it. He wondered what the Headmaster wanted to discuss. He put some treats for Fawkes to eat and gave some to Hedwig too. He sat again in his chair and turned the letter around.

Professor Dumbledore, I have no problem. Either way I have nowhere to go. I will expect you tomorrow at 11 am sharp. Respectfully, Harry Potter

He let Fawkes eat in peace and then watched the phoenix as he disappeared again. Albus received the letter of approval from Harry. He felt his guilt overwhelm him. "I have nowhere to go". The phrase played through his head. He firecalled Severus and Minerva. Once they arrived Severus asked:

"What may seem to be the matter Headmaster?"

"I will go to retrieve Harry from the Dursley's tomorrow. He will be staying here, from now on. We have to make a plan. You Severus,will train him. Teach him Potions and Occlumency, anything he has to know. I know you despise him, but we are at war. I can't afford to lose either of you. You Minerva, I want you to show him the art of Transfiguration. Teach him how to become an animagus. Study with him books with tactics, useful spells, healing. Me, I'm going to teach him how Voldemort thinks, his story and I will practice with him defense. I want him to be as prepared as he can be." Severus, as much as Dumbledore's decision displeased him, understood his reasons and agreed with them. Minerva too. It was time to show Potter that he had the upper hand. Let the magic inside of him finally reach its fullest potential.

"He will be ready Albus, I'll make sure of it." He said to Albus.

"Me too." Minerva promised too. They departed from his office to make their plans each.

"Severus, could you stay for another minute?" The Potion's Master turned and faced Albus.

"I want Harry to stay with you. He has endured great psychological pain. He was neglected, abandoned, he has suffered loss that no one his age should ever have to. Only you can help him heal from that."

"Albus you know, I'll do more harm,than good."

"I don't think so Severus. If you want this war to be over, you have to make amends."

" With all due respect Headmaster, Minerva or you are far more capable to help the boy than I am. We don't get along and I don't trust his arrogant and far too stupid thinking."

Snape was barely managing not to yell at the Headmaster.

"You have never had the chance to get to know Harry. The real Harry,Severus, the one that resembles yourself a lot, the one that resembles Lily. Now my boy, I think that if you give Harry a chance, you and will get along just fine." Severus tries were futile. Once Albus had a plan thought out, he always executed it. ******************* The next day Albus went to retrieve Harry. He apparated to Privet Drive and knocked on the door. Sure enough Harry answered. "Harry m'boy! How are you?" Albus' tone was soft as he put a hand in Harry's shoulder.

"I've been better sir, thanks for asking though. Please come in. Will you mind if we talked to my room? The Dursley's will be back soon and they don't like people like us a lot, I'm afraid."

"Don't worry Harry. We will not be staying here. You are coming to Hogwarts with me. Let's go get your stuff, shall we?"

"To Hogwarts? To stay? For the summer?" Harry asked surprised.

"Yes Harry. With me and some teachers. It's time you trained for what it's coming. Come on now, we don't have a lot of time!" Harry showed Albus to his small and almost empty room upstairs. Albus with a flick of his wand made all of Harry's belongings go in his trunk. He shrank it then and put it in his pocket. As Harry let Hedwig out of the window with instructions to meet him at Hogwarts, Albus picked up the small piece of parchment addressed to him on the desk and put it in his pocket. He turned to Harry then.

"Keep your cloak and wand ready Harry. Do you wish to grab anything else? I'm not sure if you'll ever be coming back home again. I'm instructing your relatives to leave as fast as they can, I wrote them a letter."

"No sir. This was never my home anyway." Again Albus was overwhelmed with guilt and sadness.

He left the letter somewhere to be found by the Dursley's and then instructed Harry to grab his hand and apparated with him at the gates of Hogwarts.

"Welcome home Harry." He said to the teen softly as he put a hand on his shoulder. Harry let a small smile form in his lips. He was indeed home. He followed Dumbledore to his office and took a sit as the Headmaster instructed across him.

"I know it seems sudden but, it occurred to me, that you're just as safe, if not more here,than in Surrey. Do you know why Harry?"

"I can guess. It's because of Voldemort's strength that's growing and the blood yards are failing. They never loved me or cared for me so the wards stopped working."

"They haven't stopped but they have weakened very much indeed. There is another reason. I think it's high time we train you . And by we I mean Severus, Minerva and myself included. You have to be prepared for everything that is to come. Dark times are ahead of us Harry. Very dark. For your stay here, you will live with Severus, for the remaining of the summer, in his quarters. Maybe sometime we will go to my cottage outside Fraserburgh. I know you and him don't get along. I know what happened last year. But for both of your shakes and survival, you need to learn to work together. I want you to start and get to know each other. Your real selves."

Harry knew he couldn't protest and he wouldn't either. What had transpired between him and Snape was insignificant in front of the war. He knew he had done something he shouldn't last year with the pensieve and just for this once Snape was rightfully mad at him. Harry truly felt embarrassed for his dad and Sirius. He was amazed deep down by Snape's courage to be a spy and for saving him many times. But that didn't mean that he would be all sugar with the man now. They had things to solve and if Snape continued to make him miserable Harry would of course confront him.

"I suggest you go and settle in. Get to know your new room. I'll meet you at lunch." Dumbledore continued. Harry just nodded and went for the door.

"And Harry... I know how you feel, I really do. And I know it is too much on your shoulders but we will all try to make it a little bit lighter. Severus, Minerva, your friends and me. You are not alone. Bear that in mind."

Unlike the last time Harry had been in this Office, something in the old man's voice and face told him that Dumbledore really knew what a loss of a loved one felt like. Harry swallowed hard. Even the thought of Sirius' passing brought tears in his eyes. He nodded again and left. Albus sighed deeply. He took the small piece of parchment out of his pocket and read it. What had he done? His eyes filled with tears. He would inform Severus of this, and keep a very close look on the boy. He promised he would do everything on his hand to make Harry's life as happy as he could. ****************** Harry made his way to the Dungeons. He knocked on the door of the Potion Master's office. Snape's deep voice answered from inside.

"Come in" he said dryly. Harry opened the door and stepped in closing it behind him. Severus didn't even look up from his papers. Harry stood in the door uncertain as to what to do.

"Do you plan on standing there and infuriate me Potter?" Snape snarled.

" No sir." Harry walked towards the man. He finally put his quill down and stood up.

"Follow me" he said curtly. Snape guided Harry in the very back of the office where stood a big portrait of potioneer, Zygmunt Budge.

"Put your hand on the cauldron." Severus instructed pointing at the cauldron in the drawing. Harry did as he was told. Snape took his wand and said some long Latin incantation which Harry didn't understand.

"I keyed your signature to my private quarters. This way you can come and go as you please."

The door opened and Severus got in as Harry followed him. He looked around the big living room. It wasn't at all as he had expected it —dark, gloomy and sinister. On the contrary, the room was well lit, it was beige and had dark brown leather furniture. A big bookcase from wood covered two whole walls. There was a fireplace next to which stood an armchair with a pique blanket on its arm and a matching footstool. A small commode was sitting between the armchair and the fireplace. Harry figured this must be Snape's chilling spot. Snape continued to move quickly down the hall from the living room.

"This is the kitchen." He pointed on his left to the small room. It had wooden cupboards and a matching table in the middle but nothing more. "This is my room. You are not to get in unless it is an absolute emergency. And this is your room." He indicated the door next to his room.

He opened it and Harry's jaw almost dropped to the floor. His room was huge! Even bigger than Dudley's! It had a magical window that lit it with natural sunlight and had a view to the Quidditch pitch. A king sized bed with white bed sheets, a grey douvet and matching pillows was in the far end of the room. The room itself was painted dark blue and light grey. It had a wardrobe to put ones clothes in, a desk for his studies, a nightstand beside the bed, a gray carpet and a painting with a hippogriff that moved around.

"You have your own bathroom through here." Snape indicated the door close to his bed. His own bathroom with a bathtub! He could take baths! Harry was amazed. "All of the toiletries like toothbrushes and toothpastes, razors, foam, shampoo and others are in there. Close your mouth Potter!" He snapped. What in Merlin's name! Snape thought infuriated. Hadn't the boy seen a bedroom before?

"Y-Yes sir. Thank you." Harry composed himself. He was really grateful.

"Don't thank me. Professor McGonagall customized it besides my protests. Lunch is at two. I expect you can keep track of time."

"I can."

"I can what?" Snape looked him warningly.

"I can sir." Harry didn't mind Snape right now he was too focused in his new room.

"I have simple house rules. You wake up early, you attend your training schedule on time. You don't disturb me unless necessary, you don't get in my room, you don't miss a meal. When you have visions you tell me or anyone else, you keep yourself presentable, not with these rugs you're wearing. You must be escorted to go outside and you are back here before 9:30 at night. Am I understood?" Snape handed him a piece of parchment with the the rules, in his neat hand writing.

"Yes Professor." He would have to memorize them. He didn't want Snape having a reason to yell at him or punish him like Uncle Vernon because Harry was sure the man was capable of much worse. Snape just strode out of the room being sure that Potter wouldn't even bother to go by his rules. Harry closed his door and took a dive to his bed, letting the soft mattress and clothing surround him. He would certainly have to thank McGonagall for this. He unpacked his trunk and by the time he had put everything in place it was almost 1:30. He put on his best pair of hand-me-down jeans and a grey t-shirt with the snitch on it that Hermione had gotten him from Hogsmeade. He washed his face and tried to tame his hair. He then put on a pair of well worn sneakers and made his way to the Great-Hall.

He opened the doors and noticed that the whole room was empty, except for a smaller than the usuals, table, in the middle of the Hall. The teachers were sat around it. Harry saw Dumbledore sitting in the middle, on his right was McGonagall and on his left two empty seats,Hagrid at the edge, next to him Flitwick, then Sprout and on the other side Sinistra, Madame Pomfrey, Hooch and Trelawny at the very end.

Dumbledore's eyes lit when he saw Harry. "Harry m'boy! Come on, don't stand there!" Harry made his way to the table and took the seat next to Dumbledore.

"How do you like your new room?" Albus inquired.

"It is great sir! Thank you! And thanks for the decoration Professor!" He addressed Minerva.

"My pleasure Harry. I knew you would like it." Harry just gave a small smile. And started putting food on his plate. A small serving of mashed potatoes, some peas and carrots and a piece of roast chicken. Just then Snape walked in too.

"Ah Severus! Join us!" the Headmaster exclaimed happily.

"Thank you Albus," he said with a small smile to his Head. He then took his seat next to a surprised Harry.

Harry noticed that every time Snape spoke with Dumbledore or McGonagall it was like his bastard self dissolved. He was always more soft in tone, civil, even managed a small chuckle sometimes when Albus said something funny and McGonagall scolded him. He sat besides Harry and frowned as he observed Harry's plate.

"Put more chicken and vegetables on your plate Mr Potter. This serving is for children not for growing men in adolescence." he remarked.

Harry was a bit dumbfounded that Snape was looking out for what he was eating, but then again one of his rules was not to miss a meal. He put a bit more food in his plate and a glass of pumpkin juice and started eating as the rest of the teachers chatted around him.

"So Minnie, you still owe me that flying contest."

"Albus, I said categorically no! I'm not going on a fly contest with you!" McGonagall said almost angrily. "Besides, Minerva would still beat you Headmaster. You do remember she is one of the best seekers to ever pass from this school" Rolanda Hooch commented.

"That's why we should have the contest! To prove her ability!" Albus insisted. Harry heard Snape sneer and he knew that the Potion Master had rolled his eyes without even having to look at the man.

"How about a Quidditch match some time? Now that we have young Harry, he can play seeker against Minerva! Would you like that Harry?"

"Very much Professor!" Harry answered Dumbledore. Harry would very much like to see the teachers playing Quidditch.

"What position do you play sir?" He asked Albus.

"I'm the referee of course! Too old to actually play, but young enough to ensure a fair game while on my broom!" He winked at Harry.

"Rolanda and Severus play chasers, Filius and Aurora are excellent beaters, and of course Septima and Pomona manage as keepers.We know that the teams are short, but it is better than nothing!" McGonagall explained.

With these kinds of teams Harry's interest was piked. What wouldn't he pay to see Snape trying to goal at Sprout! Even the thought amused him. Maybe if Dumbledore let him he could call over the Weasleys and form normal teams to play. Harry ate some chocolate pudding for desert and when lunch ended he walked with Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall to the Headmaster's office.

"Potter, this is your training schedule." McGonagall gave him a curriculum.

Monday 9:00-10:30 Advanced D.A.D.A (S.Snape) 11:00- 13:00 Dueling ( A. Dumbledore/ S. Snape) 17:00-19:00 Advanced Transfiguration ( M. McGonagall / A.Dumbledore) Tuesday 9:00-10:30 am Potions (S. Snape) 11:00-12:30 pm Battle Tactics ( A. Dumbledore) 5:00-6:30 pm Healing ( M. McGonagall / P. Pomfrey) 7:00-8:00 pm Occlumency (S. Snape)

For Wednesday he had the same courses as Monday and for Thursday the same as Tuesday. He had a free day on Friday and the weekend to study any assigned work. On Sundays he also had meetings with Dumbledore to learn more about Voldemort that would help him defeat him.

"It is a loaded program but the other alternative, is to let you die in the hands of the Dark Lord," Snape said to Harry in a sneering tone. McGonagall and Dumbledore nodded in agreement though.

"We find it also necessary for you to go and do some shopping. That is why, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape will take you today to a town nearby to shop anything you wish for. Some new clothes and shoes are a must. And the books you will need for your training have been ordered and will be here tomorrow."

"Uhm... As much as I'd like that sir, eh... my vault has enough money to get me through two more years of Hogwarts... I don't have much money to spare..." Harry felt his cheeks begin to warm as a pink color overtook them.

"You won't have to pay for anything Harry! My mistake, if I made it look that way... As your temporary guardian, and since you are underage, I will pay for you, as any mature grown-up should pay for their guards." Harry saw a flash of anger pass through Dumbledore's eyes, with his innuendo to the Dursley's incompetence to raise him correctly. "And don't you even try and say thank you young Mister. It is my mistake, that you weren't provided with the absolutely basic necessities from the beginning." Dumbledore spoke as soon as he saw Harry open his mouth to protest. Harry's eyes were fixated on the floor as embarrassment got the best of him.

"Yes sir!" Was all he managed.

"Further instructions for your lessons and any inquiries you have, you can come to any of us to answer. Also, as I'm sure Severus has already told you, it is of imperative importance that you do not go outside unless escorted by one of the staff. You are relieved from your summer homework, after unanimous decision with of the teachers, you will be else occupied all summer, either way. You will practice, though, some of this year's curriculum, be assured."

Harry nodded understanding exactly what the Professor was saying.

"If you don't have any objection I think it is a good time for us to go to town now." Snape said looking at Minerva and Harry.

"It's fine by me, Severus."

"Me too." Minerva agreed. They said goodbye to Dumbledore and left for the gates. Once outside Hogwarts they stopped and put on their glamour charm. Snape transfigured his, easily recognizable, black cloak, to black jeans and a white button down, underneath a grey sweater. His hair became short and he grew a beard. McGonagall on the other hand, transfigured her robes to a long black skirt and a green sweater. Her hair was let down from the strict bun she wore everyday and from dark grey-black they became completely white, making her look like a very old lady, something amplified by the deep wrinkles that appeared in her face. Harry's hair became light, his scar invisible and grew a small beard. His appearance looked a lot like Snape's and someone could easily confuse them for father and son.

"We are apparating there. Grab my arm tightly Potter." Ordered Snape.

Once Harry touched him, he felt like being sucked through a small tube and that he couldn't breathe. A moment later he landed on a deserted alley. A loud crack was heard and McGonagall landed next to them.

"Let's go on then."

They entered a big mall down the road. They got into the first shop that had clothes. Harry picked four pairs of blue jeans, two pairs of black. A khaki and black pair of cargo pants, some button down shirts, several t-shirts in different colors were also scratched from his to 'buy list'. Sweaters, hoodies, underwear, socks, pajamas and of course winter jackets, a scarf and gloves went in as well. Then they went to pick up shoes, tracking pants, and sweatshirts in an athletic shop. Harry got two pair of sneakers, two pairs of running shoes, three sweatshirts and four tracking pants. It was fortunate that McGonagall had been with them because Snape only insisted on buying the black pieces of clothing and frankly Harry didn't like black at all.

When they finished almost four hours later, everyone was exhausted. They apparated back at the school just in time for dinner. Harry are in a hurry wanting desperately to go and lie down and sleep but Snape kept putting food in his plate. When everyone was finished,Harry and Snape said goodnight to everyone and walked to the dungeons.

"You start your schedule tomorrow morning. I expect you to be up at 6:30. Then you and I will go for some exercise, eat breakfast by 8:30 and at 9:00 potions. We will exercise every morning Potter. You have to gain some muscle. It will help with your magical training as well." Harry had for a long time wanted to put on some muscle and had tried, in vain though. When they were in Snape's quarters, the Professor gave him permission to call for a House Elf if he needed anything and then, with a last look to Harry, which seemed full of envy he walked to his room, his robes billowing behind him. Harry almost rolled his eyes at Snape. He got into his room and saw that his new clothes had been washed and ironed, probably the House Elves. He picked up a pair of pajamas, wore them and set his bedside magical alarm at 6:00. The minute the soft pillow touched his head, he was out. ****************** End of first chapter! Please review if you liked it, and send me any of your suggestions! Thank you all for your support!!!!

[originofjaehyun]

Prelude: After Story | Part 1 | Punch

Prelude: After Story Masterlist

Word count: 2,929

Warnings: None

Part 1 | Punch

“‘Cause I’m a clean fighter.”

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Read Interlude: No More Drama

Tag list: @justineasian​ @elauniesdream 

“Make sure you tell him how you felt.”

The remark only received a giggle from the other party. “I’m not promising anything, Yuta. It will take time.”

Yuta took a final glance. There’s a hint of despair in the way he looked at her. “You packed everything?”

She nods. “I think so. Let me know if I left something. Well, that if you don’t mind. Else, you can throw them away.”

“Alright, I’ll let you know.” He smirked. There’s a pregnant pause before he continues. “I’ll see you when I see you, [Y/N]. Until then, please be well.”

Yuta could see she welled up, holding up her tears. He wished he could hug her and tell her that it will be fine, but that only contradicted the brave front he showed to her.

She finally waves her final goodbye, closing the door. It is a signal for Yuta to finally embrace his sadness. Legs gave in, he immediately crouched down, sighing.

“Damn, who would’ve thought I could fall for someone this much?” Brushing the hair that covers his forehead, he asked himself, with no one to answer.

Yuta walked to his bathroom, thinking that he would cool his head by taking a brisk shower. He took off his shirt, pausing in front of the sink before he entered the shower booth. He stared at his own reflection, blankly. No thoughts, head is empty. He just needs his time to process and to cope with his own heartbreak.

There are few objects that don't belong to him, and by then he noticed that she forgot to visit the bathroom when she cleared her stuff, leaving her toothbrush behind. He curled one side of his lips up, sighing regretfully before throwing the toothbrush to the trash bin nearby.

This is so I can forget about her faster.

Yuta taught to himself, before spotting another foreign item.

A pair of rose gold stud earrings. Yuta knows his pieces of jewelry because he never took off his. The simple design of the earrings is also a bit too plain for his liking, and the owner of them is no other than the person who just left this place.

He grabs it, about to throw them away. But hesitates, gripping the earrings inside his palm. 

Yuta looks at the earring once more.

Maybe, just maybe, this is the only part of you that I could keep?

–

Days pass per normal for Yuta. Except that the people around him notice that he’s anything but it.

“You alright, bro?” Doyoung tapped his shoulder, waking Yuta from his daze.

“What do you mean?” Yuta leans to the wall, inhaling his IQOS.

“I don’t know man, you’re off these days.” Doyoung took a sip of his grapefruit drink. “It seems like you have something on your mind. Have you talked to [Y/N] about it?”

Ah, so she hasn’t told him.

Yuta thought to himself, not responding to Doyoung as he drew out a translucent smoke.

“She might not be the best at giving advice, cause even she had a hard time figuring out herself. But I promise she’s a good listener, I’m sure she'll be able to give you some sort of comfort.”

Yuta just nodded to his statement.

He nodded because he himself knew how comfortable it was to be around her.

–

Yuta holds grudges. It was hard for him to admit it at first, but eventually, he accepts the annoying part of his personality. Fast forward five months after she left, Yuta still refused to go out. This clearly weirded everyone out since Yuta is the social butterfly. For him to reject their offer to visit the bar after office makes the lines on their foreheads more apparent than ever.

Yuta just needs some time, alone. He doesn’t know for how long, but what he knows is that he’s just not in the mood to put on a fake happy smile when his own heart is like a shipwreck.

So he spent another night in at his apartment, opening a bottle of rye whiskey. Truthfully, Yuta prefers sweeter booze –something that is more fruity like his usual Cassis Orange. However these days, those cocktails couldn’t shred his woe. He needs something stronger. He needs to be able to feel the burning sensation on his chest, replacing the pain of his heartache.

He went off to flump into the leather couch, putting down the glass of whiskey. He grabs the remote, browsing through the Netflix catalog. He stops, at one move named Kimi no Na wa.

He probably already watched this for million times. He loves this movie. Not only because of the well-executed animation and storyline, but it also reminds him of home.

And it painfully reminds him of her too. How she loved anime, and how her eyes glimmered every time Yuta told her a fun fact about Japanese culture.

“Did you know there’s a trivia behind her name?”

“Who? Mitsuha?”

Yuta nods, “Her name means three leaves. Funnily enough, it started from her grandmother, Hitoha which means one leaf. And you guessed it, her mother’s name, Futaba, means two leaves and her little sister, Yotsuha, is four leaves.”

“Whoa!” She shrieked excitedly. “That’s cute!”

Yuta laughed at the sight of her getting excited over something simple like this. It’s nothing much for a Japanese man like him, but for her it’s something new and Yuta finds it very adorable.

If she was still here, he would cross his arm over her shoulder. Cuddling her.

But right now, all he could do is to rest his arm on the backrest of his couch. The only warmth that he could feel is from the whiskey.

Unable to focus on the movie, so he diverted his attention to see his phone.

Oh, how he regrets it.

He saw her social. She was with a group of people that Yuta knew from that party. But his finger reactively clicked on one of the tagged name’s profiles.

Just to see him posted a photo of her. It was a candid photo, the person captured in the picture seemingly asked the photographer to stop. Her hands were blurred because she attempted to cover her mouth.

But she wasn’t quick enough to stop the photographer from capturing her smile. A smile so bright Yuta knew he wasn’t able to create. A smile that Yuta definitely misses.

The agony he felt amplified once he read the capture below the photo.

“I was yours, before I knew; and you have always been mine too.”

Yuta rolled his tongue over his front teeth. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way, not when he is the one who let her go. But he is pissed, throwing his phone away. 

He moves his palms to cover his eyes, resting his head. He lets out another sigh, but no matter how much he exhaled, no matter how much alcohol he drank, the rain cloud seems to follow him around.

“Fuck this shit.” He hummed to himself.

He took his phone again, this time opening a different app. It took him a bit longer this time, but at least whatever he was doing, managed to put a smile on Yuta’s face.

He then proceeds to dial a number.

“Hello, Doy? I’ll take a week off. I’m flying to Osaka tomorrow.”

–

“How could you come back home without noticing us?”

Yuta puts down his bag, worn out from the flight, “I can’t even visit my own home now, Nee-san?”

“What I meant was,” His sister crossed his arm. “Last time you visited Osaka, you’d stay at the hotel because you wouldn’t stay long. Mostly due to your business trip. What makes you suddenly miss home?”

“I just feel like taking some days off, Nee-san.” He replied without looking at this sister, busy unpacking his stuff. “Also, Imouto has been texting me, telling me to bring her some signed goods from TVXQ.”

“Well if you said so,”  Her sister knows how stubborn Yuta is, so she decides that she won’t press him further. “Come down when you’re ready. If only you told us you were coming earlier, mom would’ve cooked us Nabe. But we don’t have the ingredients, so you have to settle with curry tonight.”

Yuta finally looked back to smile at his sister, “Curry sounds great, Nee-san.”

–

It’s great to be home, Yuta thought to himself. 

The familiar road. People talking in his mother language. Food that is catered to fit his taste buds. He loves Korea, and everything it has to offer, but nothing could replace home.

“My, Yuta is that you?!” An elderly woman called for him, snapping him from his day daze.

“Oh, Baa-chan!” Yuta subconsciously lets out his signature radiant smile. “How are you? I hope your back is fine now.”

“Oh, you’re as sweet as I could remember, Yuta!” She giggled. “You never visit your home, this Baa-chan misses you a lot, you know? I don’t know how to use… what do they call those these days? Line?”

Yuta laughed. “Yes, Line, Baa-chan.”

“Right, I can’t contact you! You should come home more often. I could write you a letter but I don’t know your address in Korea.”

“I miss you too, Baa-chan. Sorry, I promise to visit again.”

Baa-chan sells taiyaki in his neighborhood. Yuta is her regular customer, and she has witnessed how much Yuta grew from a small boy who aspires to be an Ultraman to a successful businessman he is right now. Yuta settled on the bench in front of Baa-chan’s store, filling her with the missing information pieces where Yuta finally left home for his career.

“Now take this,” She offered him a bag of taiyakis.

“Oh, no Baa-chan. Let me pay,” He rustles his pant pocket, trying to find his wallet.

“My dear Yuta!” She pushes the paper bag to him, “This is a gift from me, as a thank you for visiting this old lady. Next time, bring your friend here so they can pay instead. Baa-chan wants to see your friends, I want to make sure they are good people.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. Baa-chan is always kind, and it touches his heart. Yuta treats her like she’s her own grandmother. “I’ll note that, Baa-chan.”

He waves goodbye to her and marches his way to a nearby park. The park used to be so big for the small Yuta. He used to think it would take forever to catch a ball that flies after his friend kicked it too high. But now that he’s a full-grown man, he even wonders how the hell he was able to play soccer with his friend in this field. 

He sits down at the bench, taking a bite of the fresh taiyaki. Baa-chan’s taiyaki is the best. It might be a biased opinion, but every bite is like a memory lane for Yuta. The irreplaceable taste of childhood.

The dusk is near, and there is no child laughter at these hours since all of them have their curfews. With nothing to keep him entertained, he unlocked his phone, casually browsing through his social before pausing his munching at one post.

“Can’t believe this man asked me to spend the rest of my life with him while I’m about to throw the trash away. I hope your future daughter will experience a much more romantic proposal, you weirdo.”

Involuntarily the red bean paste from his bread squirted out, due to the fact Yuta unconsciously squeezed them. Was it out of anger? Out of disappointment? Or out of regret?

His blood is boiling, and with nobody around, nothing stops him. Yuta is usually calm, but right now he just wants to transfer the excessive anger somewhere. Heck, the tree next to him can be his punching bag.

My mom always told me to finish my meal so you’re not leaving until you eat everything.

But right now, Yuta is unable to take another bite. He even forced whatever he had left on his mouth down to his throat.

Why did I let you go?

He scoffed, mocking his own thought, “Damn, what a pathetic person you are, Yuta.”

-

Your first impression on Yuta is probably how strong his aura is. His gaze is sharp, complemented with a well-chiseled jawline. So you would never think that the same person has a sensitive soul. Ever since his trip to Japan, the Nakamato residence in Seoul is always decorated with fresh flowers, handpicked by Yuta himself. This is his way of finding peace. He always wanted to have a pet, but his busy schedule makes him unable to own one. Instead, he’s been paying more attention to greeneries in his home. He said it was a therapy for him, and having a living plant makes the place alive, so he claims.

The bell on the door jingles after Yuta pushes the door open, cueing the staff who were busy arranging a bouquet to greet him.

“Welcome to Paradise!”

Yuta nods at the staff, telling her to continue with her arrangement and let him browse the flower catalog by himself.

Soon after, the bell jingles once more —only to reveal a young man with a sparkly eyes.

“Sorry, __! Taeyong left his apron behind so I have to make a visit to Kitchen Beat first.”

The person at the counter chuckled, “Don’t sweat it, Mark. We’re not that busy today anyway.”

“Let me put my bag first, then I’ll help to cut the stems of the carnations—“ Mark’s eyes grow bigger once he sees the familiar figure. “Yuta-hyung? Ah, I mean, Sir!”

Yuta turned at the sound of his name. “Oh, if it isn’t Mark!”

“Didn’t expect you to come here, Sir.”

“You can talk to me comfortably, Mark. We’re no strangers.” Yuta smiles. “Fancy seeing you here, too. Are you part-timing here?”

Mark nods. “Other than my job as an English tutor, working here actually calms me down. Maybe the flower gives the peaceful atmosphere?”

Yuta hummed, agreeing with his statement.

“Also, I can rest a bit because working here is not as busy as working at a cafe.” Mark continues, “Though we’re going to be busy pretty soon since Jaehyun-hyung ordered so many orchids for his wedding. Man, not just any orchid! If only he knows how difficult it is to obtain—“

Mark stopped at the sight of Yuta’s awkward face.

“Shit, Mark, how could you forget that he was your Noona’s ex-lover.”

He whispered to himself, but the store was fairly quiet with only faint instrumental song in the background —enabling Yuta to listen to each of his words clearly.

Your noona.

“Mark, go change to your uniform.” A female voice breaks the tension, flinching Mark who reactively gives Yuta a deep bow afterward.

Yuta definitely needs time to process what just happened. Pressing his lips together while occasionally biting the skin.

“A cheerful young boy, isn’t he?”

Yuta woke up from his daydream following her calm voice. “Mark is energetic, and I love how positive his energy is. Though sometimes, that can cause him to be slightly dense, too.”

Yuta couldn’t help but to let a single soft chuckle.

“So please forgive him, yeah? I’m sorry I couldn’t help but to overheard your conversation. Don’t take it to the heart, Mark was probably too excited. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know. No offense is taken. I just need some time to digest it.”

“Take your time,” she continued with her bouquet, tying up the ribbon as the final touch. “Though, if I could suggest, I think our daffodils are very pretty today.”

“Daffodils?”

“Yes, the yellow ones on that corner,” she pointed at a bunch of yellow flowers. “I’ll help you with a bunch. It’s on a house, as an apology from making you uncomfortable just now. Are you going to put it on a vase like the usual or are you going to give it to someone?”

Yuta widened his eyes, quickly shook his head, “Oh please no need, I’m not offended by all means.”

“As the owner of this shop, I insist, Sir.”

Yuta hesitates, but eventually gives in. “The usual. Actually, a single bloom is fine. I would feel bad, you know, if you're going to give me a bunch. Business is still business after all.”

His remarks only caused the other party to scoff, “Our business is doing well, Sir. So please don’t fret on it. Anyway, it would mean a different thing if I don’t give you in a bunch.”

“Different thing?”

“Ah,” She closes her mouth with her hand. “Don’t mind too much on it.”

-

After spending the whole day outside, all Yuta needs is a refreshing shower to wash down his sweat. He placed his new floral arrangement on his dining table, before taking his shirt off when he walked towards the bathroom. He threw his shirt to the laundry bag, and unlocked his phone, ready to play his shower playlist.

Bunch of daffodils?

He suddenly remembered how the florist mentioned the different meaning of daffodils. He quickly changed the tab, typing the question on Google.

Smirk appeared on his face, after so many days shied away from the surface.

“Rebirth and new beginnings, huh?” He said to himself. “How cheeky.”

He puts down his phone on the countertop, resting his arms at the sink before looking at himself in the mirror.

Yuta is determined.

He picks up his phone once more, dialing a number.

“Doyoung, do you know the best hair salon here?”

A/N: We’re back with this!! I’m so so excited to continue this hehe~ To be honest... continuing this series gives me a lot of anxiety. What if the audience don’t like it? What if the one who loves Interlude won’t like my approach on continuing the story in Yuta’s POV? At some point it was difficult for me to write this, but as I persistently write this, it became more and more enjoyable and eventually those thoughts don’t appear as much!

Another thing to note, to prevent any confusion, the reader for Prelude will be ___ instead of the usual [Y/N]. [Y/N] belongs to Interlude! So think of her as another character for Prelude!

Also again, I’d like to remind you guys again since there’s only three additional songs, this would be a mini-series instead of a full series like Interlude. But hopefully, you would still give Prelude tons of love too!

[mollydollydreams]

What is your biggest turn off and turn on when it comes on to any guy?

I mean there are a lot. Theres the superficial shit like body shape and colouring and I have my vqgue favourites but more than that I will always favour a man with a conscience. I'd never want to say I like guys with x hair colour and then that guy thinks hes not my type but a guy with x hair colour shows up and hes a fuckin nazi.

See my pinned post for most of it but like fuck a lot of what's going on right now. Not performatively but fuck anything that has people thinking they're better than other people for shit that has nothing to do with your actual character. Fuck a man that thinks hes doing me a favour because I'm not white and im """""""pretty for a black girl """"""."" Fuck a man that thinks I """""look so much younger than 30""""."" Fuck a man that thinks he has to put down anyone else to compliment me. Fuck a man that's trans phobic, homophobic, ableist, any of that shit

The physical stuff? Its secondary. I have my traits I like but none of it matters if you're a bigot. Ain't got time. I post my sub shit here but you're not gonna see that irl or at all unless I think you meet that above. And if I think I misjudged I'm taking it right back.

But im writing this drunk so lemme think of some shit people actually might want to read. I like a guy who's a little insane. A little unhinged and looking for some feeling. An entirely uneducated appreciation for the arts, whether visual or any other sensory experience. Comforting and firm. Calm and controlled, angry where it counts. Never let me think you'll be angry around me. Turn that anger at cops and nazis and rapists. Turn it at capitalists and evangelists and people who punch down. Fortify, strengthen, punch back up at those who bully the rest of us.

But teach me something. Tell me why you love what you love. I most likely wont be into it already, and that's exactly why I want to hear why you love it. If I already do, then I still want to know what drew you to it, and what you agree with me on and what you dont. Teach me what you can, and learn what I can teach you in return.

Honesty. I'm very accepting and often told I'm extremely non judgemental. I dont take kindly to being lied to. I forgive sometimes. I often tell men I'd rather not know specifically to avoid this. I dont want to be The Other Woman, but they presume to lie to me to make me her, and I'd rather talk them through their issues than be the reason an innocent woman got cheated on. Fidelity aside, I want a genuine connection, whether for a day or a decade or a century, and that still requires honesty. If you love me today but make no promises for tomorrow, then we will enjoy tonight like there's no tomorrow, and when tomorrow comes I'll tell you I need another coffee and a little more sleep while you leave.

[twinkle-320]

The Climb

This is my submission for the Quote me on this challenge.  The quote I was given appears in the mood board below and is bolded in the fic.

This is my first fic on tumblr so I am a little nervous.  I tried really hard to keep it to 1000 words but admittedly went a bit over (1490ish 😬).

Since my writing is new you can Meet my MC here.

Song for this Drabble:  “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus

Warning: light language and suggestion of lemon

Tag list for Quote me on this:

@riseandshinelittleblossom @leelee10898​ @ao719​ @darley1101​ @theroyalrookie​ @bobasheebaby​ @texaskitten30​ @batgirlassociationofgothamcity​ @burnsoslow​ @drethanramslay​ @openheart12​ @candy72008​ @bebepac​ @twinkle-320​ @h3llostrang3r​ @lucy-268​ @dcbbw​ @oofchoices​ @blackcoffee85​ @anotherbeingsworld​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @twinkleallnight​ @trappedinfandoms​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @losingbraincellseveryday​ @god-save-the-keen​  

Drake woke to the sun streaming in through the windows of the master suite in Valtoria. Blinking to adjust to the harsh light, he noticed the drapes had been pulled open and a breeze flowed in through the French doors that had been left a jar. When he turned to reach for his wife, instead of her warm, soft skin, he found a ball of fur where their corgi Fletcher lay sleeping in Riley’s spot. Pulling on the pajama bottoms he had left folded at the bottom of the bed, Drake slowly made his way to the balcony, stretching the sleep from his body.

Outside, as he suspected, he found Riley already dressed for the day, curled up on the comfy outdoor sectional with her usual chai in hand. What he hadn’t expected to see was the chaos she was surrounded by.

In her lap sat a textbook and a notebook in which she was furiously writing notes. On either side of her where multiple binders with color coded tabs, bursting at the seams with papers spilling out. An empty mug, presumably from an earlier chai, sat on the table surrounded by dozens of post-it notes, fabric swatches, and paint samples.

Leaning down to clear himself a spot, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before she even looked up and realized he was there. Drake laughed as she jumped in surprise. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning, Marshmallow,” she replied, finally looking up and giving him a smile. 

“You’re up early.”

Riley sat down her pen and mug, and ran a gentle hand over her growing belly. “Bean decided to start kicking practice at the crack of dawn. I have so much to do, I figured I’d take advantage of the quiet.”

Drake lovingly placed his hand over hers and leaned down next to her belly. “You’re supposed to let Mommy sleep, Bean.”

Riley rolled her eyes playfully and ran her free hand affectionately through Drake’s hair as he kissed her belly. Drake had softened even more when they found out about the baby and it made Riley’s heart swell.

“So what’s all this?” he asked, sitting up gesturing to her organized chaos.

“Well...this,” she said patting the book in her lap, “is case study. I have a predictive memo due next week for my legal writing class. These binders are for duchy work...one is all the research for my tourism proposal that I have to get to Liam in the next day or so and the other is plans for the lantern festival that’s coming up.”

“And that mess?” he asked pointing to the table.

Riley laughed. “Random thoughts I’ve written down so I don’t forget...appointments, calls I need to make, baby names, nursery themes, plus some ideas for paint colors and design.”

“Hmmm, well, you are notoriously forgetful Nevin.”

 “I blame the baby.”

“Shhhh, don’t listen to her Bean,” he said leaning back to her belly. “She was plenty forgetful before you came along.”

Riley playfully nudged Drake away. “Baby brain is a real thing, Drake!” 

“Okay, okay...I believe you,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender.

“So...is there any chance you can help me with some of this? Maybe look over my tourism proposal or weigh in on nursery stuff. I’m starting to wish we knew if this little one was a he or she. I could design a kick-ass nursery in no time if I knew.”

“It’s not too late to find out, Nevin.”

“You know we can’t Drake. I’m sure Liam wouldn’t care but Bertrand...ugh, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard him say ‘One must follow all Royal protocol when one is carrying the Royal heir’. I almost recorded him to set it as my ringtone when he calls.”

“I don’t know how my sister puts up with him,” Drake said, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’ll help however I can when I get home but I have to head to the capitol. One of the mares at the palace stable is due to give birth and I have to be there as part of my clinical rotation.”

Riley sighed. “Who’s bright idea was it for both of us to go back to school while running a duchy and having a baby?”

“I believe it was your idea, Your Grace,” Drake jested as he stood up and bowed. 

Riley swatted him on the ass. “You think you’re so funny.”

“Correction...I know I’m funny.” Drake leaned down and grabbed her pen and a stack of post- it’s, scribbling a quick note. “I’ve gotta go. But here is your top priority for the day.”

“Draaaakkke,” she whined, “I already have too much.”

“This will make it better.” Drake placed the note in her outstretched hand.

“Ask for help,” she read. “Drake, you know...”

“Yes...I know...I know you like to do everything yourself but you have Gladys and Hana here. Delegate and don’t try to be super woman; promise me.”

“Fine, I promise.”

After a quick shower, Drake threw on his scrubs and headed to the kitchen for coffee and a light breakfast to-go. Gladys was there conferring with one of the chefs and Drake took the opportunity to ask for her help with Riley’s to do list. Gladys was more than happy to offer assistance. With his coffee in hand, Drake grabbed his nap sack, tossed in an apple and one of the protein bars that Riley insisted were filling and waved on his way out the door. ——————————— Hours passed while Drake waited on the arrival of the foal. When he realized he wouldn’t be home for dinner, he had sent Riley a text. Judging by her brief reply, he was positive she was hard at work.

It was after 10 PM when he arrived home to find Gladys still in the kitchen. “Everything okay, Gladys? Shouldn’t you be off for the weekend by now?”

“I’m headed out now, sir. Just making some final notes on the lantern festival ball for the chefs.”

“So Riley let you help?”

Glady looked timidly toward the ground. “Well, sir...if by help you mean follow her around while she made plans and then handed me this completed binder, then yes...she let me help. I’m sorry, sir. I tried.”

“Don’t apologize. Where is she now?”

“She took supper in her study and has been there since.”

Drake thanked Gladys and saw her out before walking upstairs in search of his wife. Passing the nursery, he saw a soft glow of light and peeked inside. There were large bolts of fabrics all over the floor and 2x2 squares of 10 paint colors on the wall. Clearly Riley had been busy.

When he reached the study, he knocked and received no response; only the sound of her ‘thinking music’ playlist. He gently opened the door and saw Riley sound asleep with her head on the keyboard of her laptop. On her desk sat both her completed proposal and predictive memo. On the screen, there appeared to be a new proposal, half written before she nodded off. Drake rubbed gentle circles on her back and spoke softly not wanting to startle her; she was not pleasant to wake up.

“Mmm, Drake,” she groaned. “You’re home.”

“I am. Sorry it’s so late. So...should I even ask if you kept your promise?” Riley looked away without a word.  “I figured as much.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t over do it, I promise. I just...I guess I nodded off because I’m a little stressed.”

“I have the cure for that,” Drake said with a seductive smile.

Riley grinned at him. “You think that’s the cure for everything.”

“Am I wrong?”

“When it comes to that?...no. You certainly know how to make me forget my troubles.”

“So let’s go...I’ll relieve that stress and pleasure you till you forget all about to do lists.”

“I want to...I do, just...let me finish this proposal I started and...”

Drake pressed his lips to hers, interrupting her excuses. “Nevin...this is too much, you’re gonna burn yourself out. When are you gonna stop trying to do it all?”

“Don’t stop until you’re proud,” she replied, noticing the look of confusion on Drake’s face. “That’s what my mom used to say to me and Drew; don’t stop until you’re proud. She knew we’d feel better from accomplishing something than we ever would from giving up.”

“Asking for help is not the same as giving up, Nevin. It’s just a shared accomplishment.”

“I know, but...”

“No buts,” he said, reaching around her to close the laptop. “This will all be here tomorrow.” Drake swept her into his arms with ease and carried her toward their room. “Right now, I’m gonna ravish you till you’re screaming my name and forget your own, because that makes me proud.  I promise it will be much more satisfying than any proposal.”

[plztumb1rhelpmegetoveranxiety]

Crappy Shigshou au thing

Word Count: 2k (Will be up on my ao3 Freakinout16 tomorrow.)

Thank you for giving me permission to post @todorokitops I asked on anon. If you read this idk what you ment by respond to you, but I hope this is okay!!!

(Last thing I promise.) I'm running off of really slow data for this (won't be able to get Wi-Fi for 3 more weeks) and haven't been able to see parts 5 & 6. I'm pretty sure it becomes Dekushigshou, but this will be taking place before part 5.

Dust filled everywhere, it made sense because it was his quirk, but it felt like it clouded his head. Shigaraki had a vague memory that he had been with the league, but had gotten split up. The city block he drearily recognized. A cafe and a couple stores with an apartment complex a little down the street. They were crumbled - still crumbling - to make the area look like an apocalypse zone.

A shrill yelp pierced silence and cut off within seconds.

Shigaraki’s movements became frantic. That sounded too much like Todoroki; his Todoroki. Had his Shouto been with them, he was a villain with them but, he doesn’t even remember why they were in this situation. He tried to run to the scream, tried to scream himself, tripping over chunks of past buildings and general reccage. His legs felt so sluggish, like he was trying to run through a swamp, almost a sinking feeling. Was it the dusty air?

The telltale sign of white and red made his heart soar. Then drop as he noticed it was much closer than it should be. It only dropped more as Shigaraki squinted through the dust to see a fallen light pole just under the multicolored hair.

The bluette’s breath hitched and soon he was running, but not feeling like he was getting any closer. In the back of his mind he hoped that for some reason it was only a stupid red and white rag. Though the heterochromia he could have sworn he saw when he squinted pushed that idea further every time he thought of that possibility.

An invisible god was almost pulling Shigaraki back. Not by the shirt collar, but as if the decintegrater’s spine had been ripped out in the middle, only to be used as a whip to beat him down afterwards. His hands and arms were a blur of black and pale tan as he moved them to desperately get the stars and blotches out of his vision.

It felt like hours passed before Shigaraki collapsed in front of Todoroki. Without looking down he intertwined his and his disciples hands. The split-quirk user was in a sorry state. His shoulder looked like Shigaraki own when he had his fight with Stain, and his legs were definitely crushed under the light pole. The old scar was reopened with only frostbitten skin and ice keeping it from fully coming off. It didn’t fit him, he didn't even like it when Dabi’s scars opened, Todoroki’s freeze burn had never opened and it never should.

“No, no, no! This isn’t supposed to happen. You’re supposed to follow me around with those damn puppy dog eyes that I melt under. You’re supposed to call me Shishou and ask me to do stuff no one else can while Dabi calls me whipped. You’re supposed to-”

“I always wanted to hold your hand properly, Shishou.”

“...What?”

It took Todoroki´s eyes to weekly drop to see what that meant.

Todoroki´s hand was cracked. No, it was decaying.

Shigaraki twitched trying to pull his hands away, only for them to be stuck like glue. When did he take his gloves off? “You can decay bigger things much faster. You’re getting better at controlling your quirk, Shishou.”

“Don’t you dare fucking compliment me right now.” Todoroki coughed up dust, dust that Shigaraki shakingly noticed that should be organs in his body. “You’re going to be okay, you’re not dying on me so don’t act like it.” A choked sob was present in his scratchy voice.

The dust Todoroki coughed up was dust from the air. The dust in the air from the buildings, not Todoroki’s dust because Todoroki was explicitly not dusting.

Shigaraki managed to get his right hand away only for Todoroki’s left to come off with it. That’s all it took for his left to become limp and his lover’s entire arm to crumble over it. How had he been such an idiot to not hear the cracking sounds before he saw it?

“Didn’t you sometimes tell me to die? Isn’t this better?”

“I said that playfully!” The taste of salty tears infected his chapped lips, “I need you to stay here with me.” One hand hooked around his own shirt collar while the other tore at the sides of the scarred neck. Silent pleases moved the chapped lips.

Todoroki hacked up blood and dust into the older man’s face. The blood splattered across his cheeks with some sinking down, fittingly mixing with his own peeking out of his neck, and dust stung his eyes. The younger male’s rib cage began to collapse in on itself from the right side. Shigaraki’s vision blurred from dust and tears failed to catch it. The other’s obsession for turtlenecks wouldn’t even let him see the full extent of the damage.

As a last ditch effort the teal haired villain grappled for Todoroki's head. The pinky finger curled and hand stretching for the back of the multicolored boy’s head. If nothing else he wanted to hold him close and wait until someone else arrives. To have their head on each other’s shoulders as they wait until Kurogiri or someone else arrives. Right now he wouldn’t care if it was a hero. As long as Todoroki would be safe.

The others would have a car; they’d bring them to safety and have Todoroki healed. He might not know how, but everything was going to. work out.

A flourish of dandelion seed fluff erupted when Shigaraki’s hand made contact. They flew into the pale blue hair and got everywhere. The hand going for Todoroki’s nape hovered in front of where his lover's nose should be. The red white hair and top of skull disintegrated before gravity could bring it down. A teasing breeze blew the new dust away, like trying to steal still more of Todoroki away from him.

With a finger down, Shigaraki drew a line through his boyfriend’s head.

The turtleneck no longer could hold away the sight of the quirk’s effects. The wanted criminal only watched as the cracking from decay crawled up. Chunks of jaw fell off like Jenga blocks and some cruel twist of fate still lifting it up. What didn’t he obtain the absolute pleasure of seeing his own quirk moving up the jaw then the teeth. Molars slipping into a fine powdered dust at the top. The exceptionally slow dusted the interior first, starting with the tongue.

Then a chunk that could hardly be described anymore as an Adam’s Apple sank into his lap.

Hyperventilating, shaking, tear soaked face with more, sweating, and… blankets? It took his eyes a moment to adjust and realize he was on a mattress in his bedroom. In blaring red his clock displayed 1:38 am. His mind was running to keep up to a body flailing to try and find another body laying next to him.

Todoroki wasn’t next to him. Is what’s going on a hallucination? Shigaraki killed Todoroki. That couldn’t have been just a dream. 

Shigaraki rolled off the bed, hitting his head a little harder than he would have liked. Then he tried to get to the door. The piles of clothes and the I’ll do it tomorrow’s stacked up against him in his haste. 

It was okay until he got to the stairs. Shigaraki tried to take a step and all too fast he was falling.

Suddenly he was frozen. Not like time stopped, but his entire body felt enraptured in ice and his head hit it off something. Stars exploded in his sight, it became a struggle to keep his eyes open. He gave in and just let his eyelids drop.

It took a minute for Shigaraki’s vision to clear again. Only to be met with real sparks and the air around him suddenly getting a lot hotter. It was unfair with how hot and sweaty his body already was.

In a matter of seconds he was falling again only to be caught. He was being lifted up and directed over to a couch. Shigaraki tried to shove them off, he was Japan’s most dangerous villain, he didn’t want to be seen like this. He nearly slipped out of his holder’s grasp when he looked up to see a pair of worried blue and grey eyes.

Instantly Shigaraki melted. His knees buckled as he tried to stand up properly while the tears started anew. Again Todoroki started maneuvering the older man, with much less difficulty this time, towards the couch. Shigaraki stumbled trying to move his feet along to the pace.

Todoroki gingerly lowered Shigaraki onto the couch. There were questions he wanted to ask, but he could tell that wasn’t what Shigaraki needed right now. He used his hand to brush away a few locks of messy blue hair. He leaned up and turned around to go back to what he was doing.

“It hurts to cry.” Shigaraki’s voice grated even more than normal.

“Not usually. That’s because you don’t drink as much water as I tell you to.” Todoroki tried to suppress a flinch when Shigaraki latched a hand onto his shirt. The last thing he wished right now was for Shigaraki to think he was afraid of him.

“What’s that gross smell?”

Todoroki didn’t even attempt to force down a cringe before he turned around, “It was soup for you. It burnt and I was about to try and remake it.”

“How the fuck do you even burn soup?”

Todoroki chuckled before sitting down as well. When Shigaraki curled into his side Todoroki chose not to mention it. “I think I had a nightmare. It was weird and confusing like some dumb fever dream.”

“That’s because you do have a fever.” Todoroki said, adjusting so his boyfriend could easily look at his face. That showed him how sweaty his boyfriend actually was. Slowly he pressed his right hand to Shigaraki’s forehead and activated his quirk. “Would you tell me about it, Shishou?”

“No.”

“Please?” To Shigaraki’s misfortune, that was the moment he chose to look at Todoroki clearly. The puppy-dog eyes were on full force and it was only milliseconds till he saw the ears and tail forming.

“Fine.” He meant it as a yell, but it came out more as a grumble. He chose to bury his face in Todoroki’s chest to ignore the taller boy’s small smile, “It looked like it was after a fight and I was alone. I heard you, but it was only you screaming.”

Todoroki started rubbing small circles into the other’s back, as if urging him to continue, “I got to you and grabbed your hands, but-”

“You disintegrated me.” It wasn’t even a question. Shigaraki has had nightmares about this before.

Todoroki violently resisted the urge to lay his chin on the blue haired man’s head.The chance was lost though when Shigaraki pushed himself to the other side of the couch. Shigaraki moving his hands into his lap was not lost on Todoroki.

Almost cautiously the fire and ice user reached for his hands, grabbing them around the wrists. No resistance happened as the hands were lifted in front of their faces. With his thumbs he rubbed the thin gloves partially covering pale skin. “What are these?”

“My hands.”

“Try again.”

“Gloves?”

He gave a nod of approval. It made Shigaraki feel like he was staring at a dangerous predator.

“Now, what do they stop from happening?”

“They stop my quirk from working.”

A sigh. The hands let go and the disintegrators fell into his lap again. “They stop you from disintegrating things while you’re wearing them, including me. What you dreamt was only your imagination.”

For some reason that made him feel better. Maybe there was a little voice telling him that it was stupid for him to be comforted at 2am and that he wasn’t supposed to be treated like this, but maybe, just this once, he wouldn’t listen to that voice.