#god i love this game and this fic and *explodes*

[ao3screenshotss]

[anadiasmount]

along with you - jude bellingham x reader.

GIF by anchyxsblog

quick sum: when giving him a taste of his own medicine, doesn't work out the way you planned... frustrated with your sudden change, jude is faced with his biggest fear, when all he wants is to be along with you.

wc: 2.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa🗣️: hiii!! seems like the theme on here is angst to fluff, so here’s a fic!! also my lovely @judethluvr has wrote a fic similar to this so please check it out here! like always, hope you enjoy! 🤍

“you’re stressing me out jude! please all i'm asking is five minutes in peace!” you yelled, covering your head and walking away from an agitated jude. “y/n you started this? what are you talking about? all i’m asking is why you did come to today's game?” jude followed behind, talking with his hands.

“why would i jude? it’s not like you even wanted me there,” you laugh sarcastically, crossing your arms and facing a confused jude. “i heard what you said in your stupid interview yesterday and today. i’m not going to a place i’m not wanted or invited!” you stressed, feeling tears wanting to run down you’re cheeks.

it had been a rough start for you, not for jude. top goal scorer in the league, back to back man of the matches, top of the group table in the UCL. he had no trouble quickly adapting to a new city and country. while you had it different, the language barrier, your new school, and job, friends. you had no one here besides jude.

it was easier in germany where you could easily travel to him by train or plane. it was closer to england, and your home. where your family and friends were. you could spend the weekend there and come back for school and work. when jude asked you to move with you were estatic, more than grateful to have a partner like him who respects and values you always.

madrid was interesting start. the move was easy and finding the home was better. spending constant nights on the single couch and eating takeout because his and yours stuff from germany had been delayed. when jude became the new sensation, you didn’t expect the constant stalking, digging into your private life, crowds everywhere you went together even if you had tried to hide from them.

you could never get used to it, and it was becoming difficult when jude started to feed into that attention. spending more nights out with his team than at here with you. he constantly forgot about events you had, when you never forgot any of his. always there when he asked and said. you just wanted jude here. your jude.

“what are you in about? what did i even say?”jude tries to defend him, coping your movements by crossing his arms. “you know exactly what you said. i refuse to be treated like a plate for a second table. if you think i can’t be enough for you tell ME not the whole world?” you say, looking at the floor.

“all i want is for you to start being there for me. i missed one game jude, one game. you missed so many of my events since we moved here because you’re so focused on what’s ahead instead of what’s and who’s around you, living life in the moment. i’m tired, i’m tired of you acting selfish.”

you had said it. you always spoke your truth. if they wanted to listen, you’d speak until you felt the need to stop. you were humble and honest, which jude loved. but right now he felt his head would explode from anger and disappointment in himself. his chest tighten at how your words stung and told him to face reality.

“i’m being selfish? it’s my job y/n! i have to think of what’s my future, how i can better in myself and help my teams! just because i missed your events doesn’t mean you should do the same!,” jude stunned you, looking at him with wide eyes. sadness disappearing and now fury filling your veins.

“you see what i mean! this! this whole new persona and attitude! this wasn’t the jude from a year ago who always cared for those around him. this jude is to stuck, sticking his head in the wrong places. afraid to make any mistakes, because oh god forbid he can’t make them,” you say, voice laced with venom as you’d told up straighter.

“what am i supposed to do y/n? you hardly go out anymore, you’re always here or at work or uni. moaning and always tired, getting to our home late. what about the times i need you here? here with me to spend time with each other? to be there for you along with you?”

jude had finally caught up to the taste of his own medicine. it took him nearly three months to realize what you were doing. he did the same, so why couldn’t you? make him feel what you felt. what he was putting you through.

“excuse my language, but that’s bullshit. i’m always here, you just don’t care enough anymore to see that. i’m done with you testing my patience and limit, jude. if you can see or at least acknowledge where i’m coming from then we should think of our future. since your so good at that these days,” you say shakily, becoming afraid of what his next words would be.

jude saw you. you were standing here begging him, at your most vulnerable and sensitive state. your eyes pleading him to understand. you rarely got like this, and when you did, it absolutely drained you. your muscles felt lose, throat sore, eyes puffy, and head hard at steel. you hated fighting, or even have the smallest arguments, but if they didn’t happen, it wasn’t a healthy relationship.

“maybe i will y/n…” jude said angrily. he felt angrier at himself than the situation. you knew you had your reasons to not go and that was fine. he didn’t expect you to attend always but he needed and wanted you there yesterday. it was hurting him but he knew you were just telling him the truth. the truth that needed to be said the moment he started to change.

“if you feel like that jude, i won’t waste your time any longer. just say the words jude,” you test him, tears falling down your cheeks as you approached him pointing to the floor with your index finger as you spoke. jude tensed, clenching his jaw and swallowed heavily.

you took his silence as an answer, shaking your head as you began to cry and go upstairs. you felt torn and confused at where you two laid. it wasn’t easy. making a choice like that, let alone saying it out loud. your eyes felt red and dry, cheek having stains if your makeup and tears, heart dwelling to make things right even though it shouldn’t be you.

your heart was beating faster, and it didn’t stop the entire evening as you got ready for bed. we’re you really prepared to let him go just like that? just because of miscommunication and wanting to be petty? just because you were asking from his part when you did yours? it wasn’t fair, he was never like that before. he didn’t make you question your every move or word nowadays.

you attempted to fall asleep next to him, but you just couldn’t. your head raced at every interaction and touch with him. tears continued to fall from your eyes as you stared at his back facing you. why did he feel like a stranger all of a sudden? someone you couldn’t read anymore? someone who felt distant and cold? he was your boyfriend!

you couldn't stand it anymore... the distance, the argument, the pain, the confusion. you quickly grabbed your blanket and pillow and headed downstairs to the guest bedroom. you were careful with your movemntst and noise not wanting to wake up jude who desrved his sleep. he overworked himself, and the last thin you wanted was to wake him and him be angry at you again.

once settled in, you tucked yourself into the sheets. you went into a fetal position, tears continuing to fall down your face and landing on the pillow softly. when they rolled down slowly, they tickled your skin. you were super sensitive and when you cried, you cried like your life depended on it. you didn't even feel yourself fall asleep, eyes slowly closing and went complete dark.

jude was still puzzled and disappointed in himself. he sat on the kitchen island left wondering why the hell he isnt fighting for you and make you feel wanted, to fix and do what you were asking for. jude knew you were having trouble adapting here, but he was wrong for thinking you'd get over it. you were right, he was thinking of himself and him only.

he can't even remember the last time doing something for you when you asked. you always agreed with no hesitation, no matter how tired or unsure you were, you were there always. why couldn't he do the same for you? why did he let himself be this naive and selfish and think about him only?

the future he had in his head was getting married, having kids, owning a couple of pets, and traveling to give you the world. jude knew he wanted and needed you here in Madrid, he thought it would be best for both of you, a new chapter, which is why he asked you. you left a whole country, friends and family, your old life for him. and here he was acting ungrateful over a stupid game you didn't attend?

the images of you crying and looking lost at him triggered and were marked in his head. the way you slowly let out a breath of disbelief at his silence before rushing upstairs to lock yourself into the room, jude should've given you the space when you asked but he was eager to know and wanted to listen to how you felt, he should've never pushed or made assumptions about you.

jude couldn't sleep either, overthinking how the situation went. his body was drained from the game and how even he let out a few tears when he was left alone. how he had given the impression he had given up. he blinked rapidly, biting his lip anxiously at how he should approach you or apologize.

"y/n?" jude turned over, panic running up his body as he propped himself up at the sight of an empty bed, sheets ruffled and no pilllow there. he ran into the bathroom, then down the library you use to study, all empty. he walked downstairs figuring you may have gotten a glass of water. but nothing was there. he looked in the final place which was the guest room.

he knocked on the door, met with silence. "y/n? my love are you in there?" he knocked again, a bone inside him telling him you were there just choosing to avoid him. "please y/n..." jude landed his forehead on the wooden door, facing the fact whether to go in or go to sleep. he picked the first option, immediately nervous at the sight of you laying on your side.

you had woken up, your throat felt dry and your eyes even drier than before. you felt the bed sink in, jude lying close to you as you faced the window, eyes following the trace of lights outside caused by the moon. you yawned, closing your eyes and trying to focus on what he would say.

"i know i don't deserve it, but you know i can't sleep when you're not next to me..."

"i'm so stupid y/n... you were right. all along i've thought about myself and stuck my head in place it should've never been. all because i have this fear if i don't do what they say, i will fail. when in the ned i failed you, my sweetest y/n..." jude said softly, mimicking your moves and laying on his side where his chest made contact with your back.

"i should be able to make those mistakes and learn from it, it's a part of being human. one mistake can't define my whole career and life. you and i know i'm better than that. which is why i won't make the mistake of pushing you away when i know i should fight for us." jude kissed your bare shoulder. you could feel your chin tremble and your chest hot as tears threatened to fall again.

"i can't make the mistake of giving up on someone who moved a whole new city for me. make the mistake of walking away from the person who will drop what they're doing just to hold or talk to me. make the biggest mistake of leaving the person i can call home and be safe in. i can't and i refuse to let you go when you belong along with me..." jude cried, his words coming out shakily as he cried as well.

"i'm so sorry y/n. you didn't deserve anything in what i put you through... for how i made you feel? for how i treated you? not anything that was caused by my idiocy. i should've have listened to you, cared for you, maybe even helped you to try and find a solution," jude continued to let out, stopping every now and then to peck your shoulder and neck. showering you with the love and touch you craved.

you hadn't moved, your tears silently killing you from the inside and out as you heard his pleas and cries. your inside burned and you almost felt suffocated at the world for how they threw things at you when you least expected it. "whatever it takes, i will make it up to you. be there for you like you always have been for me. to love and care for like i promised to you that day."

you turned over slowly, meeting jude's brown eyes bloodshot red. you brought your hand to wipe his tears away, kissing the tip of his nose, watching how his eyes fluttered in a relaxed manner. you hugged him, your head finding home in the nape of his neck as you cried. "just hold me, please jude..."

and he did just that, nails raking against your bare back and hand smoothly running up and down your spine as he held you close, afraid to let go. jude knew it was a start and it would take a while for you to fully accept his apology. but he was willing to take anything you wanted or asked for.

"i'm glad you're prepared and know what you want because to me that means security and trust. that i know were on the same page and i won't be afraid of telling you what i want. just please jude, don't ever push me away like you did just to satisfy yourself and others around you..." you demanded, your forehead resting against his.

"i promise princess. you have my word."

your lips were centimeters apart, and with a final push, you closed the distance. jude hummed in delight as you kissed him with pure love and urgency. not pulling away until you giggled and pushed back. "now let's go to sleep, but in our bed, because staying in here is starting to freak me out..." you say laughing. jude picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he walked out into the stairs.

"couldn't agree more. let's go to our bed, where i can finally sleep peacefully knowing we're okay..."

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Take Your Medicine Sweetheart.

Summary: Going behind Tommy's back you decide to terminate your pregnancy as you did not want to raise a child around him or around the company he keeps. When Tommy finds out he ensures that you will be pregnant, and you will carry to term, on his terms.

Warnings: Noncon, very Dark!Tommy, blood play, gun play, p in v, anal sex, physical abuse, Tommy is very OOC, misogyny, abortion, breeding, forced pregnancy, forced marriage.

GIF credit: thesoldiersminute

This is a very dark fic, please don't read if any of the warnings are triggers for you.

“Darling, are you alright? You look rather pale?” Your surroundings began to spin, and it looked as if there were three of Tommy. Something wasn’t right.

“I-I- think someone put something in my- my-“

The last thing you remembered before your eyes closed was Tommy’s hand on your thigh while he looked at you in satisfaction with a sadistic smile.

When you awoke Tommy was standing before you shirtless at the end of the bed, cigarette hanging from his plush lips.

“Good morning sunshine, how you feeling?” Your head was pounding as fear entered your body at the sight of your intimidating husband Tommy paced the room, letting you gather yourself.

“All you had to do was follow my orders, eh? But you couldn’t do that. Instead you thought it would be a grand idea to go behind my back and dispose of our child.” A lump began to form in your throat.

How did he know?

Who told him?

“I have eyes and ears everywhere I know your every move Y/N. The perks of my reputation in Birmingham, people crawl on their hands and needs to please me, you know that more than anyone. Whether you like to or not is not of my concern. You’re my wife. Nonetheless Y/N.” He aimed his cigarette at you.

“Nonetheless. You have duties that you will learn to bare.” His eyebrows etched together, yet he hasn’t broken eye contact with you once.

Placing his cigarette down in an ashtray on the dresser, he settled his hands on the soft, delicate mattress. He leaned in so he was directly in front of our face.

Pressing your lips together firmly, trying to hold back tears, you attempted to look in a different direction, anywhere but him.

“You are going to bare my fucking child. If you even think to attempt this little stunt again. I will put you in chains to this god damn bed until you give birth.” In a quick fight or flight moment you jumped up off the bed and ran for your life to get out of this house.

Tommy chuckled darkly to himself, he always loves a challenge, and you hadn’t known of the little side medication he put in your tea this morning. Once you reached the stairs, your head started to feel like it was going to explode from how fast and hard it was pounding.

All energy in you seemed to evaporate, making you almost drop to your knees at the top of the stairs.

The floors creaked behind you, he took his time approaching you as if you were his prey and he wanted to see how far you could get. The sight of you so weak and fragile, sent Tommy into overdrive.

You were his little play toy that he could use however he please. Leaning down behind you, you felt his jaw rest right in the crook of your neck. His frigid skin against yours almost felt soothing to how much you were sweating and out of breath.

“If you want to play games my love, I can play games.” All of a sudden you felt his foot kick into your back, sending you dwindling down the hardwood steps, taking the breath out of you.

Once at the bottom, you managed to turn yourself around so that you were facing the steps but your foot felt like every bone was shattered within.

Tommy stood at the top of the staircase, the moonlight peeling in through the windows behind him, creating a menacing, dark silhouette. “You’re only making things harder for yourself my love.” He paced down the stairs slowly toward you. “If you had just complied with what I wanted we wouldn’t be here now would we?”

In a fast motion, his hand was gripping your delicate hair, causing you to yelp out in pain. As you kicked and screamed, he slammed your head into the ground. All movement in you froze when the sound of a gun cocking echoed throughout the house, as though it seemed to your ears.

“Tommy- please-please don’t do this.”

“Do I have your attention now sweetheart?” You stayed silent.

His free hand slid up your dress, revealing your bloodied underwear. The feeling of guilt and shame washing over you like a hurricane. The sight of it made Tommy’s anger rise.

With a swift movement of his hand the fabric of your underwear and your delicate folds underneath Thomas grabbed between his fingers, twisting them and pinching them while you screamed. “You feel that, eh! This is fucking mine. Your body and what you do with it. My decision.” His grip tightened, sending a burning sensation running through your stomach, he tugged at it over and over.

“Do we fucking understand that, you little fucking whore!”

“Yes! Yes! I understand! All yours Tommy.” He released his grip, and tugged down your panties. The blood was still oozing out of you, slowly starting to create a puddle on the floor. He tossed the gun to the side. The sound of his belt unbuckling came from behind you. You couldn’t stop the tears as they were still continuously falling.

“I’m gonna fucking breed you over and over again, until I’m satisfied and think you’ve learnt your lesson.” You were too weak to fight. Tommy was too strong compared to you, you didn’t stand a chance. Without any warning he plunged his length into, taking your breath away.

The thickness, and length of Thomas was too overwhelming, it often hurt but would start to feel pleasurable and it made you sick to give him the idea that this is what you want.

Vigorously he slammed his lengthy, thick member into you over and over again, while his nails dug into your hips.

You could feel his balls, slapping against your pussy while his length stretched out your tight walls.

Involuntarily your soaked insides were clenching around his dick, making him grin behind you. “You like this you little fucking whore. Like when I fuck your cunt.”

He flipped you over onto your back. He was towering over you, biting his bottom lip. Your pussy was throbbing, as he continued his pace. He filled your sexual needs in ways you’d never felt before, his length, his experience. He knew just all the right places to hit and you hated it.

Grabbing your chin, he forced you to look at all the blood, and more importantly he wanted you to see how much you cum for him, how much he satisfies that tight little hole of yours. It was a reminder you weren’t going to get this anywhere else.

Your stomach began to twist and you were having an internal warfare in your mind.

How could someone that you find so disgusting, so frightened of, make you feel so good.

How can he do this to you every time.

He knew you hated him, knew you did not want to have sex with him, and he’d put you in these positions to where you’d be moaning for him, moaning his name against your own will.

Lapping his fingers under your dripping hole, he took his bloody fingers and shoved them in your mouth. “Suck.”

A wave of nausea washed through you that you could not hold back, turning your head your stomach dispensed of any remains it contained onto the floor.

Without a moment to think you felt two fingers enter your ass, the same ones he had just put in your mouth.

You writhed in pain on the floor, screaming in agony, cheeks red and tear stained.

Thomas stopped all movement aside from pumping his fingers in and out of your tight ass. Your inner walls we’re screaming at you to stop this. Your ass was stinging, and felt like it was on fire.

“Ride me.” Blinking at him, you were trying to process what he just said, you felt like you were on the verge of passing out.

Gasping from the pain of his fingers working your ass relentlessly, you did as you were told to the best of your ability while you lay still on the ground.

You began to move your hips, doing all the work yourself. Taking his length thrust after thrust. Your walls were starting to clench around him, your pussy throbbing from the girth of him.

A wave of pleasure rode through you, your inner muscles starting to spasm just as the tip of his dick found that sweet spot.

You couldn’t help but close your flushed eyelids, while your breathing began to pick up, along with the movements of your hips.

“Atta girl.”

Tommy stared down, watching you take all of him begrudgingly, licking his lips in amusement as he could tell by your facial expressions your body was betraying you.

“Hate me so much look at you fucking me like there’s no tomorrow.”

Disgusted and ashamed was how you felt. Your own body was working against you, and you couldn't help it.

“Fuck you! You fucking piece of shit!” A stinging pain rushed through your cheek as he sent a powerful slap the side of your face.

“Tell me how you really feel Y/N, with my cock buried in you.” He wrapped his hand around your throat to quiet you as he continued to drill into you deeply and roughly. Causing your breasts to bounce intensely.

“Gonna cum in you and make you nice and full again.” You shook your head back and forth in disgust.

His movements sped up more than you thought possible. Involuntarily, you felt your pussy getting more wet with every time he rammed into your sweetness. You tightened around his rather large member, and you could tell he was close as well by the way he was moaning and the way his thighs twitched against your, bruised skin.

“Let me go Tommy, just- just pull out and we can talk about it!”

Your voice was shaky and hoarse, you did not want to bring a child up in this environment, nor did you think Tommy would be a suitable father just by the way he treated you.

Ignoring your pleas, pleasure rose through his body, his stomach tightening up as the mixture of how wet you are and how much you were tightening around him took over every thought in his body.

Pinning your wrists down, he thrusted into you three more times before you felt his warm liquid ooze into you while his moans became more heavy.

You made it through, you did your job and got him off, now you wanted him off of you and to be left alone.

“I’m not finished with you yet. Now it’s time for your punishment my sweet Y/N.” Tommy placed his hands on your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach, forcing your ass up in the air.

He was kind enough to spit onto his hand, but what came after that you weren’t ready for.

Placing the tip of his dick in front of your hole, he popped the tip into you, making every part of your body tense and clenching up.

Releasing a muffled whine from the sudden intrusion, you had never felt more frozen than you did now. Panic set in, and you tried to wiggle your way out.

“Where do you think you are going to go?” To ensure that you’d stay put, without any hesitation or warning, he pushed the rest of his length into your uncomplying, inexperienced hole.

Your screams filled the house as your ass was being stretched in a way that you wasn't imaginable, it felt like he was tearing your skin a part little by little. “Stop! Stop! Pl-please just stop!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that until I think you’ve learnt your lesson.” Nails scratching at the wooden floors, you seized for this to be over. Tommy placed his hands on both your ass cheeks as they bounced up and down and watched as he forced all of his length in your small hole. Stretching it beyond belief.

Your blood painted his dick and balls a dark cherry red and now he was going to paint your insides that color. “Fuck, such a filthy little whore, taking my dick in your ass.”

Tommy ignored your sobs and continued to drive into you, the girth of his dick feeling like it was obliterating you inside and out.

It felt like the sensitive walls in your ass were being sliced open as Tommy continued to slam his dick into your tight used ass over and over again, until eventually you felt him release himself one more time, covering your insides with his warm seed.

He collapsed onto you, still buried deep within you. Combing back his hair, he was trying to catch his breath. You were a broken woman, the pain swayed within every part of you.

Giving you a light smack on your cheek, he stood up, picking his pants up off the floor, looking down at your fucked out, used body that he claimed as his own. “Let this serve as a reminder. You’re my property Y/N. That’s never gonna change my love.”

The last thing your dreary eyes saw was the wooden clock on the wall, time passing ever so slowly as the pain began to be too much. Your eyes drifted off as you went unconscious on the bloodied floor.

When you awoke, Thomas was at your bedside with the doctor. He informed her that you had, had a miscarriage and wanted to try again, but maybe it was too much too soon for you. “Mrs Shelby, I’m going to be your doctor and this is your nurse. Mr. Shelby has informed me of what’s been going on. The good news is, at this stage even with the miscarriage, if you two have started trying, you are still very fertile from the time that Mr. Shelby told me you had the miscarriage. I-“

“Thomas. Please call me Thomas.” The doctor nodded and smiled, You could tell she was blushing.

Nausea fulfilled you, and your eyes felt heavy.

“It also appears that your ankle, is sprained, Thomas informed me you took a stumble down the stairs. That may have been what have brought on the miscarriage, so we also prescribed you with pain relief medication, and wrapped it up for you.”

You had no one, Thomas charmed his way into every woman, and every man was too much of a coward and frightened of him to do anything to help you. You were certain he did not tell them about anything other than that you had a supposed miscarriage and sprained ankle.

“Now, Mrs Shelby? We’re going to send you home with estrogen pills, that should help with conceiving. Just maybe next time, take it easy, take it slow, and don’t overwork yourself. If you follow all that you should be okay.” You thanked her sarcastically as she exited the room.

Without your consent Thomas helped you change for you to go home. The weather was cold, as the wind blew the autumn leaves around the dying grass.

Thomas was by your side, arm wrapped around your waist walking you out. He didn’t want you to fall, as he knew you were very well still in recovery from the following night.

He was very precautious with you once you were “home”, and you had no energy to fight him anymore.

He drew a hot bath for you and placed a set of towels on the sink while Frances in the kitchen made you a small snack with tea and crackers to help you relax Tommy had assisted you in washing your hair, and cleaning your body, every part of it.

His touch sent shivers down your spine, but you knew it had to be this way. There was no escaping Thomas Shelby.

He tucked you into bed and told Frances to make sure you stay hydrated and eat while he works during the day and to inform him, if you want to go out, see a friend, even come downstairs.

Sliding into the bed next to you, he turned off the bedside lamp and pulled your aching body close to his side.

Regardless of what he did to you, the feeling of being held in warm, strong arms helped you fall asleep as comfortably as you possibly could.

The following morning Frances had made you a full course breakfast and tea, and had your pills placed in a cup next to a glass of juice. “Good morning my love.” Thomas walked into the room dressed in his black and white suit, and his shiny shoes with a smile plastered on his face that money couldn’t buy.

His hair was still wet from the shower he must’ve taken. He sat down in the seat next to you, placing a kiss to your soft lips.

Glancing down at the cup of medication there was a pill that wasn't one your doctor had prescribed. Your eyes began to water, and your hands started shaking.

You eyed the mysterious pill, wondering if that was the sedative he had put in your tea yesterday morning. You glanced up at Tommy, who was watching you intently with his empty, bright blue eyes.

“Do as the doctor instructed.” Tommy unfolded the newspaper taking a sip of his coffee before glancing over at you still staring at the cup. His jaw clenched as he eyed the cup, looking at you without any sign of remorse from last night.

“I need you to be relaxed for later when I breed you more. Take your medicine sweetheart.”

[general-fanfiction]

Hopes And Fears. (Wally Clark x Reader)

Summary: Y/N’s death is traumatic. So traumatic in fact, she can’t even look at Wally without reliving what happened to her.

Word Count: 3,073

Gif Not Mine. Requests are open!

Warnings: Violence, Swear Words, Hints Of Rape?

I’m not too sure how I feel about this to be honest but it’s my first fic since coming back and I would love to write for Wally more so please send requests! I might continue with this if people like it, I’m not sure yet though.

“Homecoming game tonight. Are you nervous?”

Closing my locker, I look to my left to see Abby, my best friend since elementary school. We’re inseparable. People find it odd that we look like we are complete opposites and yet we are the platonic loves of each other's lives. She’s a very loud and extroverted theater kid, I’m quiet, shy and introverted. Though in a weird turn of events, I became head cheerleader. Kind of ironic right?

“I’m not too worried. We’ve been rehearsing everyday, sometimes twice a day. I think we might actually have our best routine yet, I just hope we can pull it off.”

“You’ll be great, you always are. Besides I heard Spencer is going to ask you to be his date for homecoming.”

Abby’s words catch me off guard. Spencer is the Split River High quarterback. While typically the head cheerleader and quarterback are perfect for each other, I’m way below his level that the thought of us being together is ridiculous. I couldn’t even imagine it, that’s how ludicrous the idea of us is. Not that I would complain, Spencer is model level attractive, an academic genius and of course, insanely popular. Any girl would die to be his homecoming date. Me included.

“Don’t be stupid.” The blush on my cheeks is a vibrant red as I speak, leaning against my locker with my books clenched against my chest.

“I’m being serious. Some of the other football guys were talking about it in study hall. Apparently he’s got some sort of big surprise planned.”

Her grin is wide, clearly happy for me, though I can’t match it. I still don’t believe it, that sort of thing does not happen to girls like me. Guys aren’t interested in girls like me. That’s just the way high school works, maybe I’ll blossom when I head off to college at the end of this year but for now, guys keep their distance. My mom always told me that high school guys like girls that are easy and that because I know my worth, guys don’t even attempt it. I’ve always hated that idea though. If nothing else but for the slightly sexist and anti-feminist ideals that it pushes.

“Not to alarm you Y/N but he’s walking down the hallway.” Abby tells me, grabbing my forearm tightly, obviously excited. “I think he’s headed this way so that’s my cue. Have fun, text me all the details!”

With that she scurries away, flashing me a cheesy smile over her shoulder as she speeds down the hallway. Almost bumping into several other students as she does so. I laugh slightly, always entertained by her antics before hearing the metal of the locker next to me clang at the sound of somebody leaning against it.

“Mind if I steal you for a second Y/N?”

Spencer’s voice is charming and smooth, a relaxed smirk on his face as he stares down at me. His eyes are intoxicating and I feel as though I’m drowning in them. There’s no way Abby could be right. God, if she is I’ll never hear the end of it. Maybe I could live with that though, especially if it does result in Spencer potentially being my boyfriend.

“Sure, yeah, okay.”

Spencer’s smirk grows wider, and as he leans in to take my hand in his, I catch a whiff of his cologne. A dark musk that matches the darkness of his eyes and hair perfectly, it takes everything in me not to collapse right then and there. My senses are completely heightened and I can feel the roughness of his hand against my palm. The butterflies in my stomach make me feel as though I’m about to explode from my nerves and before I know it we’ve made our way to the old block of showers that were closed in 2004, following an incident involving an inappropriate relationship between a student and gym coach. New showers were remodeled and these were left to decay.

Spencer takes my books out of my hands, placing them on the bench that sits in the center of the room before turning to face me. His hand gently cups my cheek and although his smile is soft and loving. His eyes hold a mischievous glint. Without saying anything he leans down to kiss me, unprepared and a little shocked I step backwards.

“I didn’t know you wanted to kiss me. I didn’t even know you liked me.” I tell him, shuffling backwards again as he continues to approach me.

“Everybody likes you. I’ve just been wanting to save this for a special occasion, and what better time than homecoming?”

With my back pressed against the wall, a soft smile forms on my face as he cages me in. Though it doesn’t feel threatening, it feels new and exciting and my insides are on fire waiting to see what happens. I feel as though I finally understand what the cringey teen movies are talking about when they discuss sex and love and passion.

“I really like you Spencer.” I whisper, voice barely audible, gazing up at him through my lashes.

He laughs, pushing his hair out of his face before leaning down once again. This time his lips do touch mine and it’s nothing like I imagined. He’s rough, hands moving down to grab my breasts , almost painfully. The softness from before clearly disappeared. As much as it is a dream come true to be making out with the guy of my dreams, I’m still disappointed that this is how my first kiss turned out. His tongue forces its way into my mouth and its uncomfortable, I know this isn’t how it is supposed to go. As I try to pull away, to allow myself some air, his hand grips my throat, holding me in place. Continuing his almost aggressive movements.

“Yo Spence, did you get the bitch?”

Finally, he pulls away. I manage to take in some air despite his hand still wrapped around my neck. He’s looking over his shoulder, nodding his head. The rest of the football team stands in the doorway, menacing looks on their faces as they see me in such a vulnerable position. I hear the click of the door lock, and the butterflies in my stomach don’t feel so good anymore. The energy in the room shifts to one of darkness and evil, no trace of kindness and love.

Spencer looks at me, and for the first time in my life, I fear for my safety. This is not the same guy that I was obsessed with. There is no sign of human emotion on his face, no sympathy or pity. Gripping his hand to try and pry it away from my throat, I feel the tears begin to prick in the corners of my eyes and upon seeing my reaction, he smiles. My pain is his pleasure. Despite my attempts at removing his hand, his grip only gets tighter and I’m pushed further against the wall.

“Let’s have some fun boys.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A dull ache radiates through my body, pushing through the pain, I force myself to stand up. Staring at the room around me, I wonder if I was dreaming. However, with no sign of my books on the bench, I take that as confirmation that what I experienced did truly happen. Blood splatters the walls and floor but with no sign of injury on my body, I refuse to believe it’s mine. Sure, what happened was bad, but not that bad.

Not wanting to stay in this room any longer, I quickly make my way to the exit, pushing open the door with more force than necessary causing it to slam against the outside wall. Making the shy looking boy who happens to be standing outside jump. I smile apologetically, about to make my way past him when I notice what he’s wearing. Clad in double denim with round glasses, he looks straight out of Friends.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to come in because I thought you might feel kind of exposed but I wanted to introduce myself.” He says quietly, holding out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Charlie.”

Shifting my gaze between his hand and his face, my mind can’t really comprehend what is happening. Why am I suddenly meeting someone new? By the old shower block of all places, especially after what has just happened to me. The confusion on my face must be obvious as he smiles before revoking his hand.

“You haven’t worked it out yet have you?” He asks, almost as though he doesn’t want to push me.

“You’re dead, cherry pop.”

Looking to my right, I spot a girl sat against the wall, blue lollipop between her lips that has stained them ever so slightly. Wearing a black turtleneck with a matching cap and pinstripe pants, she’s the kind of girl that would intimidate me had I seen her walking down the street. Who am I kidding? She still intimidates me.

“Rhonda, Mr Martin told us to be gentle with her!”

“I’m sorry, I actually have somewhere to be but you two look great.” I tell them, beginning to walk away and head towards the main school building.

“Did you not hear me? You’re dead, you don’t have anywhere to be.” The girl, I’m assuming Rhonda, shouts after me, causing me to stop in my tracks.

“Look I don’t know what sort of joke this is, but it’s not funny. Seriously, go find some other kid to pick on.”

As I walk into the school building, I begin my mission of searching for Abby, hoping I can find her in the auditorium or even the costume department. My search doesn’t take too long, as my assumptions proved correct. She is sitting on the stage, the theater club’s newest script in one hand and her phone in the other. Our text thread open on her screen, as I sit myself beside her, she doesn’t even acknowledge me, eyes flicking between her phone and the script.

“Abby, I need to tell you something but you have to swear you will not tell anyone.”

She completely ignores me, flipping the page of her script. Its as if I’m invisible to her, a joke that isn’t funny. Waving my hand in front of her face in an attempt to get her attention also proves futile as she doesn’t even look up. Glancing at her phone I notice she’s messaged me multiple times asking me of my whereabouts, telling me she’s seen Spencer but she didn’t see me with him, asking me if I am his homecoming date.

“Abby, seriously? This is important, your show can wait.”

“She can’t hear you.” Charlie says, him and Rhonda standing in front of me, arms resting on the edge of the stage. “Or see you, we’re invisible to them. Nothing you do is going to change that.”

“I don’t get it, why isn’t she answering me?” I ask, panic starting to set it as I grow more and more confused at my situation.

“Oh my god, do I really have to tell you again? Are you that fucking stupid? You’re dead. D-E-A-D. Deceased. Not living.” Rhonda speaks slowly, using a voice you would use for a child.

“I can’t be dead. There’s no way, it’s just not possible.”

“Yeah it takes some getting used to, but we’re all friends and you’ll come to terms with it soon enough. Mr Martin’s support group helps too.” Charlie tells me, smiling encouragingly as I watch Abby walk away with some of the other theater kids.

“Support group?” I ask, hopping off the stage to stand with the only two people that can see me.

“Come on, we’ll take you.” Rhonda states, almost as if it's more of a chore and not like she offered to take me.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting in a circle with the rest of the group, I can’t help my heart racing as I spot the football player sitting amongst everyone. He reminds me of Spencer and that’s what makes me nervous, or maybe it’s just the fact that he plays football. Either way I can’t help but feel on edge, hence why I placed myself in the furthest seat from him.

As I take in the rest of the room, I notice the basketball team playing further down the court. Not aware of the existence of the group of ghosts sat in a circle like they’re in an AA meeting. It feels so surreal, almost like an intricate nightmare that I will wake up from at any moment. Yet everything I’ve seen so far has been pretty real.

“We have a new student, would you like to introduce yourself?” The only teacher, who I am guessing is Mr Martin asks, as I feel all eyes divert their attention towards me.

The football player has a gentle aura around him, smiling at me as he waits for an answer to Mr Martin’s question. I look away quickly, unable to face the feelings of sickness in my stomach that I get when I look at him.

“I’m Y/N.”

The group mumbles a chorus of welcomes as I stare at the floor, still struggling to come to terms with the fact that I am actually dead.

“It’s hard at first, but I’m grateful that you decided to give the group a shot. It helps us all to move forward instead of focusing on our deaths and the past.” Mr Martin tells me, offering a look of sympathy. “Charlie, Rhonda, thank you for being Y/N’s guide, I’m sure it was very helpful.”

“So how did you die? In the old showers clearly, but that’s gotta be an interesting story right?” Rhonda asks, her eyes piercing into me as she places the lollipop back between her lips.

“Rhonda, you can’t just ask people that. Let her get used to us at least.”

His voice startles me, it’s as gentle as his aura. Soft and ever so charming. The protection in his tone is obvious as though he doesn’t wanna frighten me away and I glance at him for a moment. His football shirt sits perfectly against his toned chest and a gold chain hangs delicately from his neck. He’s beautiful. Truly beautiful.

“I’m Wally by the way, Wally Clark.” His voice is directed at me, staring at me intently.

At that moment, I can’t help but be transported back to before. Remembering my screams and pleads for them to stop. Praying someone would hear me and come to my rescue. They never did. They never stopped.

Jumping up from my chair, I feel myself getting worked up as I sprint out of the room. Terrified of reliving the past. Finding myself in an abandoned hallway, I slide against the wall until I’m sitting on the cold linoleum floor. Staring at the lockers as I try to calm my breathing.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Charlie asks, crouching in front of me with a concerned expression on his face. “Wally’s shitting himself thinking he did something wrong. I told him to hang back while I spoke to you.”

I let the tears fall down my face as I stare up at Charlie, feeling guilty that I’ve potentially upset an innocent boy because of my own trauma. I can’t go back to the group, I know I can’t. It would be in the best interests of every other ghost if I do my best to simply avoid Wally. That way nobody gets hurt.

“I’m sorry Charlie. I can’t do it, I can’t go back to the group. I can’t see him in that fucking uniform. I just can’t, I’m sorry.” My sobs are uncontrollable and I feel bad even just for putting Charlie through this when he’s known me for all of two hours.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Is it the uniform, we can get him to change I’m sure, I know it’s not the best look but it is all he had since he died in his shoulder pads and all.”

I can’t help but let out a small laugh, wiping the tears from my face with the sleeves of my jumper. Charlie offers me his hand to help me stand up which I take graciously. He places a hand on my shoulder as a sign of encouragement, along with a gentle smile.

“I mean it Charlie. I can’t go back to the group. I don’t want to relive the memories.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“She’s adamant she’s not coming back.” Charlie tells the group, all of them awaiting the answers he has for them as to why the new girl ran away. “I don’t think it’s anything personal Wally but she said she can’t see you in that uniform and I think she may have had something happen regarding the football players. I don't wanna speculate though.”

“So, what? Her footballer boyfriend cheated on her and now she can’t look at poor, innocent Wally because it reminds her of him?” Rhonda asks, unimpressed by the lack of answers Charlie has.

“No, I think it’s something more than that. Something deeper. I’m sure she’ll tell us when she’s ready but for now, I would stop wearing the uniform Wally.”

The footballer didn’t need to be told twice, he instantly pulls the shirt over his head leaving him in only a tight, white tank top. Charlie smiles in appreciation, while Rhonda scoffs slightly upon seeing his muscular arms.

“Okay, so I’ve ditched the uniform, should I apologize or what?” Wally asks, looking at the group to gauge their reactions.

“Maybe now isn’t a good time Wally.” Mr Martin states, trying to think rationally. “I’d give it a day or so.”

“Or maybe just leave her alone for a while. Let her come out of her shell a bit first.” Charlie interjects.

“Yeah, let's not hurt cherry pop’s feelings.” Rhonda replies sarcastically, staring directly at Charlie.

As the rest of the group session continues, Wally stays silent, playing with the football uniform in his hands as he attempts to figure out different ways to apologize. To help her feel more at home in her new life, and potentially help her overcome the trauma of her death. Despite not managing to come up with a good idea, he does decide one thing. He will do whatever it takes to make her feel safe and become her friend.

[bartxnhood]

right here waiting | f.o

finnic odair x fem!reader

summary: after the quarter quell you vanish, no sign, no trace. you left behind your boyfriend, finnick, who could just not wrap his head around your disappearance. what happened?

warnings: typical hunger games violence, blood, torture, strong language, descriptions of wounds.

a/n: this fic is a long time coming. i love finnick and is one of my favorite characters but i can never find the right storyline for his character. it’s also been a hot minute since i’ve watched the movies so if there are any inaccuracies just look away lmao. hopefully, i can continue to write for him. i hope you guys enjoy this one !! feedback is appreciated ! also since i haven’t written in a very long time this came out shorter than i wanted it too. sorry about that.

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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“run!!” your voice echoed, the dome was collapsing. “finnick, run!” you turned around, grabbing his wrist to pull you along. the arena was exploding as you tried your best to dodge the debris. katniss had used one of her arrows and shot the border of the arena causing it to collapse. now, all the victors began to spread out to take cover from the panels.

“holy shit, y/n, look out!!” finnick was ripped from your grasp as the ground below you rumbled and sent you falling.

"y/n!? “y/n!" you could hear someone calling your name in the distance, it was a panicked finnick searching the forest floor for your body. you opened your eyes trying to search for him but your vision was too blurry. everything was spinning. "finnick."

in seconds you were back on the ground and eyes falling back, slipping into unconsciousness.

it had been weeks since your disappearance, at first most people just assumed you had died that day in the arena. either by debris or the capital, but finnick knew that you were still out there somewhere.

for finnick, it was a nightmare. he barely left his room. every day that you stayed missing he slowly began to lose hope that he’d find you again. so, he began to mourn.

he was almost unrecognizable. finnick was letting himself go. he began to neglect his health, he refused to eat, he couldn’t sleep, and he was killing himself.

guilt heavy on his shoulders after losing you, even though the people around him had assured him that your disappearance wasn’t his fault. but finnick thought that had he held on to your hand just a little tighter you would’ve made it out.

katniss came to him one day, finding him lying on his bed staring at the ceiling like any other day. “this isn’t like you.” she stated. finnicks eyes found her, standing at the edge of his bed. the girl sighed, crossing her arms. “you’re killing yourself.” he shrugged. “what else am i supposed to do?” “fight for her?” “how?” katniss fell silent, she wasn’t sure how to proceed with the news she had just received. slowly, she moved to his side and sat down. “she’s alive.”

everything froze, he was sure he even stopped breathing. finnick sat up slowly so he could face katniss. “what?” “she’s in the capitol. with peeta.”

the bright fluorescent light of the hospital room burned your eyes, you brought your hand over your eyes to adjust to the light. once your eyes adjusted to the light you scanned your surroundings. you looked at your hand, you had an iv in, and you heard the faint beeping of the monitor next to you.

what happened? how did you get out? where were you? you barely remembered what happened in the capitol, it was all a blur. you began to panic, searching around the room wondering if you could get out.

the door opened, and you looked to your left and saw someone entering. “kat?” your voice was scratchy and hoarse. she now stood at your bedside holding your hand. she hummed, “hi, y/n/n”. “thank god” you breathed, tears welling in your eyes. “i thought id never see you again” katniss hushed your cries, wiping away the tears falling from your eyes. “shh, it’s okay. you’re okay” she smiled. caressing your cheek.

you had lost a lot of weight at this point, your face was sunken in. your body thinner than it had ever been, and you were beyond exhausted both physically and mentally. “oh, honey” she coaxed. you held onto her hand tightly, “there’s someone here who wants to see you.” she gently escaped from your grasp, walking to the exit.

"fin. you breathed, watching him enter the room. it felt like a dream you had wanted to see him for so long. it felt like an eternity. the one you loved so dearly, the one who has saved your life multiple times. "y/n" he walked over to your bedside. he was hesitant at first, but when you held your hand out for him he gained confidence.

"you're here." you weakly smiled, reaching for his hand. he found himself on the edge of your bed, holding you

“of course i am, sweets. where else would i be?" he chuckled softly, and you hummed. you brought your hand to his cheek. you examined his face and he placed his hands on yours. finnick studied you, making sure to soak in every detail.

"you'll never have to go through that again, y/n. i promise i'll do anything to keep you safe." he kissed the top of your head.

you smiled as he pulled back, and tears fell from your eyes again. "i know, fin" you said softly. "you look tired, love" he sighed. it had been such a long time since you'd been in his embrace, you missed everything about him. his jokes, snarky comments, his grin. he was your everything. "i am." you hummed, while he sat holding your hand. “rest, i’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[diorsluv]

infrunami (lh⁴³)

❝ in which you’ve always been in love with your childhood best friend, but he would always be the right person at the wrong time ❞

wc: 5.8k

warnings: god there’s so much angst, reader is kinda inconsistent, mentions of blood/injury, mutual pining, idiots in love, running away from “rejection”, reader is touchy with jack and besties with quinn, no use of y/n, if i missed any lmk!!

notes ) when i tell you this took me WEEKS and WEEKS just to compile a simple 5k fic.. i think it’s kinda obvious where i stopped and started back up but i tried to blend it in as best i could!! this will be a two parter simply because i was draining myself trying to drag it on, so stay tuned (might take a while)! AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST thank you to my wonderful, amazing, supportive wife @dior-roses for beta reading this (i was terrified)

As a kid, you always moved wherever the Hughes moved—it was something about the bond between your fathers that couldn’t keep your families apart for more than a week. Regardless of how many times you moved, you never felt alone. You and Luke were in the same grade, and Quinn and Jack were always looking out for you two, so isolation was never a concern for you.

Although you were inseparable with Luke, Quinn had always been your best friend. The four-year age difference between the two of you was almost invisible, and throughout your youth, you would always find yourself in his room, staring at the ceiling as you talked about everything. 

You would tell him about your silly school girl crushes, and he would ramble to you about hockey and all the petty drama that happened around him. In fact, he was the reason you learned hockey in the first place. Your father could never keep your attention on the sport for over five minutes, but the way Quinn talked about it so lovingly was what motivated you to step on the ice. 

Your love for hockey spurred your relationship with not only Quinn, but also Luke and Jack, to grow closer than ever. Every day in school, you and Luke would gush about the games you had watched the night prior, and every day after school, all four of you would head off to practice for your respective club teams. If you weren’t already inseparable from the way your families were bound together by an invisible rope, then you were forever connected through hockey. 

You quit after a few years to pursue more academic routes, but the sport never left your spirit. There were many occasions where the boys would refuse to play if you weren’t there, simply because your presence was the only thing to motivate them to get on the ice, especially if they were having a bad week.

Somehow, though, along the way, you caught feelings. Feelings that were far too heavy to have just surfaced from the depths of your heart. No, what you felt for Luke seemed to have always been creeping just between the line of what was certain and what was unknown. There was no other explanation as to why you couldn’t handle being in the same room as him without being on the verge of exploding. There was no other reason as to why you could spend months on end with either of his brothers but couldn’t last one minute sitting beside him. 

As soon as you came to that revelation, you were done for. It was over. You would rather die than acknowledge the feelings you caught for the boy that had been by your side since you were born. Because of that, you spent all your time with your best friend and his younger brother, and both your families sensed the shift as soon as it happened.

Especially Luke.

Oh, the poor boy, his heart dropped into his stomach when he realized you were avoiding him. You held your breath every time he stepped into the same room as you, let alone when he tried to stand remotely close to you. You diverted your attention away from him as much as you could, and the boy you once knew as your other half now seemed to be universes away. 

It was your doing, but in a way, it was his. How dare he make you fall for him? It wasn’t fair. Not to you, and definitely not to him. It wasn’t fair how he could make you fold in seconds with the way he looked at you from the other side of the room but simultaneously have a girl wrapped around his arm trying to take all his attention away from you. He was the only boy on your mind, but he always managed to push you to the darkest parts of his brain, putting you on hold when the more important girls were right in front of him. 

If only you knew. 

Quinn bounded down the stairs of your lake house, which was conveniently right next to the Hughes’, with an old framed photo in his hand. “Hah! I was right!” His exclamations took your attention away from the pasta you were cooking as you now turned to his self-righteous figure. “You would never let go of that stupid plushie.”

The two of you were arguing over what (and who) you were and were not inseparable with just prior to his search for the picture, and he claimed there were multiple photos of you hugging your favorite Elmo plushie. There was a mutual agreement that Luke was one of the things—or rather, people—you couldn’t fathom to be away from, but neither you nor Quinn had to verbally confirm it. There was no need. 

And, to be completely honest, Quinn had barely spoken about his youngest brother throughout the time you’d been spending at the lake houses. A few years back, you had reluctantly told him how you felt about Luke, and ever since then, he’d made it his mission to make you feel the most comfortable you could possibly be whilst sharing a connected lake house with the boy you’ve loved since you were children. The eldest saw the way you tensed up when you recognized his brother’s footsteps creaking down the stairs when it came time to eat breakfast, and he sure as hell saw the way your eyes blew wide whenever you accidentally made contact with him. 

It scared you how much Quinn seemed to notice about you, especially since he and his brothers were all busy with their demanding careers that left little to no time to be tending to some childhood friend who was stuck with a crush on the most recently debuted boy. Yes, he was still your best friend (that much hadn’t changed since your childhood), but all you could do was FaceTime each other, and even then, it was difficult to find time. It was the same with Jack; sometimes, they would be too tired for practice; other times, they would be exhausted from a home game and possibly frustrated had they lost; and most of the time, they weren’t even home, so the time difference, albeit miniscule, was still difficult to navigate considering you were a busy person too. 

That meant that you met up as much as you could and you stuck by each other’s side until you were forced apart by the demands of being a professional hockey player. All that time together when you were younger meant you struggled to be without each other as you got older—maybe your parents should’ve realized that, but then again, it was probably their intention. 

“Okay, I did let go of it. Multiple times, actually,” you refuted with a small frown, the expression on your face practically meaningless as your best friend laughed. It only egged him on further, evoking a complaint from your lips. “Quinn! It’s not funny!” 

“I mean, it kinda is.” He struggled to stifle his laughter as he rounded the kitchen island to stand beside you. Your hand mindlessly dragged the wooden spoon through the soft noodles floating around in the boiling hot water, and he wondered how your skin wasn’t burning. Gently removing your hand from the utensil and replacing it with his own, the eldest Hughes boy continued his teasing once he looked at your still-upset face. “You’re such a kid sometimes, you know that?”

Your eyes practically rolled into the back of your head in annoyance. Quinn always said that to you. Always. He never failed to address you as ‘kid,’ and no matter what you did, he always managed to bring it back to how you ‘were such a kid.’ You huffed, “You’re so fucking annoying, Quinny. I’m gonna go piss off Jack. Keep cooking, and if you burn the house down, you’re paying for all of it.” 

“You’re forgetting I’m a millionaire.” His laughter filled your ears once again, and your only response was the finger you lifted at him over your shoulder.

After walking out of the kitchen of your own lake house, you took a few strides over to the sliding doors that led to the connected portion of your two homes. Your father and Jim had built it together, way back when all four of you were far too young to understand what normal lake houses were supposed to look like. It was essentially a screened-in sunroom overlooking the absolute beauty of a lake out front. They managed to hook up a large, flat-screen television on the wall, throwing a couple bean bag chairs and a rug into the room. The rest of the furnishing was left completely up to you and the Hughes brothers, so the furniture would change up every few visits. 

Oftentimes, you would find Luke there, just sitting against the one wall that had a bit of a bump-out. He liked the way it felt against his back, like it actually supported him compared to the fluffy chairs that laid in the middle of the room. Whether he be on his phone, playing video games, or reading a book that was required for summer class, he would always be in the sunroom. The floor directly before the bump-out was much more worn compared to the rest of the room, the discolored wood showing just how often the youngest Hughes would find himself in the confines of the area.

There were many times when Luke would flee to the sunroom in his times of need, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. If anyone were to try to enter the room and speak to him, he wouldn’t respond. He would only ever talk to you. You were the one and only person to talk him out of his thoughts, the only one who could convince him to leave the room. Those nights were comprised of him refusing to leave your bed and whining if you got up in the middle of the night. 

You missed it. 

But you weren’t kids anymore. And, again, it was your fault you weren’t close anymore. You deliberately distanced yourself from him. 

After pulling yourself away from your own thoughts, you tugged the Hughes’ sliding door open, the smell of freshly grilled shrimp welcoming you into the cozy house.

“Hey, sweetie,” Ellen’s soothing voice called out to you, smiling at you from her place at the kitchen sink. “How’s the pasta going?” The sound of the running water could barely be heard over the hockey game playing on the television, your father entertaining Jim and his youngest son with light chirps towards the losing team. 

You could feel Luke’s eyes set on you. Shrugging, you replied, “I told Quinny to take over and not burn the house down.” 

This was a regular occurrence whenever you came back to the lake for the break. You, your mother and Ellen would split up the food duties so that there was a lot of food but didn’t take too much time to cook everything. Quinn and Jack would help out a bit, but they would only ever take on the physical tasks. Luke used to help out when you were children, but ever since the distance you wedged between the two of you, he stopped helping out as much. 

You looked around for Jack, trying your hardest to avoid Luke’s gaze in your search for his older brother. Ellen had now returned to her cooking, and the fathers were too invested in their conversation for you to intervene. Your eyes were darting everywhere but at your ex-best friend, and as soon as you made eye contact, you couldn’t look away.

It was too difficult.

It was so stupid.

It wasn’t fair. 

His hazel eyes were too pretty. The way he looked at you made it hard to deny him the satisfaction of giving him attention. He looked at you like you hung the stars and the moon, but you couldn’t see that. You were blinded by your abundance of self-deprecating thoughts to notice. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, voice being drowned out due to the other activities occurring throughout the house. You mouthed the same word back, fighting the urge to walk over to him and apologize for avoiding him, apologize for distancing yourself from the one person you know you could never live without. If you allowed yourself to break, you would never forgive yourself. He doesn’t like you back, you told yourself. You can’t embarrass yourself.

So, instead of going with your heart, you went with your brain and made your way upstairs. If Jack wasn’t downstairs, then he had to have been upstairs doing God knows what. 

“Jack?” You called out, running your hand along the railing of the staircase once you neared the top. 

“In here!” His muffled voice came through the door to his bedroom, and you’ve seen him in enough compromising positions to the point where you couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to be cautious. Once you opened the door, you were met with four gazes planted straight on you. You suddenly felt exposed despite your thick pajamas and only felt some sort of reassurance when you found Jack’s eyes. “Look who finally came up here!”

All four boys sat on Jack’s bed with controllers in their hands, the game on the TV now paused as their attention focused solely on you. You knew Trevor, Alex, and Cole, but you hadn’t seen them in so long that it felt awkward. “Oh, uh, hey. Quinn’s probably gonna burn my house down and I didn’t wanna be down there with Lukey, so,” you trailed off, pursing your lips. 

“You’re still on that?” Alex questioned with furrowed eyebrows, placing the controller in his lap. You cocked your head to the side, not quite understanding what the boy was talking about. He continued, “I thought you got over him, like, months ago.”

Right. You had forgotten all about your accidental drunk confession the last time Jack’s friends were over. Last summer, your revelation was fresh on your mind, and you and Luke were still as inseparable as ever. His friends had also visited the lake house at the same time everyone else was staying over, so it made for a ton of chaos and little to no privacy. 

Luke and his friends had left the house to go out, and for the first time, you stayed behind. Trevor and Cole were sitting at the fire pit outside, beers in their hands as they discussed the upcoming camps they were to attend. You were on your fifth drink, and although Jack was keeping an eye on you, he hadn’t noticed how you had accidentally walked into the bathroom while Alex was in the process of throwing up. 

In the midst of your tipsy daze and the fact that it just so happened to be Luke’s bathroom, you called out for him. “Luke? Is that you? You know I’m always telling you not to drink that much, stupid.” You used your foot to shut the door behind you as you placed your drink onto the counter. 

Alex, confused but sobering up, looked up at you with puffy eyes. Only then did he notice how you were much more than tipsy. 

Your gaze was blurry and your words were beginning to slur, “If I didn’t like you so much, maybe I would be more mad at you. I don’t know why I like you, anyway. You’re always being so stupid, ‘cause you can’t see that all those girls are only ever using you for your brother or your body. They’re so mean. And I’m your best friend, not them! You always ditch me when you find another girl, and then they say shit about me behind my back. I don’t like them. What do you even see in them? God, what do I even see in you?

“My stomach hurts. I think I’m thinking about this too much. Or maybe I’m thinking about you too much. I hate you so much, Lukey, but I can’t ever hate you. You’re too pretty. This is so unfair and my head is pounding. Oh, God, I’m gonna throw up. Move over.” After your little monologue, which was definitely not directed towards the person on the receiving end, you were quick to fall to the ground beside the toilet and dip your head past the ceramic seat. 

Alex brought his right hand up to flush the toilet so you didn’t accidentally stuff your face in a load of his vomit, using his other hand to rub soothing circles on your back. “‘m not Luke, but you’re safe with me.” He continued his motions throughout the five-minute duration of your illness, bringing his hand up to massage your head once you were sure you were done.

Your head was pounding and your ears began to ring, but you were visibly more sober compared to how you were a few minutes ago. Barely able to lift your head, you thanked your friend with a weak smile.

He only returned your expression and brought you up to your feet, leading you out of the restroom and towards Jack’s room. It obviously wasn’t the best option to bring you to Luke’s room, albeit being the default room after a long night, so his older brother’s bedroom would have to do. 

Alex laid you down onto the mattress and tucked you in, lightly patting your cheek as you thanked him once more. He only chuckled and squeezed your hand reassuringly, “Anytime.”

And then you were left alone in the confines of Jack’s room.

You chuckled awkwardly at the memory, shaking your head in response. “Nope. Still on it.” Your hands brought themselves up to your thighs, rubbing your palms against your thick pants in an attempt to wipe away the tension in the room.

Trevor and Cole were aware of your feelings as well; you were sure everyone in the house knew. They only shot you sympathetic smiles, their priorities set on finishing the NHL 23 game plastered all over the screen. 

“I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

“We believe in you.”

Their words, no offense, meant nothing to you. They were great people to hang around, but they weren’t the best guys to turn to when you were in a time of need, especially since you weren’t very close to them. They had their own issues that didn’t concern you, and your issues were ever so far from their minds.

After a few beats of silence, the mood of the room began to slowly eat away at you. If you were to open your mouth and bite down, you might as well have taken a chunk out of the thick tension lingering in the room. It was even more awkward knowing that Luke was much closer to them compared to you, and you knew they would let things slip eventually. 

Not that he didn’t already know, though.

The four boys exchanged glances with one another, shrugging in unison before resuming their gameplay. You took it as your cue to stay, seeing as they didn’t seem bothered by your presence, and you were much more comfortable in Jack’s room than you were downstairs. 

Allowing yourself to flop onto the boy’s soft mattress, you fished your phone out from the pocket of your pajama pants, finding solace in the way the friends laughed with each other. You remained like that for about twenty minutes before Jack beckoned you over to the edge of his bed, where he was sitting, to ask you for your opinion on something.

After dishing him your thoughts—which barely seemed to help him—you stayed snug at the foot of the bed, extending your legs out so that they lay atop his. It was one of your more typical positions when spending time with Jack whilst he was playing video games. Whether it be with his friends or with his brothers, you always found yourself comfortably overlapping your limbs with him, and today was no exception. 

You both shuffled around a bit until you found a comfortable position. You sat with your legs resting on his thighs and your head laying on his shoulder; he sat with his forearms resting on your left leg. The others paid no mind to your odd positioning, their minds too preoccupied with the competitiveness flooding through the screen. 

So you stayed like that for a while. For a long while, actually. You only lifted your head when the sound of light knocking echoed against Jack’s door once more, and soon after, you found his youngest brother cracking the door open and peeking through. 

His eyes had yet to land on your figure. “Hey, Mom’s looking for—”

Before he could utter your name, he looked you dead in the eye. 

“Oh.” He went silent for a few seconds, his eyes flickering between you and his brother. Him, of all people, should be the least surprised to see you cuddled up with Jack. “You.”

There was a certain poison in his tone that struck you right where it hurt the most. It was the way he spat through gritted teeth and looked at you with so much indifference. (It was really a façade, but you were too entranced under his gaze to realize that he could never bring himself to hate you.) The whole room seemed to shift uncomfortably with the way the tension flowed between you and Luke. 

No matter how hard you tried to mask your pain and your desperation for him to notice you, you would never be able to hide how you really felt. Not with him. 

“You can tell her I’ll be right down,” you murmured, slowly moving your legs from Jack’s lap, but before you could even finish your sentence, Luke disappeared as quickly as he came. When you looked back in the door frame, all you were met with was a blank wall and the faint image of where the boy stood before.

You could feel Jack lightly pat your thigh, trying his hardest to support you with the little attention he was diverting toward you. With a small sigh, you pushed yourself off the mattress and wiped your palms against the fabric of your pants, reluctantly leaving the room. Alex wished you good luck, but his fleeting words flew straight through one ear and out the other. 

Downstairs, the fathers were still loud as ever, and the sizzling in the kitchen now turned into the delicious aroma of freshly cooked lunch. Quinn’s voice echoed up the staircase, and you could hear how he attempted to entertain his mom as she waited for you to come back down. 

As soon as your feet hit the bottom floor, you could already sense Quinn’s eyes on you. He looked like he was being held hostage, and you could argue that he was begging you for help. He wasn’t the only Hughes boy with his gaze locked on you, but he was the only one you would give attention to.

“Oh, look! Just who you were looking for, Mom,” the eldest boy managed to divert the attention away from him and towards you. You scowled at him just before Ellen turned around, plastering on a smile as you walked towards them.

You gently placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, “I was just up in Jack’s room. Luke said you were looking for me?”

“Oh, that’s right! Could you grab that fancy set of plates from the cabinet in your house, sweetie? It’s too high to reach for any of us parents, and you know Lukey and Quinn don’t help out with anything anymore,” Ellen spoke, evoking an argument from her oldest son. It only took one glare from her to shut him up, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his complacence. 

You nodded your head with a grin, still fighting more giggles as you swerved past Quinn. He lunged at you, bringing his hands up to your waist as if he was going to tickle you, but you managed to jump just out of his reach before continuing on your journey to grab the plates Ellen wanted. 

Once you made it back into your house, you dragged a chair up to the counter and climbed onto the cushioned seat, opening the cabinet and setting your gaze on the fake fine china. You only grabbed a few at a time, not wanting to break anything in fear of your mother getting mad at you. Eventually, you had gotten down to the last few plates, and once you had them in your hands, you closed the cabinet and stepped down from the chair.

Perhaps you should’ve been more aware of how high you were, because somehow, the bottom plate smashed against the countertop and shattered in your hands, causing you to let out a small scream. The porcelain had broken into small pieces, cutting into your palms, but you managed to place the reset of the plates down before beginning to worry about the amount of cuts you had on your hands. 

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath, looking at the floor to see how many shards were scattered around the floor. Your only form of protection on the soles of your feet were the fluffy socks you were wearing, and the distance between the pieces was far enough to where you could step past them. 

As soon as you deemed it safe to walk normally, you swiveled on your heel to analyze the messy situation you found yourself in. You definitely should have been more careful, and now you had to clean up all the small plate shards with cuts in your hands. Fuck, your hands were still bleeding, and it hadn’t even occurred to you that it was now dripping down your arms. 

All you could do was stand in place, shock still coursing in your veins. The sink on the island was in the middle of the plate murder, and you didn’t want to risk accidentally stepping on something sharp. Before you could even begin to make your way to the half-bath near the kitchen, you heard footsteps bounding through the sunroom. The glass door slid open far too aggressively—so much so that you thought it would shatter, too—and you assumed it was Quinn coming to check on you.

The plate breaking was loud enough to be heard from the other house, especially with the connected room, but you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal for him. You were usually trustworthy enough to not accidentally hurt yourself, but this was a prime example of how you really weren’t.

You didn’t want any questions to be asked, and because it was Quinn, you knew you would get made fun of before being helped. “Don’t worry—”

“Holy shit, are you okay?” The voice that spoke up was not Quinn. 

Immediately snapping your head around to look at the boy standing there, frozen, your frown contorted into a grimace. “Luke—shit—hey,” you trailed off, unsure of what to say to him. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine, I was just being stupid and—”

“What the fuck happened? You’re gonna bleed out if you don’t wash your hands and wrap them up.” His heavy footsteps inched closer and closer until he was standing right in front of you, taking your forearms into his calloused hands and inspecting how bad your injuries were. “C’mon, we gotta wash this off.” 

Luke led you to the bathroom as if it was his own house, running the tap and allowing the water to get most of the red liquid off your hands before taking a clean towel and gently tapping the rest off. 

He was unbearably gentle with you. You felt ashamed to think of how fast your heart was beating at such a simple gesture; as if him caring about you meant anything except the fact that growing up together meant you both cared for each other when someone was hurt. Sighing to hide your true feelings, you slowly took your hands away from his touch, “Luke, I’m fine. Really. You don’t have to do this.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean? Of course I’m going to clean you up if you hurt yourself.” He immediately took your hands back into his and resumed his actions, quickly grabbing ointment from the cabinet above the toilet. Squeezing out a dollop of the cream, he soothingly rubbed it against your wounds with a focused frown adorning his features.

You took the chance to admire him candidly. He was so worried about you, and it was so cute. He wouldn’t even let you take care of yourself because he wanted to do it for you, and he was so serious about it. You had always thought his focused face was adorable, even when you were kids, but as you grew up, it only got cuter and cuter. Fuck, you were so gone for him.

You hadn’t even realized you were staring until he looked up at you and immediately looked back down at your hands. He cleared his throat awkwardly and questioned, “Does it hurt?” 

“Hm?” You snapped yourself out of your trance, your face heating up with the unexpected eye contact. “Oh, uh, no. It doesn’t hurt.” The pain you were feeling came more from your heart than it did from your body. It hurt to be in such close proximity to the boy you longed so deeply for. The awkward silence floating between the two of you pained you even more. 

Luke nodded and rummaged through the drawers until he found gauze, taking great care to wrap it around your hands without causing you too much discomfort. When he finished, all he did was usher you out of the bathroom with a hand on your lower back, turning off the lights without so much as a word. 

Only when you entered the kitchen did a small mumble leave the boy’s lips. “Try to be more careful next time, okay? Can’t have you going around injuring yourself and shit, or you’re gonna make me—us worry too much.” He cleared his throat after his slip-up, hoping you didn’t hear what he said. You did. “Oh, and Jack told me to let you know the guys are throwing a party tonight. He said to invite you so you could buy cups and shit, but you’re kinda . . . banged up right now.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go grab stuff from the store later—”

“No!” Luke exclaimed, his eyes blowing wide once he realized how loud he protested your suggestion. “I mean, no, it’s okay. I’ll go get the stuff. You shouldn’t drive with your hands all cut up like that. They don't care who buys what.”

You blinked at him. He was acting so weird; it was almost like he cared about you. But it didn’t matter. The others were throwing a party, which meant there were going to be tons of girls all over him, and it wouldn’t be right for you to get mad if you were the one who caused the rift between you two.

With a shrug, you silently agreed to his proposal and turned to grab the remaining set of plates still sitting on the counter. You couldn’t even take two steps before Luke was already sliding ahead of you and taking the ceramic platters into his arms. “Luke, you really don’t have to do all of this. I’m fine, look,” you showed him your hands, front and back, to try and convince him to let you do something. 

“No, you’re hurt. And I wouldn’t be a good best friend if I made you injure yourself more.”

Best friend.

Two very opposing emotions coursed through your veins. On one hand, the term ‘best friend’ still sent a pang through your chest, knowing you would never be more to him than just a best friend. But on the other hand, it relieved you to know that he still considered you close enough to be his best friend. 

God, you were such a mess. You were running away from him in fear of rejection, but then you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. What the hell was wrong with you?

Eventually, the two of you made it back into his house, the boy announcing your arrival and placing the plates down onto the dining table. He immediately found his spot back on the couch in between the fathers like before, and you instantly got hounded by both the mothers’ questions being launched at you all at once.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you grimaced. You attempted to pull your hands away from her inspecting gaze, but she brought them right back to her face. “Mom, it doesn’t even hurt anymore! Lukey already put medicine on it and wrapped them up, anyway!” You were growing impatient, and your complaints slowly turned into whines. 

Thankfully, as soon as she heard Luke’s nickname leave your mouth, she dropped your hands back to your sides and grinned widely at you.

“Well, then! I’m sure you’re just fine, aren’t you?”

You sighed begrudgingly. “Yes, Mom.” You were just happy she stopped nagging you.

What you didn’t know was that she and Ellen were in pain watching their two children stay so far away from each other for such a long time. The parents always thought you two would have confessed by the time you graduated high school, but you were in college and Luke was having an amazing rookie season. It clearly didn’t work out the way they thought it would have.

You also didn’t know that Luke’s heart practically exploded out of his chest when he heard you use his nickname so nonchalantly. He always overheard you addressing him as Lukey to his brothers, but you never did it when you knew he was listening. It was almost as if saying it made your mouth run dry. 

And it did.

It finally came time to eat lunch, and your stomach was threatening to growl before you all sat down at the table. Trevor, Alex, and Cole decided to eat at a restaurant instead, encouraging Jack to eat with your families rather than hanging out with them. So he stayed.

There was a specific order in which you sat. There were five members of the Hughes family and three members of your family, meaning there were eight seats total; the rectangular table fit the usual number of people perfectly. The fathers would sit on either end of the table, and the mothers would sit to their right. You and Jack sat next to your mothers, while Luke sat beside you and Quinn beside Jack. 

It was a routine. It never changed. Ever.

Not when Jack kissed you on New Years. He still had to sit opposite to you at the table. Not when you and Luke had the biggest verbal fight in your life, leaving you both with scars on your knees. And especially not when you finally recognized the feelings you had for your best friend.

And as you sat in your spot, with Luke’s thigh pressed against yours, you realized that maybe loving him wasn’t all that bad.

— diorsluv 2024

[sailoryooons]

Okay hear me out, but maybe a little bit of enemies to lovers, little bit of smutty goodness between witch hunter!yoongi and witch!reader?? Idk why this popped in my head but I’m kind of desperate to see a little something now lol.

Also, I love you ❤️

❀ Pairing: Witch hunter!Yoongi x f. witch!reader

❀ Summary: For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand. 

❀ Word Count: 4188 

❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, a hint of angst, smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: On screen character death (not permanent though), depictions of blood and intense action sequences, scary demon thing, depiction of weapons, hints at violence between two groups of people, mild world building, a bit of angst, explicit language, explicit sexual content featuring light nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, emotional sex, a lot of spit, UNEDITED. 

❀ Published: August 3, 2023

❀ A/N: I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to control myself with some of these ideas because god dammit Sarah, I want to turn this into more than ~4k of a work. Like this idea inspired me so much, you have no idea how insane I wanted to go on this but I had to CONTROL MYSELF because I promised that this year I would keep it tame. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that this is like 90% plot and 10% smut but I kept inching toward 5k and I was like I HAVE GOT TO STOP MYSELF JESUS CHRIST and dkfgjdiogjfoigjg I am telling you right now, I want to come back and revisit this fic and makie it like a four chapter thing or something because GOD I LOVED THIS IDEA AND YOU KNEW JUST WHAT TO REQUEST. Also this is unedited!!!!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust | Song Inspiration |

Most nights, Yoongi dreams of you. He knows better, and yet he can’t help himself. It’s like you’re living under his skin, a virus that has taken root in the marrow of his bones. He doesn’t know how he would dig you out if he tried.

If he tried. 

If anyone from the Conclave knew the dangerous game that Yoongi is playing, he would be ousted or killed. Killing would be the mercy, but he’s garnered enough hate within the elite members of the Conclave to know they’d rather him suffer cut off from his resources. His friends. His family. 

Still, Yoongi walks a dangerous line. He knows it’s wrong, letting a witch infect him like a sickness. He is sure that he’s under your spell. There’s no other explanation for the way he always lets you slip away. For the way he closes his eyes and imagines the flutter of your heart against his, the sound of your gasps, the warmth of your hands.

Stars explode behind Yoongi’s eyes as he presses the heels of his hands into them. He’s exhausted, limbs heavy and sore from a day of bloody work. The activity downtown has only worsened the last few months, making Yoongi hunt multiple times a day and return home banged up. 

The pain he can handle. Witches and their demons are nothing new to him. But he knows there’s something he’s missing, something lurking beneath the surface of the increased activity and the strong demonic presence in the city.

Yoongi knows he could ask you. He’s thought about it a few times over the last few weeks but he’s talked himself out of it each time. The curiosity has always lingered there, waiting for him to ask in those moments where you cross his path, coy and sharp as ever. In the minutes you linger, shooting him insults he thinks you don’t mean and playing little word games. 

He doesn’t ask, though. And you never offer, despite the fact that your sharp eyes and knowing smirk lead him to believe you know he wants to ask. 

Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t. Not giving you what you want is part of the fun. He likes the way it makes you bristle, magic crackling at your fingertips. He loves the way it makes you narrow your eyes at him, lobbing empty threats that make him want to purr. 

Whatever this effect you have on him is potent. He can’t shake you off, can’t outrun you. 

And worse, he doesn’t want to.

Rain begins to beat on the bedroom window outside. Though his limbs are heavy from slogging through the sewer system downtown after a witch and her ivax demon, he’s a little too keyed up to sleep. Yoongi senses something staticy in the air, an energy that he can’t name.

Opening up his phone, he flips through his text threads with members of the Conclave. It seems everyone is in it tonight, the demonic activity buzzing and the monsters worse than usual. He frowns when he sees Seokjin mention a prowler crawling through the warehouse district. Yoongi knows that’s where you live and an unexpected sense of unease slivers down his spine.

He locks his phone and tosses it on the bed. He doesn’t need to worry about you. You’re one of the most skilled witches in the city and you’ve killed scores of demons and others alike. He should remove your head for the number of hunters you’ve put in the ground, but you’ve killed triple that in witches. 

Which is why you’re alone. It’s not lost on Yoongi that you’re a witch without a coven and with unusual alliances living in a warehouse all alone with a prowler on the loose. If you know it’s there - you have to know it’s there, being you - he knows you’ll go after it. 

“Fuck,” he sighs at the ceiling. 

Grabbing his phone, Yoongi sends off a quick text. 

Yoongi: Anyone dispatching to take care of the prowler?

Councilman Haer: Negative. The Conclave will not be dispatching. The Warehouse District is not critical and it’ll go back down after it’s satiated. Prowlers aren’t controlled by witches, it might even take a few out for us.

Yoongi stomach flips as he squeezes his phone tight before getting up. He’s tired of the Conclave’s inaction. He knows he’ll get in trouble for going after something so dangerous without backup, but he can’t ask Seokjin and Hoseok to back him up on this one. Not unauthorized, and not for something so dangerous. 

Unsanctioned hunts is exactly how Yoongi has ended up at the bottom of the pool among Conclave members, but he doesn’t care. Politics can’t erase the fact that he’s the best fucking hunter in the city, and no councilman who won’t get their hands dirty can give him grief for doing what needs to be done.

This isn’t about the Conclave, though. Yoongi knows it. Seokjin would know it, if Yoongi told him what he was doing. But the thought of a prowler tearing through the low-income streets in the Warehouse District doesn’t resonate with him. Neither does knowing that you are one of the witches in the line of fire. 

Yoongi dresses and arms himself with military proficiency. A black, long-sleeved shirt with a form-fitted leather vest over it to prevent most stabs and cuts, knives sheathed along the ribbing of the vest, breathable pants with a tactical belt and pockets full of hunting necessities, and his necklace with the Conclave helix. 

At the last second, he grabs a jacket and pulls the hood up to keep the beating rain from soaking him through. While he has some talent with magic to help him heal faster and make his blows stronger and faster, he’s not skilled in the way of weather or anything advanced enough to keep him dry and comfortable. 

Nervousness settles into him as he takes the subway to the Warehouse District. It’s not far, but the train is empty and filled with dirty puddles left behind from passengers. Lights flicker above as the subway rockets unevening on the tracks, making him dizzy. 

When he steps off the train and into the wet underground of the station entrance, he knows something is amiss. His fingers twitch as he jogs up the steps, boots splashing loudly as the rain comes down. Wind whips at him here and when he hears a crack of thunder too loud and rumbling to be human, his instincts kick in.

Yoongi takes off running. He knows where your warehouse-turned-loft is. He’d originally scouted it out to eliminate you. Now, it’s something he’s always kept an eye on, steering other hunters away from your home. It’s silly, he knows. You’d call him weak if you knew, probably. And yet he does it, diverting danger coming your way when he can.

Now, danger is already there. 

The storm rages harder as he heads your direction. Wind pushes at him, making Yoongi lock his muscles as he fights the freezing cold rain and the debris that blows down the street with the force of the storm. He hopes that it keeps people indoors and away from the prowler. 

But Yoongi sees the purple lighting lance out of the sky, an explosion of radiant beauty for a moment before it strikes nearby, blowing transforms into white sparks and he realizes what is so uncanny about this storm. 

It’s you. You’re the storm. 

A roar of rage shakes the air as he comes around the corner to your street. The warehouse you live in is at the end of the road right up against the bay. The wind is mixed with salt spray, stinging his eyes as he runs towards the shadowy outline of your building, nearly impossible to see in the rain and night.

Yoongi manages to roll one of the heavy doors open to your loft, muscles screaming with effort. Stepping inside, chaos greets him. The ceiling is blown out above your home, rain pouring in from the sky. It tastes like lightning and blood. No doubt your storm is what ripped the ceiling apart, but when he sees the prowler, he doesn’t blame you. 

A massive creature stands ten feet tall, rippling with leathered hide and spikes on its back. Long, gangly limbs drag on the floor with black, sharpened talons on the end of each of its three fingers. The prowler walks awkwardly and Yoongi notes the scorch mark in its left shoulder, making it lean as it drags itself toward its intended target. 

Which is you, laying on the ground bloody and rain soaked. Yoongi doesn’t even think. He has no idea if you’re conscious or not, but he’s moving across the room, putting power into his step as he pulls out two of his daggers and jumps high up into the air. 

Yoongi’s intent is to land on the back of the prowler and sink each blade in as he falls. He doesn’t anticipate the demon to turn away from bloodied prey, but it does, swinging its arm wildly to bat him away. He’s lucky that the forearm catches him in the stomach and sends him flying and not the flaws.

Closing his eyes and bracing for impact, Yoongi is surprised when he doesn’t slam into a wall. He opens his eyes to see himself floating toward the floor, suspended briefly before the phantom energy drops him gently. He lands with shock, looking up to where you’re sitting up, one hand extended toward him.

At least you weren’t out cold or dead. Yoongi is really happy that you’re not dead, but it’s cut short as the prowler charges him. 

This time, Yoongi’s ready. He runs at the beast, waiting until he’s right outside of the window of its swiping claws before he dives to his knees, sliding under the creature and between its legs. He twists his hands, cutting the inside of the creature’s thighs as he goes.

It shrieks, shaking the building and scattering Yoongi’s thoughts. He feels fizzy and confused for a moment, the mind breaking scream of the prowler enough to make him vulnerable. He feels a hand on his face and he looks up, momentarily stricken with the thought that he sees an angel. 

“Thank you,” you breathe, and he recognizes your voice. Usually it cracks like a whip, but this is soft. Strange. It terrifies him. “I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. Just know that I liked our game, Hunter.”

“What are you doing, Witch?”

Your smile is like the sun. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Your face is covered in blood and rain, turning your neck scarlet as it runs. There’s a gash above your brow and he sees a blackened wound in your stomach. 

It is amazing, how a creature like you, bred to be an evil, wicked thing can look radiant. Holy. Wonderful. Your hand is cradling his face and it feels warm, despite the rain and blood on your hands. Your thumb is soft as it sweeps across his cheek, a touch more reverent than he’s ever known. 

“Witch,” Yoongi starts, unsure what you’re doing. 

“I’ll miss that. Take this.” 

Before Yoongi can react, your hand falls from his face. You move past him with absolute confidence, lifting your chin. You have a limp as you do, and Yoongi reaches after you but you’re already out of his grip.

Something stirs in the air. He’s only felt power rippling like that once before when he was a child, and the entire Conclave worked together to slaughter an Eldritch Witch that had attacked them and taken out more than half of their hunters.

Now, Yoongi feels that dark presence again, energy buzzing against his ears as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. The prowler senses the power disturbance too, backing away from you as dark particles begin to gather around your hands.

Above you, the rain hovers, disrupted by the frequency of your magic. The buzz in Yoongi’s ears gets louder as he climbs to his feet, clapping his hands firmly over his ears, wincing as it gets higher and louder. He thinks it might burst his ear drums or crack his skull open. 

Disks of dark particles circle you as you approach the demon, which is now roaring once more, trying to disrupt your thoughts. It doesn’t work, the air vibrating with dark matter. You’re at the center of the swirling darkness, the rings rotating around you like an access.

The sound stops suddenly, and for a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s deaf. Black matter pulses from you, exploding outward. Yoongi hits the floor, realizing if he gets hit with your magic, he’ll die. Never before has he witnessed the Eldritch Blast of a witch, but he knows that it's only used as a final stand.

I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. 

The finality of your words shreds him open as the shockwave of your magic barrels at him. He thinks he’s going to die as it expands toward him, but instead, it arches over him, battling down against a magical barrier. 

Take this. Yoongi realizes you’ve warded him from your destruction, keeping him safe as your blast levels the world around you. He feels the magic beating down on your ward like raging fits, vibrating and shrieking under the pressure of the magic. 

It even keeps him from being injured by the collapsing debris. 

Yoongi looks at you as the world falls to pieces. You go down to one knee, then the other, swaying as the darkness cascades around you in a final flutter of power. Then you fall over, heavy and unmoving as the rest of the building comes down. 

All he can do is scream.

-

Most nights, you dream of Yoongi. You don’t know when it started - perhaps that first night after you met him? You can’t be sure. All you know is that at some point, the hunter poisoned you from the inside out, a disease taking root and rotting you all the way through to your core. 

You always knew that dreaming of him would get you killed one day. But Yoongi was different. Wiser than the rest of his wretched Conclave. Smart enough to question his way of life and his faction’s merciless killings. You think he’ll start asking the right questions soon, that maybe he’ll start seeing the signs that who he has sworn loyalty to isn’t who they say they are.

But Yoongi never asks questions. 

It’s easy to tell he wants to. There’s always that little pause at the end of your meetings. You used to think it was perhaps he was trying to decide whether or not to kill you. Perhaps it was that at first, but now it’s something a little different. A little more. Like he is on the edge of finally asking you what exactly is going on in the city that he protects from monsters.

Yoongi is simple, though. He likes his little life tucked away in the Art District and he likes the wash, rinse, repeat of killing demons and corrupted witches nightly. You think he likes your little run-ins.

Now, you’ve finally paid the price of letting him live these last two years. Had someone told you before you’d met Yoongi that you’d sacrifice yourself for him and the rest of a small neighborhood, you’d have laughed in their face. You weren’t a hero, though some might think slaying your own kind and their creatures was worth praise. 

Penance and praise are not the same, though. 

Dying seems like a good way of paying off your list of wrongs. Especially to save Yoongi. If only to save Yoongi, if you were being honest. 

Witches have a lot of lore about death and where one goes in the afterlife. You’re not sure where you are, if you exist, or if you’re even really a thought. It feels like nothingness and everything all at once, a void of floating consciousness. There’s no pain, but you remember the warehouse. Remember the prowler ripping down the door and coming for you specifically. 

And him. You remember Yoongi coming in, looking like a fucking angel of old as he leapt through the skies. Together you might have taken on the beast. But prowlers are notoriously difficult to destroy, and you were in no shape to protect Yoongi, much less fight by his side as a reliable partner. 

That left you with one option, and though you knew it would end you, you’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s face swims in your mind. Soft and round, eyes like the bottom of the ocean, a single pink scar carved through his right eye. Mouth soft and petal pink, hair silky and dark, reaching to his shoulders. He’s small for a hunter but he’s strong and broad, his mind his best weapon. 

Witch, Yoongi had said. The last words you’d hear from him, spoken with a softness that you’ve never heard from him before. Rain-soaked and wide eyed Yoongi, looking at you like you held the flame of life, like you were something more than a creature on the other side of the trench. 

The best thing you could do for him was die.

So you summoned your magic from deep within you, that ancient, sleeping thing. You try not to think about what Yoongi’s last memory of you will be, an eldritch horror that will remind him of the creature that slaughtered his family as a child. 

Yoongi will never get to ask his questions. You’ll never get to tell him why you haunt the streets killing your own kind. Yoongi will never know the softness of your kiss. You’ll never know the gentle press of his hands. 

Something brushes across your forehead. You feel now and you frown. Or can you frown, in whatever plane of death this is? You’re not sure, but you feel… the weight of your own body. The beating of your own heart. The rush of air through your lungs as you breathe.

Awareness prickles at the back of your neck like a needle. Slowly, you begin to feel solid. Your fingers twist in soft sheets, and when you turn your head, you feel the plushness of a pillow. Smell petrichor and cedar. 

It smells like… Yoongi. 

“Hmmm?” you feel the vibration in your throat at your unspoken question, nothing but a rumble of noise and confusion. Something cradles your face. “Hunnn..?”

A deep, throaty laugh. “Mmm, I take care of you for a week straight and we’ve moved on to endearments?” 

Your eyes flutter open, lids heavy. The world swims into view, a little blurry as your eyes try to focus in the dimly lit room, taking in the bed you’re in and the face hovering above yours. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe, your heart expanding with unfettered joy. 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

“What?”

“Say it more often.” He leans forward and you watch as his dark eyes drink you in. “And never do that to me again.”

Before you can ask him what that is, Yoongi’s mouth is pressing against yours. You melt immediately, going boneless in a bed you’re unfamiliar with, lost in the citrusy taste of his mouth and the gentle press of his lips. His kiss is soft soft soft, blurring reality as he pulls at your bottom lip teasingly before pulling away.

Eyes fluttering open, you stare at him in wonder. He hovers above your face, haloed by inky-black hair. “Yoongi.”

He smiles. “It sounds much better than hunter. Hun can stay, though.”

“You’re not calling the shots.”

“You’re in no condition to fight me.”

“I killed a prowler, I think you’re no problem.”

His eyes glow. “I think perhaps you’re right. But for now, you’re at my mercy.”

“Kiss me again.” You lift your hands and bring them toward his face, brushing a finger over the bottom of his scar. “And don’t stop this time. I’ll ask my questions later.”

“Of course, witch.” 

Yoongi’s kiss is hungrier now. Desperate. Full of all the questions he never asked and you meet him with equal fire. You don’t care that you’ve beat the odds and lived. You don’t care about anything else but the weight of Yoongi straddling your waist and the feel of his velvet soft skin beneath your hands. 

Every inch of him is warm, filled with the heat of the hunter’s fire that burns through every member of the Conclave. This hunter burns brighter than the rest, though. Warmth blooms where your fingers press over his stomach and chest, ridding him of his shirt. Fire burns where you grab his arms, arching into him as his teeth skim your throat. 

You’ve never felt this in sync with someone, bodies twining together like you were made for one another. Yoongi’s hand is scorching as his touch ghosts down your body, his touch light and teasing as he lowers his mouth to your hardened nipple, catching it and giving a gentle suck.

Honey-dipped moans slip from your mouth. Yoongi’s mouth is wet-hot against your skin, tongue laving hungrily as his hand seeks the heat between your legs. Your thighs open for him easily, giving Yoongi access to the dripping mess of your folds. He curses when his fingers slide between your slit, gathering slick to circle his digits around your clit.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hips twitching. “Don’t bother. I can take you now. Want you now.”

“I told you that you were at my mercy.” You summon your magic, rattling his shelves. Yoongi leans over to your neglected nipple and plucks it with his teeth, making you squeal and shiver, pleasure rattling you. “Fine,” he agrees. “Greedy witch. Should have known.”

“Not greedy,” you shoot back as Yoongi sits up and sheds his pants. Your hands follow him, tracing the faint scars on his stomach, pressing against the muscle of his tapered hips. “I’ve waited for months for you to do something. To say something.”

“I’m not good at that.” 

You hum. “It takes me dying for you to take initiative?” 

“A lesson hard-learned and never to be repeated.”

Yoongi’s cock is hard, bobbing heavily as he shuffles you under him and presses your thighs open for him. The brown tip is sticky with precum, his shaft long and thick enough to make your cunt ache for him more.

“Nice cock,” you tease as he pumps himself, hand gliding and spreading his precum down his shaft.

He grunts. “Can’t wait to feel this fucking pussy,” he mutters, leaning forward and pressing the tip to your entrance. You make a breathy sound, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure-pained stretch. “Think you can take it, witch?”

“Yes.”

Yoongi sinks in and you second-guess your statement for a second, but the stretch of his cock pressing you open feels good. Deliriously so, your back arching as he bottoms out. You feel him in your gut, deeper than anything ever before and you whine as he draws his hips back before snapping them forward, punching the breath from your lungs.

He sets a deep, hard pace. You grip his biceps, feeling the muscle flex in his arms. Every part of you is on fire, lit up from the closeness of your bodies as Yoongi leans down and melds your mouths together, continuing to fuck you so deep you know you’ll never forget what it feels like.

Every brush of his cock against your g-spot drives you mad. Every whisper of your name - your name, not witch - makes you shudder. His tongue is hungrily as it brushes against yours, his moans deep and throaty as your pussy grips him tight. 

“Fuck,” he pants, sliding a hand down your body to grab your thigh and hoist your leg higher. It changes the angle, making his stroke somehow deeper. Your eyes roll back and your head digs into the mattress as you fist at the sheets. “You can fucking take it.”

“Keep going.”

“As if i could fucking stop.” 

You never want him to stop. Fucking you, kisses you, teasing you, shadowing you as you take on the world. You want every part of your life colored with Yoongi. You want him to be a part of your mornings, your fights, your weaknesses, your strengths. You want to rile him up, needle him with little insults that get him going. Tease him to make him laugh and share that secret smile. 

Every moment has led to this. You don’t know how you never saw this outcome, here with him, crying out his name as your orgasm crests into an unstoppable force. When you come around him, it’s with his name in your mouth and so much need for him in your heart that you think you might explode with energy for a second time. 

After, when you’re wrapped in Yoongi and you feel his hunter’s skin blaze against you, sweat-slick skin pressed close, you think that finally, he’ll ask those questions. You’ll give him answers. 

“Don’t do that ever again, witch,” Yoongi warns. “I will follow you into death.” 

[thebest-medicine]

numero 100 “Would you just shut up and tickle me already?” just SCREAMS bakugo to me

Prompt 100 - "Would you just shut up and tickle me already?"

A/N: you're right and you should say it. have some lee bakugo! also I have been thinking a lot about them playing catch-a-kacchan to train blackwhip I love these sillies so much.

…

“Can you even move a muscle like that, Kacchan?” Midoriya asked, glancing down at his friend.

Bakugo lay, spread out and wrapped up in tangles of blackwhip tendrils with his arms out to his sides. Izuku sat over his middle, just over the top of his thighs. Behind him, blackwhip held Katsuki’s knees and ankles down to the training mat as well. “Shut up, Deku.”

“I won catch-a-Kacchan today... And you know what that means~…” Midoriya wore a triumphant smirking grin, his lip pulled up slightly to the side.

“Oh my god.” Bakugo gritted his teeth, face on fire. “Would you just shut up and tickle me already?”

Deku beamed down at him, letting out a stupid, adorable laugh and squeezing his eyes shut as he grinned. “Sure, Kacchan, I’ll tickle you if that’s what you want.”

“ARGHHGH! Shut UP!” Katsuki groaned. “I already said it, ok? Just get it over with!”

“Of course, Kacchan~!” Midoriya’s eyes reopened with determination, his fingers lunged toward Bakugo’s ribs.

“EYYH AHHH!” Bakugo shrieked —something he would deny to his grave.

Deku started on the lowest rib, tickling from the front near his abdomen over to as far along his side as his hands could reach on either side. Bakugo snorted, shaking his head as he refused to laugh outright.

“You know you wanna laugh. Don’t hold back on me now, Kacchan.” Izuku teased, moving his way up Katsuki’s ribs slowly. It was hard to tickle Kacchan like this, slow, gentle. He was bold, explosive, hard to pin down. Nearly every other game of ‘catch-a-Kacchan’ they played while training with blackwhip resulted in Bakugo tapping Izuku before he could catch him. Sometimes, he, uh, also got exploded. Lately, Kacchan had begun turning their game into a tickle fight, going for a poke instead of a simple tap to show off. Then, he’d started tickling Izuku for losing afterward whenever they trained alone. Sometimes, even when the rest of the class was training nearby.

Kacchan had it coming. And, Izuku could try something that was likely new to them both. Growing impatient, he suddenly brought his hands right up under Bakugo’s arms. His armpits were slick with sweat from training as Izuku slid his fingers into place and started to slowly, gently tickle under Bakugo’s arms.

“NaHAHAHA DEKUHUHU UGH- NOHOHOHO! YeheheheHEHEHE YOU’RE DEHEHEHEEAD WHEN I GEHEHEHET OUT OF THIHIHIS! Hahaha noHOHOHOHO!”

Katsuki regretted wearing his summer outfit to train today. Holy fuck. No one ever really tickled him like this. It was bad. The nerd was going to kill him. He was never going to lose catch-a-Kacchan again.

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further MHA drabbles on ao3]

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Games w/ Sex Pollen ~Lady Lesso xFem Reader

Sex Pollen troupe with Lady Lesso 😏

Link to Part 2

Mommy…Master List

Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, fingering, smut, orgasm denial, power play, power struggle, more implied sex, etc.

Medium fic length

Enjoy (;

You were about to do something truly evil…

And Lesso was gonna love it.

You were the new herbology teacher at the school and had grown quite fond over the school’s dean of evil, Lady Leonora Lesso.

I mean if you call “fond” playing a game of who can catch the other off guard the most and fuck them the hardest…

And you had come up with the your best scheme yet…

Early this morning, you had spiked Lesso’s morning black coffee with some sex pollen that you’d grown.

You were awaiting the results anxiously all day, when after your last class, the redhead came barging into your classroom.

She was sweating and trembling the tiniest bit. The idea of Lesso unraveling in front of you made your mind spin…

“What have you done, pet?” Lesso said with a strain on her voice. She was trying so hard to control herself…

You tried to suppress your smirk with innocence, “Whatever do you mean, my Lady?”

She growled, her eyes filled with dark, lustful intent. “You know exactly what I mean, pet!” Lesso snarled. She barged towards your desk, slamming her hand on your desk to fully get your attention.

You gasped a bit.

“Tell. Me. What. You. Did.” She threateningly commanded through strained teeth.

You couldn’t contain your smirk and giggles anymore, and it made Lesso grimace even more.

She had unbuttoned her jacket, her hands were grasping at your desk with white knuckles, her hair had exploded with frizz, you could see beads of sweat dripping down her forehead…

God was she hot…

It made you soaking wet…

But the game was to get her unraveled, not you…

“I may have spiked your coffee this morning…” you said in a teasing, playful tone.

She chuckled darkly and breathlessly let out, “You naughty girl…”

You looked at her with a smirk and mischievous eyes and she meet yours with fiery, lustful eyes of her own.

“How long does this last?” Lesso grunted.

You could tell she was having a real hard time now…

She was squeezing her thighs together, and messing with her clothes as if they were burning her skin.

“With the dose I gave you? A day. Maybe two. It’s very potent…” you grinned, watching her squirm.

“You bitch.” Lesso huffed out under her breath.

“What was that?” you played along with glee.

“I…” Lesso bit back a moan and swallowed her pride, “I can’t last that long...” she groaned.

Your eyes glossed over in lust. This is exactly where you wanted her. Powerless and at your mercy… That was the game after all…

“Well… there is one cure…” you stopped there to await Lesso’s reaction, which hastily followed your words;

“God, what is it?? Tell me what it is, pet!” Lesso yelled through another groan.

Her heart was racing, her breath ragged, her pupils exploded in size. She was a fucking sight…

“You need to be fucked.” you bluntly stated, but a wide smirk was spread across your wicked face.

Leonora Lesso getting fucked sounded absolutely delicious…

She looked straight up at you.

God was her stare intimidating…

Her eyes fillled with desperation and need more and more. She couldn’t take it. She had to give in.

“Get it over with.” Lesso gritted out.

You giggled at her obviously conflicted self.

Lesso growled.

You stopped. Now was your time. Time to show her who was really in charge.

“Strip.” you said.

She looked at you like you were joking. But then Lesso realized you were being serious…

“Oh fuck no, pet” Lesso jeered.

“Then I won’t fuck you.” You said, coming closer to Lesso, but not actually touching her.

Lesso groaned. And grumbled. And then she began to strip. Her vest hit the floor, then her shirt, then her pants… bra too…

Damn, she was such a goddess…

Now in only her underwear, Lesso stood by you still a desperate puddle of heated sex.

The fact made you grin wickedly.

“Lay on the desk.” you instructed.

Surprisingly, Lesso said nothing this time.

You climbed onto the desk after her and grabbed her hands, pining them above her head with your left arm.

Lesso growled in response, but you shut her up by crashing your lips into hers. It was a desperate, sloppy kiss, which you quickly pulled away from, not wanting to lose the game.

Lesso grinned at you for how long she had kept you in that kiss. You retaliated by bringing a finger to her clit. Lesso’s hips bucked up in anticipation and need for friction.

“Oh FUcK!” She groaned, as you teased her clit and dipped into her folds.

They were soaked…

Just like yours…

You slid your fingers into her soaking cunt and began pumping them in and out of her.

Lesso moaned and mewled like you’d never seen before.

Her at your mercy was fucking stunning…

Lesso was getting close to the edge, her moans got louder, her breathing became more erratic, her hips bucked up to meet your fingers quicker.

And that’s when you pulled your fingers out of her.

“What the fuck?!” Lesso exclaimed, squirming against your hold on you.

You let her hands free and got off the desk. She looked at you like you were dead meat.

You snickered. You came up to her one last time before leaving the classroom and whispered, “you’ll find that only my touch is gonna sate this growing desire in you. No amount of self fucking or quickies with others will help you for the next few days. Good luck…”

You left with a purr and a wink, licking the wetness of Lesso’s heat off of your fingers.

Link to Part 2 😏

[genshinconfessions]

Hello I am the Arle x Chiori dude here again and i am letting everyone know I HAVE A LIST OF RAREPAIRS I LIKE OR THINK WOULD BE CUTE SO SO SO SO UH HERE:

Layla x Furina

— I just think. They would get along. And they could take naps together. They both deserve it. Also their color pallets match and they would eat mac n cheese together. I bet Layla would be so fascinated by Furina's hair length changing and how she has the constellation of a god despite technically never being one (she wouldn't know abt Wanderer having a god's constellation)(a god's constellation is one that reflects their form)

Mualani x Kirara

— They would explode the world from the sheer >:3 energy that their combination would bring.

Wanderer x Albedo

— One was abandoned for his humanity, the other was abandoned for his lack of it. Very poetic if you ask me.

Kaveh x Heizou

— Idk i saw this on another tumblr acc and I just. Can't stop thinking about it. Like like I bet Kaveh would love hearing about Heizou's cases and Heizou would find Kaveh's art so fascinating and beautiful. They would yap to eachother sooo much it would be horrid /pos

Sucrose x Hu tao

— OK JUST HEAR ME OUT- I actually don't have an explanation for this one, just vibes I think.

Wanderer x Cyno

— They are both so competitive they would play tcg get into one of those "being mean to eachother but they're actually flirting" things and end up making out.

Fischl x Xingqiu

— They would enable eachother so much, PLEASE let them judge people together i beg you

Alhaitham x Tighnari

— I'm kind of suprised that this is a rare pair tbh, Tighnari deserves more. I feel like they would just get eachother, with Tighnari being so well adjusted and Alhaitham being, well, Alhaitham, Tighnari probably wouldn't take his harsh words to heart as much and be better at understanding what Alhaitham is trying to convey. And Tighnari has to deal with idiots all day and tell people what to do, Alhaitham's quietness and independence would probably be a nice break for him.

Alrlecchino x Chiori

— POWER COUPLE LESBIANS POWER COUPLE LESBIANS AAAAAAAA idk it just feels so *right* and I want to see them beat someone up together.

One sided Itto x Alhaitham

— Call me crazy but I think Itto trying and failing MISERABLY at wooing Alhaitham would be so funny, Shinobu would point out the ring on his finger (I'm a Haikaveh truther) and Itto would SOB.

Shinobu x Yanfei

— I actually don't know if this is a rairpair but I need them to be law school gfs thank you.

Alhaitham x Kaveh x Cyno x Tighnari

— If you look it up on ao3 there are like, a few hundred fics but I PROMISE you that a lot of them are from the same few people. I just. I just. Ugh. They are so. I could rant for ages you don't even know.

Xingqiu x Chongyun x Gaming

— HEY HEY HEY LISTEN COME HERE I need more of them and I WILL FIGHT YOU FOR IT. I don't need to give you a reason for them, I don't HAVE one I just REALLY LIKE THEM for NO REASON.

I WILL be back with my crack ships and you will call me 🔔 (pretty please)(no pressure)

.

[orqheuss]

Not yet corpses (still, we rot)

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader HURT/COMFORT)

Summary:

For a moment, everything felt still. Silence consumed the space, sucking all the air out of the room like the tide as a tsunami made its way towards shore. All Ominis could hear was the harsh ringing in his ears and the startled gasp from his counterpart behind him. Panic began to crawl its way into his throat once more. Sebastian’s heart stuttered in his chest, his words forcing themselves out around the lump that formed under his jaw. “Oh, dear God…” *** What were the boys doing while you were saving Hogwarts? *** Contains spoilers from the game Title from the song "Dirt and Roses" by Rise Against

Word count: 6k

AN: I’m moving all of my fics over from Ao3 to make them more accessible! These are my fics.

TW: - Blood - Gore - Anxiety - Detailed descriptions of injury - Near death experiences - Claustrophobia (only for a little bit, tho. I have it too and that's all I could write, lol) 

“Knight to E5.” Sebastian quips, leaning back in his wicker chair, his arms crossed against his chest and a smug smile tweaking at the corners of his mouth. He watched the boy across from him regard the wizards chess board, the tip of his wand blinking that comforting red light he had grown accustomed to after years of friendship. It was probably not the most fair thing in the world to go against someone blind in a game that required sight over everything else, but that didn’t stop the brunette from trying his very best at beating his best friend in absolutely everything— he was nothing if not competitive. That being said, as much as he loved the idea of pulling one over on Ominis, the feat was nearly impossible . The blond was far too good. It didn’t matter if it was a game of gobstones, a duel in Crossed Wands, even exploding snaps, a game where sight was a necessity, all because of that blasted wand! The only thing that Ominis was truly bad at was potions, and even then he would likely still get an Acceptable on their OWLS. Sebastian felt that this round of chess was different, though. He could see the furrow of his partner’s brows in the low candlelight of the Undercroft, trace how his hand rested on his chin in puzzlement— fingers pinching at the skin there and stroking like tweaking an imaginary beard. He was currently in the lead, most of Ominis’ pieces resting broken on his side of the board. A truly violent game, that wizards chess. 

A light tisk came from his companions mouth, his wand still gently coasting over the top of the board just out of reach of the pieces, before his eyebrows slowly rose back to their normal position on his temple, a mischievous smile making its way across his cheeks and a twinkle of something unrecognizable, but all the more devious, in his eyes. He leaned back in his own chair, adopting a similar cadence as his brunette counterpart, his body language oozing confidence. Sebastian shifted in his seat, eyes casting uneasy glances between the boy and the board as sweat began to bead on his brow. Surely not, he mused— there was no way Ominis figured out a new strategy. 

The blond lightly chuckled, sensing the sudden nervousness of his friend. “Queen to E5.” 

Bollocks.

Sebastian was helpless to watch the white marble queen piece shift its way across the board towards his onyx black knight. The matriarch stood from her throne, bringing her chair around to her front and up over her shoulder, before crashing it down over the head of his brave steed. The brunette scowled at the board before tilting his chin to the ceiling, his head cracking lightly on the back of the chair as he leaned away and groaned into the musky air of the hideaway, his arms thrown upwards in a show of surrender. 

“You’re a bastard, Gaunt.” 

Ominis laughed, his form slumping forward over the little end table they were next to as he waved his wand, collecting all the broken pieces and placing them back into the chess box where they would self-repair. 

“No, unfortunately my heritage is legitimate.” He simpered, a light jab dancing on the tip of his tongue. “The juries still out for you, though, my dear friend. You have as much grace as a charging erumpent.” 

Sebastian gasped in outrage, his hand dramatically fluttering to his chest and resting over his heart like a damsel in distress. “Oh, I’m wounded! You’ve wounded me, Ominis. How ever will I recover— doomed to live a life of desolate mediocrity at the hands of my very best friend?” He slowly slid out of his chair, letting gravity work its magic and flopping dramatically on the floor, limbs sprawled out like a flattened lizard. 

The smaller Slytherin guffawed, a large grin splitting his face as he kicked his leg out towards the brunette, his shoe jabbing him harshly in the calf. “Quit it, you buffoon. You aren’t going to die because I beat you in wizards chess.” 

Sebastian sighed heavily, the back of his hand slapping against his forehead in overzealous woe. “Oh but I am! I will never be the same, never! I shall cover all of my mirrors so I never have to see my failurous face ever again— cover my head with a ghastly bag to shield the world from my shameful dereliction!” Small sounds of sorrow continued to fill the air around them, long drawn out “boohoo’s” falling from the brunette’s lips at a consistent rate. 

Ominis stood from his chair, stepping over the fallen idiot and plopping down onto the chaise lounge to their left, a book floating into his hand with the flick of his wand. “I think the entire student body would thank you for that.” 

The blond laughed at the incredulous noises of his companion, leaning his head to the left quickly as Sebastian’s boot flew through the air right where he once was and smacked into the pillar just beyond. The taller Slytherin got up from the ground, muttering obscenities under his breath as he limped over to where his shoe landed, taking the time to lightly smack the blond on the back of the head before rounding the space and throwing himself on the other lounge chair diagonal to the opening of the Undercroft. 

“You’re an arse, do you know that?” 

Ominis smirked downwards towards his book, lethargically licking his finger before flipping to the next page with gusto. “Oh yes, I pride myself in it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m only one to you— I’m quite nice to everyone else.”

Once his boot was securely back on his foot, Sebastian pulled out his pocket watch from his waistcoat; he checked the time, glancing in confusion at the gunmetal gate entrance of their secret space. 

“Hey, have you seen our charge today? They’re normally down here by now.” 

Ominis scoffed, a blank look crossing his face and a sardonic bite taking over his tone. “Do you ever think before you speak?” 

Sebastian met his gaze with a blank look of his own. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

The blond sighed deeply, raising a hand to his face and waving it in front of his unseeing eyes. “No, I haven’t ‘seen’ them today, nor have I heard from them.” 

Lifting himself to a seated position, the brunette’s brows scrunched together in puzzlement, slight worry tipping the corners of his mouth into a frown. You normally met them in the Undercroft after dinner so they all could hang out until curfew. Today, though, you were missing. Sebastian couldn’t remember if he had seen you today at all, come to think of it. You were supposed to have potions with him, but in his hazy memory he remembers that your stool was empty. Where were you? 

He turned his gaze back to the other Slytherin, confusion and concern lacing his tone as he spoke. “I haven’t either. Should we go search for them? They normally owl us if they’re going on a mission.” 

Another sigh. “Sebastian, I’m sure they’re fine. They’ve bested practically the whole wizarding world in a duel at this point— they can handle themselves. Let’s just have a quiet night, yes?” 

The Sallow boy threw himself back onto the chaise with a huff, his hands folding together and smacking against his abdomen. He knew that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself— he had seen it in action. Still, the knowledge of your fighting prowess did little to alleve his nerves. Each of the trials the Keepers were sending you on got more and more difficult— more dangerous. The thought of you getting hurt, or even worse, dying, made him feel ill. Ominis felt the same, they had talked about it before, but he was better at hiding it. Even now, though, Sebastian could see the telltale bounce of the blonds leg from nerves out of the corner of his eye. He was just as worried about you. You had told them all about the trials after they had stumbled upon you in the Undercroft a few weeks ago, bruised and bloody with at least five Wiggenweld potions scattered around you, as well as some gauze. Instantly the both of them had asked, nay insisted, that they go with you for safety, but you shut them down quickly— the trials were for you and you alone, no outside help. They reluctantly agreed to let you handle them, but they certainly weren’t happy about the arrangement, not in the slightest. 

The two sat in silence for a while, their eyes drifting every so often over towards the Undercroft gate like you’d step through any moment. Worry began to claw at their throats like a rabid animal begging to be let out of a cage. Ominis’ leg had picked up speed around the five minute mark, no longer paying attention to the book in his lap and instead turning his ears minutely towards where you would hopefully be coming from soon. Sebastian was right, you would normally send them a letter if you were going to be out for the day— you knew how they worried about you. Silence seemed to spread around the room like a thick fog, its tendrils wrapping around the boy’s heads and slithering into their ears, leaving an unnerving ringing behind. They were getting antsy, anxious energy pouring from them in waves.

Just as they were about to move and suggest looking for you again, a loud, deafening boom rang through the room. Crates tumbled to the ground with a crash as the ground rumbled below their feet. It was like the earth below them, below the entire castle, was breaking apart piece by piece. Paintings fell from the walls around them, tables shook and tipped over, school work and books spilling across the floor in rivers. Sebastian sprang from his seat, sprinting across the small space and throwing himself next to a shaking Ominis, his arms wrapping around the blonds head to shield him from falling debris. The tremors continued for what felt like years before everything halted in their tracks— silence filling the room once again and only breaking around the heavy, panting panicked breaths that left the two boy’s lungs. They slowly de-tangled themselves from the other, their gazes lifting up from the ground to take in the damage around them. Dust covered every surface, clinging to their clothes and hair and dyeing everything a light grey. 

Ominis spoke first, his voice whispering like he was afraid that if he broke the calming quiet everything would start all over again. “Are you alright?” 

Sebastian sighed shakily, his heart hammering in his chest as he grabbed the blond's hand and squeezed. “Yes, I’m fine. Are you?” 

He nodded. “What was that?” 

“I have no idea. Sounded like it came from under the school— an earthquake maybe?” 

Ominis shook his head, dust lightly falling from his hair and brushing against his shoulders. “In these parts? At this time of the year? Unlikely.” 

Sebastian furrowed his brows once again. “Then what could it be? Should we go check—”

The brunette paused, his blood running cold in his body as his skin turned a ghostly white as sudden realization hit him like a speeding broom. Ominis seemed to have come to the same conclusion, his hands shaking at his sides as they both turned towards each other, brown eyes meeting milky blue in barely hidden fear. Only one thought passed between the both of them: you were out there somewhere. 

The room began to shake again, the stone floor trembling with stronger aftershocks as more things began to slam to the ground around them. The duo quickly jumped up, their arms covering their heads from falling debris as their legs carried them as fast as they could go towards the exit and up the stairs towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts hallway. They quickly scrambled through the cabinet door, slamming it shut behind them as their feet nearly slid out from under them on the smooth tile floors of the main floor. Professors were running around, herding students left and right and ushering them towards their common rooms for safety. Sharp corralled them both, blocking their path from the rest of the school and their mad dash to find you amongst the chaos, and shoved them in the direction of the Slytherin common room, only turning away to look for more lost souls as the two boy’s got swallowed by waves of green and silver robes. Sebastian desperately fought against the stream of students, throwing elbows left and right as he swam towards the front and towards, what he hoped, was freedom from the crowd. A sharp cry came from his left and he shot his head in that direction, barely catching the sight of Ominis’ blond head as it disappeared in the hazard of students. His hand darted out, catching his friend’s shoulder before he could be trampled and pulled him to his side where he would be safe, clutching onto him like a lifeline in a storm as they were carried away, down the Grand Staircase and into the dungeons. Once safely inside, the ornate serpentine door slammed shut behind the students, bathing the room in startling silence once again.

The rumbling was muted this far under the black lake, only the sound of murky water splashing against the large bay windows of the common room filled the large, encompassing space. Students milled about, some retiring to their bedchambers while others sat on the various surfaces spread around the room. Tense whispers filled the air, questions and theories about what was happening swimming in everyone’s minds and entering through their eagerly listening ears. 

“Was on the moving stairs when it started, I was. It was quite funny watching all the paintings scramble from their frames before they fell.” 

“What do you think is happening? It seems to be coming from under the school.” 

“I saw all the Professors run towards the Astronomy wing. What do you think they’re looking for over there?” 

“Weasley had something in her hand before it all started— a bit of parchment. Looked as pale as the Bloody Baron after reading it. Wonder what it said?” 

“I heard one of the Ravenclaw's say they saw some goblins over by the east wing. Do you think they have something to do with all of this?” 

“Do you think they’ll cancel finals if half the castle is destroyed?” 

The two fifth year boys stood apart from the crowd. Sebastian paced the length of the room, going back and forth a number of times, wringing his hands in front of his chest and worrying on his bottom lip with his teeth. Ominis sat on the bench in front of the large floor to ceiling windows, elbows bent atop his knees and long fingers wracking through his normally perfectly styled hair. Anxiety oozed from them like a poorly made potion seeping out of the bottom of its cauldron. No one had seen or heard from you before or after the chaos. They had to get back to the Undercroft— it was the best place to wait for you. The brunette caught bits and pieces of the conversations flowing around the common room, and each one set his nerves alight just a little bit more. Astronomy wing? Goblins? Oh Merlin. He knew, whatever was happening had to do with Ranrok. If it had to do with Ranrok, then you had to be there too. Sebastian spun towards his friend, quickly pacing towards him with determined steps and nearly throwing himself onto the bench to the blonds left. He leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, just low enough so no one else would hear. 

“Ominis, we have to get out of here. If we get back to the Undercroft, we can wait for them there. They know we’d be there.” 

The smaller Slytherin inhaled deeply, his body shaking with tremors stronger than those rocking through the castle. “How are we going to get out? The room is packed— there’s no way we could sneak out undetected.” 

The brunette hummed in thought, placing his hand on Ominis’ knee to steady his nervous jittering. It was up to him to come up with a plan, the room was much too loud for his companion to think clearly— multiple stimuli overwhelmed him easily. He racked his brain for a solution, every thought coming in small glimpses around the unending worry he felt for you. They’d have to be invisible to get out of the common room, there was no way another student wouldn’t see them leave.

A lightbulb sputtered to life in his mind. 

Oh. Oh. That would work. 

He squeezed the blonds knee before letting go and grabbing his wand from his robes. “I have an idea, follow my lead.” 

Sebastian cast the disillusionment charm around himself quietly, watching his fingers and legs disappear into a slight trick of the light. Ominis nodded, doing the same to his right. They both stood as quiet as mice and made their way through the throngs of silver and green clad students, dodging and weaving around flying limbs before all but running up the grand spiral staircase and skidding to a halt outside of their common room door. 

An eerie hush fell over the still castle dungeon. The rumbles had quieted down enough, only a soft vibration making its way through their shoes and shaking their bodies instead of the intense tremors that shook the building moments earlier. That had to be a good sign, Sebastian mused. 

They both took off towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts wing, their legs pumping as fast as they could go. The setting sun cast shadows across the floor, catching on each piece of debris and drawing the brunette’s attention to just how much damage had been done. Sebastian grabbed Ominis’ hand, pulling him along and calling out obstacles in their path. They leaped over fallen pillars, dodged around scattered armor, and slid around corners, their shoes loudly squeaking on the linoleum floor and nearly sending them tumbling into walls with their haste. 

Finally, they made it to the hidden cabinet leading to the school's underbelly. The blond threw himself against the door, unlocking it with a flick of his wrist and all but shoved the brunette down the stone steps. With a loud crack, the metal gate clipped shut behind them. They both heaved over, their bodies folded in half as their hands grasped onto their knees. Heavy breaths left their lungs from the exertion, sweat beaded on their brows from the heat of their bodies as well as from the intense nerves that shook through their bodies. Sebastian stumbled over to the table they sat around earlier, picking up one of the wicker chairs that had been knocked over from the ground and plopping himself down into it. Ominis collected himself, rolling his spine back into a standing position before beginning to pace. Each second of taciturnity filled his gut with more and more hysteric energy. His mind was going at the speed of light, horrible images of what fate could be befalling you slid behind his eyes like a demented moving picture show. All of his reserve flew out the window with the rest of his carefully curated apathetic coping mechanisms. His hands pulled at his hair, fingers digging into his roots and sending spikes of pain through his skull. The brunette carefully watched him from his vantage point, his eyes following each step of his companion as he made his way across the length of the rather large room. He could see the silvery tears that began to gather in the blond's eyes from his intense fear and called out to him in what he hoped was a calming voice. 

“Ominis please sit down, you’re only going to work yourself into more of a panic if you keep pacing like that. They’ll be here soon— everything will be fine.” He cringed at the tremors that were present in his words, hoping the young wizard didn’t notice it. 

The other boy turned towards the sound of his voice, quick as a whip, his eyebrows crinkled at his brow in dread and hands flailing around punctuating his snapped words. “What if they don’t, Sebastian? You heard the others in the common room, there were bloody goblins near the school! You know just as much as I do that that could only mean Ranrok is here. He’s probably the reason for everything that’s happening, and if he’s here that means that they’re down there, wherever in Merlin’s name there is, with him! They could be dead in some unknown tomb under the school and we would be none the wiser!” 

Blinding, distressed anger struck down Sebastian’s spine as he stood from his slumped position. He snarled towards the smaller of the two, “Don’t you dare even say that. They’re not dead, they can’t be. Don’t even put that idea into the universe!” He could see the blond flinch at his harsh tone, his hands moving to wring together. The brunette sighed deeply, willing his heartbeat to slow down and his anger to disapparate. He carefully made his way towards Ominis, steps loud but gentle like approaching a startled animal, and placed his hand on the other's shoulder. He pretended it didn’t hurt him that he felt the boy stiffen under his touch. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, but we can’t think like that. We have to stay hopeful.” 

The Gaunt boy relaxed slightly, his hands falling to his sides as he lowered his chin towards his chest. He sighed, “You’re right, it’s no use getting worked up. All we can do now is wait.” 

Sebastian carefully led him towards the lounge chair he was sitting on earlier, gently pushing down on his shoulders so he would relax into the plush cushions before joining him. He tilted his head back towards the ceiling, eyes closed as he silently prayed to whomever was listening that you’d return to them safely. 

***

The Undercroft filled with the sound of the large brass clock that resided in the Hogwarts clock tower, two loud clangs ricocheting off the stone walls that surrounded the space and filling the anxious ears of the two Slytherin’s that rested in its belly. Hours had passed since the tremors started; they long since puttered off and made way for the chilling quiet of the night. Both boys had not moved from their spot on the chaise lounge, each glancing longingly at the gate that led towards the castle hallways as they waited impatiently for their friend to return from what they could only imagine was a deranged war. They both fought valiantly against the sleep that clung to their bodies, each ticking second sending them closer and closer to sweet unconsciousness. They couldn’t sleep as long as you were still out there in Merlin knows what condition. 

Sebastian sighed for the umpteenth time, his hands running through his already unruly curls and sending them into all possible directions. His leg bounced at his side, the muscle flowing with his anxieties and only being released by the constant movement. Ominis stood once again from his side, shaking the sleep from his person and beginning to pace the space once again. He couldn’t keep still any longer, not when you’d been gone for so long. Blond tresses fell in front of his eyes from his incessant hands combing through it. He took deep breaths, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth in order to calm his rapidly pounding heart. The silence was driving him mad, every little sound that wasn’t you coming through the metal gate was like a bullet to his brain. He feared the worst for you— the idea of you leaving this world without a word made his chest feel like it was caving in on itself. 

The creak of the Undercroft gate broke both of the boys from their perturbed revelry. Sebastian sprung to his feet, head whipping to the side at the sound as Ominis spun on his heel and ceased his endless pacing as you stumbled through the doorway. 

The blond made a small sound in the back of his throat, relief palpable in the air around him. “Thank Merlin you’re okay, we were worried sick about you!” 

For a moment, everything felt still. Silence consumed the space, sucking all the air out of the room like the tide as a tsunami made its way towards shore. All Ominis could hear was the harsh ringing in his ears and the startled gasp from his counterpart behind him. Panic began to crawl its way into his throat once more. 

Sebastian’s heart stuttered in his chest, his words forcing themselves out around the lump that formed under his jaw. “Oh, dear God…” He breathed, his feet glued where he stood in shock as he took you in.

Ominis’ heart rate picked up exponentially. Tuning his ears to what was happening around him, he could hear the heavy breaths leaving both of his best friends with a renewed clarity. Your breathing was more stuttered than Sebastian’s, like you were struggling to suck in the air around you. Something was dripping lightly on the ground by your feet, the sound of its little plinks against the stone bounced around his skull like a small pebble skipping across the black lake. Pushing himself to focus more on the sound, the scent of copper filled his nose and sent a shiver down his spine. 

With a pained whimper, your legs gave out and you crashed to the hard ground with a resounding thump. 

Sebastian sprang into action, your noise of distress breaking him out of his stupor as he rushed over to your fallen form, calling out to the other boy in panic. 

“Ominis, get the Wiggenweld potions!” 

The blond stumbled over his feet, running towards the box in the far corner of the room that they filled with first aid equipment for moments just like this. The Sallow boy slid the rest of the distance between the two of you on his knees, arms outstretched to catch the top half of your body against his chest as the rest of your body gave in to gravity. He grasped you gently by the shoulders, moving your face into his vision and scanning you for injury. 

“What happened? Who did this to you!?” 

Your eyes were unfocused on his, black half moons coloring your bottom lids and the tops of your cheeks. Your voice was soft, barely loud enough for Sebastian to make out anything you were saying. He caught little snippets, mumbles of words like “Ranrok,” “repository,” and “Rookwood.” Blood dripped from a cut on your forehead, cascading down your incredibly pale face and staining the collar of your white button down. Your house cardigan was sliced open at the arm, showing a deep laceration stretching from the top of your arm to your elbow— Sebastian worried that if it was any deeper it would have hit bone. Your skin was almost grey from blood loss, your veins zigzagging under the flesh of your neck, chest, and arms like small strikes of lightning. He could see your knees through the rips in your trousers, the skin shredded and bruised, little bits of gravel dotting the wound like birth marks. One of your hands clutched your side, blood blooming through your fingers like a macabre rose bouquet. He carefully pried your fingers away to assess the damage and his breath caught in his throat, a sound of agony escaping from his open mouth. Through the hole in your shirt he could see multiple large, jagged slices in your side, each oozing buckets of blood. You winced as his fingers ran along your ribs, another groan of pain vibrating in your throat. He raised his eyes back to your face, irises dancing side to side as he tried to catch your gaze. Your entire body was shaking with adrenaline. He gently cupped your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to meet his piercing stare. His voice shook with dismay, the words leaving his mouth in a frenzy. 

“I need to look at your side, okay? I need to see how bad the damage is. Just nod if you’re okay with that.” 

You blinked slowly at him, a hand reaching out and wrapping around one of his wrists as you minutely nodded. Sebastian carefully took your hands into his and placed them on his shoulders for stability before unbuttoning the bottom of your shirt. His eyes were greeted with an enormous bruise, purples, blues, and blacks covering the skin of your lower left ribs and splintering out towards your chest. He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth— you definitely had a few broken ribs. Your body began to slump against his, eyes fighting harder to stay open. He lightly slapped you on the cheek, frantically trying to keep you conscious. 

“Hey, hey! No you don’t, you need to stay awake. Stay with us, okay?” 

You laughed, wincing as your ribs shifted painfully, and smiled, your teeth stained a light pink from swallowing blood— you were absolutely delirious. “You should see the other guy.” Sucking in a deep, stuttering breath, your vision began to blur even more as your mind filled with numbing static. “I-I did it.” 

Sebastian took your face into his hands once again, watching you with bated breath. “What did you do? Please, what happened to you?” 

Your gaze focused on him finally, eyes softening as your smile stretched even wider. “I controlled it— the ancient magic, it’s inside me.” 

The brunette blanched, his brain needing a second to catch up with your words before he laughed incredulously, head shaking in disbelief. “We can focus on that later. Right now, we need to stop you from dying, okay?” 

Ominis appeared at his side, arms laden with as many potions as he could carry as he dropped roughly to his knees to your right. The oblong shaped vials clinked together as he haphazardly set them down on the ground, quickly drawing his wand and scanning you for any other injuries. Each pulse of his wand, each image blasted into his mindseye, sucked a little bit more color from his cheeks in horror. His hands hovered in the air next to your arm, shaking with barely contained terror as his mind fought whether to touch and comfort you or not touch you in case he hurt you even more.

His whole body vibrated, nerves completely shot to hell and his voice betraying every ounce of trepidation he held inside of him. "We need to get you to the infirmary! Why in Merlin's name did you come down here? You need a proper doctor, not us!" 

You shook your head weakly, your speech slurred as your head slightly lulled in his direction. "Knew you'd worry— had to make sure you both were okay..." A breath. "Wanted to be with you— to see you...one last time..." It was getting harder and harder to breathe— each breath felt like you slammed your lungs in a bear trap.

Sebastian shushed you softly, lips grazing the skin of your temple as he whispered into your hair. "Quiet now, save your strength. You're safe now, you made it to us." He cleared his throat, adopting as much determination as he could muster. "You aren't dying today, alright? We won't let you, you stubborn bastard."

He gently lowered you so you were laying on your back and your head rested against the cool ground of the Undercroft, pushing the hair sticking to your temple back so he could clearly see your eyes. In his haste to move you, he didn’t notice that they were closed. Your breathing left your parted lips at a dangerously slow rate; your body finally giving out from the intense pain pulsing through your system. White hot panic screamed at the front of his skull. 

“Hey! What did I say? Stay with us, dammit!” 

You didn’t budge. 

“Shit. Shit!” 

Uncorking one of the potions, he pressed it against your lips with one hand and tilted your chin back with the other, whispering prayers for you to wake up as the bitter liquid slid down your throat. Ominis bit his lip hard, muffling the hysterical pants that threatened to leave his lungs. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth as it steadily dripped down his throat. He pressed his fingers against the pulse point on your neck, feeling for your heartbeat. It was soft, but still there.

The blond grasped one of your hands in his while the other still held his wand, coasting the tip of it over your body like he did to the chessboard hours before to check the status of your injuries. Your fingers were so cold. 

Nodding towards the brunette, unseeing eyes never leaving your body and voice shaking, he shouted, “Give them another one!” 

Sebastian pressed a second potion to your lips, watching it flow down your open throat as color began to return to your cheeks. His heart continued to slam against his ribs painfully, threatening to break out from under his skin. 

The skin around your arm began to lace itself back together, the large cut that resided there turning into a barely raised scar— the same happening to the slice on your temple. 

Another potion.

The bruising around your naval began to disapparate, the skin around your ribs painting itself to match the rest of your complexion. 

He gave you the last of the potions, watching as the final scars of your battle stitched together and solidified at your side. Your flesh was red and angry around where the wound was, raised and burning to the touch, but no longer gushing enough blood to feed a small army of vampires. 

Both boys held their breath as they waited for your eyes to open once again, each one counting the seconds that you remained unconscious. The space behind their eyes began to sting with unshed tears. Dread nestled itself in their chests and spread through their entire bodies like a wildfire, both fearing the worst— that you wouldn’t wake up, that the potions didn’t help, that you were still dying. 

“Please don’t leave us. Not yet.” Sebastian whispered, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. His voice cracked with sorrow. 

After what felt like a century, your eyelids fluttered open and you took in the world around you. The taller Slytherin leaned back so he could catch your gaze, breathed a heaving sigh of relief, tears gathering in his lashes and streaking down his cheeks as he gave a weak, watery chuckle. He brushed his fingers through your blood slicked hair, a soft smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. 

“Hey, stranger. You scared us there for a second.” 

You smiled up at him, eyelids slitted but finally open, finally alive. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” You croaked, your voice raspy. 

A harsh sob left their blond companion, his body finally slumping around the tautness he held since you entered the room. He rolled onto his back, legs thumping against the ground below as he brought his hands to cover his face, tears of pure, unbridled joy leaking through his fingers and wetting the dusty floor as light relieved laughs and muted curses spilled from his lips. 

“You both are going to send me to an early grave, I’m sure of it.” 

Laughing to himself, the brunette gazed down at you, his thumb lightly tracing along your cheekbone. “Let’s get you to the hospital wing, yes? Then you can tell us all about what happened.” 

You nodded against his hand, letting him pull you up to your feet and wrap his hand around your waist. Ominis stood with you both, doing the same on your other side after pressing a careful kiss to your hair, squeezing your hand in his. 

Safely tucked between your two boys, the three of you made your way out of the Undercroft and into the hallways of the castle you saved— the castle you called home.

***

like what you read? here's more!

[themculibrary]

Peggy/Natasha Masterlist

A Minor Distraction (ao3) - orphan_account E, 3k

Summary: Rumors about an organization experimenting with the super soldier serum bring Peggy Carter to Russia, where she meets a young factory worker named Natalia.

Better Together (ao3) - rearranged (her_ghost) E, 5k

Summary: Peggy adjusted to life in the 21st century because she had no other option. One trip across space-time was an anomaly, or so she thought.

When she was yanked into an alternate universe by a being with incredible power to help fight against a multiversal threat, Peggy realized the idea of finding a way back to her time might be an achievable goal.

The Watcher told Peggy that her world, and that time, needed their Captain Carter. He showed her why with a few detours on the way home.

Carter (ao3) - crackdkettle G, 1k

Summary: An AU in which Peggy is the Winter Soldier, and she and Natasha have a remarkably uncomplicated relationship over the years.

Co-Captains (ao3) - orphan_account T, 4k

Summary: This is starting to move beyond normal co-captain behavior.

Coming and Going (ao3) - Anonymous M, 3k

Summary: Natasha tilts her head to allow Eileen access to her neck and, god, Peggy can’t help staring at her, just a little, hair mussed, vivid red lipstick smeared slightly, she looks like… She’s looking right at Peggy.

Right. The mission. The signal.

Disposition (ao3) - Anonymous E, 2k

Summary: Natasha and Peggy learn more about the other than they expected when they go undercover at a retreat for couples.

i break wild roses (ao3) - halfmoonsevenstars M, 7k

Summary: It’s August 1950 and Peggy Carter, Director of SHIELD, is back in New York for the week, wrangling diplomats and soothing fractured bureaucratic egos by day. By night, Peggy goes out for drinks and dancing with Angie, but it’s a beautiful Russian girl she brings back to the hotel room.

(I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons (ao3) - Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye) E, 6k

Summary: I love you for sentimental reasons. I hope you do believe me, I'll give you my heart.

I may never go home but at least I have you (ao3) - ziazippy5379 T, 1k

Summary: Peggy finds a woman in strange clothes in the alley behind her apartment.

Match Made (ao3) - fluffharpy E, 16k

Summary: "What about you?" Peggy asked over a disposable cup of tea, the exasperation in her tone for once not coming from the fact that there was something subtly unnatural about trying to drink hot liquid out of a plastic lid. Her gaze locked on Natasha Romanoff seated across the table from her, full of righteous challenge. "Who are you dating?"

The look Natasha gave being called on her game, skeptical and just a bit petulant, was gratifying.

"If you're so eager to find me a date," Peggy said, imperious, "then you'll have to find one for yourself as well."

peggynat (ao3) - slayyybestie N/R, 3k

Summary: tumblr requests for peggynat fic

Remember When (We Used To Be) (ao3) - flipflop_diva T, 1k

Summary: Peggy stared, her heart thudding in her chest, her hand that was still holding the gun shaking. Those green eyes. Those beautiful green eyes. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. It was impossible.

“Natalia,” she whispered

“Who the hell is Natalia?”

show me how to fight for now (ao3) - hallowed (AMRainer) T, 1k

Summary: there's nothing as intimate as dancing ; and Natalia knows exactly which steps to take.

undercover in our overcoats (ao3) - Dayadhvam T, 5k

Summary: Prague, 1968. Neither Agent Carter nor the Black Widow would have called it anything like love.

what you can't bear to lose (ao3) - Melime T, 7k

Summary: A mission gone wrong leaves Peggy and Nat buried under the debris of an exploded building, and although they are rescued, the danger of the situation forces them to confront their feelings for each other.

[sherlockruiningmylife]

My Merthur (Merlin) fics masterlist:

Decided to redo this list from scratch because I hadn’t updated the original in an age. Listed from my newest works to my oldest. All fics are linked to via the title. Should just be able to click to open them.

-Bleeding Gold (T | 3,865)

Merlin bleeds gold. Every time he is injured he has to hide it from any prying eyes.

Small excerpt: It's a simple cut that wouldn’t require more than a few stitches. If it were on one of the knights it would be no big deal. But on Merlin… The problem is, Merlin isn’t quite human in the way the others are. He’d been aware of this for a long time and it always irked him. But now it was especially apparent. As blood dripped from his arm in the shallow cut. It dripped gold.

-The servant god (G | 3,275)

When Merlin and Arthur get into an argument, Merlin reaches his wit's end. He blows up and confesses to Arthur before storming off. Now it is Arthur's turn to try and win him back

Based off of a post I had drafted on Tumblr but never actually published. Not used entirely verbatim in here but almost the same lines are there: Merlin gets frustrated one day and explodes into a rant about how Arthur treats him. Merlin: Do you even know who I am?! I am Emrys, Arthur! I am a God! Arthur: (scoffs and crosses arms) God of ineptitude maybe. Merlin: (glares then storms out leaving a trail of flames behind him)

-Becoming a god (G | 6,367)

The knights and Merlin stumble upon a shrine to Emrys in the woods. Merlin realizes, too late, that it may be more than just a simple shrine.

-How to pick a fight with your soulmate (G | 2,353)

Soulmate AU where your soulmate shares your pain every time you get hurt. This is how I imagine the market fight in the first episode would have gone had soulmates existed.

Small excerpt: “Do you want to give up?” Merlin yells. “To you?” Arthur asks as he backs away. Hoping sooner rather than later that this foolish man would hit himself with the mace he is swinging so wildly. “Do you? Do you want to give up?”

-Till death do us part (E | wip currently 50k+)

Stuck in an arranged marriage contract, struck before either were old enough to have a say, can Merlin and Arthur find any happiness in their inevitable partnership? With one being a sorcerer prince, and the other raised to despise sorcerers it seems doubtful.

This one is my baby, my love, my passion. But she is currently on a little hiatus. Will be back once I quit getting distracted.

-To know all of him (T | 4,307)

When Merlin and the knights get captured by a sorceress, Merlin is forced to take a truth serum. After revealing his secrets, will Merlin be able to regain the trust of the king and his knights?

Short excerpt: The sorceress growled, “Enough games, now answer! What is your biggest secret?” Merlin frowned, trying to fight off the serum, after several long moments of silence Merlin looses the battle and says quietly, “I have magic.” Anthea grins, “there now, was that so hard?” Lancelot winces but Arthur looks puzzled. Arthur, who had been observing the interaction with confusion finally chimes in with a cut off laugh.

-Hidden Talents (T | 19,755)

Modern with magic - Aithusa/dragonlord fic. Merlin and Arthur are roommates in uni. Arthur likes to complain about Merlin's appalling lack of a social life, using this as an excuse to take Merlin with him everywhere he goes. This is convenient for when Merlin is needed to protect Arthur from his own misfortune, but it does make it difficult to keep certain parts of himself hidden.

I definitely tend to write for myself and this is a prime example. I reread this one often, it makes me happy :)

-A Grain of Truth (M | 12,179)

Merlin and Arthur travel to an outlying village in Camelot seeking a stolen amulet. What they find is a thriving magical community with druids wandering the town's market freely. Unfortunately for Merlin, he is recognized as Emrys. How will Arthur respond when he finds out? Set somewhere in the midst of season 3.

-Camelot’s Protector (T | 5,632)

Camelot is forced to battle Essetir when Cenred's men invade. Merlin does his best to stay at Arthur's side when the battle begins, but Arthur is insistent that Merlin get to safety. Both refusing to cooperate, they get themselves into trouble and end up revealing more than they'd planned.

-The Role of Servants and Masters (G | 3,476)

Thomas is a new servant in Camelot's castle. Before today, he had only heard stories of the prince and his manservant. He had thought them to be the result of the castles working rumor mill, blowing them out of proportion. He will soon find out first hand just how true those stories were.

Small Excerpt: So far, Thomas knew that the Prince, Arthur, and his manservant, Merlin, were a bit of an oddity in the castle. Their relationship could not be described as that of a servant and his master. Instead, people described it as… well no one was quite sure. Prince Arthur gave Merlin orders, but those orders were either ignored or done begrudgingly. From what Thomas gathered, Merlin did follow the law, he just didn’t seem to adhere to the spirit of it.

Another one I reread often :)

-The Trouble with Soulmates (T | 17,774)

Arthur Pendragon is a famous actor, Merlin Emrys is a maths teacher. The chances of their paths crossing are slim to none. That is until Arthur sets them on a rather frustrating journey. Who knew that soulmates could be so troublesome.

-Not According to Plan (T | 2,294)

While out on patrol, Merlin, Arthur, and Elyan are ambushed by bandits. In order to fight them off, Merlin must use his magic. When one of the bandits cries 'Sorcerer', Merlin is faced with a tough decision. Caution is thrown to the wind, and Merlin is a badass.

-The Legend of Emrys (G | 4,801)

As the king of Camelot, Arthur is seeking to undo his father’s laws against magic and right his wrongs. As the final step in this process he seeks an alliance with the druids. They inform him that he already has their allegiance because Emrys is at his side. There is only one problem with that, Arthur doesn’t know who Emrys is.

-Once and Future Merthur (T | 11,832)

While escaping from bandits, Merlin and Arthur find themselves transported to a different version of their lives. Throughout their journey secrets are revealed and emotions are uncovered. Will they be able to handle the truth once it is unveiled?

This one is a bit out there admittedly, but I stand by it.

-The Unwanted Gift (G | 5,649)

Merlin is, by his nature, a kind and gentle hearted person. When a young sorceress sees this in the warlock, she seeks to help others to be able to see this in Merlin as well. She gifts him with an enchantment that bears Merlin’s soul to the world, which leads to some rather unintended consequences for the warlock. Inspired by this artwork from 2018 by tumblr user @cypress-ess: https://cypress-ess.tumblr.com/post/177981059209/snow-white-au

-Visiting Home (T | 3,016)

Arthur and Merlin travel to Ealdor to take part in a harvest celebration. Arthur has known about Merlin’s magic for a while, and Merlin has been named the Court Sorcerer. Wanting to get to know more about young Merlin, Arthur asks Hunith for some stories. OR – tooth rotting domestic fluff

This is 2 years worth of my writing/my life which is quite crazy for me to think about. Hope y’all like some of these, I love this fandom so much!

[heliqnthus]

blasphemous rumors; g. dekarios.

pairing: gale dekarios x gn!reader

warning(s): post-game, angst, fluff, implied smut and voyeurism (but honestly, no real smut because i have no idea how to write one)

word count: ~1100

a/n: i had this idea, that also could be read as a gale version of that astarion graveyard scene, and i really wanted to write a fic about it. i have close to 0 of experience in writing fanfiction, as well as english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes. if someone will enjoy this as well i will be more than happy :)

have a nice day, evening or a night!

(italic = part of a flashback)

after gale’s proposal, and not so long before departure to waterdeep, gale offered you one last stroll through the baldur’s gate, and as you were walking around the basilisk gate one building reminded you both of those times when he really considered the idea of using the orb against the absolute. as you were passing the stormshore tabernacle, gale couldn’t not stop to look at it one last time. place, where he spoke with mystra last time, demanding to bring the karsus’s crown to her.

-are you alright? – you asked gale, with a hint of concern. you were for more than hundred percent sure in him and his affections, just like was sure in you, however you more than any other person knew what mystra meant to him and what kind of person did she turn him into. right now, both of you are just glad that everything came to an end – including the whole story with mystra and orb, but still just her name makes you feel fury. what kind of goddess you have to be to not only ruin young man’s life, but also later on demanding on exploding himself for so-called “commonweal”.

as you were looking at tall statue of mother of all magic, you couldn’t feel anything but pure anger.

it is a late night, and all your companions were asleep, but insomnia gave you no rest, so you decided to take a midnight stroll in your hometown, trying to reminisce everything that has happened to you for the last days. fight with ketherick thorn and absolute cultists, rescue of night song, as well as shadowheart’s unexpected choice to abandon the idea of becoming the dark justiciar. but you couldn’t stop thinking about gale - as your and his feelings were blooming stronger than ever, you got to know more of his past, and as you were standing in front of tall, fine statue of mystra, you couldn’t feel anything but pure anger, fury. not because she is a former lover of gale’s, no. creatures meet and fall in love, and just like that creatures can fall out of love and break up, realising they’re not meant for each other. you were furious because you knew how mystra manipulated gale in this kind of relationship and what did she left him with. she used him, just like she did, and she will with other mages.

-i truly hope you hear me, o mother of all magic. i really wish i wasn’t standing here, in front of your statue, not even knowing whether i am speaking to you or the soulless statue of yours. – you felt your nails digging into palms, due to your anger, - not going to lie, obviously, i would come here with one intention only, to speak about gale, and… - here you stuttered, thinking what you could say. by the end of the day, you were no one to her right now, in some near future maybe a person who saved the sword coast. but why would she care about someone that small and mortal?

then why would you care about what she thinks?

-absolutely. – gale turned to you, smiling, - i just thought we might pay a visit to this shrine one last time, if you don’t mind, obviously.

-well- sure, why not. – you agreed with a bit of doubt, following gale into the shrine. you two were just observing the statues of gods and architecture of place, but deep inside you both knew why you came here. you could feel his anxiety, despite what he said a few days ago, just before to propose to you. yes, his orb “fell asleep”, he can finally restore his peace and can live the life he deserves – to love and being loved. but he knew this was also mystra’s doing, so he caught himself thinking that he shoud say some “thank yous”, or “goodbyes” to her.

however, as you and gale approached mystra’s statue, holding your hands, you could see in his eyes some kind of emotion you never saw, when it came to mystra. it was not hatred, sorrow or fright. it indiffrence, at last. indiffrence towards her and what she might think about him.

-while you are going to look at how mortal lives are being born, and then eventually how these exact mortal lives are facing death, and use other people like toys, i hope you will eventually find yourself thinking that gale dekarios owe you nothing, and never did.

for a mere second, you could swear that you felt weave from the statue, a feeling like she wanted to respond something. but then you felt nothing. perhaps you misunderstood weave for your own. or perhaps you were right, like always.

gale dekarios owe mystra nothing, and never did. you felt a true happiness for your fiancé, for finally letting go this part of his past.

-what’s on your mind? – you asked him, taking his second hand in yours, making him turn towards you. you meet with his eyes, that sparkled especially bright, as he was studying your face once more.

-you.

as you felt true happiness for him, letting go this part of his past, gale felt thrilled for realising that he got to meet his future with you.

-cheesy, - you smiled, feeling some blush appearing on your cheeks. you felt his hand slip on your hip, while the other was placed on your cheek, making you meet with his gaze. you could definetly see how his eyes (and maybe even hands) had an intention to undress you, but even for you it was a bit too much. the key word is “a bit”. as your mind was processing on what is going on, gale placed a tender, yet an unexpected kiss on your lips, as you tried to keep yourself on earth, holding the hem of his robes. as he parted from your lips, you tried to be indignant, but only managed to whisper since you two were still in the shrine:

-gale! what on earth are you doing? – you chuckle, while gale had gazed at you with love, stroking your hair.

-admiring my future wife, nothing special... – wizard murmured, - although i do have some idea. – he added, giving a mischief smile. you did not answer, just raised an eyebrow, awaiting what else he wants to say. – i am not insisting, just say no if you don’t want to do it.

you couldn’t hold yourself from smiling while being in gale’s embrace.

-i never said “no”, you know.

gladly, there were not a single soul in the house of worship at this time of night, so gale just had to spell an arcane lock on door, just in case. finished with surroundings, he quickly came back to his the centre of his world, locking up with you lips in much more passionate kiss than the previous one.

oh, but the night is still young.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: another little focus on dad drei! no worries, we’re moving on to some smut and the early years of the relationship with the next few fics lol. hahah i literally did not think this would be done today but work was quiet so i got to write and post and be the superstitious bitch that i am. so here we go, posting right before i watch the isles/caps game (on tv this time). i love love love the headcanon prompts and i will 100% be getting to all of them at some point, so be on the lookout 🥰

word count: 2.3k

tw: nothing really, a little innuendo

summary: andrei took care of all four kids while you were out and you come home to delightful chaos

“Hey, Nykki, I’m at the door, I have to go,” you wedge your phone in between your shoulder and cheek and juggle your bags. “I hope D’s awake because my boobs are ready to explode.”

Your friend laughs on the other end of the line, “oh my god, better get inside then. I’ll talk to you later about coordinating the kids for game day this week.”

“Perfect! I know I said I wasn’t going to, but I’ll probably bring D along, like it’s just easier to strap him to my chest and go,” you shrug as you push the front door open. “Fourth kid problems, just have to come along everywhere. Thank god he sleeps anywhere.”

Nykki wishes her own youngest would sleep anywhere and says good-bye, promising to text later about the plans. You slide your phone into the back pocket of your jeans and step inside the house, immediately hit with the soundtrack to The Little Mermaid. The movie is blaring, echoing around the house. You set your bags on the floor and kick off your sneakers and pad into the den, the source of the movie’s noise.

The movie’s playing on the big screen TV, Ariel singing about wanting to be where the people are, and your husband and kids are sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. You giggle, muffling the noise behind your hand, when you get a good look at Andrei and the kids. The girls are in full princess regalia - Evie as Sleeping Beauty, Alina as Belle, and Kira as Rapunzel - the costume dresses swishing around as they move. Andrei has two pairs of fairy wings strapped to his back, the elastic armholes stretched to their limits. Dimitri is in his arms, draped face down over one of Andrei’s forearms, his little cheek squished to the side against the crook of Andrei’s elbow. You can see that the three-month-old is awake, watching his crazy big sisters dance around.

“Looks like I missed quite the party,” you tease, drawing four pairs of eyes to you. Andrei grins and you can’t stop the laughter that escapes when you see the smears of kid make-up all over his face. There are butterfly clips in his hair, holding back the overgrown strands in a haphazard style.

“Mommy!” Three little voices combine into one as they rush you, hugging at your legs.

“Hi, my little loves,” you lift Kira onto your hip and kiss the two older girls on top of their heads. “Did you have fun with Daddy?”

“Daddy’s pretty,” Kira chips, smiling widely. Andrei laughs, adjusting Dimitri in his arms.

You smile a crinkle-eyed smile at Kira and agree, “Daddy’s really pretty.”

Evie pipes up, “he came to the salon today and got the works!” You smother a laugh because where did she even hear that?

“He needs to look pretty because he’s got a date tonight,” Alina chimes in and you lift an eyebrow at your husband and kids.

“Oh, a big date, huh?” You tease. “She must be someone special, for you to go to the salon for the works.”

Andrei nods, the glittery eyeshadow smeared across the top half of his face catching the light, “the most special. She’s the love of my life.”

Your stomach flutters with butterflies, still affected by this man after all these years. Just when you think you can’t love him more, you come home to this sight, Andrei with your babies surrounding him and being the best dad in the world. Tears well up in your eyes and you wonder if the postpartum hormones are still wreaking havoc. You wipe at your eyes with the side of your index finger and grin. “Well,” you pause, still emotional, “I think she’s just going to love what your stylists have done.”

“Mommy,” Evie whispers, looking at you like she feels bad that you’re so dumb, “Daddy’s date is you!”

“Oh!” You fake gasp, making Kira giggle. “Really? You guys got Daddy all fancied up for me?”

Alina cracks up, dancing around the couch cushions that have somehow ended up on the floor. “Daddy says that he’s takin’ you to dinner tonight and me an’ Evie said we needed to make him pretty ‘cause you get pretty before dinner. I did his yipstick!”

You love the way she mispronounces words and have basically forbidden anyone from correcting her. “I love his yipstick,” you tell her seriously. The hot pink smudged all around his lips is probably going to stain his face and beard, but he puckers his lips at you, making kissing noises.

“Tell Mommy that she should kiss me,” Andrei says. “I’ll share the yipstick with her.”

Alina’s mispronunciation in his accent makes you laugh and the girls tug at your hands, chanting “kiss Daddy! Kiss Daddy!” Unable to resist your kids and the prospect of an Andrei kiss, you lean down, holding Kira with one arm and cupping Andrei’s cheek with the other hand so you can kiss him chastely. One of his hands reaches out to curl around your thigh, squeezing gently. He laughs when you pull back, “hot pink is your color.”

“Mommy’s pretty now!” Kira giggles, patting your cheek. You press a smacking kiss to her cheek, blowing a little raspberry and she shrieks with laughter. There’s a hot pink smudge on her cheek now too.

Andrei looks between you and Kira and his eyes twinkle with mischief. “I think that Ev and Alya need some yipstick too,” he says and reaches out with his free hand to pull Evie in close. He kisses her cheeks and forehead, making her laugh, and getting kiss marks on her skin.

You do the same to Alina, who struggles and fights like she’s fighting for her life. Her laughter is the only sign that she’s enjoying the kiss attack. “No, Mommy! No more kisses!” She wiggles away from you, grinning her little gap-toothed smile. You love that little smile.

Dimitri babbles in Andrei’s arms and you feel bad because you had almost forgotten about him while you were teasing Andrei - that seems to be a negative of being the fourth kid. But now that he’s made his presence known, your overly-full boobs ache a little and you remember exactly what you needed to do when you came inside, before you were distracted by Andrei’s makeover. You settle Kira on the couch and she immediately slides off to run after her big sisters where they’re performing a little show in front of the TV, giving you and Andrei a minute to breathe.

“Give me my baby,” you say. Andrei hands him over and gets to his feet, shaking out the arm that Dimitri had been resting on. He struggles to get his arms out of the fairy wings, getting tangled in the two pairs for a second before finally freeing himself. He folds them carefully and sets the costume pieces on the couch. You cuddle the baby close and shift him to one arm so you can pull down the neck of your shoulder and pop one boob out of the top of your bra. Once Dimitri is comfortably latched, you head for the kitchen, needing just a little privacy because the girls are way too honest with what they see around the house. You’re not really looking for a commentary on your pancake boobs right now.

“Feeling a little more steady?” Andrei asks quietly, kissing the top of your head when you sit down on one of the counter stools. He moves around the kitchen easily, making you a turkey and cheese sandwich as you talk.

“Mhm,” you hum, watching him move. After an overwhelming few days with Andrei on the road, he’d noticed that you were short-tempered this morning and ushered you out the door, reassuring you that he would handle the kids for a few hours while you did whatever you wanted. “I needed to get out of the house without eight little hands attached to me.” You chuckle a little, but the sensation of being touched out is definitely a real thing.

“Good,” he says, licking the mustard off the butter knife when he’s done with it. You hate that habit of his - one day he’s going to slice his tongue off and then where will you both be? “You look calmer.”

You shrug a bit. “Looks like you had everything handled,” you say and it’s not even a tease, because the house has definitely looked worse when it’s just you and the kids.

Andrei sets the sandwich in front of you and you take a huge bite, starving. “I ran them around outside for a bit,” he says. “The play set got a lot of use and Alina tried to swing herself to the moon. Dimka was getting cranky out in the cold though, so we came inside, had some lunch. The girls wanted to watch a movie and Evie wanted me to paint her nails. Which turned into this,” he grins, gesturing vaguely at his face and hair with one hand.

“I really like that,” you reply, waving your free hand in front of his face in the same vague gesture. “And what’s that I heard about taking Mommy on a date, Mister Svechnikov?”

His eyes twinkle dangerously and he leans forward, palms flat on the counter, veins in his forearms bulging. The glittery makeup and hair clips really should ruin the image, but only add to his appeal. “Daddy,” his voice deepens and grows raspy, “wants to take care of Mommy and show her how much he appreciates everything she does for the family.”

Your thighs clench together instinctively, a rush of warmth filling your body. Your cheeks heat up and you chew on your lower lip. “I like the sound of that,” you whisper, casting a glance over your shoulder at the girls. They’re totally absorbed in the movie, little mouths hanging open and eyes wide and focused.

Andrei smirks at you, cradling your jaw in one hand and titling your chin up so he can lean down and kiss you. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip and your mouth falls open for him. His thumb and index finger tighten around your chin gently and you squirm in your seat, letting out a soft gasp. Dimitri stabs at your chest with those sharp baby fingernails and you yelp, pulling back. “Ow,” you grumble, squinting down at the baby. It’s not like he was getting squished in between the two of you.

“Spoilsport,” Andrei jokes, brushing the tip of his finger over the slope of the baby’s nose. Dimitri wrinkles his nose and his mouth falls off your breast with a little pop. “Whoops,” Andrei winces and you quickly shuffle around, switching him to the other boob before he can start to cry.

“Crisis averted,” you sigh at the relief of the baby eating. Your breasts already feel less achy. “So, where are we going on this date?”

Andrei helps you get your other breast back in your bra, taking an extra few seconds to fondle you, your sensitive nipples reacting to the touch of his fingers. “I thought the new Greek place downtown,” he says.

“That sounds like a fantastic plan,” you grin, already thinking of how delicious the food is going to be. A thought occurs to you. “Who’s watching the kids?”

“Marty and Nykki,” Andrei replies, a smug smile frown on your face when he sees the implication dawn on your face.

“You had this planned? Nykki didn’t say anything when I was talking to her earlier!” You laugh at the surprise. “They’re going to watch our four and their two?”

Andrei nods. “I asked them two days ago and they’re happy to chip in. Half the kids should be asleep by the time they get here anyway,” he leans in to kiss you sweetly. “I told you, solnyshka, I want to show you how much I appreciate the sacrifice you make during the season. A little planning ahead is nothing.”

“Drei,” your voice catches on emotion, “you’re the best husband. Honestly, what did I do to deserve you?”

“You’re just you,” he replies simply. “My best friend, love of my life, mother to the best kids in the world.”

“Stop it,” you cry, waving a hand at him. “I just stopped feeling like I’m going to cry at everything. Don’t be so sweet to me.”

He laughs and grabs your hand out of the air, squeezing your hand gently before kissing the tips of your fingers. “Would it help if I said I wanted to get you pregnant again soon?” His smile is cheeky and you know he’s not entirely joking.

You scoff, wiping at the last of your tears. “Yes, that does help, you lunatic neanderthal,” you deadpan.

“I’m not kidding,” he says. “I think the boys are outnumbered here, Dimka needs a brother.” He traces the tip of his index finger over the lines on your palm.

It is something you’ve wondered about, but not really discussed, whether Andrei would want to give your son a little brother. It’s not an entirely terrible thought. The Svechnikov Brothers, 2.0. Splitting time watching hockey in two different cities in another eighteen years. Following in Dad and Uncle Geno’s footsteps.

You shake your head. Nope, that has to be the baby hormones talking.

“Let’s see just how good dinner is and then we’ll talk,” you say faintly. Dimitri grumbles in your arms, done eating and ready to be burped. Andrei takes him while you fix yourself up and he knows exactly what he’s doing - displaying extreme paternal expertise and looking downright edible with the tiny baby in his arms. Damn him.

“Mommy! Alina said a bad word!”

“I did not! All I said was stupid head! That’s not a bad word! Evie’s a bad word!”

You look at Andrei with a raised eyebrow. “You want to add a fifth kid to this?”

“Why not?” He grins back, showing off his stupid dimple. “We make cute kids.”

“Alina,” you call back, shaking your head at Andrei and trying to tamp down a smile, “stupid head is not a nice word and it’s especially not nice to call your sisters stupid.”

[frenchfrywrites]

Buying a Bottle of Lube at the Convenience Store.

MINORS DNI

Warnings: amab masc top dom reader, trans sub bottom Ukai Keishin, character smokes cigarettes, unprotected sex, safe sane and consensual tho, perceived unrequited love, love confession, brief cunnilingus, Keishin is a pillow princess

Terms used for Keishin: pussy, cunt, chest, cock, tits, hole, He’s wearing a binder during a bit of the fic.

I had a dream about haikyuu characters and somehow popped this fic out within a day. Apologies if ukai is ooc, ive been in and out of the haikyuu fandom lol

The sound of the bell ringing, signifying someone has entered the store, does not make Ukai Keishin look up. He's far into his night shift, and he’s entirely preoccupied looking over a strategy sheet for Karasuno’s next game, but he manages to mumble a half-assed greeting to whoever is shopping around regardless. 

“Hello Keishin,” it’s only at the sound of your voice minutes later, suddenly so close to him, that he looks up. His lit cigarette nearly drops from his mouth, and he knows he looks like a deer caught in the headlights. He’d almost forgotten someone else was in the store with him, with how quietly you were walking around. You’re smirking, because of course you are, and it makes Keishin blush because of course it does.

He mumbles out your name as a greeting, his heart hammering in his chest. He’s annoyed that he’s this flustered just from seeing you. You’ve got him acting like a high schooler with a crush. You don’t seem bothered at all by his reaction. Instead, you set down a few items on his counter like there’s not an unbearable amount of tension between the two of you.

Keishin takes a shaky inhale of smoke from his cigarette, trying to calm his nerves and do his job like the grown ass man that he is. You wait patiently for him to collect himself, and finally he sucks in a sharp breath and blindly grabs at the first item. 

Keishin scans a few drinks and snacks, dropping them carelessly in a plastic bag for you. The last item makes his heart jump. 

Lube. 

He glaces up at you, and you’re smiling at him expectantly. He thinks this is as much of an invitation as he’ll get.

“Um,” he clears his throat, “fuck do ya need this for?” the question was supposed to come off as aloof and playful, but with the way his voice cracks, it sounds more genuine and raw than he’d ever intended. 

“Was hoping to use it on you, baby boy,” you purr. Keishin immediately feels heat explode between his legs. He chokes on his spit, and fumbles with the bottle. 

“Okay,” he squeaks, and passes the lubricant to you. Within the next few seconds, he puts out his cigarette, and goes to flip the sign on the door so that it reads “closed.” Keishin then hurries to the back room of the store, with you close on his heels. 

He has his hands on you as soon as you’re alone, clutching your shirt with his sweaty palms and hauling you forward to kiss him. Keishin can feel you smiling into the kiss, and his heart melts. He’s so in love with you it hurts. 

You lick your tongue against his lips, one of your hands holding his hip as the other holds the lube. Keishin opens his mouth, even though he’s a bit insecure about the fact that he knows he’ll taste like cigarettes. You don’t seem to mind one bit, eagerly pressing your tongue into his mouth and sucking on his tongue. 

Keishin groans, his grip on your shirt tightening, and the wetness between his legs steadily growing. He wants to feel your mouth on his pussy, and he wants your fingers- then cock- inside of him, and he doesn’t know which thing he wants more. 

You push yourself right up against him, so he can feel your hard cock press against his aching pussy, and that gives him his answer. He needs you inside of him. Now.

Keishin pulls away from you, panting heavily, “fuck me,” he demands. You tut, leaning in and biting his lower lip, Keishin yelps, “sorry, god- ouch! Please fuck me?” he tries, sucking on his now swollen lip. 

“That’s better,” you coo, pulling on the hem of his shirt. Keishin lends a helping hand, pulling off his shirt, and tossing it elsewhere. “Binder on or off?” you ask, and he tugs on your shirt while he thinks about it.

“Off,” he finally decides. You moan, and now it’s Keishin’s turn to smirk, because he loves how turned on you get from seeing his chest. 

The next couple of minutes are full of readjusting: Keishin yanks off his binder, you pull off your shirt, and the two of you maneuver to the small futon that Keishin keeps back here for your little trysts. 

With you on top of him, Keishin feels like caught prey. Your eyes scan his body hungrily, and then you dig in. 

First you kiss and suck at his neck, to which Keishin whines about, for he’ll have to cover them before practice unless he wants to answer or evade a myriad of invasive questions. 

You laugh, then move lower, burying yourself in his tits. Now Keishin whines for an entirely different reason. When you take on of his nipples into your mouth, he moans and arches his chest.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans breathlessly, holding onto your head, keeping you there. He lets you play with his chest for a bit, but it’s not enough, and only adds to the dull ache between his legs.

He groans your name, pushing your head lower, “c’mon, fuck me, please,” this time he remembers his manners. 

You make your way down his abdomen, kissing his skin tenderly as you do. It makes Keishin flush more when you’re sweet and soft with him compared to when you’re nasty and rough. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but you’ve been a lot more sweet with him these days. 

When you reach his pants, there’s some readjusting again as you get him out of them and his boxers. With the remaining fabric gone, Keishin is fully exposed to you, but the tingling sensation he feels isn’t nerves- it’s excitement. 

Your hands immediately fly to his pussy, collecting his wetness on your fingers, then rubbing at his erect clit. Keishin moans, then wails when he feels you kiss the piercing he has directly above his clit. 

“So noisy,” you muse teasingly, licking and sucking his clit into your mouth. Keishin resists the urge to sandwich your head between his thighs.

“Fuckin’ please man,” he begs as best as he can, “I’m dying, please, fill me up,” you pull off his cunt with a pop, and lick your lips.

“Noisy and needy,” you hum, going to pull off your pants. Keishin drools when you reveal your cock to him, and if he weren’t so wildly desperate, he’d demand (or beg, really) to suck you off first. You toss your pants elsewhere and grab the lube.

“Ah, should I have bought condoms too?” you ask. Keishin shakes his head, as it’s not like he’s messed around with anyone else since you entered his life, and he’s been tested.

“You clean?” he checks, sounding much too hopeful for his own liking. You smile fondly, 

“Yeah, I’m not fucking anyone but you, baby boy,” and Keishin’s heart swells.

“Well I’m on the pill, so…” he trails off, shrugging. Letting out a pleased hum, you pop open the bottle of lube. 

“I’m gonna creampie your pussy then,” you promise, coating your fingers. Keishin clenches around nothing, his lips parting at your dirty talk. 

“Yeah,” he says dumbly, because he didn’t even know he wanted that as badly as he does. “Yeahhh,” he moans next, when two of your fingers slip inside of him. Keishin yanks off his headband and closes his eyes, bathing in the sensations of your fingers stretching and fucking him open.

“You’re opening up so well for me baby,” you praise, curling and spreading your fingers. There’s an obscene squelching sound coming from his pussy from how wet he is, and how much lube you used. Keishin is panting, and then moaning when your thumb plays with his clit. The symphony of noise echos in the back room. 

“Fuck- Fuck!” he gasps when you add a third finger, “ooh ya better fuck me soon, or I’ll-”

“So noisy,” you tell him again, cutting him off, “we’re lucky no one’s in the shop,” and that image makes Keishin clench hard around your fingers. “Oh? Does my pretty baby boy want that? You want everyone to hear you begging for my cock?” He shakes his head, but lets out a long drawn out moan- effectively sending you a completely mixed message. 

“Please,” he then practically sobs, and luckily for him, you take pity on him. Or maybe you’re just as wound up as he is. 

You lather your cock in the lube, and hover over Keishin, placing your hands on either side of his head for stability. He wraps his legs around your waist, and when the tip of your dick brushes against his hole he lets out a choked moan. 

Pressing your hips forward, you easily slip inside of him. Keishin’s mouth drops open as you push yourself inside of him. 

“Oooh,” he exhales, sinking into the futon beneath him, looking entirely blissed out. You lean in, kissing his jaw when your hips meet. 

“Taking me so well,” you murmur, kissing him again. Keishin flutters around you, babbling incoherently. 

You start with a slow pace, letting him adjust to you, but Keishin’s been filling his hole with a dildo (that doesn't even begin to compare to you, but it gets the job done) every night that you’re apart, and it’s sooner than later that you can pick up the pace. 

Keishin lets out staccato moans in time with each thrust, pawing at your chest, until his hands find their way behind your back. He claws at your skin when you reangle your hips and your cock slides deeper into him.

“Ah, fuck,” he cries, clenching like a vice around you, “gonna cum.”

“Already?” you tease, slowing down. Keishin lets out a frustrated grunt, using his legs to pull you further into him,

“Yes, now please, please make me cum,” he huffs, frustration evident already. You let out a soft moan, and speed up again, per his request. Keishin sighs happily, feeling his orgasm begin to peak once again. 

“Want you,” he huffs, “want ya-ah t’cum in me, fuck me full’ve it please, wanna feel it drip-”

“Okay,” you cut him off, your thrusts becoming erratic and sloppy simultaneously. “I’m gonna cum too, god Keishin,” you whine, bringing a hand down to play with his clit. 

That’s what sends him over the edge, and how could it not? His cock twitches under your touch as he clenches and pulses around you. Keishin cries out your name, digging his nails into your back so hard that you’re sure you’ll have marks later.

You follow him soon after, pumping his womb full of your cum as you’d promised, and Keishin lets out a weak groan at the feeling. “Kei-” is all you can manage to mumble before capturing his lips as you ride out your orgasm. 

When you pull away, both of you are gasping for breath. You’re slow and gentle with pulling out, listening for any signs of pain or discomfort. You fall next to him, then fumble around for the blanket next to the futon. You cover the two of you with it, and snuggle up next to him as it always takes a bit for the two of you to recover before you can start cleaning him up. 

“Damn,” Keishin covers his blushing face with his hands, “I love you,” he whispers, too caught up in the moment to realize what he’s said.

“What?” you don’t let it slide, tugging at his arms gently, “what’d you say?” you sound excited, and that’s the only reason Keishin repeats what he’d confessed.

“Said I love you,” he avoids eye contact, blushing furiously. 

“Keishin,” you coo lovingly, hauling him into your arms, “I love you too!” 

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and returns your embrace. 

The two of you hold each other for a moment, until Keishin breaks the comfortable silence. 

“Ya have to pay me for the lube, y’know,” he mumbles sleepily. You bark out a laugh,

“Sure, I’ll give you 400 yen,” you ruffle his two toned hair, “tomorrow.”