#i usually don't tag anyone but i'll tag who's been kindly tagging me i hope that's ok <3

[magicshop]

#take me here ☹️

[gayerthanevertbh]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞. [re-upload]

pairings: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: a married woman who’s going through a divorce is linked to a broken girl who wants to incline what she truly wants. a night of fulfilling each other’s needs wouldn’t harm a thing, right?

warnings: smut (for most part), dirty talking, slight argument, and more.

author’s note: yes i re-uploaded this again, i’m so sorry it wasn’t showing up on any tags. i do hope you can reblog this and share your thoughts once you’re done reading! <3

I swore to myself that I was going to quit the job of selling myself to the people who could monopolize me. At first, it seemed to be fine in my case. I took control and would always take control, especially when I'm about to get uncomfortable in the situation. But lately, men control me instead of me. The reason for that is because of the money, how much we love it. I was kicked out of my house at a very young age, literally when I turned eighteen years old. I did my best to apply for jobs that could offer just a tiny amount of money and the more that I worked, the more that I needed the money.

Dirty whore, dirty woman.

Dirty whore, dirty woman.

Dirty whore, dirty woman.

"Y/N?" I opened the door to see Michelle looking at me with worried eyes. She touched my arm and squeezed it, affirming me if I was alright. "You've been there for too long. Did something happen?"

I shake my head, "No. I just had to take a breather."

Michelle was the first person I became friends with when I got into the community. She offered me a place to stay, well with her. I'd always tell her that it wasn't needed but Michelle would dismiss me and say that she needed a roommate anyway. We became friends since then.

She was kind and very generous. Whenever I had finished my time with a man, Michelle was there to comfort me, feed me, and take care of me. She was basically my girlfriend at some point, but I had no romantic feelings for her.

"Okay," she muttered, smiling tightly because that's all she could possibly offer. Michelle gave me the tightest hug and added, "Take care of yourself. I'll see you at home."

I stayed for a few more hours at the club, seducing men into the back so I could give them what they wanted. Wasn't that the point? In the end, I received a good amount of money and decided that I should get a piece of nice furniture for the house – since I'm living at Michelle's place. When it was around 12'oclock in the morning, I finally grabbed my bag and walked out of the building; alone.

My workplace wasn't far from the house, it usually takes fifteen minutes to get to my destination. Sometimes twenty if I was walking too slow – I guess I can say it was a little farther than I thought it would be. But, there's this shortcut that I usually don't take. It was a little too dark since there were no street lights; I was a wuss. But, feeling a little challenged, I decided to take that route and walked right.

As expected, it was shorter and I was pleased. Although it was a little frightening since it was way too dark for my liking. I could feel my legs trembling from each step I take, my throat getting a little dry up from the cold mystic air. I had my arms wrapped around myself, not knowing what to do with them. And just as I was about to leave a route, there was a black SUV that was going towards me – making me turn and squint my eyes at the person who was driving.

The window shield rolled down, and I was presented by a redhead who looked a little older than me. In fact, she looked a little tired. I smiled – kindly – at her and asked, "Is there something wrong?"

The woman replied, "Are you... Are you alone?"

Wasn't it obvious? I nodded.

She turned to her left and bit her lip, making me feel a little nervous about her action. Anyone who bites their lip makes me nervous, extremely nervous. I was about to walk away until she hollered, "Wait! I'm sorry, please come back. I just want to ask you something."

I turned again and looked at her with slight seriousness that was flashing through my eyes. She pulls the lever of her car and grips her steering wheel hard, figuring out the words she's about to say out of her mouth. It took a while, maybe a minute or two, until she asked: "Are you okay with the idea of having sex with me? I'll pay."

She was blunt, I don't know if I liked it. But, she seemed so genuine and nice about it too. Or maybe, that's how I think about everyone. They're all genuine and nice. Is this the way of her going to use me like a puppet? After all, I was a toy to doll with. I also do think it was my appearance too, my harsh makeup says it all. Looking at her deeply with such questionable eyes, I realize how utterly beautiful the woman was. She looked harmless but very intimidating. Does that make sense?

"How do I know that you won't rape me?" I asked with a shuddering breath.

"I'm not going to do that," she responded but with a softer tone, her body relaxing a bit. "That's why I'm asking. But hey, if you don't want to that's alright."

I think I have stood there for a fat minute, staring at her with blissful eyes. She was beautiful, so so beautiful. I could rant about this to Michelle for so long but, she won't possibly be anything to me by the end of the day. She's a mystery, a slick woman. I felt safe within her presence like no man was ever going to hurt me. It would hurt to say no, and I want to do it with her.

I responded with a small smile, "Okay, where will we go?"

At this point, I should feel threatened by her – especially with the choice of location. We were on a lonely road, where the forest surrounded us. It was almost pitch black, I could barely see anything except maybe the sky. She pulled the breaks and sighed, rather too deeply, and looked at me with wandering eyes. I could feel immense anxiousness, yet a great thrill. I spoke, "What do you want us to do?"

With such boldness inside of her, she responded: "I want to fuck you but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. So, if you have any questions please do ask."

I do have questions, maybe not a lot. But there's this one question that has been bugging my head. I couldn't help but rammed out, "Why didn't you go to a building instead?"

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously, her eyebrows scrunched for emphasis.

"Like," I gulped, trying not to stammer my words. "...Are you just finding people to fuck in the middle of the night? I mean, it's pretty sketched up honestly."

She had to let out a small laugh at my statement, she shakes her head and bows her head a little. She whispered, "I wasn't even planning to. But, you looked really nice. I had to take my chances."

"By fucking me?" God, I need to shut up.

"You could say that," my, she was very blunt. In fact, the bluntest person that I've ever interacted with. "But, I'm a jerk for that. We don't have to do this if you want to, we could just... talk. You see, I'm going through a divorce and I just need some relief."

Never once has a person given me an option like this. Not once. And I felt incredibly different from it. I could feel my heart thumping loudly through my eyes, my body stiffened with her presence. I was stunned, baffled, and felt admired. No man would admire me, I was used.

I wanted to have sex with her, I wanted to roar it out. God, how insatiable I was.

And did she say divorce? Oh, this was a heavily bad idea. It was going to be a rebound. But why would she care? We don't know each other, we never had a connection – or maybe I was wrong. We do have a connection. My stupidity takes over me and swerves all around my body. I hate myself for thinking like that.

"I want you to fuck me."

She turns yet again, with lifted eyebrows and a soft gasp. It's like she couldn't believe it, she was shocked as I was. Then, she responded: "Are you sure?"

I was even more sure of my own future. I wanted to feel bold as she was, I wanted that. I nodded desperately and whispered close enough for her to hear, "You can do anything you want to me."

She groaned with a stutter, biting her lower lip so hard as to contain her animalistic mind that could be bewildered any sooner. She looked deep into me, her eyes spoke with fire and intensity, I almost wanted her to unleash it. Maybe not almost, it's a very much-needed want. Without even thinking, she pulled me in with a sloppy kiss, I granted her in.

"The name's Natasha," she speaks while licking my chin all the way to my upper lip with such hunger. "You'll be screaming it when I fuck you so hard."

We were finally in the backseat, our kissing intensifies as the windows began to fog with each smack of our lips. She held the back of my waist, circling her thumb on my covered skin as my hands were all over her neck. She grunts, pushing her hips forward to feel that friction. I felt it, it was like a shock wave.

"You're so beautiful," she says with such a dreamy voice, pulling away to take a good look at me – even though I felt disgusted. "How could you be this beautiful?"

I laughed softly, but not too loud.

"I think you're just drunk."

She chuckled, burying her head into my neck, and whispered: "I'm not drunk. But with you, I could be."

Her hands made their way to my loose white shirt, pulling the hem up a bit to see a bit more of my skin. She smiled at me and then looked down, groaning at the sight. I was severely aroused, wet, and hot. I wanted her tongue everywhere, maybe her whole body. I wanted her as much as I wanted to go to Massachusetts, which was an odd thing to compare. She let go and removed her black leather jacket, dropping it on the carpeted floor, and pulled up her black shirt until I could see her abs that were on display.

"Natasha," I breathed, trying to control my eagerness. "You look beautiful."

"Not as much as you are," she responded, kissing my neck with a bit of a moan that she was holding back. I don't know if she was being serious, she probably must've said that despite the intense heat we were both having. Either way, that felt important to me. I kissed her cheek, eagerly trying to turn her so I could kiss those subtle and plump lips. She knew right away and our tongues danced together, our touching began to become rough and I started grinding up against her hips – wanting more, needing more.

"I'll pay you an extra hundred if I could um," she stutters while kissing my lips repeatedly – as if not wanting to pull away from them. "If I could dirty talk with you. I want to degrade you a little, but we won't do it if you're not comfortable–"

"I am," I whispered breathlessly onto her wet lips, and it was the truth. I was fine with the idea of her calling me the nastiest name. "Please, do anything you want with me."

She kissed my lips once more, and her hands continued to tease the sides of my ribs. I hitched my breath as I could feel her tongue drooling all over my neck. Was she this insatiable? Or was that just me being a horny person too? I was lost in her world – as I succumbed to it.

"You're going to beg for me?" she coos. I felt hot, immensely hot. I couldn't even think anymore, so I nodded. She smirks and whispers close enough to my ear, "Words, little one."

"Oh, yes! Please, I'll do anything."

Natasha chuckles and pulls my shirt away, gasping quietly as my covered breasts were on full display. It was admired for her, she liked how supple my breasts were and she began to squeeze them with both of her hands. She comments, "So beautiful."

I tried not to smile at this intense moment, but I couldn't help it. I never received that kind of a compliment in many years, even though it probably won't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything. I tried not thinking about it and continued to tease her by arching my hips repeatedly, asking her to fuck me now.

"Skip the teasing, please..." I begged, yelping softly when I could feel her teeth sinking in into my neck like a mad woman. She shakes her head, pulls herself up, and whispered lowly: "I'm paying you, remember? So be a good girl for me."

I hate men when they degrade me, I find it insanely stupid and such a turn-off. With their masculine tone and their grunt, I could cringe to the point my whole body was a spasm. But, she's different. I liked it when she degraded me. In fact, I liked everything she's doing to my body right now–

"I'm going to pull off your pants now," she says, staring at me with eyes that speak are-you-going-to-stop-me look. I nodded as I tried speaking out my words, but nothing came out. She knew that. Natasha smiled down at me and unzipped my pants, pulling it down while her eyes were basically glued to mine.

Once our clothes were off, our bodies pressed each other with such connection that I couldn't bear myself to explain. She was sweating, but not like crazy sweat. I noticed that her hair was braided, a faint blonde at the end of it. I admired her beauty, I also admired her courtesy in everything she does. I felt like I could even trust her at this point.

"Detka," she whispers with such a needing tone, biting her lower lip to hold back whatever she was having inside of her. She whispers with a husk, "I bet you're tight down there."

That could be a lie. I wasn't pure anymore, maybe she won't see me the same way again because I was like a used doll. But instead, I shook my head. Honesty is important.

"I think you're speaking metaphorically," I couldn't help but chuckle, trying not to have that awkward moment. "I'm not that... tight anymore. You can reach back out if you want to."

Instead, she smiles – as if she was adoring my little ramble. She responded with a softer tone, "I don't care about that. You're still as beautiful as ever."

Was I going to be emotionally attached to this woman? I hope not. Because, knowing myself, I knew I could depend easily on someone so quickly. Growing up with no love in my lifes could lead me to naivety until I go insane. But, I liked to experiment. I just hope I don't have attachment issues.

She spits on her two fingers and spreads them to lubricate most of their length. Then, she buries her head into my neck again and thrust her fingers inside of me, making my mouth let out a silent scream as her long fingers go deeper into my cunt with no problem.

"God you're tight," she hitches, her hips going upwards. "And warm–Ah–you're so warm, I can barely breathe."

This woman was good with her words, she knew how to use them that I almost came from them. I hold her back with both of my hands, biting my bottom lip hard and Natasha pulls out then thrusts back again with emphasis, making my head hit the car door. She pulls her head back, staring into my eyes with her hooded ones, and brutally thrusts back in and out. Each time she prods her fingers back in, I let out a moan. A whiny one to be exact. I was such a slut, especially for this woman who is clearly above me. Our hips were in sync, her tongue was all over my jaw while my other hand was placed on the fogged window – trying to hold onto something.

It felt too passionate for a one-night stand.

"I'm so wet for you baby," she whispers to me, staring into my wet eyes as she changes the pace a bit. This time, she was curling her fingers to hit that spot that was untouched for many years. "I'm going to make you cum first, then you make me cum too. Okay?"

I nodded, panting as her fingers pounded into me, hard.

"Words."

It sounded like a demand, hell I loved it. So I spoke with a loud scream, "Hmph—yes! Oh yes... god fuck me, please–harder, go harder!"

Natasha groans at the sight of me and responds with a lower tone in her voice: "Oh god, please tell me you're about to cum. You're clenching around me... poor baby."

That nickname made me explode like a nuke. I arched my back in pain as my eyes shut with pleasure, my whole body began to tremble as I clenched hard around her fingers, mewling and screaming while my orgasm took over me. I could see the white stars at the back of my eyes, I felt like I was in oblivion.

She holds me close, watching me while I climax around her fingers. Natasha was in love with the sight she was seeing, she took it in. This is something she could never forget, a beautiful woman like me is something she could never ever forget. For some reason, she felt a spark from the alluring sight. It compelled her until she realized that it was probably wrong to feel that way. But, she merely couldn't help it.

I flopped against the car cushions and panted, my chest endlessly sweating from my orgasm. I opened my eyes and saw her staring back at me with such lovely eyes that I've never seen. I couldn't tell if she was admiring me, I was too fucked up to speak. I whispered, "Do you want me to eat you out?"

But Natasha never stopped staring at me, it was like she was fond of my presence. This whole sex arrangement only started almost an hour ago, and she could feel herself being attached. How incredibly dull was she? So dull.

"Maybe some other time," she responded with her dreamy voice, smiling down at me toothlessly. "I'm going to pay you now."

Natasha insisted on taking me home and turning her down for the tenth time, I agreed. It wasn't a long ride home, we were sitting with faded music that was playing on the radio. Although, I enjoyed the quiet company that was given. Natasha was humming throughout the song, and I found her voice very pleasing. I began to feel jealous that I couldn't sing, but I didn't care most of the time. I just liked the way she hums through the song, it was like a lullaby.

When we finally arrived, Natasha pulled out a five-hundred-dollar bill and grabbed my hand – placing the money as my eyes widened from the amount. I stammered, "Natasha, you can't be serious. This is too much–"

"Please," she gulps, smiling again at me. "...Take it. You deserve every bit of it, I must say you were very lovely tonight."

I shake my head, "No. At least three-hundred I would be fine–"

"Detka, please take it. Okay? You did such a great job tonight."

We fell into this broad silence – but not awkwardly – and stared at each other. I could sense that she was blushing as her cheeks were on display from it. I think I was blushing too, I've never blushed in so long. How could I not? No one has made me feel this way for years, it feels surreal in all honesty.

"You're beautiful," she says shyly as she tries to hide her mouth with the heel of her palm. "Like insanely beautiful."

I could feel my lips trembling from such a compliment she gives and responded with a whisper, "Thank you, Natasha. You're beautiful too."

It truly did mean a lot to me. A beautiful woman complimenting me is something I could never cope with. I felt dry as I called her beautiful, I almost began to cover my face with such embarrassment. But, her smile widens until I can see her teeth and look away from me – her cheeks are blushing intensely.

"You're killing me here, go home sweetheart. It's very late."

When she drove away, I stood by the sidewalk, feeling my heart beat so fast that I couldn't manage to breathe. I never thought having a small encounter like that could lead me into feeling like an important person. But, my heart suddenly drops as I never asked for her number. I only knew her name though, it was Natasha. But there could be so many Natashas in this city, I could never find her again.

I might never find her again.

Throughout my night, I just accepted its fate. I will never see her again, but I could only relive my night with her as it felt very surreal and important to me; like it was my fifteenth birthday. I wanted to be in that scenario again, so desperately. But sometimes fate doesn't want you there.

                                                  —

Natasha grabbed a bottle of wine that was left inside the fridge, opened the lid, and poured herself a full glass. When she walks into the cold living room, she sees her wife that has been sitting there for god knows how long. The Russian gulped, smiling at her wife kindly, and asked: "It's late, why are you still up?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," she stands up, walking toward her wife and crossing her arms so that her breasts prodded out. "Where have you been?"

"Work," Natasha lied, taking a mouthful of red wine from her glass. "Why? Something happened?"

"Yeah," Wanda sighs, pinching her nose bridge as she lets out a breathless chuckle, feeling it tremble a little. "Yeah um, I don't want to move out."

"Wanda–"

"You said you want things to work out," Wanda cuts her off with a thick accent that she still adapto for many years. "Aren't we working things out?"

Natasha just sighs and shakes her head defeatedly.

"I don't know," Natasha answered, which was the truth. Shew really doesn't know. "All I can say is I don't want to be married to you anymore. Okay?"

"Hypocrite," the brunette scoffs and turns away from her wife, lifting her hands in the air exasperatedly. "Just ridiculous, you fucked me the other night and now you're telling me you don't want to be in this marriage."

"I was drunk!" Natasha reasoned and took a few steps at her wife, who's soon to be her ex-wife. "You know I don't love you anymore. You know that!"

Wanda turns, her tears are evident in her eyes, that Natasha's heart almost crumbles – but enough not to. She whispers with a fit of sheer anger, "You don't love me anymore when I accidentally slept with Vision."

"Exactly!" Natasha responded with a louder tone, full of dominance. She clasped her hands together and laughed sarcastically, feeling a little insane. "Exactly, Wanda. There you go, that's why I don't love you anymore."

"That's just bullshit."

To her excuse, everything was bullshit.

taglist: @trashbod @sayah13 @mrsromanoff​ @korekiyoss​ 

[agonizedembrace]

SHIPPING INFO // ANSWER THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR MUSE SO PEOPLE KNOW HOW SHIPPING WORKS ON YOUR BLOG.

WHAT IS YOUR OTP FOR YOUR CHARACTER?

At this point I probably don't even need to say it because I keep it posted all over my blog but -- Akalynn.

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?

I'm pointing at my old as dust demon cutely like... age doesn't exactly affect Eve as much. With that said I do not, and will not ship her with any muses underage.

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY ARE CONSIDERED NSFW?

Hmm... I'm kinda shy in writing nsfw in general (despite Eve's character), so I generally try to read more things pretty early on. Generally once things begin getting pretty hands on and clothes are often discarded are when I call them nsfw.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?

I would say I likely am. While I'll often write one off things in asks/etc I don't usually plot/reach out that often when it comes to shipping? I wouldn't say that I'm picky, per say -- or I hope I'm not too bad with it dsdhfdksjf.

WHO ARE OTHER CHARACTERS YOU SHIP YOUR CHARACTER WITH?

Hmmm, in base/other general verses? Ahri definitely. I like shipping with Kai'sa in KDA/Music verse, but other than that I find Eve can generally be a difficult person to actually ship with. More often than not she doesn't care sadly, and you have to pique her interest for her to not simply m*rder you

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?

Kind of? Usually it just happens because we're already just talking about the ship in general. I can be open to the idea, but I might find it difficult at times to match the energy? Again Eve can be hard to develop in that angle.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?

I am looking back to the first question -- BUT other than them I do really enjoy Xayah/Rakan, Jinx/Lux, any of the KDA ships (sans Seraphine she's like.. a figurative daughter), and dash has made me fond to a lot of ships as well (looking at you qiqidray and kat/darius).

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?

You grab me by the neck like a squeaky toy. A JOKE BUT -- I likely won't reach out first, even if I really vibe with things, due to being too shy and not wanting to pressure anyone else into it. So approach gently and kindly...? I guess dsfhdskj

tagged by: no one i stole it 😇 tagging: @kalijhomentethi @voidhunting @witchcraftandburialdirt and you! (because I don't know who hasn't been tagged yet)

[kingdaddydaichi]

I posted 1,020 times in 2022

That's 409 more posts than 2021!

331 posts created (32%)

689 posts reblogged (68%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@kingdaddydaichi

@yuujispinkhair

@victoriacapo

@chaoskrakenuwu

@mxgenderbender

I tagged 946 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#katsuki my king 👑 - 198 posts

#haikyuu - 82 posts

#precious moots - 78 posts

#king dom daddy daichi 👑 - 75 posts

#daddy daichi - 74 posts

#hq - 73 posts

#kel speaks - 64 posts

#yuuji my cupcake 🧁 - 64 posts

#katsuki bakugou - 63 posts

#daichi - 62 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#remind me to call him next time i buy a whole ass watermelon so i can watch him smash it into bite size pieces before feeding it to me 🤤

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Dynamight came crashing through the ER doors with a scowl on his face. The nurses at the front desk sat back in their chairs when his fiery eyes fixated on them.

"Where is she?" he demanded loudly. "Fucking speak!"

"W-who, sir?"

He rolled his eyes and slammed his fist down on the desk, splintering the wood beneath. "(F/n L/n), dumbass! Ain't many other people I'd fucking be here for!"

Moments later, Katsuki was lumbering through the pulmonary ward of the hospital, his shoulders flexing as his gauntlets swung at his sides, gritting his teeth and growling at anyone who stood between him and the door of your hospital room.

One nurse started to ask for his identification until another nurse put their hand on her shoulder and shook their head no.

He'd talked the talk and walked the walk but when he turned the door handle to enter your room, he did so with such a careful, fluid motion so as not to wake you if you were sleeping.

He held onto the door as it closed behind him, letting it latch with a quiet click before turning it loose. He took one graceful stride after another, his heavy boots hitting the tiled floor like feathers as he moved in closer to your motionless body.

Katsuki Bakugou was a hard man, tough as nails and always ready to take on whatever threat or villain or challenge life could possibly throw at him head first. What he wasn't prepared for was some nameless, faceless enemy that had taken up residence in your body. Probably tiny - microscopic, even - and hiding in places he could never see. He felt helpless. Powerless.

He gingerly removed the gauntlet from his right arm and delicately set it down on the floor beside his feet, his scarlet eyes never leaving your form in the process.

He could hear your labored breaths even as he remembered his promise to himself going into this: that he wouldn't fucking cry. But he stood corrected, one tear...then another falling onto the clean, white sheet next to the tube that had been medically inserted into your lung to keep it inflated.

He took your limp hand into his - hard, rough, calloused, and shaking - and kissed your forehead. "I don't know what the fuck this is, baby, but once I find out I'm gonna kick it in it's tiny, shitty balls and make it wish it never found you."

for @xviternity You've made so much art for me...now it's my turn. 🧡🖤🧡. I hope you feel better soon! 🥹

847 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

#4

⇢ title: dangerous

⇢ pairing: k. bakugou x f!reader

⇢ wc: 1k

⇢ warnings/notes: nsfw, mdni, katsuki is aged up 27+

See the full post

1,140 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

#3

1000th Post Special!

Back by popular demand...

Dad/Dilf!Katsuki Bakugou Headcanons

₰ pairing: Dad!Dilf!Katsuki Bakugou x f!Reader

₰ wc: fuck, idek

₰ cw/an: my 1000th post (yay)!, katsuki is aged up (as per usual), dad/sfw section first, dilf/nsfw section last, mdni, tbh i'm so fucking exhausted rn so kindly let me know if you see something that i should include here and i'll be happy to do so, hold onto your ovaries my fellow bakuhoes!

See the full post

2,363 notes - Posted July 18, 2022

#2

Katsuki Bakugou not giving a fuck about you while he drives away from your place.

You'd yelled at him to leave, tears streaming down your face, angry that he had led you on only for him to act like he felt nothing for you.

He thought about how little he cared about your smile. How few shits he gave about all the times you'd run your fingers through his thick, unruly blond hair. He rolled his amber eyes at the idea that his heart especially ached on the nights and days you didn't spend together. The great explosion user gripped the steering wheel harder, the leather protesting and smoking underneath his sparking death grip.

You'd cried and told him that he was too scared to be loved. He had scoffed and told you he wasn't scared of shit.

But now he was scared shitless.

Scared that he might lose you forever.

He white-knuckled the steering wheel, strategically yanking it around while pulling on the hand brake before speeding off in the direction from whence he'd come.

He didn't give a single fuck that he scraped the front scoop of his expensive Audi R8 pulling back into your driveway.

His voice came through louder than the banging on your front door. "Oi! (Y/n)! Come open the damn door!"

You approached the door slowly, hugging yourself. If he forgot something, couldn't he at least have the sensitivity to wait another day to come back for it?

Not yet knowing that, no, it couldn't wait. He could never forget you.

2,481 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

º Notes: fluff, angst, sfw

You rolled your eyes, opened your front door, and sighed. "What is it, Bakugou?"

"Wow. So we’re not even on a first name basis anymore?"

You crossed your arms and tapped your foot. “You’ve got about 5 seconds to tell me what it is you’re here for then I’m closing this door.”

Hurt flashed across his features before his game face returned. “Come on, quit acting like you don’t care anymore. I know you still love m- hey!”

You’d started to shut the door in his face, but he stopped it with the toe of his boot, his ash blond bangs obscuring his eyes. “I miss you, damn it," he grumbled. "Need to talk to you.”

You kept one hand on the open door and propped the other on your jutted hip. “Too bad, I don’t wanna talk to you anymore.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, Bakugou, I do. Now just-“ The edges of your eyes burned with the threat of tears. You fought the urge to throw yourself into his arms, which would be a hell of a lot easier if he wasn’t standing right in front of you. He smelled so good. His scent had all but worn off of your sheets and pillows. “Just go.”

“We can get through this, (Y/n). We've fought and won tougher battles than this together.”

“Stop.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Yes, it does. I can’t do this anymore, Katsuki, please.” Your bottom lip quivered.

“Hey…” He reached for you, but you pulled away.

“No, Katsuki. I don't wanna fight with you anymore! I can’t handle-" Your voice cracked as the first tears fell. "All I’ve ever wanted to do is just love you, but it feels like that’s never been enough for you!”

“(Y/n)…” He reached for you again and this time you let him pull you into him. You really were too tired to fight with your lover anymore, and he felt like home. "It's more than enough, babe. It's the only thing I need. Always has been." He held your sobbing form in his arms.

Your weak fist landed against his hard chest. "I'm so mad at you, but I love you so fucking much and I hate you for it, Katsuki," you whined.

He pressed his lips into your hair. "That's okay, you can hate me...as long as you never stop loving me."

"I'm fucking serious!"

He pulled back to look at you. "What? You think I'm not? Hah? You're my entire fucking world, (Y/n)! If you leave my life, I swear to god I'll blow up a star and create a new world with you in it just so I can be with you again."

You sniffed. "Katsuki..."

He put his hand in your hair. "Baby, I start shit with you because I love you."

You hid your wet face against his arm and chuckled. "That doesn't even make sense."

"I know, but it's fucking true. I just don't know how else to express how passionate I am with you sometimes. I'm an idiot, alright? Ya happy now?"

"No."

The up-and-coming pro hero squeezed you tight. "When's the last time you ate? I can feel your fucking ribs."

Your voice was muffled by the material of his shirt, now damp with your tears. "Yesterday."

He kissed your forehead. "Come on, let me make you something to eat."

He felt skinnier too. "When's the last time you ate?" you said, sniffling and looking up at him with red, puffy eyes.

"Tuesday", he mumbled. Today was Thursday.

See the full post

2,996 notes - Posted May 24, 2022

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[dreaminginvelaris]

A Response to a Feyre Anti

I made a post recently explaining the dread of having to watch Feyre be abused by her sisters and father, in the Tv adaption. And a Feyre anti made a response, to something that should not be criticized at all considering what I said was just the truth? Feyre was abused. Not only that but they went on and completely twisted the narrative to fit their own ideas and in the process made Feyre out to be cruel and Nesta a saint. complete bull.

I will not be tagging the anti bc they have me blocked (shocker), but also I do not want anyone to go after them, if you come across the post, I don't want it to be through me. it's as much respect I can give to them.

I usually do not respond to those who have something to say with a post of mine or are blatantly talking about me on their blog, unless they're just spreading absolute lies about me or what i "said", it's usually a waste of time to do so. but this post attacked Feyre with outrageous lies and a complete backward interpretation of what actually happened in acotar, so as respectful as I can be, I will be analyzing the anti-response and what truly happened in acotar.

"the audience will only see two sisters fighting-not abuse" "it’s not Nesta you need to worry about. It’s audiences calling Feyre a big dumbass and a bitch" -from anti

if the audience has basic human compassion and empathy for humans IRL or fictional, they will see what's obvious from the start. Feyres abuse. how is it going to look, when they see Feyre walking through the woods, shaking from the cold, starving from hunger, and struggling to find food for her family? only to later see Nesta's treatment of Feyre?"

in the anti's post, they said Feyre was just as "heinous" to Nesta.

is Feyre the one calling Nesta a pig? a smelly pig? ordering her to take her clothes off?

no, it's not, it's dear Nesta. the text goes as "I took my time, swallowing the words I wanted to bark at her" oh yes... how cruel of Feyre. how heinous of Feyre to...stay quiet... at the verbal abuse.

in the same image we see Feyre ask Nesta to do something (kindly might I add) and then inquire why she didn't chop wood like she needs to.

what does Nesta do? acts like a brat and insults Feyre...once again.

considering I'm going off by the story and not the actual screenplay, and assuming they stay true to the story; will the audience not be disgusted by Nesta's behavior? I mean they just saw Feyre struggle to find food and they expect Feyre to go home to a family happy and appreciative of Feyre but instead, they get this familial abuse.

the anti said Feyre basically tells Nesta this:

"If you keep bitching at everyone like this no one will want to be around you or you can’t marry this guy because you’re a waste of space to me"

but what do we see?

"Believe me... the day you want to marry someone worthy, I'll march up to his house and hand you over. But you're not going to marry Tomas."

the word worthy, did that not catch your eye? Feyre said Nesta will have to marry someone worthy, someone, who will treat Nesta kindly and give her the life Feyre thinks her sisters deserve. bc Feyre does think that IDK why anti feyres think Feyre despised Nesta so much, Feyre loved her sisters.

what the anti fails to realize here is that Nesta marrying Tomas would have been actually pretty great for Feyre. in the sense that, Feyre would no longer carry the burden of her sister. Feyre would not have to worry about feeding one more mouth. or worrying about Nesta's constant stealing of Feyre's money. Feyre does not think Nesta is a "waste of space" to her, if she did, it would have been easy for Feyre to discard Nesta, and allow her to marry Tomas. the anti has that twisted.

but that is not even the worst part of the scene. did you see the shameless slut-shaming that came out of Nesta's mouth? how will the audience take to that? do you think most of the younger generation will take it lightly to see a sister slut-shame a sister? a woman putting down another woman? in this social climate? where the feminism movement is alive and flourishing. will they be okay with it? will they still blame Feyre and be mad at her the way the anti says they will be? I hope not otherwise I'm losing faith in humanity.

Lovely words Nesta spews at Feyre. I admit Feyre should have told her then and there that Tomas is abusive. but let's think: Feyre is 19 years old, the youngest, has never had any raising by a parental figure, has been neglected by her whole family, where would Feyre learn to calmly talk to an overgrown brat like Nesta? Feyre telling Nesta who Tomas truly is the duty of a parent, not a sister. I will not condemn Feyre for not knowing that was the perfect time to tell Nesta who Tomas is. especially when Feyre is being tormented and verbally/emotionally abused, its kinda hard to think about something else while you're being told all these horrible words. to us its easy to see where Feyre went wrong but unless you're in the exact position Feyre was in. no one has any room to talk. and even then, every person is different in situations like these.

this part was me analyzing the interactions between Feyre and Nesta since anti had reasons to believe Feyre was just as bad to Nesta and that the audience would see that and hate Feyre. I am now going to respond to the second part of the Feyre Anti's response.

"How will an audience of non-fans react to her not reaching out to her family to tell them she was okay after the reconciliation between her and Nesta? Or not inviting them to the wedding?"- from anti

moving onto acomaf now.

Idk maybe the audience will see Feyre, a depressed, lonely, individual in an abusive relationship while being manipulated by other individuals she called friends, and understand and empathize with her. all throughout the beginning and half of acomaf, Feyre is in critical depression. she wholeheartedly believes she should not be alive. that she is not worthy. she doesn't eat, all she does is sleep, self-care is not important to her or others so why would letting a family know she's okay, a family who BARELY ever cared about her, be a priority? it doesn't seem like Nesta or elain or her father was really fazed by Feyre's lack of communication. her father left on a trip, elain got engaged and Nesta, well we didn't see a tearful welcoming to Feyre on Nesta's part did we?

anti, where is the outcry of her "family" not even really caring if Feyre was safe or not, of what happened to her? it's not like they thought she had died, otherwise, where was the mourning or funeral? no, they just didn't care.

see this is where I know when anti is just full of bullshit. why, WHY, would Feyre invite her family to wedding full of fae? the creatures elain and Nesta fear and hate? for all the talk many anti's spew about Feyre being inconsiderate to Nesta, to her family, you would think Feyre maybe just knows a fae wedding would be the last thing they would want? even then, does Feyre owe them an invitation to her wedding? does she owe them an update on her life? nope. Feyre owed them nothing.

"How about her shit-talking Nesta to a bunch of strangers then having the audacity to ask her to get involved in a war. Oh! This is after she comes into her house and insults their hospitality." - from anti

I hardly think Feyre confiding in individuals who she learned to care about and laying out all the trauma Feyre endured with her family is "shit-talking" but for argument's sake, let's say it is. I still don't see what's wrong? after years of pent-up anger and hurt, would you not let go of everything you withheld inside and explain what was done to you? how you felt? Feyre telling the IC her life story, which contains Nesta's abuse and her family's neglect, was a form of therapy for Feyre. I never read a line where Feyre calls Nesta a "cold-hearted bitch" or called elain "a lazy ditz" she just said the truth. no added embellishments. Cassian was the one who shit-talked Nesta during the dinner scene, never Feyre.

I still don't understand why antis are so against Feyre asking her sisters for help? like the war didn't involve them? they're humans, and you know what the war was about? Hybern wanting to take control of the human lands like they once did and turn them into slaves. those humans included Nesta and elain.

"They could have left the continent" correct, except elain was engaged and refused to leave Grayson. which meant Nesta refused to leave elain. but even so, isn't it the duty of humans to band together and work to overthrow a race of people who want to torture and keep them as slaves? the queens certainly weren't doing their jobs. Feyre asked to use "their" house to meet the queens bc where else would they do it? the queens trust the fae less than Nesta or elain did. but even so, Feyre asking to use their house was a courtesy, that house is rightfully Feyre's. she is the one who sacrificed herself to leave with Tamlin. she did it bravely, courageously, and they got that house thanks to her. they owed Feyre everything. and the only one who acknowledged that was Elain.

that war involved elain and Nesta whether they or Feyre or the anti's liked it or not. not even considering that Nesta and elain are Feyre Archerons sisters, yeah, their family name alone puts a target on their back.

How did Feyre or the court insult Elain's and Nesta's hospitality? You mean when Feyre realized human food differed from fae food? something she did not know about bc she's barely been turned to fae and only had eaten fae dishes? Feyre's grimace towards the human food was an involuntary reaction to someone who is still learning their new body. or was it when Cassian called out Nesta for her cold treatment towards Feyre? if that's the case then fuck decency, I would call out a fake bitch in my presence from minute one. you cant call what Nesta did "hospitality" when all she did was insult Feyre when she didn't even care that Feyre had died, or lost her love bc of abuse, or that her body was changed against her will.

hospitality: the friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.

did y'all read something different bc this for sure was nothing Nesta gave to her guests?

----

the rest of the anti post moves towards Rhysand and his actions UTM which I won't go into because I'm mainly just addressing the false interpretations this anti had to say about Feyre and her family.

I'm not sure how to sign off now lol, but I guess just that I hope this was enough to show how this anti's arguments were completely ludicrous and have absolutely no compassion for Feyre, and instead all the compassion for Feyre's abusers. This anti had a real spin on what the actual story was, and I hope the evidence I provided was enough to show that. Anyways yeah my brain is fried, and I'm done arguing with Feyre anti's for a while now, I need to go praise my queen Feyre so I can receive some semblance of peace.

anyways, stan Feyre for clear skin xx

[ryangosking]

Deserve

Summary: You broach a tricky subject with Bucky. Recovering / soft Bucky x female reader. Angst / fluff / smut.

Warnings: 18+ for sexual content. Unprotected sex. Language.

A.N: I kept meaning to write for Steve but this happened. I usually write for Boyd Holbrook characters on my sideblog - Masterlist.

I didn’t tag anybody but let me know if you’d like to be, possibly a part 2 or a prequel to this. I’d like to thank @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook​ for her constructive feedback! It’s my first time writing for Bucky so please be kind!

Your heart skips a beat when you see Bucky waiting outside your office building, holding a bunch of flowers no less. He's awkwardly leaning against a wall, eyes darting around searching for you.

"You shouldn't have." You smile as you approach him.

"I was just passing." He murmurs, cheeks flushing as you kiss him.

"Passing a flower stall too?" You ask, accepting the blooms.

"Yeah, I guess so." He smiles.

"Mr Barnes, sorry to bother you." A voice pipes up. You turn and vaguely recognise the guy, you've seen him in the office building. What does he want with Bucky though?

Bucky eyes him warily. "Do I know you?"

"Oh no, I'm uh....I'm a big fan." the guy stammers, starting to sweat.

"So you're a fan of my work as the Winter Soldier or...”

"No no, I mean since then. Saving the world and everything."

"Sure, thanks." Bucky sighs.

You kind of feel for the guy, Bucky wasn't exactly known for accepting compliments, you know that better than anyone.

"Hey, can I get a selfie?" the guy asks, pulling out his phone.

"He's off duty, sorry." You say diplomatically, taking Bucky’s arm. "Let's get going."

"I'll never get used to that, " Bucky mumbles, as you steer him away from his fan. "I spent so much effort trying to hide and now..." He trails off.

"You saved the world, that's what people know you for now." You say, determined to put a positive spin on things.

"It wasn't just me." He says, as you cross the street. He moves his arm and grabs your hand instead, squeezing lightly. He's wearing gloves as is usual in public, concealing his gleaming hand in black leather.

You fall into a companionable silence as you head in the direction of your apartment. You can't help noticing that you're taking the route that happens to pass Bucky's favourite diner - where you first met in fact, a little over four months ago.

"Feel like coffee and pie?" He asks casually.

You grin at his predictability. "Sure."

Your flowers sit on the table in a kindly donated water jug as you and Bucky tuck into pie and ice cream, apple and cherry respectively.

"This...is...the...best...pie." Bucky says between mouthfuls.

"I knew you were going to say that." You tease.

He smiles, his eyes twinkling and crinkling at the corners. Oh, he seems so happy and relaxed, you impulsively decide to broach a tricky subject, figuring now to be a good a time as any.

"So, you know my sister's getting married in a couple of weeks." You begin, glancing at him as you toy with your food.

Bucky's eyes flicker and he fills his mouth with pie. "Hm-hmm." He mumbles.

You take a deep breath. "Well, I was wondering if you'd consider coming with me, as my plus one?"

He pales a little and offers a tentative smile. "I don't know sweetheart."

"Clare wants to meet you, that's all. You don't even have to stay for the full day, just to say hello."

"Sounds more like a family thing." Bucky says tightly, shifting in his seat.

"Well yeah," you swallow, feeling yourself flush. "But you are my....I mean..."

He sighs. "I don't think it's a good idea, you saw what happened outside your office. Imagine that times a hundred."

"Everyone will be focused on the wedding, my family won't bug you, I promise. They aren’t like that.”

Bucky scoffs. “You might be surprised how brave people get after a couple glasses of champagne.”

You sigh impatiently, feeling something inside you break. "What are we doing here Bucky?"

"I thought we were eating pie." He half-smiles.

"You know what I mean. Us." You hated to push him like this, you really did, and you already knew that he wouldn’t react favourably to it, but your developing relationship had seemed to come to a standstill lately.

"We agreed to take things slowly, didn’t we? One day at a time." He says quietly, reaching for your hand.

"But that was four months ago, I thought that we might have progressed beyond that by now. It's like one step forward two steps back with you." You say, your voice cracking with emotion.

"You're not my shrink, ok?" He snaps suddenly.

You slide your hand away from his and reach for your bag, tears forming in your eyes.

"I'm going home." You say softly..

"Don't go, please. I'm sorry." He says, looking up at you, a note of quiet desperation in his voice.

"Enjoy your pie." You sniff, not looking at him. You’re halfway home before you realise that you've left the flowers on the table.

X - X - X

By the time you get home you're angry with yourself more than anything else, cursing the fact that you even mentioned the wedding. You had agreed to take things slowly, but the truth is that you’re falling for Bucky and you want him to be a bigger part of your life. The wedding seemed like the ideal opportunity to introduce him to your friends and family, but on reflection, you realise how overwhelming it might be.

Half an hour later when there's a knock at the door, you know that it's Bucky. He's carrying the flowers, still in the water jug.

"The waitress said we could have this, I think she just felt sorry for me." He chuckles dryly, following you into the living room.

You can’t help but smile at the image of him walking down the street with the flowers.

"I'm sorry." You murmur, setting the flowers on your coffee table.

"Why are you sorry? I was a jerk back there." Bucky frowns.

"I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

"You weren't pushing." He sighs.

"I spooked you.” You say softly, looking up at him.

"Yeah." He smiles. "A little. Look, I’m still trying to figure this out."

"I know. Me too. I've never been in a relationship like this."

"I should hope not." He says wryly.

You chuckle, fighting the urge to just throw youself into his arms.

"I like you, so much." Bucky murmurs, his eyes searching yours as he strokes your face. "But I can't help thinking that you'd be better off with someone else."

Your stomach drops. "No, Bucky-”

"I mean like someone who doesn't get spooked when you want to do regular relationship stuff, it's not fair on you." He says, brow furrowed.

"Look, forget the wedding, I'll ask one of my friends to come."

"It's not just the wedding though is it?" He sighs.

“I don’t want anybody else.” You state firmly, placing your hand on his chest - you can feel his ever present dog tags through the thin material of his sweater.

"You've been so patient with me, it's more than I deserve."

"This is what you deserve." You say, and kiss him gently on the cheek. "And this." then corner of his mouth. "And this." finally the hollow of his throat.

He lets out a soft groan and grips the nape of your neck, kissing you deeply, opening your mouth with his tongue. He tastes of cherry and vanilla, his lips soft but insistent.

"I want you." He breathes. "I want you."

Without a word, you take his hand and lead him to the bedroom. Bucky was so gentle and hesitant when you first started sleeping together, terrified of hurting you with his strength and self-conscious of his arm. You managed to convince him that you could take - even sometimes desired - a little roughness. He loved to take his time undressing you, kissing and touching your soft flesh as he went. And when you reciprocated, he'd been touch starved for so long that the feeling of your hands and lips on him was almost enough.

Tonight he didn't deviate, pulling off your clothes and kissing you everywhere as you laid on the bed. He hovers over you, still half dressed, and you stroke his hair, fingers entwined in the short strands as his lips travel down your body, making you squirm. Finally he kneels between your legs and tugs at your panties, eyes dark with lust.

"James." You sigh, touching yourself, wetness coating your fingertips.

"You're so beautiful." He says gruffly, eyes focused on you as he removes his jeans. You'd seen him naked a number of times now but you never failed to be impressed by his magnificence, even his cock, now hard and leaking at the tip, is a thing of beauty.

You hold your hand out for him to return to the bed but his hands reach for your waist, indicating for you to turn over; you comply and he moves behind you, lifting your hips and pushing into you in one swift movement. You cry out as he fills and stretches your pussy, digging your fingers into the mattress as you back up against him.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" He growls.

"Yes, please...don't stop." You mewl, as he buries his cock to the hilt.

Bucky’s flesh hand is between your legs, fingering your aching clit, while his metal one still grips your hip. You place your hand over his, interlacing your fingers with his vibranium digits.

The rhythmic clink of Bucky's dog tags and the sound of your soft cries fill the air, he continues to work your clit in tight circles as he moves inside you, leaning down to pepper kisses on your shoulder - it isn't long before you feel the familiar tightness building at your core.

"Oh, Bucky, I'm going to-" you trail off as he drives into you harder, making you come apart and you moan loudly as your orgasm rolls through you in hot waves.

Compared to you, Bucky's almost silent, quietly panting and groaning, his hold on you tightening as you feel him throbbing into you.

Afterwards he spoons you, his bionic arm around your waist like a vice, kissing your hair.

"Look, about the wedding-" He starts.

"We don't have to talk about it now." You yawn. “Let’s leave it until tomorrow. One day at a time.”

“One day at a time.” Bucky repeats, softly.

[spicycreativity]

Howl - Ch 2

Chapter: 2/10

Add'l Notes: As usual, fic is like 6 chapters ahead on my AO3, WizardGlick

Chapter Content Warnings: N/A, ask to tag

Trying a new thing where I force you to read the first paragraph by not including it under the cut 😇

--

Virgil slept soundly and woke up unharmed in his bed. The relative cold of the morning air bit into his face, the only part of him that wasn't buried under his duvet. Still laying down, he wriggled into his hoodie and got up to make coffee. He mentally checked himself over while he waited for it to brew, staring blankly at the French press with stinging eyes. Damn, he must not have gotten all his vampire makeup off. Ah, well. His own absentmindedness was not a curse. Maybe he had escaped unscathed. Nothing hurt, save a normal soreness in his legs from standing around watching the Halloween parade, and a quick look in one of the many ornate mirrors decorating his walls revealed nothing abnormal with his face (well, except for the smudgy remnants of last night's eyeliner).

Despite this reassuring examination, he still spent the morning jumping at shadows. He rode his moped extra slowly and took time adjusting the straps of his helmet to make sure it fit perfectly. He examined the hanging sign ("Mystick Earth: ephemera for all ages") outside his workplace to make sure it wouldn't fall and kill him. He even took high steps on his way to the register to make sure he wouldn't trip over anything unseen.

But nothing bad happened.

In fact, nothing much happened at all until just past noon, when the brass bells on the door jangled and Logan stepped in, wafting the smell of warm bread and something sweet in with him.

Virgil didn't even realize he was smiling until his cheeks began to ache. "Hi," he said.

"Hello, Virgil." Logan wasn't looking at him; he was focusing on the paper bag hooked around one wrist and the drink carrier balanced in his other arm. "Forgive me for not asking first, but I wanted to surprise you."

"Here, you can set that on the counter." Virgil already knew what Logan had brought: banh mi, pho, and bubble tea from Sunrise, Virgil's favorite café.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Virgil pressed his hands on the counter and levered himself up to give Logan a kiss. He had always known that Logan was courteous and sweet under that somewhat stiff exterior; this wasn't even the first time he had done something kind for Virgil out of nowhere. But Virgil never could get used to being doted on. "Thank you, Logan."

Logan dropped his gaze, one hand coming up to fidget with his tie. "You're quite welcome."

The bells chimed again. Virgil looked up and caught sight of Roman, who had frozen in place. Catching Virgil's gaze, he straightened as though offended. "Well," he said, "I just came by to make sure Count Virgila survived the night, but it looks as though Casanova here beat me to the punch."

Logan turned. "Roman. I hope you've already eaten, because I only brought enough food for two people."

"I can take a hint," Roman said. Virgil raised his eyebrows at him expectantly, but Roman only raised his own eyebrows back, strode over to the counter, and stole a sip of Virgil's milk tea.

"I thought you said you could take a hint," Virgil said.

"I can," Roman said, "but I'm choosing not to."

Logan sighed through his nose and passed Virgil his sandwich. "I see no need to insist upon politeness if Roman is not going to return the favor."

Roman bumped Logan with his hip. "Really, I just came by to make sure Virgil's okay "

The bells jangled. Virgil looked up again, half-surprised and half-annoyed to see Janus, clad in the extravagant tailcoat he had to wear for work, pretending rather transparently to examine the display of tarot card-themed posters by the door. "Hi, Janus," he said, making no effort to hide his annoyance. Maybe this was the curse, to never get any alone time with Logan.

"Let me guess," said Roman, "you're here to check on Virgil."

"Of course not," Janus said, now pawing through the discount t-shirt display. Ugh, Virgil had just finished re-folding those. "Virgil's a big boy; he knows how to handle himself."

"Oh, yeah?" Virgil raised an eyebrow. "For all the money in the register, tell me what you came to buy and what you plan to use it for."

For the brief moment that Janus hesitated, Virgil allowed himself to hope that he had gotten one over on Janus. In all their years of friendship, he had admitted to being wrong exactly once. Virgil kept the date saved in his phone calendar and made sure to send Janus a card on the anniversary. But a moment's hesitation was all the satisfaction he got this time; Janus faced him properly, adjusted his tie, and said, "I don't know. I'm looking for a gift for Remus."

"Nice save," Virgil said. "We'll see about that."

"Oh, I don't know why you bother trying to hide it." Roman beckoned Janus over to the counter. "Look with your own eyes: he's fine."

"I combined like five different rituals last night," Virgil said. "And I'm doing another one once I get off work." He had already paid for the bottle and the string, knowing he had a hand trowel somewhere in the depths of his spider-infested shed.

Roman quick-drew his phone from his pocket and had himself posed for a selfie with Virgil almost before Virgil could process what was happening. "Smile," he said. "Patton made me promise I'd send him a picture."

Virgil flashed a peace sign. It was better to just go with it. Despite his bravado, Roman got his feelings hurt easily, and it was never fun to try to bounce back from that. "Are we done now?"

"Pardon us for caring about you," Roman said, sticking his nose into the air. It was such a Remus thing to do that Virgil nearly laughed, but he managed to hold himself together.

"Yeah, yeah, my friends love and cherish me, blah, blah, blah."

"Also," Roman read from his phone, "Patton says to tell Janus to come over soon so they can make cutting boards together."

"He was serious about that?" Janus looked helplessly at Virgil. Ah, yes, Patton had made the invitation last night and Janus, leaning back on social niceties, had agreed. "I thought he was just being nice."

"Nope." Virgil leaned forward across the counter and grinned. "Not only is Patton gonna make you make yourself a cutting board, you're going to enjoy it."

"We'll see about that," Janus said. He shook up his sleeve so he could glance at his watch. "Well, I should get back to Bienvenue. Those suits won't sell themselves."

He turned on his heel and made for the door so quickly that Virgil knew he was forgetting something. Ding. "Wait, but weren't you going to buy something for Remus?" he called.

"Sorry," said Janus, one hand already on the door. "Can't hear you, bye." And he was gone.

Roman bounced on his toes. "Alright, alright, I'll leave you two to it, too."

"Thank you kindly," Virgil said, metering the sardonic bite in his tone so that Roman wouldn't get offended.

Roman tipped an imaginary hat first to Virgil, then to Logan, and sauntered out.

"Finally," Virgil sighed. He looked up to find Logan staring at him with evident concern. "What?"

"Are you alright?" Logan asked. "I know you take this kind of thing seriously and I would hate for you to feel like I'm not supporting you just because I don't share your belief."

Virgil couldn't help but smile as an unfamiliar feeling spread from his stomach to his chest. Ah, the warm fuzzies. He couldn't even be mad about the damage to his dark and brooding image. "I'm okay, Lo. I did my stuff."

Logan smiled back: a small, shy thing. "I'm glad."

They were quiet for a moment. Virgil took small bites of his banh mi, careful to keep one eye on the door. It had been an unusually slow day, especially given that it was the day after Halloween. The denizens of Vaillant were superstitious enough that Virgil was rarely idle behind the counter of Mystick Earth. A few groups of people paused by the door, some even going so far as to peer in through the glass storefront windows, but no one came in. Virgil relaxed a little. "How's work? Catch anyone embezzling?"

"Not yet," Logan said, pushing his sleeves further up his elbows. Virgil tried not to stare at the few additional centimeters of skin this action exposed. What was he, a repressed Victorian? "I did notice a discrepancy in the amount we spent on office supplies, but it was only because someone had miswritten a 'seven' as a 'two.'"

"No office drama?" Virgil ribbed him. "Nobody stealing pens or making out in supply closets?"

"Unfortunately, we are a building of professionals." Logan paused, straightened his tie. "The light above my cubicle went out and I had to put in an email to maintenance to get it fixed."

"Man, I could never work in an office," Virgil said.

"Did anything interesting happen to you this morning?"

"Eh, I had someone looking to curse an ex, and I had to explain why that's not acceptable. I won't bore you with the details." Virgil took another bite of his sandwich and bounced the toe of his shoe against the floor. Was he doing this right? It had been so long since his last real relationship, and everyone knew what a disaster that had been. He liked Logan, liked being with Logan, but… Well, maybe he was freaking out over nothing. He just had to remember how to do it right, and then everything would be okay.

"Ordinarily, I would challenge the notion that you could ever bore me," Logan said, "but I do have to leave soon."

"Finish your pho," Virgil said, smiling. "I can tell you later."

They finished eating and Virgil again leaned up to give Logan a kiss, balancing his weight on his hands. His heart wasn't in it, his brain a few seconds ahead. Should he come over the counter and walk Logan to the door? What should he say? ‘I love you’? Should he grab Logan's ass?

"Did you hear me?" Logan asked.

Virgil feet hit the floor, the impact driving tingles up to his knees. "Huh?"

"Just saying goodbye," Logan said.

"See you soon?"

"Let's make plans."

Logan left. Virgil stared at the door for a while, happiness ebbing away into loneliness and doubt. A small, childish part of him wanted to insist that Logan stay. Forget work. They could go to the movies and get ice cream, have a proper date. And Virgil would find some way to communicate just how much he appreciated Logan.

--

Virgil: Thanks for lunch, Lo

Logan: You're welcome

Logan: <3

Virgil hadn't gathered up the guts to respond to Logan's text message yet. It was really pathetic, how a single emoticon heart had him blushing and panicking like a teenager.

He swung one leg over his moped, but kept his weight mostly on the ground. Hating the way his heart pounded, he pulled out his phone.

Logan: <3

Virgil: <3

Before he could freak himself out any further, Virgil got on his moped properly and nearly peeled out of his parking spot. He rode home in silence, shivering a little in the wind chill and dodging potholes.

The sinking sun lit up the thunderheads on the horizon until the whole sky on Virgil's left was blue-gray and luminescent. He stared, admiring the bald cypress and tupelo trees silhouetted against the dying light, until the road turned and faced him toward the darkness. By the time he got home, it was full dark. He parked his moped in the carport and settled in for a lonely evening of curse-breaking.

Virgil wasn't usually lonely. As an introvert with several boisterous extroverts in his friend circle, he usually jumped at the chance for some alone time. But suddenly Logan's absence felt like loss in a way it never had before, and Virgil longed to have him near. Even if he just sat quietly and watched while Virgil put his own spin on constructing a witch bottle.

He went to bed early that night, earlier than usual, unable to stand the emptiness of his old house. Even the creaks and groans, even the ambient sounds of outside, even the ticking of his mantle clock, seemed to fade away into intolerable lonely silence. So Virgil crawled into bed before midnight, clutching his hoodie to his chest.

He didn't sleep well.

Strange visions haunted his dreams, almost primal in their intensity. He was rage, he was fear, he was power. He knew the earth beneath his feet, knew the deep, rich smells of the forest. He knew the moon above. It was bright but waning, pale silver struggling through the clouds that smelled of rain. So unlike Virgil, whose strength was eternal and agonizing and all. He howled.

He woke up all at once, all his senses alight. Even without opening his eyes, it was obvious: He was outside. Not only that, he was naked in the dirt.

He opened his eyes and rolled over, sitting up slowly to examine himself. Clammy soil clung to his exposed skin. He brushed it off with a shaking hand. His nails were stained with it too, all muddy and broken. And he was sore, almost as bad as the time he'd try to go jogging with Logan.

Virgil let the panic wash over him and pulled his legs in close to his chest, wrapped his arms around them. Wrong, wrong, wrong, he had nothing, knew nothing and he was all alone in the woods.

He crested the worst of the attack and clenched his trembling hands into fists, resentful of the adrenaline still ruling him. At least he seemed unharmed; his skin was free of bruises and scratches. He was just dirty. He raised a shaking hand to his left ear, feeling along the back of it for any strange marks. Finding nothing, he checked his right ear. The skin seemed wholly undisturbed, but he would see about that later. Right now, he had more pressing things to worry about than potential alien abduction. For one, there was the matter of his clothes… He got to his feet, covering his groin with his hands despite the solitude. All that surrounded him were the early-morning birdsong and the rustle of the wind in the leaves.

Spinning in a circle, Virgil found a place where branches had been broken and the underbrush had been thoroughly trampled by something much, much bigger than he. With no other leads, he steeled himself and followed the trail. It was difficult going. He had to keep his head down to make sure he didn’t step on anything sharp, and his heartbeat remained sharp and painful and panicked, beating out what-ifs beneath his skin. What if he couldn’t find his way home? What if he got arrested for public nudity? What if he tripped and broke his leg and got stranded? What if something attacked him?

The morning breeze picked up and made him shiver, drawing him out of his panicked thoughts. He just needed to keep walking. He might not even have been that far from home. He lived on the edge of the woods, so it made sense that he was within walking distance of home, right? Well, maybe not, but the belief was all he had. So he believed that he was close to home, believed that he would be fine, and continued to tread the path of destruction through the woods.

He was closer than he’d thought. Soon, the sound of tires over asphalt reached his ears and he picked up the pace. Crossing the road was a nerve-wracking endeavor, not least because the speed limit was 55 mph. He hadn’t seen any of his clothes on the trek. What would people say if they caught him darting naked across the road like some kind of feral mountain man? Traffic was sparse, it was true, but with Virgil’s luck, a pickup full of country boys would plow into him and leave him in the ditch. What a pleasant thought for a Friday morning. Pushing his fear aside, Virgil sprinted across the road as fast as his abused feet and sore muscles would let him. The trail of trampled bushes and broken branches led directly to his house, as he had feared it might, and the destruction didn’t stop there. His front door was open, bugs buzzing around the light over his kitchen sink. Several of his end tables had been knocked over and various trinkets from his many floating shelves littered the floor. His ceramic incense holder lay in pieces by the magazine rack filled with his collection of old tabloids-- the tabloids were okay, thank goodness.

“Hello?” Virgil called. No one answered, and the house was silent. He crept into the bedroom. Ah, there were his clothes. The t-shirt he slept in had split at the seams and his boxers hadn’t fared much better. At least his hoodie was okay. He pulled it on and slipped into a new pair of boxers, exhaustion finally catching up with him. He needed to deal with this, like, really needed to deal with this, but his bed…

He face-planted into it, not even bothering to straighten out or pull his legs onto the mattress. Sleep now, unpack terrifying potential supernatural encounter later.

[pixelburied]

Dinner for Two (Tom x MC)

A/N: Still on my fluffy bs. This is Tom x Harper. Hope you enjoy!

This is part two of the Moments in Between anthology. Part 1 (Lucky) is in my Masterlist, link in my bio.

"Chicken or fish?"

"Why do you sound like a flight attendant?" Elliot snorted.

"Very funny." Harper rolled her eyes. "I'm asking you what you want for dinner."

Elliot shrugged, a faint blush on his cheeks. "I'm having dinner with Robbie tonight."

"Again? That's the third time this week!" Harper gave him an exaggerated pout. "You know I'm your biggest shipper, Scooter. But don't you miss me even a little?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Harper! Isn't Tom coming over tonight? Aren't you looking forward to having the house to yourselves?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"I don't know what you're insinuating."

As if on cue, Tom stumbled through the door, tools in hand. "Who's insinuating what?"

Harper had been having trouble with her car and Tom kindly offered to check it out. The old piece of junk must have given him more trouble than expected because he had a few grease stains on his jaw and his sweat made his thin shirt cling to his frame, showing off his-

"My eyes are up here, Harper." Tom laughed as he caught Harper staring.

Elliot gagged before grabbing his bag from the couch. "That's it. I'm out." He threw a peace sign over his shoulder before heading out the door.

Harper let out a frustrated sigh and shouted after him. "LOVE YOU TOO, SCOOTER."

"Love you, dork!" Elliot's voice echoed outside.

"Wait, weren't we having dinner together?" Tom took his shirt off and Harper found herself staring again.

Get a grip, girl. You've seen him like this literally dozens of times.

"I, uh-" She shook herself from her daze just in time to catch Tom smiling warmly at her. She couldn't help but smile back. "Change of plans. Looks like it's just the two of us tonight. Is that okay?"

"More than okay." Tom took both of her hands in his and pulled her in for a long kiss.

"But first, I'm gonna hit the shower before we head to the grocery store."

He started to walk to the bathroom before pausing to throw Harper a shy glance. "Would you- would you like to join?"

God, yes.

"I better not." Harper bit her tongue. If she joined him, they'd never get around to making dinner. And by the tiny grin on Tom's face, it was obvious the thought occurred to him too.

"Alright, I'll be quick."

---

The grocery store was surprisingly empty save for a handful of shoppers already at the checkout line.

Tom and Harper took advantage of the quiet by perusing the usually crowded section of items on sale.

"Do you think anyone needs this much canned meat?" Harper gestured towards a can tower.

"If they're preparing for the apocalypse, then yeah."

Harper jostled him with her shoulders. "You've been watching too many Doomsday Preppers."

Tom laughed before grabbing a pack of dates from a nearby shelf.

"Look, Harper. Let's grab some of these because it's date night." He gave her an eager smile. "Get it?"

Harper laughed and shook her head. "Oh, Sato. Food puns are not your strong suit."

He gave her a little pout before putting the dates back on the shelf.

"Wait, wait, wait. Let me take a picture of you with the dates. I need to share your pun with the group chat."

"You wouldn't!"

Harper smirked. "You're lucky I love you."

"You mean you-" Tom already had his hand halfway to the box of molten lava snack cakes.

"Don't." Harper laughed and gave him a little shove before taking his hand.

---

Tom cut the vegetables for the stir fry while Harper browned the chicken on the stove.

She occasionally stole glances his way, watching his hands work, noticing the tiny bit of vein that showed when he pushed down on the knife.

"Your chicken's gonna burn if you keep checking me out." Tom said without looking up, chopping the zucchini into tiny cubes.

"Well, stop being so damn sexy and distracting then!"

Tom blushed and his hand slipped. "Shit."

"Did you cut yourself?" Harper dropped the spatula and rushed to Tom's side with a paper towel.

"Oh thank god, just a scratch." She heaved a sigh of relief as she wiped his hand, giving his cut a little kiss.

Tom's face flushed bright red and Harper laughed. "What?"

"Nothing. This is just... surprisingly intimate." Tom tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Yeah?" Harper’s irises grew dark and Tom was suddenly aware of how hot it was in the kitchen.

She stood on her toes to give Tom's jaw a little kiss, slowly making her way up to his lips, a low growl escaping his throat.

He wrapped his arm around Harper and pulled her in for a searing kiss, mouths dancing against each other, his hands finding her backside and lifting her up, her hands winding in his hair.

Tom had just put a hand under her shirt when an alarm went off.

"Shit. Shit shit shit." Harper quickly ran back to the stove to turn the fire off, the chicken now burnt black coals.

Tom hurried next to her, fanning the smoke away.

"Uh..."

They looked at the deformed nuggets and then each other before bursting into fits of giggles.

Tom picked up the wok and ran it under hot water to loosen the burnt chicken while Harper turned off the alarm.

"So, pizza?" Harper shrugged.

"Yes, please." He took her hand in his and let her lead him to the couch where she gave the pizza place a call.

He gave her shoulder little nibbles as she talked on the phone.

Extra cheese? Yes, he mouthed.

Anchovies? No.

It wasn't exactly the dinner they had planned but it was fine. Tom was just glad to spend the night together. And so was Harper.

She put the phone down before turning back to him.

"Pizza won't be here for another thirty minutes. Any idea how we can pass the time?" She looked up at him from under her lashes, tracing his lips with her eyes.

Tom gave her a knowing smile before pulling her on top of him. "I have a few."

He captured her mouth with his, continuing where they left off in the kitchen.

---x---

Tom Sato tag: @teamtomsato @melodyofgraves